anyway.
One thing at a time. Get through this night, first of all.
‘All right. Can I sleep with you tonight?’
A flash of eagerness lit up Dylan’s face. ‘Sure ye can.’ He was already reaching for her as she stepped back.
‘Not like that. Just let me put my stuff on your floor.’
‘Eh? Oh. Right. Well, yeah, I suppose.’
‘Help me with my mattress.’
They dragged it into his room and squeezed it into the small floor space. Carefully Roxana unstuck the beach postcard from her wall and brought it with her, placing it next to her torn pillow. When Dylan turned the light off she lay in the darkness, her fingers resting on sand and palm trees.
‘They stole my money,’ she whispered.
‘Did they so?’
‘Was it Kemal?’
‘Dunno,’ he repeated. He probably did, but he wasn’t going to risk telling her. ‘Animals, they are.’
Roxana closed her eyes. Her body buzzed with adrenalin. Sleep, she ordered herself. Sleep now, and tomorrow find somewhere else to live.
Within touching distance, Dylan scratched and fidgeted. ‘Don’t ye want to come in here with me?’
It would be a comfort to feel the warmth of another body. To concentrate on sex might be to forget everything else.
‘No,’ Roxana said. She turned her back on him and pulled the blanket over her shoulders.
In his flat in Hammersmith Noah was yawning and making coffee and playing one of Andy’s mixes. Normally at this time on a Sunday morning he would be asleep, but today he was planning to go home again to see Jeanette and Bill. He glanced at the number when his mobile rang, but didn’t recognise it.
He knew her voice, though, as soon as she spoke.
‘Hello. Is this Noah?’
‘Roxana. How are you? Where are you?’ Now it was happening, he realised how often he had imagined this exchange. Mild fantasies had provided an escape route from worrying about his mother.
‘I am…I am in a telephone box, near to where I used to be living.’
‘Used to be?’
‘There is some trouble.’
‘Tell me about it.’
An hour later, he was waiting for her at the entrance to the tube station.
Roxana came up the escalator and struggled through the ticket barrier with a cheap tartan suitcase. She looked bruised today, not surprisingly after what she had told him about the break-in. There were circles under her eyes and her hair was greasy and flat, but her mouth was lovelier than he remembered.
They walked through mild summer sunshine back to the flat. Noah carried the suitcase. It wasn’t heavy.
‘Is this everything, or have you got more luggage?’
She looked surprised.
‘This is all.’
He was briefly wondering, now that it was too late, whether he had been over-hasty in asking a girl he hardly knew to stay in his flat while she searched for somewhere else to live. Even a girl who looked like Roxana. But his flatmate Andy had just gone to Barcelona for a week. There was plenty of room, for the next few days at least. Was he really going to say to her, no, I’m afraid I can’t help you?
Apparently reading his mind, she said, ‘Thank you, Noah. You are kind to do this. I am not going back to that house. It is a really bad place.’
‘Are you going to tell the police about your money being stolen?’
‘Police? No. I don’t like to deal with the police.’
She would have her reasons for that, Noah realised. Probably to do with her immigration status. He glanced at her as they walked. He did have a suspicion that he had just invited into his life someone who would not disappear as quickly as she had materialised, but the thought didn’t bother him too much. On the contrary, new beginnings might be just that, and they would be welcome. Elsewhere in his life he was hobbled either by anxiety or routine.
‘How’s the dance job working out?’ he asked cautiously.
‘It is okay.’
When they reached the house she followed him up the communal stairs and stood silently while he fumbled with his keys. Once they were inside she glanced round then her shoulders slumped with relief.
He apologised automatically. ‘It might look a bit of a mess. You know, two blokes sharing. But it’s all right underneath.’
‘It is beautiful,’ Roxana said.
Noah knew that it wasn’t anything of the kind, but the word gave him a dim picture of what she must have left behind.
‘Here’s the kitchen, and that’s the living room. Bathroom there. This is Andy’s room, and this one’s mine.’ He opened the door. ‘You can sleep in here. I’ll just dig out some clean sheets and stuff.’
He’d better not put her in Andy’s room, he thought. She could sleep in his bed, and he’d camp out in Andy’s.
‘Thank you,’ Roxana said again. She dragged her suitcase towards her and sat down on the edge of his chair. ‘I am not sure what to have done if you couldn’t help me.’
Her accent was thicker than he remembered, and although her English was competent she sometimes constructed her sentences oddly or was at a loss for a word. She seemed less enigmatic than when they had met by the river and more fleshed-out, now she was in his flat, a proper person with a history and problems to solve. He was drawn to her even more strongly.
Noah fetched a clean sheet and a duvet cover. He bundled up his own linen, relieved that it didn’t look too bad. She helped him to make up the bed, and this domestic collaboration made him smile and remember Lauren, his most recent girlfriend, who had gone travelling two months ago. Before she went she told him that she thought they should have a year’s break from each other, but when she got back, well – you never knew. He had found this degree of uncertainty disconcerting and inhibiting. Until now, at least.
The room was right at the top of the house, under the roof. There were no proper windows, only a skylight over the bed. Roxana looked up into the rectangle of blue.
‘I like this. It feels safe here.’
‘You’re safe. No one’s going to break in. There are four giant Kiwis living downstairs, anyone tries to get in the house they’ll be kicked straight into touch.’
Roxana’s eyes travelled to him.
‘Rugby,’
