the glass to her lips, closed her eyes and then drank it down. She coughed and spluttered as the neat vodka burnt its way down her throat, filling her with warmth. Her head began to feel muzzy.
Putting the glass on the bedside table she climbed back in, feeling sick as the room started spinning. She muttered to herself: Too much, Kate. One of these days you’re going to kill yourself – and a part of her wondered if that would be such a bad thing. The last few days, she’d had fleeting moments of despair at how much work needed to be done before they could open the house for business, followed by mild anxiety attacks. She’d never been one to suffer with her nerves, but she’d go into certain rooms or parts of the house and her stomach would start to fill with butterflies for no particular reason, which was unsettling her. She’d think about the huge project that she’d taken on and brush the feelings away as anxiety.
She had no one who wanted her. Maybe dying would be the best thing for her – even though the thought of leaving her girls terrified her. Just then, her eyes closed as she finally fell asleep.
Upstairs, the footsteps that had paused continued from room to room, looking for something that had been lost a very long time ago, but Kate was oblivious to it all.
***
Ollie let himself in with the spare key that Kate had given to him. He was much earlier than usual, but he wanted to get the next room finished. He had told himself that if he managed to get two bedrooms up and running, with the bathrooms plumbed in, then maybe Kate could have her daughters over to stay with her.
Martin couldn’t really say no to her now she wasn’t living in that grotty council flat and it might cheer her up, because although she’d never said as much he could tell she was feeling down. If she had her kids to stop it also might mean she would drink a little less. He felt bad for checking up on her, but he counted the empty bottles every morning in the recycling.
It was none of his business what she did and he knew this, but he liked her. If he was honest with himself, there was something about her that he found very attractive and he didn’t want to see her throwing her life away. She had so much to live for – plus he kind of felt responsible for her now he was seeing her every day. The poor woman was even lonelier than him and he’d thought he had it bad.
He was surprised to see the same number of bottles as yesterday and was secretly pleased, until he got to the kitchen and saw the empty vodka bottle on the table. Bollocks. He walked down to her room. It wasn’t like her not to already be up and pottering around. Then again, he was early and it looked like she’d hit the hard stuff last night.
Lifting his hand to knock on her door, he stopped mid-air. What are you, her father? This is none of your business, Ollie, so keep out of it. Instead he listened at the door for any sign of life. He heard a gentle snore and the bed creak as she moved. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was sleeping in and then he stepped back and walked away.
This was well and truly overstepping the mark. It was beyond their working relationship and he felt like a dirty old man for even thinking about her like that. Instead he went back to the kitchen where he began to make some toast and a pot of tea, banging around loudly and hoping she’d wake up.
As he finished setting the teapot on the table, he turned and jumped to see her standing there yawning. She was wearing a pair of mismatched pyjamas. Her hair was tousled and sticking up and she didn’t have a scrap of make-up on. She looked so sexy. Mortified, he had to turn away before she noticed what a funny shade of red his face had turned.
‘What time is it?’
‘I’m early. It’s only eight o’clock. I thought I’d get started on that second bedroom. I wanted to make a big difference today.’
‘Thanks, Ollie, that’s really kind of you.’ Kate sat down, putting her head in her hands.
Ollie poured her a mug of tea out and passed her some toast. As he reached over he caught a whiff of her perfume. It was the same one his wife had worn. Funny how he’d never noticed that before. Then again, he’d never been in such close proximity to Kate in her pyjamas either. Normally they were both covered in plaster dust and muck. She sipped the tea and picked up a slice of toast, nibbling on the corner. She held her head up with one hand. He kept telling himself not to say it, but it came out before he could help himself.
‘Heavy night?’
She looked at him and he saw the faint redness beginning to creep up her neck. He could have kicked himself. It was none of his bloody business what she did so why was he so bothered?
‘Not really, I couldn’t sleep. I tried my best to drift off but then I heard scratching on the wall and I thought I heard noises coming from the bedroom above mine. I had to go and investigate, but there was nothing there.’
‘It’s an old house, Kate. It would make lots of noises anyway as the floorboards settled once the air cooled. With the amount of work we’re doing, it’s bound to increase – especially at night when there’s no one banging around up there and you’re here on your own. I never thought to mention it to you.’
She nodded her head. ‘Oh, that reminds me. Did you leave that bedroom window and door open?’
‘No, I was the last one in. I’m sure of it and I could swear that I shut them both. Why?’
‘They were both wide open when I went up there and it was freezing cold. And I didn’t think the crosses were very funny either.’
He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. His first instinct was that she’d been drunk and didn’t know either, but then it bothered him that the window was open. He distinctly remembered closing it because he’d wondered whether or not he should leave it open an inch to air the room out.
‘How wide open was the window?’
She put the mug down and lifted her hands apart quite some distance.
‘I didn’t leave it like that. I’m positive.’
‘Well, someone did. It doesn’t matter now. It just gave me a bit of a fright being on my own and sober for the first time in, well, in a long time.’
‘What happened, Kate?’
‘Not much really, apart from me deciding that I’d not drink and then I couldn’t sleep because of the scratching and noises.’
She leant forward onto her elbows, managing to knock her mug and spill tea all over the table. He jumped up to get some kitchen roll and mop it up.
‘No, I mean exactly what happened that caused you to come back down and finish off almost half a bottle of vodka?’
He could have kicked himself. Now she was going to think he was some weirdo who was keeping tabs on her. This was her house and her life. What right did he have to know how much vodka she had left in the bottle or how much she’d drunk? She hesitated, and he knew that once more he’d put his size eleven foot in it and embarrassed her.
‘I was lying in bed and heard noises from upstairs – footsteps to be exact – so feeling brave, I went up there to see what or who it was. All the other doors were shut except for that one; it was wide open. So I forced my shaking legs to walk down and have a look inside. That’s when I saw the window open and figured the breeze had opened the door, but it doesn’t explain who put those fucking awful crosses on the wall. To tell the truth, I was really
