‘Thank you,’ she says, as she takes the tray from him and balances it between her stomach and her slightly raised knees. ‘You are a kind man.’
He watches as she lifts the spoon to her mouth, and he is surprised how detached he feels, for he neither wishes to touch her, nor to share his bed with her. Strangely enough, he simply wants to protect her, for she suddenly appears to be painfully young and liable to be exploited. He can see now that her navy blue sweatshirt is actually filthy and he is tempted to suggest that she wears one of his, but he decides to be patient.
‘Would you like some coffee or tea? Or a glass of wine? It’s pretty much that time of day.’
She shakes her head and continues to lift the spoon to her lips.
‘So you’re definitely not going to work?’
‘I cannot go to work. It is not good for me to see Rolf. I told you, he is angry with me because he says that I have not been fair to him.’
‘Does it have anything to do with me?’ She looks at him but does not reply. ‘Perhaps he thinks that something is going on between the two of us?’
‘I told him about you, but he is not angry with you, he is angry with me because I do not want to be with him.’
‘I see. So you were with him, and now you’ve decided that you don’t want him for a boyfriend and he is upset.’
‘Perhaps.’ She puts the spoon down on the tray to the side of the still half-full bowl of soup. ‘I am sorry, but I cannot eat any more. Thank you.’
He takes the tray from her and watches as she lowers her knees and leans back into the pillow.
‘Rolf has never been a boyfriend to me. It is what he wants. It is in his head, that is all.’
‘It sounds like he doesn’t cope too well with rejection, and maybe he just needs to get over it.’
‘I am sorry, but I do not understand.’
He wonders if he should throw the soup away, or perhaps reheat it later when she has gone. After all, she has hardly touched it.
‘Let me just put this in the kitchen and I’ll be back. Are you sure you don’t want any tea or coffee?’
She shakes her head and pulls up the duvet to her chin.
‘I’ll just be a minute.’
As the kettle boils he realises that he has to say something to the girl. What if Laurie wants to come by? Or Clive Wilson was to drop by to apologise? This is crazy. He should never have allowed her to sleep here, not even for a few hours. And then there is this Rolf, who sounds as though he is capable of doing anything. Danuta is an adult, and she should check into the hostel and start to sort out her life. He can always visit her, or meet her for coffee or lunch. They can go out in the evenings to the cinema, or simply get together for a drink. He knows that she doesn’t think much of the local pub, but there are other places that they can go to. They don’t have to go to the Queen Caroline. He decides to make himself a cup of instant black coffee, which he knows will taste bitter, but he doesn’t want to leave her by herself for too long.
He sits carefully on the edge of the bed, this time a little closer to her as she is no longer balancing a tray and trying to eat. Why does she not go back to Warsaw and her family? She has a job there in a kindergarten, and her English is already good enough. How much better is it going to get if she stays in England for another month or two? After all, she can always come back again later, when things have calmed down a little. She’s not an idiot, and she must know that there are plenty of other solutions to her present predicament with this Rolf. He is beginning to feel used, and as he stares at her troubled expression he reminds himself that he owes her nothing, and that he can’t risk unmooring his life for her. She shouldn’t expect this from him.
‘Don’t you have any other friends? People that you can talk to about what’s going on. I mean people here in London?’
‘I do not understand.’
He takes a sip of his coffee, then balances the cup on his right knee and holds it with both hands.
‘I think you should talk to somebody about the situation and maybe get some advice. Have you thought about going back to Poland for a while?’
‘I do not have the money to go back to Poland. How do I go back?’
‘Well, I’m just saying, maybe you should talk with friends and explore all of the options that are open to you. That’s just one of them.’
‘But how do I go back to Poland? And why should I go back?’
‘No, Danuta. I’m not saying that you should go back, I’m just saying that it is something that you might want to explore. If you need money for an air ticket I can lend you the money.’
‘You want to buy me a ticket to fly to Poland?’
‘Look, all I’m saying is that if you think you should go, and if you don’t have the money, then maybe people can help you. That’s all.’
The girl pushes the duvet away a little. She still has on her sweatshirt and jeans, and her other clothes remain in a neat pile on the floor beneath the window. She should go now, he knows this, but it is already dark outside and the idea of her tramping off to some hostel is too depressing. He can open a bottle of wine and sit with her in the living room, and maybe they can even watch a DVD. It will be better for her to leave in the morning, and by then she might have had the decency to tell him just what the hell is going on instead of teasing him with these half-snippets of carefully calibrated anxiety about this boy Rolf.
‘Listen, Danuta, you can stay here tonight, but in the morning I think you should probably go. I’ve got things that I have to attend to. To be honest, it’s not a good time for me at the moment.’
‘You want me to leave in the morning?’
He can hear a mixture of hurt and anger in her voice, so he decides to think carefully about how he is going to phrase his response.
‘Look, here’s the thing.’ He pauses. ‘The longer you stay, the more complicated it will be for you.’
‘So you are thinking of me?’
‘Yes, I’m thinking of you, but I am thinking of me too.’
‘I would like to get dressed now.’ He looks down at her, but she will not look up and meet his eyes. ‘Please, I need to get dressed.’
He stares into the bathroom mirror and then cups his palms together and splashes cold water into his face. It shouldn’t take her too long to get dressed, and he has decided that once she has done so, and is ready to leave, the best course of action will be to give her the minicab fare and offer to pay for her first night at the hostel. He imagines a somewhat gloomy dormitory room, full of unwashed European and Australian backpackers, a place where the urge to sleep is not as powerful as the desire to stay awake and keep an eye on one’s possessions. He knows that he is doing the right thing, and given her rapid descent into angry silence, she would clearly have only become more irritating with each passing hour. Maybe he should suggest accompanying her to the hostel and checking her in, and then perhaps taking her out to see a film? If there’s time afterwards, they might even have a drink together and then he can walk her back to her place. As annoying as she is being, he has no desire for things between them to end on a bad note. As he buries his face in a clean towel he hears the door to his flat slam shut, and then the thumping of feet bounding downstairs. He waits a moment and is then jolted by the crash of the front door, which is followed by a vacuum of ominous silence. He tosses the towel over the side of the bathtub. She has gone. The problem is solved, and he knows that she will not come back and ask him for any help. She has gone.
He is not sure what is happening. He reaches out a hand and presses the button on the front of the digital alarm clock, but the ringing continues. Then he realises that he has left his mobile phone in the living room. He looks at the dimpled white ceiling and waits for the voicemail to pick up. The sudden storm is over and he now rolls on to his side and stares at the wall. Today he will try and do some more work on the book, but he knows that he should soon make up his mind and decide whether to try and get a publisher involved, or maybe even an agent. The truth is, he has been avoiding rejection, but he understands that he needs to put his ego to one side and get some proper feedback and professional advice otherwise the whole thing is in danger of becoming little more than a time-consuming vanity project. The phone starts to ring again and this time he leaps from his bed and dashes into the living room. Somebody is obviously keen to speak with him.