As though she could read Rosie’s mind, Niamh tipped her head to one side. Her eyebrows pulled together in an expression that said,I’m not angry – just a little disappointed. ‘I can understand why this whole thing is tempting, but I vote no,’ she said, her voice kind but firm. ‘I’m bringing out the Best Friend Veto. This is a disaster in the making.’
‘This isn’t a referendum on how I’ll pay my rent, Niamh,’ Rosie informed her. ‘I’m not sure you get a say – especially if you can’t come up with a better way to cover the £650 a month shortfall I’m going to be facing in a fortnight’s time.’
To her horror, Rosie heard her own voice wobble slightly.Do not cry, she instructed herself.
Niamh reached across the table for her hand. Rosie discarded the balled-up serviette she’d spent the past few minutes squeezing into a pulp, then let Niamh grasp her fingers.
Their food arrived, and Rosie was grateful for the opportunity to regain control of her prickling eyeballs. She took several steadying breaths as the waiter sprinkled freshly grated parmesan on her dinner.
After he’d retreated, Niamh said: ‘Brendan and I can help you with the money. I know you don’t want charity, and I know you don’t want to get into debt – but I love you, and I also know you’ll pay us back whenever you can.’
Rosie nodded her thanks as she chewed on a mouthful of richly flavoured rice. Sensing victory might be imminent, Niamh pressed on.
‘Letting the random sexy guy from upstairs – who also happens to beyour landlord– move into your flat would be a bit mad at the best of times. But doing it, even in part, because you know it’ll wind up your ex …? Itscreamsdrama, Rose. And the last thing you need right now is more drama.’
Rosie couldn’t argue with this. Niamh took her hand again and squeezed it. ‘You’re going to be OK, you know.’
Rosie blinked away a fresh wave of tears before they could fully form, squeezing Niamh back.
‘Now,’ Niamh said. ‘We’re going to stop talking about this and order some more wine. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up with a headache and a mouth like Gandhi’s flip-flop and you’ll agree that I’m right.Thenyou’ll agree to let me help you with the rent.’
Rosie shrugged – not refuting the point, but not quite conceding it either.
‘All right – one more glass,’ she said, waving politely at a passing waitress.
She couldn’t quite bring herself to say she’d take Niamh’s money, but she could definitely agree to another drink.
The following afternoon, after doing a YouTube yoga class, stress-cleaning the flat and baking a batch of banana and chocolate-chip muffins, Rosie decided to go for a walk. She hoped that a dose of clear, bright autumn sunshine would lift her mood and clarify her thinking.
Her tidying marathon – usually guaranteed to provide cheer – had only served to remind her how attached she was to her home. As she’d dusted it, she’d replayed the memory of finding the sitting room’s well-preserved Victorian fireplace behind a strip of plywood – a treasure revealed as she scraped off sheets of tobacco-stained 1970s wallpaper.
She was no further forward with finding a viable flatmate. Several more ‘I’m interested’ messages had landed in her inbox, but they all came from people who didn’t meet the criteria she’d set. Every applicant sounded either unreliable or borderline deranged.
Niamh’s offer to lend her some money was still on the table, but Rosie felt no less reluctant to accept it now than she had last night. She and Brendan had a sizeable mortgage on their family home, and costly bills that now included two sets of full-time nursery fees. In any case, borrowing money that she’d ultimately need to repay was hardly a long-term solution to Rosie’s predicament.
She strolled through Lloyd Park, taking in the pleasantly fresh chill in the air, the play of low light on late-summer flowers and the reddening leaves of the trees she went past. While she couldn’t deny that letting Aled move in seemed mad – or that her motives were at best a little blurry – it still looked like the least-worst option.
As if she’d summoned him by thinking about the idea, she suddenly saw him strolling towards her down the park’s central tarmac path. This was weird, but it would definitely be weirder to pretend she hadn’t seen him.
‘Hi,’ she said when they reached one another. ‘You all right?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘just on the way home.’
Rosie glanced at her watch and realised that daylight would start fading pretty soon. For all its gentrification, she didn’t fancy wandering around Walthamstow in the dark.
‘I’ll walk with you,’ Rosie said, colouring as she realised that he hadn’t mentioned wanting company. ‘If that’s OK, I mean.’
‘Sure,’ he nodded. They began walking towards the park exit, Aled slowing his pace slightly to match hers.
‘So … how are you?’ he asked after a few moments of silence.
‘About the same,’ Rosie told him.
A tiny line appeared between his dark brows, and though he cleared his face of the expression quickly, she registered confusion. ‘Why d’you ask?’
‘I thought … I thought you’d patched things up with James,’ Aled said awkwardly.
‘Hardly,’ Rosie snorted. ‘What made you think that?’
