Sweet Damage by Rebecca James Read Free Book Online Page A

I get out of the pool. She’s drying off in the sun, her face turned up, soaking in the rays. She looks about fifty, and her body is long and lean, a swimmer’s body. She smiles without opening her eyes, or turning my way. ‘You too.’
    I think of Anna as I walk back to the house and feel a renewed sense of pity for her. I couldn’t live without the buzz I get from being in the water, the rush I get from being outdoors. I couldn’t handle missing out on all this. But she clearly wasn’t always this way, and I wonder again how and why she changed from the vibrant girl in the photos, the happy girl Blake described, to the miserable person I’m living with now.

10
    I DON ’ T SEE MUCH OF A NNA OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS . I PASS HER IN the hall once on my way to work – she says hello, but keeps on going – and another night I find her watching TV in the living room when I get home from work, but I go straight up to my room. She’s stand-offish and cool, and if she talks to me at all, it’s only about something prosaic: an oven element that doesn’t work properly, or a window that’s jammed shut. Once she gives me a list of things she wants from the shops and I recognise the distinctive left-sloping handwriting from the note I found in the pantry. There’s nothing fresh or wholesome on the list. It’s all processed or tinned stuff. The shopping list of an old lady.
    â€˜Is that it?’ I ask. ‘No fruit or veg? No meat?’
    â€˜No,’ she says coldly. ‘That’s it. Exactly what I’ve written.’
    Her unfriendliness doesn’t bother me much. The house is big enough that we don’t get in each other’s way.
    So I’m surprised when I go down to the kitchen on Sunday morning and find her slicing apples, humming softly. She’s dressed in her usual clothes, but her hair is out of its ponytail, hanging loose around her shoulders and face. She looks more animated than she normally does.
    â€˜Hey,’ I say.
    She starts, looks up.
    â€˜You’re cooking?’
    â€˜I’m trying to. I’m not very good, though. I’m having Marcus and Fiona over for lunch.’ She smiles hesitantly. ‘If you’re free, you could join us.’
    I’m surprised, a bit intrigued. ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘If you’re sure, then, yeah, I will. I’m not doing anything else. Thanks.’
    I stand there for a minute, watching her slice apples, thinking about the lack of fresh food in the house.
    â€˜Anna,’ I say eventually. ‘Do you want me to go down to the shops and get something? There’s not really anything here, is there? What are you making?’
    She points her knife towards the apples. ‘I’m making apple pie for sweets. I don’t know if it’ll work out, but I hope so. And soup for lunch.’ She puts her knife down and goes to the pantry, pulls out a tin of beef and vegetable soup.
    My astonishment must be obvious because she frowns, holds the tin out towards me.
    â€˜It’s gourmet soup, not just any old thing,’ she says. ‘Look, it even has herbs in it.’
    I take the can from her and pretend to read the label. Gourmet or not, it’s still tinned soup. I look up, smile, shake my head.
    She snatches the tin from me and puts it down firmly on the benchtop. She folds her arms across her chest and stares at me. Her cheeks are flushed red, like a kid who’s been running around outside. And then she laughs, and suddenly I can see that other girl standing before me. The girl from the photos. And Blake doesn’t seem so crazy for calling her hot.
    â€˜What, then?’ she asks. ‘What am I going to do now? I don’t have anything else.’
    â€˜Isn’t that why I moved in here?’ I say. ‘To help you out in situations like this? I can go down to the shops. Get something.’
    â€˜But I can’t actually