He looked upwards through the angles and planes of the stairwell. ‘Let’s do this.’ He slapped his legs. ‘May my thighs forgive me.’
Twelve stories was twenty-four flights of stairs. By the time they reached Flat 56, there was a faint sheen of sweat across his forehead and he was desperate to remove his sweatshirt. They were both a little out of breath.
‘Bloody hell,’ he said dropping the bag he carried by the door.
Anna nodded, clearly incapable of speech. They’d both overloaded themselves, trying to carry as much as possible in one trip. She slotted the key into the lock. Neither of them commented on the grimy window next to the battered front door.
As soon as the door opened they were assailed by a musty cabbage-soup smell.
‘They said it might need cleaning,’ said Anna.
‘Mm,’ said Leo, looking down at the dated flooring with its slight greasy sheen.
Inside the hallway it was dark and, when Anna flipped the light switch, a single bare bulb cast ominous shadows in the tiny space like some Cold War interrogation room. Several doors led off the hallway, which made Leo think of some macabre fairy tale and wonder what was behind each one. Anna had always said he was too fanciful.
‘Take your pick,’ he said, trying to sound cheerful. The dingy hallway was not filling him with confidence.
Anna opened the door straight ahead, which led into a large empty room. The walls were painted an industrial green that toned perfectly with the green scuffed flooring. Opposite, wide windows led outside to a high-sided concrete balcony. Another bare bulb hung above them. The chill in the air held a touch of damp and Leo could see suspicious darker patches in the corners of the room.
Anna walked over to the door to the balcony. ‘It’s spacious,’ she said, turning round. ‘And there’s a view.’
‘Anna, it’s a dump,’ said Leo flatly. ‘And depressing as hell.’
‘It needs a good clean. Besides, the other rooms might be okay,’ she said, but even he could see that she didn’t hold out much hope. Giving the room one last look, Anna strode back to the hallway and the blank doors.
As if she were confronting the enemy she grasped one of the door handles. The door opened onto a bathroom. It was tiny with a stained bath and a poorly mounted tap that sat like a wobbly tooth on the grimy ceramic sink. Leo gave it an experimental push and, as expected, it swayed on the spot. Anna shot him an impatient glance and he turned his attention to the walls. They sported the only colour in the room, the pinkish hue of the mouldy grout that outlined many of the white square tiles covering every surface, bar the ceiling.
Leo saw Anna’s chin lift as she stepped backwards out of the room – she wasn’t going to admit defeat. He admired her for it, but he was also exasperated. He watched as she opened the door to a double bedroom. Again, it was a good size but the dull magnolia walls were splotched with tiny black spores of mould that coated the seam between ceiling and wall around the window.
‘This is the flat that the seventies forgot,’ said Leo, nodding towards the old-fashioned built-in wardrobes, which sagged in the middle.
‘It just needs some work. A good clean, a few coats of paint.’
‘It’s more than that. It needs gutting and starting again.’
Anna didn’t say anything. Instead she turned and crossed the hallway to the kitchen, a narrow galley with a mix of mismatched cabinets, and doors, where they were still intact, in varying shades of grey. For some reason the ancient electric cooker, which squatted in the centre of the room, pulled away from the wall, leaving a square patch in the faded brown lino, encircled with a lifetime of crumbs and grease.
Anna surveyed each room in complete silence, her shoulders hunching higher and higher with every minute.
Leo stayed in the kitchen looking out of the window, his fists clenched impotently as she opened the final door to what was likely a second bedroom. The more he said, the more her stubbornness would set in. In the silence of the apartment, he heard the quick intake of breath of a suppressed sob and immediately strode after her. He couldn’t do it. There was no way he was going to let her stay here. Not just because it was Anna. He’d have insisted with anyone. He wouldn’t leave his worst enemy here.
She stood with her back to the door and he could see the tension in her shoulders. She turned and he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. Unable to help himself he drew her into his arms, her forehead resting on his chest. ‘There’s no way on earth I’m leaving you here.’
For a moment she was stiff and then he heard her suck in a long, slow breath. ‘I’m not even going to pretend I can do something with this place. It’s like it’s had the very soul of it sucked out.’
Leo was slightly surprised by her choice of words as her body softened into his embrace. Normally Anna was the pragmatic one.
‘Anna, you can’t stay here,’ he said gently. ‘You know you can’t. Come back to the apartment. We can work things out.’
As he gave in to the indulgence of holding her, something shifted inside him, triggered by the familiar scent of her and the comfortable way she fitted against him. Muscle memory, he told himself, that’s all. When she lifted her head and looked up at him, her lips slightly parted, he felt his pulse quicken and he had to fight the urge to lower his mouth to hers.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ he said abruptly, deliberately shifting his gaze to the tattered curtains on either side of the grimy windows.
‘What am I going to say to Jirí?’ Her teeth caught her lip.
‘I’d have a lot to say to him. First of all, how dare he send you to a complete and utter shithole like this.’ Leo gritted his teeth as a wave of anger on Anna’s behalf swept over him.
Anna touched one of his clenched fists, a quick, reassuring, I’m-okay gesture.
