Demo by Alison Miller Page B

say nothin.
    I couldny help it.
    He just lies there.
    *
    I don’t know what time it is when I wake up and hear the tappin. Feels like hours later. I listen for a minute. Julian’s half on top of me, breathin slow and steady, still sleepin. It took me ages to get him in a good mood again after the carry-on wae the bidet. Even then he wouldny do it unless I called him Henry. Henry! And he called me Germaine.
    Like Germaine Greer? I says.
    Decidedly not, he says. But he did laugh. Seems she was a character in a book, this Germaine.
Topic of Cancer
or something.
    The tappin comes again. A wee bit louder. I waken up more.
    Julian, I says. I think somebody’s at the door.
    Hhhrmm?
    The door. Somebody’s there. Oh my God, maybe it’s Mr Abensur, I whisper.
    Wha…?
    Somebody’s at the door.
    Julian takes his arm off me and sits bolt upright. Who is it? he says.
    There’s this muffled female voice: It’s me.
    Laetitia, I whisper.
    Can I come in?
    Wait a minute, Julian says. And he starts to get up.
    No, I says. I grab his arm. Don’t let her in. She’ll see me here.
    He shakes me off, switches on the light above the bed and goes towards the yellow door. Just a minute, he says. His dreads are spread out over his bare shoulders. He’s got no claes on; his back and his bum are sorta flushed pink wae the warm. And he’s away to open the door.
    I scrabble to fling the sheets off me, jump out the bed, run intay the bathroom and pull the bolt. I hear him turninthe key, openin the door of the room and speakin to Laetitia.
    Come in, he says. What’s the matter?
    She’s cryin. Laetitia’s cryin. I hear her sniffin and sobbin. I listen at the door, but they’re talkin dead quiet; I canny make them out.
    Great.
    The bidet’s nearest the door, so I sit on the edge of it and wait.
    I still canny hear nothin. I notice my bag’s in the corner wae my boots. My claes are lyin on the floor damp, so I pick them up dead quiet and hang them on the radiator. No that it’ll make any difference, cause the radiator’s off. I’m gettin cold too.
    Then I have the idea to take another shower. It’ll warm me up. I slide the shower door open. She’ll hear it, Laetitia, but I’m no stayin in here all night. Even if it’s what Julian wants. That will be right. I reach into the cubicle and turn the shower to high. The water shoots out cold again, but I close the door quick and wait for it to heat. It doesny take long. As soon as the perspex steams up, I slide the door back a wee bit and step in.
    I don’t want to wet my hair again but, so I wiggle the shower head down the pole and let the water run ontay my boobs and my belly. I find another wee bar of lemon soap and unwrap it. I don’t need much of a wash, but I do it anyway. For something to do. I wonder if they’re talkin about me.
    Wae the water runnin, it takes a minute afore I hear the bangin. I turn off the shower.
    Clare? Julian’s sayin. Clare, it’s alright, you can come out. Clare, can you hear me?
    Aye. I’m just comin. I step out ontay the cold tiles. There’s only a wee hand towel left on the rail. One big one’s soakin and the other yin’s in the bed. I hope it did stop the bloodgettin on the sheets. I dry mysel as best I can wae the hand towel. I’m glad I didny wet my hair again. It’s damp now and the ends are wet, but at least it’s no drippin. I get another tampon out the box in my bag, crouch on the bidet and stick it in. Still three left. I’m gettin the hang of them now. Maybe I’ll keep usin them when I get home. I take my jeans off the radiator and pull them on. They feel horrible. Cold and damp. All crumpled. My bra’s no too bad cause it’s nylon. My T-shirt’s worse than my jeans. I can feel mysel startin to shiver.
    Clare, what’s keeping you? C’mon.
    I don’t say anythin. I don’t want to go out there.