Sleeping with the Soldier. Charlotte Phillips

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      The door clicked open behind him and Poppy finally staggered out, yawning and squinting at the light.

      ‘What the hell’s all the noise about? I’m on duty in a few hours.’

      He took his eyes off Lara, not without some difficulty, and rounded on his sister. She looked at him with one half-lidded eye.

      ‘My bedroom looks like a tart’s boudoir,’ he snapped. ‘What the hell is going on?’

      ‘For Pete’s sake, it’s just a few pairs of knickers,’ she protested, an incredulous tone to her voice as if his room didn’t look like some vintage cathouse. ‘There’s been a flood in Lara’s flat so I’ve invited her to stay in the boxroom. She needed to store some of her stock for a bit and since there’s masses of spare space in your bedroom, I couldn’t see the problem. Can’t this wait until the morning?’

      ‘No, it can’t,’ he snapped back. ‘Have you seen it in there? You didn’t even ask me. It’s an invasion of my privacy and I’m not going to stand for it.’

      He’d always known Poppy’s patience was not at its best when she was tired and he braced himself for a sibling argument of monumental proportions.

      She drew herself up to her full height.

      ‘Don’t, then. Find yourself another flat if you don’t like it. Or you could go back home.’

      A low blow, and he could tell by the way she shifted her eyes away from him that she knew it. The subject of their inheritance from their grandparents hung between them as strongly as if it had been a visible sack of cash in the corner of the hallway. After getting access to it at the age of twenty-one, Poppy had put hers away, stashed it sensibly for the future, and now she had this flat to show for it. Living for the moment, he’d frittered his away on swanky nights out with Isaac while at university and later while on leave from the army. Expensive holidays were the order of the day. When he had time to himself, he made that time count. One particular ill-judged week in Las Vegas with the lads had reduced the pot considerably. He hadn’t given it a thought at the time, hadn’t needed to, because he’d had a career. Now that career was cut short he found he didn’t have the funds any longer for a house deposit, and he needed what was left to start over. Without Poppy’s offer of a place to stay he really would be reduced to returning to the family home and the thought filled him with distaste. If it was a choice between that and living in a room full of knickers, he’d just have to put up.

      Poppy cast exasperated hands up at the ceiling when he didn’t respond.

      ‘I can’t do this. I am not discussing your sleeping arrangements at one in the morning when I’ve got to be at work in a few hours. The underwear stays. You either put up with it or you move out.’ She turned away and stopped any further argument by shutting her bedroom door on him. He stared at the panelled wood, feeling Lara’s eyes on his back.

      ‘She loves me really,’ he said.

      ‘I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the plumbing’s fixed in my flat,’ Lara said, and instead of what should surely be an apologetic tone he picked up an undeniable pointed edge to her voice.

      ‘Plumbing?’

      She leaned against the hallway wall and crossed her arms. His mind insisted on noticing how the silk of the gown lovingly clung to her perfect curves. By act of sheer will, he kept his eyes on her face.

      ‘Yes, plumbing,’ she said. ‘Turns out your energetic nocturnal activities have put the pipe network under too much strain.’

      He stared at her.

      ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

      ‘Half the plumbing in this place is years old—it dates back way before the flat conversion. They might have built things to last back then, but no one reckoned on your bed being shoved up against it. The pipe running down from your bedroom radiator finally gave up the ghost today. It dislodged and because my flat’s directly below it caused a flood. I’ve got no running water down there and damaged stock, and if it wasn’t for Poppy I haven’t a clue what I’d do.’

      ‘I moved the bed away from the radiator,’ he protested.

      ‘Too little too late,’ she said, and as she spoke he noticed the dark smudges beneath the indignant eyes. A twist of guilt spiked in his stomach because he’d seen how completely immersed she was in her damned pop-up-shop project. In terms of actually living a productive life right now, he’d just slipped into negative territory. Living a quiet life and not hacking anyone off surely wasn’t meant to be this hard. The feeling of uselessness and lack of direction that he’d been shoving away pretty much since he’d returned to London made a sudden gut-churning comeback.

      She looked on as he passed a hand tiredly over his forehead. She could feel the climb down as he spread his hands.

      ‘Look, I’m sorry about the flood. You’re sure it was down to me?’

      An apology? And a marginally more genuine one this time since he really didn’t have anything to gain from it. He wasn’t shut out on the landing half naked now, was he? In acknowledgement she curbed her angry tone a little.

      ‘According to the emergency plumber, the problem originated in the area of pipework attached to your radiator, so that would be a yes.’

      He made a move towards the kitchen and she followed him and watched from the doorway as he filled the kettle.

      ‘Hot drink?’ he said, eyebrows raised.

      She shook her head and he took a single mug from the drainer.

      ‘Any idea on timescale?’ he said. ‘How long do I have to live in a frou-frou bordello?’

      ‘Do you mind? My stuff is classy, not tarty,’ she snapped.

      He sighed. ‘Of course it is.’

      ‘The plumber did that thing where they suck in their breath and shake their head pityingly,’ she said. ‘I’m guessing at least a few days. Plus you have to factor in the weekend. He’s made it safe but he’s not going to actually do much else until Monday.’

      He thrust an enormous heaped spoonful of instant coffee into the mug and topped it up with hot water.

      ‘You’re really going to drink that now?’ she said, eyeing it. ‘You’ll be buzzing.’

      He glanced at her. She could see the dark circles beneath his eyes even from here. Why would anyone who looked that tired want a caffeine boost?

      ‘Yup.’

      He turned around to face her, leaning back against the worktop. Her heart rate upped its pace a notch at the intense look in the grey eyes. The last time she’d been this close to him he’d been asleep, his face relaxed. Now he looked drawn and tense. He looked as if he needed a good night’s sleep.

      ‘You mentioned some stock was damaged,’ he said.

      She nodded and sighed.

      ‘Some camisoles,’ she said and, seeing his questioning СКАЧАТЬ