Roz Watkins - Cut to the Bone

‘Oh, we all do that,’ I said.

Hannah snorted. ‘If you wore shoes like those, they’d have had to surgically remove a stiletto from Craig’s head by now.’

‘We’re getting along better these days. I think it’s all a cover for deep-seated insecurity.’ Although when I pictured Craig with a shoe wedged into his smug, bull-doggy face, the image lingered enticingly.

‘Isn’t it always?’ Hannah said. ‘Doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.’

On the TV, the detective chased and apprehended a criminal, still in her heels. ‘I think they must give her superpowers. Maybe I do need a pair.’ I made a Wonder Woman noise. ‘Stiletto Woman! She can run really fast without separating her legs at the thigh!’

‘How much have you had to drink?’ Hannah said. ‘I thought you weren’t supposed to get hammered.’

‘Ah, you know. It doesn’t count if you drink it while cooking. Or defrosting.’

‘So, been on any hot dates recently?’

‘No, Hannah. Seriously. I don’t need this in my life. I read this dating blog the other day and you wouldn’t believe the stories. You’re lucky if the guys you meet have just the one wife and a few of their own teeth.’

‘Yeah, I’ve got to admit, numbers of wives and children does seem subject to rounding errors . ’

‘The stuff in this blog was mad. Necrophiliacs, people with walls of knives. All that.’

‘Sounds like the software engineers at work,’ Hannah said. ‘Have you noticed if someone fricassees and eats their lover’s body parts, the cook is always in IT? And talking of bad dates, one guy greeted me by saying, You’re quite pretty for someone in a wheelchair. ’

‘Oh Christ, really?’

‘I can’t be arsed with trying to meet someone at the moment either. I wonder if looking for men online is more fun than actually meeting them.’

‘Much like house-hunting online, as opposed to turning up and seeing the desperation in the eyes of the poor bastards who’ve spent three hours cleaning away all residue of their sticky children and moulting dogs, and then you realise within two seconds of stepping into the house that it’s not for you, but you have to go through the whole sad rigmarole of traipsing round saying, “That’s nice,” in every room.’

‘House-hunting going well then, Meg?’

‘I’ll get there.’ My eyes drifted to the damp corner of my living room. I was fond of my rented place, despite its undoubted problems. It was on a beautiful cobbled street in Belper, and I’d started to see its uneven floors and draughty windows as features rather than irritants. It had been good in the hot weather, its perpetual dampness creating a refrigeration effect, although I’d be wandering around in my extra-long scarf tripping over penguins come winter.

‘I used to wonder if this cottage was haunted,’ Hannah said.

‘Whaaat?’ She was normally so logical, and yet she thought ghosts might be stalking the property.

‘It’s cold and there are strange noises. And you always used to look up at the ceilings …’ Hannah blushed. ‘Sorry. I know why you did that.’

‘I think we can lay the blame at the door of the geriatric boiler. You know there’s that company called Victorian Plumbing, which I always thought was a weird name. Well, my boiler actually is Victorian plumbing. And as for me looking at the ceilings …’

‘I’m sorry. I know.’

‘Yes. It’s okay. I’m over it. Most of the time I can walk into a room without thinking a family member’s going to be hanging from the rafters. It’s all good.’

Hannah winced. ‘I honestly don’t know why I said that.’

‘It’s fine. And maybe the house is haunted. It’s ancient and it has its own microclimate and socks disappear all the time. Maybe there’s a poltergeist.’

‘Ha. Yeah, why can’t poltergeists ever tidy up, if they’re in the market for shifting stuff around.’ Hannah paused. ‘Seriously though, I know you’ll battle on and work hard and get far too emotionally involved in your new case, because that’s what you’re like, but you do need time … you know, to get over your gran.’

‘Time to get over being a coward and letting her suffer needlessly, after all she’d been through?’

‘It wasn’t your fault, Meg. She said she didn’t want to go to Dignitas after all.’

‘She was just protecting us. And me and Mum knew it. We knew the kindest thing was to take her, but we let her persuade us not to.’

‘You’d been through a lot too. And you weren’t to know it would drag on so long and so … horribly.’

I felt my eyes mist over with tears. I wanted to tell Hannah how much I appreciated her, how important she was to me, even though I could be prickly. She knew what I was like, knew how I could fall into that pit. I couldn’t find the words. ‘Hannah, I’m okay. But … thanks for keeping an eye on me.’

She shook her head slightly. ‘Someone has to. And how’s your mum doing?’

I closed my eyes and pictured Mum rigid with grief and horror at what Gran had gone through. ‘She’s a lot better at coping than me. Throwing herself at causes like a silver-haired ninja. I’m not sure her reaction’s entirely normal.’

‘Since when has your mum been normal? For her, heading off to El Salvador on a mercy-mission is quite in character.’

A knock on the door. ‘Oh shit, Jai’s here.’ I blinked and leaped up, negotiating the hallway, which was narrowed by the presence of too many books. The front door had been sticking in the hot weather and I had to give it such a wrench, I stumbled backwards when it finally opened.

Jai looked at me with a slight frown. ‘Always so composed and dignified.’

‘Yeah, maybe Stiletto Woman isn’t my destiny super-hero.’ I grabbed the bottle of wine and six-pack of beer he was holding. ‘I can barely stay upright in flats.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ He caught my eye. ‘Are you okay?’

I hurriedly rubbed my face. ‘Yes, come in.’

Jai stepped in, surveying the piles of books stacked along the wall. ‘Have they been breeding? Asexual reproduction?’

‘I had to move them around to do some cleaning. They’re reeling from the shock of it, but they’ll be fine. Come and meet Hannah.’

I led Jai into the living room and made the introductions.

‘I finally get to meet him!’ Hannah cried, then turned to Jai: ‘She’s always going on about you.’

‘I am not always going on about him, Hannah. Jesus.’

I sat Jai on the chair in the damp corner. Hamlet gave him one of the slow blinks I loved so much, and settled deeper into Hannah’s knee, purring furiously. I went to check on the food.

When I returned with drinks, it was obvious they were bonding. Possibly over-bonding.

‘Does she give you that look too?’ Hannah said. ‘Like it could freeze boiling oil.’

I put wine glasses on the coffee table. ‘I am here, you know.’

‘There’s the look,’ Jai said.

I ignored him. ‘I think we’ll eat in here. It’s too cramped in the kitchen and the garden’s complicated.’

‘That’s fine,’ Hannah said. ‘Saves me having to move. Are you working on that case too, Jai? The sausage girl?’

‘She’s a real person,’ I said. ‘Just because you’ve seen her eating sausages in a bikini doesn’t mean she’s pretend.’

‘Sorry,’ Hannah said. ‘You’re right. Famous people never seem real.’

I wanted to say, She’s not what you think. She’s not just a girl in a bikini. She reads feminist books and appreciates art . But obviously I couldn’t say that.

I nipped out to check on the food and returned with three plates on a tray. I overhead Jai saying, ‘Yes, Suki wants kids of her own, but she doesn’t like mine very much. It’s as if she thinks by accepting mine, she’s giving up on having her own. But I don’t want more.’ How did Hannah get people to do this? I should have had her on the interrogation team.