‘It is, I have polished it myself, I admit, although it’s fiddly. When you live on your own and you get to my age, you’ve got to be tidy, or else you are just living surrounded by tins of baked beans and growing experiments that Alexander Fleming would be delighted with.’
‘Yes, I often wonder whygone-off bread tastes so weird, when I tried to convince myself that it must be good for me,’ I say.
I open his breadbin, ‘Nogone-off bread here, look at you, you are a proper caretaker man.’
‘Not only am I a proper caretaker man, I can open tins and order takeaways and Marin is one day going to teach me how to cook.’
We are both silent for a moment, the music playing in the background, some soft jazzy thing he’d put on that I didn’t recognise, but it was beautifully calming and comforting.
‘If I show you the rest of the apartment, I’ll be showing you the bedroom and then, when the delivery person comes, we’ll be in bed.’
‘So, you’ll just have to go and open the door with no clothes on,’ I say, giving him my best winning grin.
‘Not a problem.’
Tonight, we wander around the nearly finished apartment and I think that I’m going to tell Finn I’m taking him up on his offer. I want to move in with him. He’s the kindest, most gentle man I’ve ever met. He understands me sexually, gets that a woman who’s been violated needs tenderness and love. He’s just marvellous at tenderness and love.
Vilma is taking all the credit for our being together, and when Stefan and Mum met Finn for the first time, Stefan grabbed my sister in a bear hug and whispered to her in Lithuanian, which she only understands a little.
When he puts her down, he turns to Finn: ‘I want to welcome you and say thank you for bringing our Sidonie home. She was lost for a time.’
‘It’s an honour. I will take care of her.’
‘I don’t need –’ I begin but Stefan shushes me.
‘I know you are a warrior woman, my Sidonie,’ he says, ‘but sometimes, let us men take care of you? Just sometimes – and this one, he adores you.’
Mum laughs and hugs me.
‘He’s a keeper,’ she whispers. ‘And tall. There’s something lovely about a tall man.’
I blush. My mother is talking to me about tall men and I think about how when Finn and I are in bed, it doesn’t matter that he’s taller than me. I blush some more.
If Mum, notices, she says nothing.
The more she knows Finn, the more she adores him and makes him stews, so I complain that he’s never going to learn to cook and look after me.
Adrienne particularly approves of him.
‘Well done with Mr Stella,’ she said the first time she met him. ‘Any more like him at home?’ she asked.
‘He’s aone-off,’ I said.
‘Just my luck.’
Tonight, we finally make it into the bedroom where there are high ceilings.
‘Oh,’ I say, pretending my phone has just pinged with a news alert. ‘Look!’
He obligingly looks down at it and I pull his head lower so I can whisper into his ear.
‘You still want a roommate? A small one, lots of black clothes, biker boots, has furry pyjamas?’
His response is to grab me, lift me up and whirl me round.
‘Like it? I love that idea,’ says Finn, and, still holding me up, he kisses me. This, I think, is my reward for all the pain, this glorious man. I am so lucky.
47
