Cold Shoulder by Lynda La Plante Read Free Book Online

work, just to tide you over, nothing too strenuous…’
    Lorraine couldn’t face another meeting, let alone another bus ride. ‘Maybe I could just sleep now? I’m really tired.’
    Rosie nodded — perhaps they were pushing it. Instead, she chatted incessantly, about her job as a computer clerk in a banking firm. She took out her family albums, displaying her parents’ home, her ex-husband, the son she hadn’t seen for five years. She talked until her eyes drooped from tiredness. ‘I lost so much, Lorraine, but I’m hoping to see my son soon. My ex said that I could have a day out with him. I want him to get to know me as I am now. The most important thing is that I take every day on its own, I count every day as precious, because it’s a new day without a drink.’ Lorraine smiled, but inside she wished Rosie would leave her alone. She yawned in the hope that Rosie would take the hint and go to bed but she went on for another hour, delving into the pages of her beloved AA manual as if it was a Bible, reading snatches aloud.
    At last she stood up and wagged her fat finger at Lorraine. ‘I am responsible,’ she said. ‘Keep on telling that to yourself:
I am responsible.’
She went into her bedroom and closed the door.
    Lorraine flopped onto the couch with relief. She lay there for about fifteen minutes, listening to the air conditioner, the cat lapping its milk… and all she could think about was how she could get a drink without Rosie finding out. Eventually she drifted into sleep. She slept without pills, without alcohol, a deep, dreamless sleep.
     
     
    Lorraine was awake before Rosie, and started brewing coffee. It was only five, and still reasonably cool. She felt hungry, too, and ate some bread and cheese, followed by a bowl of muesli. She’d had four cups of coffee and five cigarettes before Rosie appeared.
    ‘Good morning, coffee’s made…’
    Rosie grunted, poured some and returned to her room. Lorraine sat by the window, smoking. A new day. Would she make it without a drink? Could she make it? Most important, did she
want
to make it? She didn’t answer the question — she was too aware of the rich smell of coffee, and that it was a beautiful day.
    Rosie was not at her best in the morning. She remained grumpy, uttering low, growling complaints as Lorraine took a shower. She was in the small bathroom for a long time, scrutinizing herself. Scars covered her thighs: small round marks like cigarette burns dotted all over her white-bluish skin. Her feet shocked her: they looked like an old woman’s, reddish toes and heels all blisters and corns, with hideously long toenails — she was surprised they hadn’t been cut at the hospital. She scrubbed herself almost raw, using up all the hot water. She oiled and massaged herself with Rosie’s lotions, cleaned her teeth gently, and creamed round her mouth so her cracked lips felt less painful. Finally she used Rosie’s shampoo and hair conditioner, searching the cabinet for nail scissors and a manicure set.
    Rosie was seething. Lorraine had been in her bathroom since half past seven and it was now almost nine. When she emerged, swathed in Rosie’s towels, Rosie pushed past her and banged the bathroom door shut.
    ‘Well, thanks a bundle!’ She stormed out. ‘You’ve taken all the hot water! Now I gotta wait an hour, maybe more. I always have a shower in the morning.’
    ‘Sorry,’ Lorraine muttered. The floor shook as Rosie thudded into the sitting room.
    Would you come in here a minute, please!’ Rosie boomed.
    Lorraine sighed with irritation and followed the voice. Rosie, like some irate sergeant-major, stood with her hands on her hips.
    ‘Okay. This is not a hotel, not the goddamned hospital. When you get up in the morning, put your bedclothes away and it’d be a nice gesture if you tried washin’ a dish when you used it. This is my home. It may not look much but it’s all I got an’ I work my butt off to keep it.’
    Lorraine watched as