Cecelia Ahern 3-Book Collection: One Hundred Names, How to Fall in Love, The Year I Met You. Cecelia Ahern

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СКАЧАТЬ about the couch?’

      ‘They’re not like the other guys I shared with, Kitty, they’d go mad if they found you on the couch. We have fucking house rules here.’

      ‘Oh. Well, what about the one in your room?’

      ‘No. Eh. No. Em. Can’t really do that.’

      ‘Stevie, who’s that?’ Kitty heard a groggy voice in the background.

      ‘Oh, of course, I’m sorry. Katja is there. How silly of me. I’m fine, Steve, I’m sorry for disturbing you, I shouldn’t have called, I just—’

      ‘Kitty, shut the fuck up for a second and let me think,’ he snapped.

      She shut up.

      ‘Okay. Come over here. You can sleep in my room. Katja and I will go to her place, okay?’

      She heard Katja say something, then the phone was moved and a muffled conversation continued in the background.

      ‘Yeah, that’s what we’ll do,’ Steve said into the phone. ‘Come on over here.’

      ‘I can’t let you do that, Steve, I don’t want to kick you out of your own house.’

      ‘Well, have you any other ideas?’

      She hadn’t. She hadn’t had a good idea for over six months; she was all out. She couldn’t call Bob. He would be distressed enough as it was without her landing on his doorstep. Sally wasn’t answering her phone and she didn’t want to just turn up at 3 a.m. when she had a husband and an eighteen-month-old child asleep. Kitty’s family were hours away in Carlow and she had never gone home crying to them over anything. She contemplated a booty call to Richie but very quickly changed her mind. Steve was all she had right then, her only option.

      ‘Okay,’ she whispered.

      It was not how she’d planned their first meeting: Kitty red-eyed and exhausted at 3.30 a.m.; Katja, clearly exhausted from being woken in the middle of the night and then tossed onto the street by some idiot woman who was a friend of her boyfriend’s, though she still had enough energy and politeness to hide whatever anger she was feeling and replaced it with a sympathetic look. They were whispering at the foot of the stairs, barely a conversation, just a handover of a bed.

      ‘You okay?’ Steve asked.

      ‘Yes, I’m so sorry about this.’

      ‘It’s fine. I’m not sure when I’ll be back tomorrow so …’

      ‘I’ll let myself out early, they won’t even know I was here. I’m really sorry about this.’

      ‘If you see Lisa and Dave, don’t tell them anything. It’s none of their business. Tell them I’ll talk to them later.’

      ‘I won’t see anyone, I’ll be gone before they’re awake. I’m so sorry about this.’

      ‘Okay,’ Steve quietly opened the door. It made a difference from his other rental properties, where coming and going at 3 a.m. and having randomers over to stay was the norm. She guessed he was growing up. What bad timing for her and her crises.

      ‘It was nice to meet you,’ Katja said, and gave her a sad smile before closing the door behind her.

      Kitty stuck her tongue out at the closed door.

      And so for the second bad thing of that day. At only 4 a.m., Kitty found herself in Steve’s unmade bed, though someone clearly had made the effort to tidy it. The window was open but there was still a smell of sex in the room. Kitty avoided the bed and sat on the couch, wrapping herself in a blanket, where she remained sitting upright, watching the sunrise and listening to the birds awaken with the rest of the world. She must have fallen asleep for a short time as she woke up with a crick in her neck. It was seven o’clock and she was parched. It was Sunday and outside everything was still. There was no traffic, no car doors slamming, no postmen, no deliveries. The house was as silent as it had been four hours earlier. She folded the blanket and placed it back exactly where she’d found it, she freshened herself up in the en-suite bathroom and tiptoed downstairs. She crept towards the kitchen and opened the door, and there at the table a woman, Lisa, looked up at her, expecting to see Steve, and was forced to do a double-take.

      ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

      A man in jogging clothes and a sweat-stained back and pits turned round and took headphones out of his ears. Dave.

      ‘Uh, hi,’ Kitty said, wishing she had gone straight for the front door.

      ‘You’re Kate,’ Dave said. ‘We met her at the Christmas party, Lisa. She’s Steve’s friend.’

      ‘Oh,’ Lisa said, clearly not remembering. ‘Did you stay here last night?’

      ‘Er …’ Kitty was afraid to say the wrong thing as Steve had clearly stated that she didn’t tell them anything, and he was intensely private. ‘Steve told me to tell you that he’d talk to you later. Do you mind if I get a glass of water? I’ll leave straight after.’

      ‘Sure,’ Dave said.

      ‘Is Steve okay?’

      ‘Yes.’ Kitty tentatively opened cupboard after cupboard, not wanting to intrude in their space any longer and wishing she had just walked to the shop for a bottle. ‘He said he’d explain later.’ It really sounded more mysterious than it actually was.

      ‘Is he upstairs?’

      ‘No.’

      Dave opened the cupboard behind her and handed her a glass.

      ‘Thanks.’

      She self-consciously went to the sink and they watched her.

      ‘Are you sure he’s okay? I heard him go to bed last night. He must have left in the middle of the night.’

      ‘He’s fine.’

      ‘Do you know what he wants to talk to us about?’

      Kitty was confused. They were making a big deal out of something very simple. She wasn’t sure whether to stick to her line or explain. Instead she gulped down her water and they eventually looked away. Dave resumed buttering his toast and Lisa picked up her newspaper and what Kitty saw on the front almost stopped her heart as the third bad thing of that day happened. It also caused her to choke on her water and she circled her little spot in the kitchen coughing, spluttering and banging on her chest.

      ‘Are you okay?’ Dave asked.

      Tears were streaming down her face.

      ‘Wrong way,’ she squeaked before convulsing with coughs again.

      He watched her, not knowing whether to help her and choosing not to. Finally the fit eased and it was just the occasional cough here and there, mostly when she spoke.

      ‘Can I see that?’ She pointed at the Sunday tabloid.

      Lisa СКАЧАТЬ