She shakes her head. ‘No, they’re both out there, together, in the living room. And there’s no one else to save either of us.’
‘Nooooo!’ I cry. ‘So, we’re trapped?’ I breathe heavily. ‘We must be able to call someone!’ I look about me for my phone. ‘Why don’t we know any of our neighbours? Why haven’t we cultivated some kind of sexy ongoing flirtation with the boys across the hall?’
‘Because the boys across the hall are ten and eight years old, and live with their very hostile parents who hate us,’ she points out, and I nod.
‘Ah yes.’
We look at each other. ‘We’re going to have to do this ourselves,’ I say softly. ‘Together. You and me.’
I see her gulp. ‘Before we do, I have to say something.’She stares into my eyes. ‘I had a big chat with Arshiya—’ she begins, and I interrupt.
‘I had a big chat with Edward!’
We laugh with relief, then she continues, ‘Look, Liv, I’m really sorry about our fight. It was all my fault. You were right, I think. There’s some horrible, sadistic part of me that quite likes you making bad choices. I guess they made me feel better about my life or something. That’s what Arshiya thought anyway. But I want you to know the real me – the conscious me, the non-buried-psycho part of me – only wants you to be happy and successful. I want you to make good choices and not stalk exes or date awful pricks. I want all the best things for you in the world. I think you’re amazing and I’m so lucky—’
I cut her off with a sob. ‘Stop it, stop it. Sam, I’m sorry, too. I was so mean, and it was totally unfair of me to blame you for me messing up my own life. I hate that I hurt you. I love you so much.’
I pull her in for a hug and in my ear I hear her reply, ‘I love you, too, idiot.’
‘God, you’re so clingy. You have such an anxious attachment style,’ I tell her hair, and she snorts.
‘Shut up.’
I step back at last. ‘Edward thinks I’m afraid to be honest because I worry you might reject me like my stupid parents did.’
She gasps. ‘I wouldnever.’ She looks sheepish. ‘Arshiya thinks I’m afraid to let you live your life without me because I don’t want to lose you like I lost my dad.’
‘You won’t lose me,’ I say firmly, and then we hug again. ‘Not ever.’
‘God, parents really fuck you up, don’t they?’ she murmurs into my ear. ‘Even the good ones.’
‘I think just existing in this world fucks you up,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘Our rewards are just forever chemicals and trauma.’
She draws back, looking determined. ‘No. It’s time to take back control of our fuck ups, Liv.’ Her hands are on my shoulders. ‘We need to make good choices and fight our demons.’ She grins. ‘By which I mean the daddy long-legs and the ladybird. They are the manifestations of our demons, and they must be defeated once and for all.’ She assumes some kind ofBraveheartenergy as she adds, ‘It’s time to take back our land.’
I sniff. ‘I assume you mean our flat. And you’re right. I mean, it would be one thing if they contributed to the rent, but they don’t even do that.’
Sam looks around the bathroom. ‘We need weapons.’
‘There’s your very grimy, disgusting toothbrush?’ I offer, and she considers it.
‘Nah.’ She shakes her head. ‘I don’t think insects are as germophobic as you.’
‘I would argue that it’s not about the germs,’ I say, ‘it’s about the gross crud build up around the head, which you know you’re supposed to change every three months—’
‘All right, moneybags,’ she retorts. ‘We’re getting off topic here.’ She pauses. ‘How about the toilet brush? We could,like, herd them with the brush into the plastic bit and trap them inside and—’ She notices the face I’m making and laughs. ‘Okay, so disgusting things are off the table.’ She looks around again. ‘But honestly, I’m not sure whatisn’ta bit gross in a bathroom, now I’m looking around. A hairy razor? A mouldy flannel? A cruddy soap?’ She pauses. ‘We really need a clear out, babe.’
‘Should we just rip the showerhead out of the wall and beat them to death with it?’ I suggest.
She narrows her eyes. ‘No. We’re not murdering them. They don’t deserve to die because of our broken psyches.’
‘They do,’ I mutter rebelliously.
‘I think if we make a run for the kitchen,’ she says bravely, ‘we can get the insect catcher. And then we go for it. Together. I’ll get the daddy long-legs, you go after the ladybird. We’ll do it for each other.’
I take a deep breath. ‘Wouldn’t it be healthier for us to confront our own issues? Take on our demon for ourselves?’
‘Sod that!’ she exclaims. ‘I think it’s fine to help each other. We’re human beings, we all need to look after one another.’ She looks me square in the eye. ‘I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine.’
