The water temperature was just right – warm and comforting. She turned off the taps, climbed in and lowered herself into the bath. She reclined against the tub’s sloping edge, staring upwards. Black mould crept up the wall, spreading into the corner of the ceiling. She had complained about it to the landlord months ago. Nothing would ever be done about it, but it wasn’t her problem any more. The cold-water tap dripped. She plugged it with her big toe.
Sinead thought back to the weird vibe in the living room earlier. Had they been laughing about me? No, they couldn’t have been. She closed her eyes. Maybe they were, though. Things had changed recently, she couldn’t deny it. She hadn’t been much fun while her mum had been in the hospice last year: moody, irritable, angry and definitely not her usual fun-loving self. But since the funeral, she had really been making an effort to get things back to normal. She just hoped it wasn’t too late. Because these girls weren’t just her friends – they were her family. And sometimes family need a bit of space.
She had come to realise it wasn’t ideal, living with the people you cared about the most. Petty arguments about household chores and splitting bills caused silly rifts. Things could easily get out of hand. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. Moving out was the best thing for everyone. She was doing the sensible, mature thing for the sake of their friendship.
When they first came to London it had been a big adventure and they had needed each other for support. But now they were established it was time for a change. She sometimes wondered if the real reason they stayed living together so long was more to do with the cost of renting elsewhere. They’d got a decent deal on the house and the landlord hadn’t put the rent up. Everything had been great for a couple of years. She tried to recall how things had changed. When was the turning point? Joel had moved in before Christmas. Yeah, it was right around then. Imogen had started acting weird, giving Sinead the cold shoulder, but really it was Imogen’s problem; Sinead had done nothing to cause the resentment.
Joel was always paying Sinead attention, especially when Imogen wasn’t in the room. Sinead hadn’t cottoned on at first, and then she’d tried to deny it was happening. It seemed harmless enough and she’d never done anything to lead Joel on. But things had gone up a level recently. It was like he saw her as a challenge: the more she ignored him, the more he flirted with her. He fancied her. And she couldn’t deny that he was fit. But he was Imogen’s boyfriend and so that was an end to it. Obviously.
Sinead splashed water on her face and tried redirecting her mind. Stop thinking about Joel. She lay underneath the bubbles, feeling them dancing across her skin. She remembered the hungry look Joel had given her earlier. Sinead’s hand trailed over her breasts, along her ribcage, over her stomach and down between her thighs.
***
Around eight the next morning Sinead came downstairs, wearing her silky green kimono and flip-flops. She made herself a mug of tea. Sunlight was pouring in through the back door. It was the first opportunity this year to sit outside and listen to the birds, and a chance to be alone with her thoughts before the household woke up. She opened the door, stepped out onto the patio, and saw that she wasn’t alone. Joel – shirtless, standing serenely still, eyes closed – was in the middle of a T’ai chi movement. The guy was such a poseur, with his hard abs and sculpted, tanned chest. Sinead sat on a plastic chair while he completed his routine. He must have known she was there – he must have heard the door.
His eyes opened. Sinead looked away and her fingers began gently caressing her neck.
‘Just back in Goa for a moment,’ Joel said. ‘Bliss. Trust me, you guys really need to get out there. You especially, you’d love it.’
‘One day, yeah. Definitely.’ Sinead had actually done some travelling in Thailand and Vietnam after her A levels. But that seemed like a lifetime ago.
Joel slunk over to the seating area and picked up his water bottle from the table. Sinead blew on her hot tea while he brushed long, blond-brown hair from his face.
Sinead said, ‘You’re up early.’
‘The sun woke me. Not that I’m complaining.’ He sat down opposite her.
‘Me too. It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? Did you have a good night then?’
‘Yeah… I guess. You didn’t miss anything.’
‘Really? Why not? Bet the music was good, though. Who was DJ’ing?’ She was asking questions to stay in control of the situation like she did at work.
Joel didn’t answer, just shrugged his shoulders. He stared at her quizzically. Sinead wished her tea was cooler so she could drink it and give her hands something to do. She didn’t feel like making small talk. Joel leaned back in his chair.
‘I’ve been thinking. Me moving in here – I suppose Imogen did kind of spring it on you. We could’ve handled it differently and been a bit more considerate.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘You four have always been so tight. Your own little gang. Then I turn up and… things change.’
‘Not really. I’ve been meaning to move on for a while.’ Sinead wondered where Joel was going with this. The truth made her uncomfortable. ‘Anyway, it’s not like you’re a stranger.’
‘True. Yeah… you and me go way back.’ They had all met in a bar not long after the girls had moved to London and would go out and chat to anyone. Joel was always off travelling and they had lost touch for a while.
Joel said, ‘You know, I thought you didn’t like me much when we first met.’
Sinead smiled sarcastically. ‘Yeah, Joel, I couldn’t stand you.’
He laughed. ‘That was your vibe, trust me. You were so…’ Joel fixed her with his penetrating blue eyes.
‘What?’ said Sinead. ‘What was I?’
‘Stand-offish.’
‘No I wasn’t. Maybe I was just shy.’
Sinead and Joel shared a long, meaningful look. He knew her so well. She was stand- offish; she was always like that with guys she fancied. God forbid they realised she actually liked them; if they knew that, they could reject her. It was better they figured it out for themselves and made the first move.
The scraping sound of a window opening above them destroyed the moment. Sinead turned away from Joel as he craned his neck up to see a sleepy Imogen leaning out from her bedroom window, all bedhead and smeared mascara. She saw her boyfriend first. Yawning, she said, ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’
‘Couldn’t do it, babe. You looked too cute, all snuggled up in the duvet.’
Sinead squirmed in her seat, not wanting to hear their lovey-dovey shit. It was bad enough hearing them have sex through the bedroom walls. She bowed her head. One leg was crossed over the other, jittering with nervous energy, and she watched her flip-flop vibrating against the sole of her foot.
Imogen blew her boyfriend a kiss. Then she leaned out onto the windowsill and noticed that he wasn’t alone. Sinead gave a little wave. Imogen scowled. Sinead stared back – what? She hadn’t done anything wrong, they were just chatting. Imogen blanked her and addressed Joel.