Truly Madly Guilty Read Online Free Page B

introduced her closest friends to her extroverted next-door neighbours, when she and Oliver had hosted Christmas drinks at their place last year in a fit of mutual ‘let’s pretend we’re the sort of people who entertain and enjoy it’ madness. She and Oliver had both hated every moment. Entertaining was always fraught for Erika, because she had no experience of it, and because part of her would always believe that visitors were to be feared and despised.
    ‘And they’ve got two little girls, right?’ continued Vid. ‘Our Dakota would love to play with them.’
    ‘Yes. Although, remember, they’re much younger than Dakota.’
    ‘Even better! Dakota loves playing with little girls, you know, pretending she’s the big sister, you know. Plaiting their hair, painting their nails, you know, fun for all of them!’
    Erika ran her hands around the steering wheel. She looked at her house. The low hedge lining the path to the front door was freshly trimmed with perfect, startling symmetry. The blinds were open. The windows were clean and streak-free. Nothing to hide. From the street you could see their red Veronese table lamp. That’s all. Only the lamp. An exquisite lamp. Just seeing that lamp from the street when she drove home gave Erika a sense of pride and peace. Oliver was inside now vacuuming. Erika had vacuumed yesterday, so it was overkill. Excessive vacuuming. Embarrassing.
    When Erika first left home, one of the many procedural things that worried her about domestic life was trying to work out how often normal people vacuumed. It was Clementine’s mother who’d given her a definitive answer: Once a week, Erika, every Sunday afternoon, for example. You pick a regular time that suits you, make it a habit. Erika had religiously followed Pam’s rules for living, whereas Clementine wilfully ignored them. ‘Sam and I always forget that vacuuming is even a thing ,’ she’d once told Erika. ‘We always feel better, though, once it’s done and then we say: Let’s vacuum more often! It’s kind of like when we remember to have sex.’
    Erika had been astonished, both by the vacuuming and the sex. She knew that she and Oliver were more formal with each other in public than other couples, they didn’t really tease each other (they liked things to be clear, not open to misinterpretation) but gosh, they’d never forget to have sex .
    A vacuumed house wasn’t going to make a difference to the outcome of today’s meeting, any more than sesame seeds were.
    ‘Pig on the spit, eh?’ said Erika to Vid. She put her head on one side, coquettishly, the way Clementine would in a situation like this. She sometimes borrowed Clementine’s mannerisms for herself, although only when Clementine wasn’t there, in case they were recognised. ‘You mean to say you’ve got a spare pig just lying around waiting to be roasted?’
    Vid grinned, pleased with her, winked and pointed his cigarette at her. The smoke drifted into the car, bringing in another world. ‘Don’t you worry about that, Erika.’ He put the emphasis on the second syllable. Er ik a. It made her name sound more exotic. ‘We’ll get it all sorted, you know. What time is your cellist friend coming over? Two? Three?’
    ‘Three,’ said Erika. She was already regretting the coquettishness. Oh, God. What had she done?
    She looked past Vid and saw Harry, the old man who lived alone on the other side of Vid, in his front yard, standing next to his camellia bush with a pair of garden shears. Their eyes met, and she raised her hand to wave, but he immediately looked away and wandered off out of sight into the corner of the garden.
    ‘Our mate Harry lurking about?’ said Vid, without turning around.
    ‘Yes,’ said Erika. ‘He’s gone now.’
    ‘So three o’clock then?’ said Vid. He gave the side of her car a decisive rap with his knuckles. ‘We’ll see you then?’
    ‘All right,’ said Erika weakly.
    She watched Oliver open their front door and step