Katy Regan - The One Before The One

Toby’s sitting up on the worktop, hands clasped neatly in his lap in a gesture that says, ‘Do I look like a man who was just having sex on the kitchen floor?’

‘Hi …?’

‘Alexis,’ she says.

Alexis? Since when did she ever want to be called Alexis?

She pulls out a kitchen chair and sits down, stretching out her long, bare legs. If I didn’t know any better I’d say she was flirting.

‘Cool name,’ says Toby. ‘So how was the body combat class? Back when us two old timers were young …’ Ha! He’s got a cheek. Less of the ‘old timers’ and the ‘us two’ thanks very much. ‘It was aerobics or step class. Everyone was lugging these step things about.’

Lexi giggles. A mixture of nerves and a certain thrill, perhaps, that a handsome, older man is talking to her.

She leans forward and rests her dainty chin on her hand so that you can see her perfect B-cups resting in a floral lace bra.

I check Toby. His eyes dart upwards. Caught!

‘Eh, so you’re that Toby off the photo aren’t you?’ she says, her accent even stronger now she’s obviously had a drink.

Oh, that’s great, that is. Now he’s going to think I’m obsessed with that photo.

‘What photo’s that?’

‘Brighton,’ I say curtly. ‘Anyway, hadn’t you better be getting a shower or something, Lexi?’ I glare at her but she ignores me or she’s just too pissed to take a hint.

‘It doesn’t do you justice,’ she says. She’s looking up at Toby from under mascara-smudged eyes. She is flirting. God, I could kill her! ‘You know how some people look better in a photo and some people take a rubbish photo but look much better in the flesh?’ she slurs on. ‘Well, you’re definitely the latter type.’

Toby laughs, flattered. I shoot him a look.

She takes off her leather jacket and puts it on the back of her chair, sliding it back from the table slightly. That’s when I see them. Toby’s Tommy Hilfiger boxer shorts, caught under the front right chair leg! I look over at Toby. Had he spotted them too?

‘Thanks very much,’ says Toby. ‘If that is a compliment, which I think it is. It’s all your sister’s fault, anyway …’ He winks at me, which I respond to with a tight smile and cock of the head in the direction of the floor. ‘Shoddy photography.’

Lexi mumbles something but she’s already thinking of the next question. She has her audience and she’s determined to keep them.

‘How was the book club, anyway?’ she pipes up. (How much longer was this going to go on?)

‘Great,’ we say in unison.

‘So where is everyone?’

‘They left,’ we say, again in unison.

‘But they were here,’ I add, totally unnecessarily.

Lexi nods, uninterested, and looks around the room, her eyes finally landing, unfocused on Toby.

‘Sowhatsyerjob?’ she slurs

God, when was she going to shut up? I look again at the pants, the chair’s moved slightly now, so that more material is on show. My heart’s beating ten to the dozen.

‘I’m an account manager. I sell stuff to supermarkets the same as your sister, but I’m much better at it than she is,’ he says, to which I roll my eyes.

‘Wow!’ says Lexi.

Wow? She’s never said my job is wow.

‘So that must mean you have to do a lot of like, speeches?’

‘Present—’

‘—ations,’ he was going to say, but then Lexi kicks off her shoes, which land with a slap on the wooden floor, inches from the pants.

I see Toby do a double take as he spots them; his eyes linger there for a second before he looks up at me, mouth open.

‘What’s wrong?’ Lexi giggles. Her eyes flit about the room and rest on the floor for a second. I clench my stomach muscles, hold my breath.

‘Nothing. Er, just saw the time, actually,’ says Toby, brightly. ‘I’d better get going.’

‘Really?’ Lexi’s face falls, her eyes drunkenly following him as he gets his jacket.

I’d normally see Toby to the door, catch one more lingering kiss before he has to go but I can’t risk it this time. Besides anything else, leaving Lexi alone with the pants could be potential suicide.

‘Good book club this week, Delaney,’ I opt for, lamely, as he puts on his jacket.

‘Best book I’ve had … sorry, read, for ages,’ he says, which is a joke he wheels out every book club. ‘Hope your head’s not sore tomorrow, Alexis,’ he adds as he’s walking out. I watch as he opens the door, closes it behind him and goes home to his wife.

Lexi goes to the tap to get some water and I immediately see my opportunity, grab the pants and put them in the kitchen drawer. She sits back down, nearly missing the chair. God, I think, I really don’t need this.

‘Lexi, are you drunk?’

‘No.’

‘Well, yes, you are, actually. It’s totally obvious.’

She rolls her eyes and gives a little teenage wobble of the head and I suddenly feel very tired. I’ve come over all black of mood and pretty miffed that she thinks she can just turn up here with her minxy little ways and flirt with my, my – what was he? – my lover? My partner in crime? My … well, mine anyway, that’s what he was. And I resent her making me feel like this, actually: a horrid mix of jealous big sister – a very unattractive emotion – and a nagging, joyless mother when she’s my sister and I just want to go to bed, go to work and get on with my life like I was doing before.

‘What happened to the body combat class?’

‘I bumped into a friend.’

‘Lex, come on. This is London. I’ve been here for a decade and never just bumped into friends.’

‘Well, I did, okay?’

‘And who is this friend? Is it a male friend?’

‘Might be.’

‘Is it that Jerome bloke you met on the train?’

‘Might be.’

‘Is it Wayne?’

‘Nope.’

‘Lexi, don’t be like that.’

‘I’m not being like anything,’ she sighs, rolling her eyes dramatically.

‘And what was that flirting in aid of anyway?’ It comes from nowhere but it’s out now and I can’t take it back.

‘What flirting?’

‘Oh come on, Lexi, you were flirting like mad with Toby! Batting your eyelashes, kicking your shoes off.’

‘I was not! I was just chatting to him.’

‘Chatting? You were thrusting your cleavage in his face!’

She looks visibly wounded. I feel a stab of guilt, but not much.

‘That’s bollocks. And anyway, he was flirting with me .’

‘That is bollocks. You’re just pissed and imagining things.’

‘What do you care anyway?’

She had a point; why did I suddenly care?

‘He’s my colleague! I have to work with him.’

‘Whoopdee-do, he’s not your boyfriend is he? And so what if I have a little flirt with a nice bloke who’s who’s …’ she starts crying now, which seems a little OTT. I know I should probably hug her but I don’t feel like it, I just don’t. ‘Nice to me and asking me questions?’

I roll my eyes. ‘For God’s sake, Lexi. It’s not really that, it’s the fact you’re drunk out of your head and I’m supposed to be bloody well looking after you! You’re supposed to have come here to sort your head out and I don’t even know where you’ve been.’

Just then the phone goes. We both stare at it, then stare at each other.

‘If it’s Dad, I’m not in,’ says Lexi

‘You bloody well are.’

I pick up the phone.

‘Hello?’

‘Oh, hi there.’ It’s a man’s voice – a man’s, not a boy’s. ‘Is Lexi there?’

‘Who is this?’

‘Tell her it’s Clark,’ he says. His voice is northern, rich, and really quite attractive.