I think I might be looking rather foolish. I can feel my smile growing.
‘So do you agree?’ she asks after a while.
‘That I’m long?’
She tuts at me. ‘Do you agree to take the bed while I take the sofa?’
I’d actually completely forgotten that that’s where this began.
‘I don’t like giving in,’ I say thoughtfully. ‘I feel like there should be more onerous conditions attached to you getting the sofa.’
‘You do know that the sofa is the short straw not the long straw?’
‘I mean, not entirely? Because we both want it. So bizarrely it is in fact a more sought-after sleeping place than the amazing-looking bed.’
Flavia rolls her eyes at me, but she’s still smiling.
‘Go and get ready for bed,’ she says. ‘Actually, no. I’ll go.’ And she’s into the bathroom before I can speak.
I suspect that she’s going to win on the sofa argument (and while I hate feeling unchivalrous I do agree that she would be able to lie full length on either sofa, while I would not), so I feel rude sitting on either of them, because I don’t know which one she’s going to take (should I end up losing the argument; the jury is still out on whether I will), so I stand at the window and watch the world of the dimly lit bush go by – no great hardship.
When I hear the bathroom door open, I turn round, and then wish I hadn’t.
Flavia is dressed in pyjamas that consist of tiny little shorts and a tightish vest top that leaves nothing to the imagination.
I quickly look away, not wanting to ogle. Or rather, I do very much want to ogle, but I shouldn’t.
‘So I’ll take a sofa,’ she says.
‘Okay, if you’re absolutely certain,’ I concede. Having seen her in those pyjamas I no longer have the force to argue. I just want to get into bed on the other side of the room, turn my back on her, and try really hard not to think about all the things we absolutely should not and will not do together.
I give her an extremely wide berth on my way to the bathroom, which, of course, is now filled with her clutter (how does shedothat when she’s only here for one night?), which unbelievably I’m almost beginning to like.
When I emerge from the bathroom, having taken my time, so that Flavia hasn’t had to rush, she’s on the sofa under the window, with one of the pillows from the bed and the bedspread, all tucked up. I don’tlovethe fact that she has the dud bed option, but she does actually look quite comfortable there.
‘Thank you again,’ I say.
‘No problem at all, honestly,’ she replies.
‘Are you happy for me to turn the light out?’ There are light switches for the whole room next to the bed, and none next to the sofa that no-one is expected to be sleeping on.
‘Yep. Night.’
‘Goodnight.’ And then I switch the lights out… and lie there wide, wide awake.
After a few minutes I hear Flavia’s bedspread rustling a little as she turns a bit, so I take the opportunity to turn over too, in the hope that a new sleeping position will help me nod off. I don’t want to turn over too much because I don’t want to disturb Flavia.
I amincrediblywide awake.
I’m an early riser and don’t sleep well once it’s light, but I really never have issues getting to sleep. It’s clearly because of Flavia’s presence. It’s justoddbeing in the same room as her like this.
I strain my ears to see if it sounds as though Flavia’s breathing like a person who’s asleep.
I really can’t tell.
I’m going to have to imagine paint drying or something.
I begin to count sheep. It’s very boring but it is not making me any more sleepy.
