Composite Creatures, Caroline Hardaker [best ebook reader for laptop txt] 📗

of something pink with gold glitter inside. He poured out two flutes and we chinked them high in the air. I drank the glass in one go.

“My God, Norah, at that rate what the hell are the desserts going to look like?”

Blackberry pie was the last thing on my mind. Luckily I’d made the artichoke dip and batch of Gruyère gougères earlier that afternoon. Art was in charge of the jackfruit casserole.

Before I had time to flap, Rosa arrived wrapped in a thick black duffle coat which (even with the hood down) almost cocooned her whole head. As soon as I opened the door, she swooped over the threshold and escaped her layers like a hatching from its shell. After kicking off her shoes, she lifted her arms around my neck and rested her feathery head on my shoulder. She turned her face up to my ear. “Happy New Year’s Eve! It’s going to be brilliant. Let’s make this brilliant.”

I could have kissed her.

She thrust out a bottle, and stood on her tiptoes to get a first glimpse of Art, standing behind me with his hands in his pockets. She grinned and swept towards him, arms outstretched, and they sank into each other; I can only guess with relief that both were happy to play the nice game. The pair headed off to the kitchen, Rosa chirping and Art mirroring her as best as he could in his singsong drawl.

I’d broken one person in, only two more to go.

I needed to be ready so stayed in the passageway, though the longer I hovered there the more I felt the attention in the kitchen drift in my direction. I was just starting to give in to propriety’s gravitational pull when the doorbell rang. I wished the front door had a peep hole.

I stumbled to the door and opened it, only for it to jam sharply. For a moment I was completely stumped as to why the door would only open a few inches, and so I shut it then heaved it open again and again, blindly. A voice from the darkness outside: “You’ve got the chain on.” And then I saw the brass shining right in front of my eyes. Why did I put the chain on?

“Sorry, I’m an idiot.”

I opened the door to Aubrey and Eleanor. They huddled closely, like they’d already spent time together somewhere warm. Eleanor smiled her tiny smile, her eyebrows raised under a jagged black fringe. Beside her, Aubrey was utterly unreadable, her face as soft and expressionless as sleep. I was shocked at how short her hair was now, shaved to her scalp on the left side. It made her look both vulnerable and fearless.

I avoided her gaze and waited for Eleanor to pounce on me like Rosa had, and when she didn’t it left the trench between us seem impossible to cross.

Eventually Eleanor did break the stalemate. Through chattering teeth, she muttered, “Can we come in? It’s fucking Baltic out here.”

I swept up my arm and invited them into No-Man’s Land. She stepped over the precipice and flicked off her leather coat and patent black heels as if doing a jig. She hissed in relief and rolled her eyes back in her head.

“Why the fuck do we do it to ourselves, Noz?”

I ignored the water pooling around the bottom of the shoe pile. “It’s a no shoe world in here. No foot-binding required.”

“Thank fuck. Right. Where’s the man himself? This man who hath tamed the Norah-creature?”

I waved Eleanor through the kitchen and faced the music. Aubrey. She’d gone from watching me constantly to scanning the coat stand as if inspecting the scene of a crime. It had been eight months, the longest I’d ever not seen her, and here we were, neither of us willing to break the wall. She should have been happy that I’d invited her, that I’d been willing to accept her into my home, but she showed no sign of appreciation. Just, curiosity.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I’d been terrified when Eleanor had said Aubrey was coming, but when I’d seen her in the doorway, huddled against the cold with her ears and nose red from the cold, something had melted away. A tickle of joy, even. Considering everything that’d happened, it was remarkable. Some friends are their own time warp.

But still, in that hallway, cold or no cold, we couldn’t blend. Oil and water. But I had to do something. What could I say to her that was safe? That didn’t raise questions? What if she talked to Art about Luke?

Be general. Be dull. “Did you both get a taxi together?”

Aubrey nodded. “We went for a drink first. Elle said she’d had a bad day, and wanted to burn it out before… this.”

Maybe they’d been talking about me? They probably had. I was the juicy news. I kept my hands tucked into the pockets of my dress. “Come and get a drink, and then you can catch up with me too.”

I strode to the kitchen, hoping she followed behind me. Eleanor was sitting on a stool, holding our photo from the studio session, her head cocked at something Art had said. I knew it must have been an Art-joke, as Rosa looked confused and Art was standing with his legs astride, practically doing jazz hands.

Eleanor spluttered, then: “Oh my God, she didn’t? Fucking hell.”

My entrance. Play the part.

“Is that me, by any chance?” I stepped into the dining room, holding out my chin like a battle sword. En garde. But this isn’t how it should go. Art and I were a team, on the same side. We had to show them we were on the same side. Art skipped around Eleanor and wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

“I’m just telling them about the time you pretended to read my books but didn’t.”

“I did read some.”

Eleanor purred, “Noz is good at pretending. Well, I’d love to borrow one sometime. Or maybe just recommend one and I’ll buy it. Support