Cold Shoulder by Lynda La Plante Read Free Book Online Page A

Rosie dragged her sheets and pillow from the couch and hurled them towards her. They landed at her feet. She was picking them up when the floor shook again and Rosie thrust a dirty ashtray under her nose. ‘And all this smoking — it’s not good for me. Please try and cut down or at least open the window and wash out the ashtray.’
    Lorraine couldn’t get a word in edgeways. Rosie slammed into her bedroom and two seconds later charged out again demanding that Lorraine go back in and clean the bathroom.
    ‘It was a shit-hole when I went in there!’ Lorraine screeched. ‘You like it so fucking much,
you clean it?
    Rosie glared. ‘No fucking way! Get the vacuum from the closet,
and clean up in there?
    Lorraine sat down and rubbed her hair. ‘I’ve just got clean, I don’t want to get all dirty again.’
    Rosie charged to the closet, yanked open the door and dragged out an old-fashioned vacuum cleaner. Her fat body wobbled under the pink nylon nightdress, and she wore the most extraordinary bedroom slippers, like boats, but with the face of Pluto on one and Mickey Mouse on the other. The faces were old and food-stained — Pluto was minus one ear.
    Lorraine watched as the immense beam bent over to fit in the plug. ‘You’ve not had that out for a while, you should run it over the carpet in here. It’s full of cat hairs. Are you working at the hospital today?’
    Rosie switched on the hoover and glowered. ‘No, I am not. Why? So that you can have a good rummage through my things? I only work part-time, in case your memory fails you. Mondays and Thursdays.’
    Lorraine nodded, uncertain what day it was, and fazed by Rosie’s personality change. Rosie continued to complain, bellowing above the machine’s whirring, which made Lorraine’s head ache. Peace came when she departed for her shower, but only for a moment: more thuds emanated from the bedroom as Rosie dressed. Closet doors squeaked, drawers banged open and shut, until Rosie appeared with an armful of clothes which she tossed onto the floor. ‘Here, something might fit. If it doesn’t, chuck it out. I dunno why I kept that lot, maybe because I hoped I’d shrink… Help yourself.’
    Lorraine looked through the odd assortment of garments, all in dreadful colours and a mixture of sizes, ranging from a ten to a sixteen. Nothing fitted. A few items were vaguely clean, but there were no shoes or underwear. Finally she chose a print dress three sizes too large and tied a belt around the waist. At least it would be cool. She put on her panties from the day before, turned inside out. She had no bra, no stockings or tights. She looked around for the brown paper parcel she had brought from the hospital, but couldn’t remember where she had left it. Her hair was dry now, and she tied it back with an elastic band, then folded the rest of the clothes and put them into a black plastic garbage bag. She tipped the contents of the trashcan into the bag, and carried it outside for collection.
    It was such a beautiful morning that she walked to the deli at the end of the street, and stood staring in the window with all the bottles on display. The windows were barred, and Lorraine threaded her fingers through the meshing, longing to go inside. She didn’t have so much as a cent so, unless she robbed the place, there was no way of getting a bottle. Reluctantly she walked back to Rosie’s, climbed up the wooden staircase, then hesitated. She could hear Rosie talking on the telephone, and she sat on the steps, listening.
    ‘Well, I was hoping as I’ve got a few days off this weekend if we could make it Saturday? I can get the bus over…’
    The call went on for a while longer, then Lorraine heard the thudding footsteps, and a door slamming. She went inside and opened the fridge. Rosie appeared dressed in a white blouse and circular cotton flower print skirt. Her frizzy hair was wet, and she tugged a comb through it.
    ‘Water was still cold! And you had the last Coke