Catch Me When I Fall Read Online Free Page A

to six and felt as if I'd climbed a mountain and run a marathon to get there. I opened the door with the double set of keys and eased my way into the hall. I dropped my bag on to the floor by the metal step-ladder and the tins of unopened paint. I kicked off my shoes and went into the kitchen, where I drank two glasses of water in quick succession. Outside, it was grey and windless. The tree in the back garden hardly stirred. I took off my shirt and pushed it deep into the rubbish bin, pulling tins and coffee grounds over the top to cover it.
     The stairs seemed so steep that I went up on all fours. I crawled into the bathroom and took off the rest of my clothes. I bundled them up and shoved them into the bottom of the laundry basket, under the others. I looked at myself in the mirror and it was hard not to scream at the sight of the person looking back at me: the bleary, grubby, stained, smeary, bloody woman with the swollen lips, reddened eyes and a bird's nest of matted hair. I was like something that had been left out for the bin men to take away.
     I made the shower as hot as I could bear, and then I made it hotter, burning needles of water puncturing me. I washed my hair till my scalp stung. I soaped my body and scrubbed it as if I could rub off an entire layer of skin and emerge renewed, uncontaminated. I brushed my teeth until my gums bled. I gargled with mouthwash. I rubbed cream into my face, sprayed myself with lotion, shook talcum powder wildly, roiled deodorant under my arms.
     I went into my bedroom, where through the curtains the dawn had become day. The alarm clock showed 6:ii. I made sure it was set for 7:m as usual, then slid under the duvet and wrapped my arms round my knees.
    "Holly?' muttered Charlie. 'Time is it?'
"Ssh. Go back to sleep. Everything's fine."
     As I fell asleep, I remembered I had forgotten to put my wedding ring back on.
    3
    'Holly. Holly, I've brought you some coffee. It's twenty past seven.'
     For a moment I lay with my forearm over my eyes to shield them from the glare of the morning. My limbs were heavy, my mouth was parched, my head throbbed and my throat ached. I couldn't face the day; I couldn't face Charlie.
"Holly," he said again.
     I moved my arm, managed to open my eyes and look into his nice face, his brown eyes, and could see no disgust or surprise. 'Good morning, Charlie. You're up early.'
     He looked warm and solid, in a shabby, unshaven, homely way. He worked at home, so he didn't have to put on a suit and a public self like I do every day, standing in front of the mirror and applying a glossy face, lipstick and lying eyes; smile, Holly, smile. He was just wearing his old grey cords and a long-sleeved, mustard-coloured shirt with a flaying neck.
     I heaved myself up on to one arm and took a gulp of the
coffee. Harsh, hot, black.
"Late night?' he asked.
'It .just sort of went on and on.'
'I didn't hear you come in."
     'You were fast asleep. God, is that the time? I must have slept through the alarm. I'll be down in a second.'
     I dosed my eyes once more and heard him leave. I'd had a couple of hours of fragmented sleep, and now I had about three minutes before I had to become a person again among all the other people pretending to be people. I pulled the duvet over
    my head and made myself consider the events of the previous evening. It wasn't really like thinking. I felt I was being punched by someone who was skilled in such things, the blows aimed at the soft areas of my body where they would leave no mark. I found it difficult to breathe. I gasped and coughed, as if I had been washed ashore by a large wave. I thought of that woman last night -me -laughing and flirting and being so reckless and yielding to every temptation. No, not "yielding', courting every temptation. The life and soul of the party. Now she just seemed like a ghastly, trashy bore. I thought of myself in that room, that other bed, with that man -whoever he was.
     That's the thing, with love and