‘Come sit down. It’ll be easier to drink this.’ I don’t touch her, but I point the way towards a bench seat on the far side of the pool.
No one should be able to hear us from here.
Once sat, Carys takes the mug of water in both hands when I offer it, and sips slowly. The wildness in her eyes dulls.
I don’t know how long we stay there, totally silent, but it’s long enough that I start to get really cold. I can’t tell if she doesn’t register how cold it is. It’s like the icy air doesn’t touch her.
‘I should have brought some blankets from the living room. It’s like a bean bag emporium in there,’ I say, feeling the need to fill the silence.
‘A soft furnishings only zone.’ Her voice is croaky, slurry, almost like she’s drunk.
We go back to silence, and I retrieve two lurid neon blankets, because it’s clear she’s not going back inside any time soon. I resist the temptation to wrap one around her. She takes it, gathering it in her lap, stroking the fleece like it’s a real creature. Or David, who I’d be tempted to get if I wouldn’t wake someone.
Carys sets the mug down on the bench next to her. ‘Thank you for the water.’
‘That’s okay. It looked like you needed some help.’
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she says, which is true. ‘I’ve not exactly been the nicest to you in the last… however long it’s been.’
‘Days. A few days.’
‘It feels like weeks in here. And we’ve only been here for a few hours.’
‘It’s confusing,’ I agree. ‘Err, sorry it means you didn’t get space from me for very long.’
‘Or anyone else,’ she adds, shuddering as she glances at the house. When she looks back at me, she appears just about as thrilled. She bites down on her lower lip. ‘We’re still not friends.’
‘Fine.’ Seems a bit rich, but then she didn’t ask me to come out here. I’m the sap of a knight who keeps willingly rushing to her aid.
I decide to give her a pass, temporarily, because of whatever the hell is going on with her right now. People say stupid things when they’re hurt or sick. That’s what Mum and I do when she’s being a snappy little shit. Let it wash over me in the moment; we talk about it later. Who knows if it’s the healthiest dynamic, but it means we don’t leave anything festering and we talk it out when the pain has passed. I know that when my endometriosis is bad, I’m pretty inhuman. As if it’s heard me thinking about it, just then my uterus gives a sharp twinge. Not now, dickhead. I’m busy.
‘Call this a temporary truce then?’ I offer. ‘I’d feel awful if I let you freeze to death out here.’
‘Why? That’d improve your odds.’ The little curl of a smile is infuriating.
‘I don’t think I’d get a great edit out of it, do you?’
This seems acceptable to her. ‘Fine. You can stay.’
‘Look, do you want to talk about whatever is going on?’
My asking resurrects the upset. Her knees bounce under the blanket, and while her eyes aren’t wild, they look scared. What the hell has happened?
‘Did something happen with Patrick, Carys? You can tell me.’
She stops and starts a few more times before seeming to deflate before my eyes. ‘It’s justsoloud.’
Huh? ‘Loud?’ I repeat, just to be sure that’s what she said.
‘In the bedroom,’ she sniffs, rubbing at her eyes.
‘Patrick?’
‘No, no,’ she stutters. ‘This has nothing to do with him. It’s just the noise. It’s constant.’
Okay, I’m not really following what she’s saying, but then my mum gets ratty about noise and light when she’s feeling really shit. I think of Bridget in the bed next to me snogging Jackson’s head off.
‘From my bed, I’ve got the joy of surround-sound make-out sessions,’ I say, trying to lighten the tone. ‘I swear I canhearus losing cash with every slurp.’
