‘Straight down the hall – the bedroom door’s open. You can’t miss it.’
‘No problemo.’ Dylan continued on into the house.
‘Cheers, Dylan. Be right with you.’ Sinead watched Dylan go inside before turning back. ‘Do you mind if I keep my bike down the side passage?’
‘Not at all.’ Elliot put on his most affable smile. ‘And if you require any extra storage, I cleared some space for you up in the loft.’
‘Oh thanks, but honestly you didn’t need to go to any trouble.’
‘It’s no trouble. I’d been meaning to get rid of some old junk.’ He smiled benignly at his unsuspecting tenant: a little joke to lighten the mood, but sadly lost on Sinead. Now was not the right time to explain. One day, perhaps, when they knew each other better.
The unloading of the van lasted about twenty minutes. Elliot retreated to the kitchen and made tea for Sinead and Dylan. He delivered the cups with a plate of custard creams and proceeded with the minimum amount of small talk demanded by the situation. ‘It’s hard work moving your belongings across London. How was the traffic on the way over? Where were you moving from? Oh, Catford – not too bad then.’ Sinead was polite and the chat flowed easily enough. His part was played immaculately: the welcoming host who unfortunately had business to attend to. At least this gave her a chance to settle in without him getting in the way.
***
With a yank, he extended the retractable arm on the wheelie suitcase and opened the main door. He called down the hall. ‘Sinead?’ A moment later she emerged from her bedroom and hurried down to meet him.
‘I’m off now. Have you got everything you need? Hot water’s always on and the oven’s easy to use. Any problems, please call me…’ Elliot took his BlackBerry from his jacket. ‘I’ve been plagued by nuisance calls recently so I’ve had to change my number. I’ll just ring your phone so you have it.’ Sinead’s phone buzzed in her jeans. She reached for it, checking the number.
‘Got it, thanks,’ she said.
He made eye contact with her. ‘I would appreciate it if you didn’t share that number with anyone.’
‘No worries, yeah – I’ll keep it to myself.’
Elliot nodded, moved through the porch, and opened the door. He turned back to Sinead and raised his eyebrows. ‘Make yourself at home. And – enjoy.’ He stepped outside.
‘Will do. Have a good trip.’
In the background, Elliot saw Dylan standing in the hall, waving goodbye. He wondered if he needed to be concerned about him. Probably not. There had been no physical contact between Dylan and Sinead. No flirting. He smiled at Sinead, closed the porch door and went to open up the Saab.
6
Peeping through the blinds, Sinead watched his car back out of the driveway and onto the road. She was relieved that Elliot was going away for a few days as it gave her a chance to get used to her new home in her own way. She preferred discovering things for herself, without somebody looking over her shoulder, telling her where things were kept and how to use the appliances. She thought she’d made a good impression on Elliot – and leaving her to settle in must mean that he trusted her a little. Considering that he’d changed his mind more than once about taking in a lodger, he seemed cool with it now.
‘I’ll probably bust a move soon,’ said Dylan. ‘Said I’d get the van back by three.’
She turned away from the window. ‘Okay then.’
He stood behind the sofa, drumming his fingers on its backrest.
‘So what d’you think? Seems all right, doesn’t he?’
Dylan shrugged. ‘Yeah, yeah, suppose so.’
Sinead explored the living room, checking everything out like an inquisitive kid. ‘Nice TV. What do you think that is, a forty-inch screen?’
‘More like fifty. We’ve got one like that at home.’
‘Did you say you lived at your parents?’
‘Yeah, just short term. Can’t afford my own place. Trying to save up for a deposit.’
‘Good idea. I’m lucky I had that money from my mum, otherwise I’d be screwed.’ Sinead ran a finger along the bookcase. ‘He’s got so many books.’ She picked out one at random: a biography of David Bowie.
Dylan looked at the cover. ‘You know he used to live round here?’
‘Who? David Bowie?’
‘Yeah, back when he was just starting out.’
‘There you go.’ She leafed through the pages. ‘I knew Beckenham was cool.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far.’
Sinead laughed and put the book back. She glided around the living room, touching the walls and furniture. ‘When I was a kid I used to dream about a house like this.’
‘A bungalow out in the middle of nowhere? You’re weird, Sinead.’
‘Yeah, probably.’ Sinead smirked at him and he laughed. ‘Growing up in a tiny flat above a fish and chip shop on a main road makes this feel pretty special.’ She went back to the window.
‘Fair enough. I guess it’s not too shabby. Nicer than Catford. How far’s the station?’
‘Ten-minute walk. I can cycle to most places, though.’ Sinead looked over at Dylan. He was kind of smiling. He looked down and then back at her. She wondered what he was going to say.
‘Okay…’ Dylan stretched his arms behind his head. ‘Reckon I’ll hit the road, then. Mind if I christen the loo?’
‘Be my guest.’
He wandered down the hall and opened the bathroom door.
‘Dylan?’ said Sinead, walking to the centre of the room. ‘I owe you one.’
Dylan almost blushed. ‘Any time.’ He went inside and closed the bathroom door.
Sinead jumped backwards onto the sofa, her arms smacking down onto the cushions. She picked one up, tossed it into the air and caught it. ‘Home, sweet home.’
***
By evening, Sinead had unpacked all her belongings and set up her bedroom. The bed was made with her favourite lilac-coloured duvet cover and goose down pillows; her clothes were filed away in the wardrobe and chest of drawers, with her suitcase on top of the wardrobe and an easy chair in the corner. Her work stuff – backpack and tabard – hung from hooks on the back of the door. The picture of six-year-old Sinead with her mother was on the bedside table, and on top of the chest of drawers was the framed photograph of the girls’ graduation day.
Pleased with her efforts, Sinead stood in a corner with her phone and snapped a photo of the room. She went out into the hall and up to Elliot’s room. Opening the closed door slightly, she peered inside. The room was dark. Her hand fumbled for the light switch. Just then she hesitated and pulled the door shut. She jokily reprimanded herself for being nosey. Curiosity killed the cat. She wouldn’t like him poking around in her room.
At the kitchen table, she sat and checked her phone. No new messages. It had been a weird send-off that morning. Trying to find an excuse for their coolness, she thought that maybe the girls were annoyed that she was moving out and were being passive-aggressive about it. People don’t like change. They needed a bit of time to get used to the idea. She hoped they would miss her, though. Now she was living apart from them, Sinead was certain they’d put aside their differences and get back to how things used to be. She composed a text to send to the WhatsApp group they shared. All settled in. Can’t wait to have you guys over! xx. She thought about how she could arrange that: Elliot had specifically said no parties. Did that mean no friends over as well? Surely he couldn’t be that inflexible. No one could think a few mates coming over was a big deal.