heard
it. The sound of dripping, tinkling. A tap running. Except it wasn't the same
sound as a tap running; it was bigger, more complicated. Then I stepped inside.
There was water everywhere. The kitchen
floor was an inch deep in it and the carpet was sodden when I stepped on it.
There was water pouring from beneath the bathroom door. I opened it and stepped
into the flood; the remnants of the book I'd been reading in the bath that
morning floated by the toilet bowl, along with a mushy roll of toilet paper.
There was a steady waterfall cascading over the rim of the tub. The hot tap was
half-on. I waded across the room and turned off the tap, then plunged my arm,
still in its jacket sleeve, into the water to find the plug. I felt ill and
sick and consumed with anguish, and then I thought about the flat below and I
felt worse. I found a dustpan and started sloshing water off the floor, into
the emptying bath.
It took forty-five minutes to get the
worst of the water off the bathroom floor. I laid newspapers everywhere to soak
up the rest and started on the kitchen. Then the bell rang.
He was yelling before I'd even got the
door open. He sploshed across the carpet, still shouting at me. His face was
quite purple. I thought he might have a heart attack or a stroke, or he might
just die from his head exploding.
'I'm so sorry,' I kept saying. I couldn't
even remember his name. 'So sorry. I don't know how...'
'You'll sort this out, do you hear? Every
last thing.'
'Of course. If you give me the details of
your in —'
At that moment Brendan and Kerry appeared,
arms wrapped round each other, faces glowing from the night air.
'What on earth...?' began Kerry.
'You may well ask.' I whirled on Brendan,
'Look at what you've fucking gone and done. You stay here, you clean out my
fridge, you drink my coffee and my wine, you take up every inch of space so I
can't move without bumping into you. You have bloody baths in the middle of the
day and then...' I was spluttering with rage. 'Then you go and leave the plug
in and the water running. Look! Look!'
'And that's nothing compared to
downstairs,' said my neighbour grimly.
'Miranda,' said Kerry, 'I'm sure...'
'Whoa!' said Brendan, holding up his
hands. 'Calm down, Mirrie.'
'Miranda,' I said. 'Miranda. There's no
such name as "Mirrie".'
'Don't get all hysterical.'
'I'm not hysterical. I'm angry.'
'I haven't been here today.'
'What?'
'I haven't been here.'
'You must have been.'
'No. Now sit down, why don't you, and I'll
make us all some tea. Or maybe a drink would be better.' He turned to my
neighbour. 'What about for you, Mr, er...?'
'Lockley. Ken.'
'Ken. Whisky? I think we've got whisky.'
'All right, then,' he said grudgingly.
'Good.'
He pulled the whisky bottle out of the
cupboard, and four tumblers.
'You must have been here,' I said to his
back. 'You must.'
'I went to look at the house with Kerry,
then I went shopping. Then I met Kerry for lunch.' Kerry nodded. She still
looked shaken by my outburst. 'Then I went to Derek and Marcia's to see Troy.'
He put his hand on my shoulder. 'No midday baths, Mirrie.'
'But...'
'Did you have a bath before you left,
maybe?'
'There's no way I left the plug in and the
tap running. I don't do things like that.'
'It's so easy to do. We've all done
something like that at one time or another.' He turned to Ken. 'Haven't we, eh?
I'm sure Miranda will make sure everything's dealt with. And she's in the
building and decorating trade, so maybe she can help you with the painting and
stuff. Mmm?'
'I didn't do it,' I said hopelessly.
'Miranda,' said Kerry. 'No one's blaming
you. But you were the last to leave. And you had a bath, didn't you?'
'But I...' I stopped. A tremendous
weariness came over me. 'I remember cleaning out the bath.'
'Don't worry,' he said gently. 'We'll help
you sort this mess out.'
'I don't understand.' To my horror, I felt
tears sliding down my cheeks.
'Miranda! Listen...' Kerry's voice was
sharp.
'Ssssh,' said
it. The sound of dripping, tinkling. A tap running. Except it wasn't the same
sound as a tap running; it was bigger, more complicated. Then I stepped inside.
There was water everywhere. The kitchen
floor was an inch deep in it and the carpet was sodden when I stepped on it.
There was water pouring from beneath the bathroom door. I opened it and stepped
into the flood; the remnants of the book I'd been reading in the bath that
morning floated by the toilet bowl, along with a mushy roll of toilet paper.
There was a steady waterfall cascading over the rim of the tub. The hot tap was
half-on. I waded across the room and turned off the tap, then plunged my arm,
still in its jacket sleeve, into the water to find the plug. I felt ill and
sick and consumed with anguish, and then I thought about the flat below and I
felt worse. I found a dustpan and started sloshing water off the floor, into
the emptying bath.
It took forty-five minutes to get the
worst of the water off the bathroom floor. I laid newspapers everywhere to soak
up the rest and started on the kitchen. Then the bell rang.
He was yelling before I'd even got the
door open. He sploshed across the carpet, still shouting at me. His face was
quite purple. I thought he might have a heart attack or a stroke, or he might
just die from his head exploding.
'I'm so sorry,' I kept saying. I couldn't
even remember his name. 'So sorry. I don't know how...'
'You'll sort this out, do you hear? Every
last thing.'
'Of course. If you give me the details of
your in —'
At that moment Brendan and Kerry appeared,
arms wrapped round each other, faces glowing from the night air.
'What on earth...?' began Kerry.
'You may well ask.' I whirled on Brendan,
'Look at what you've fucking gone and done. You stay here, you clean out my
fridge, you drink my coffee and my wine, you take up every inch of space so I
can't move without bumping into you. You have bloody baths in the middle of the
day and then...' I was spluttering with rage. 'Then you go and leave the plug
in and the water running. Look! Look!'
'And that's nothing compared to
downstairs,' said my neighbour grimly.
'Miranda,' said Kerry, 'I'm sure...'
'Whoa!' said Brendan, holding up his
hands. 'Calm down, Mirrie.'
'Miranda,' I said. 'Miranda. There's no
such name as "Mirrie".'
'Don't get all hysterical.'
'I'm not hysterical. I'm angry.'
'I haven't been here today.'
'What?'
'I haven't been here.'
'You must have been.'
'No. Now sit down, why don't you, and I'll
make us all some tea. Or maybe a drink would be better.' He turned to my
neighbour. 'What about for you, Mr, er...?'
'Lockley. Ken.'
'Ken. Whisky? I think we've got whisky.'
'All right, then,' he said grudgingly.
'Good.'
He pulled the whisky bottle out of the
cupboard, and four tumblers.
'You must have been here,' I said to his
back. 'You must.'
'I went to look at the house with Kerry,
then I went shopping. Then I met Kerry for lunch.' Kerry nodded. She still
looked shaken by my outburst. 'Then I went to Derek and Marcia's to see Troy.'
He put his hand on my shoulder. 'No midday baths, Mirrie.'
'But...'
'Did you have a bath before you left,
maybe?'
'There's no way I left the plug in and the
tap running. I don't do things like that.'
'It's so easy to do. We've all done
something like that at one time or another.' He turned to Ken. 'Haven't we, eh?
I'm sure Miranda will make sure everything's dealt with. And she's in the
building and decorating trade, so maybe she can help you with the painting and
stuff. Mmm?'
'I didn't do it,' I said hopelessly.
'Miranda,' said Kerry. 'No one's blaming
you. But you were the last to leave. And you had a bath, didn't you?'
'But I...' I stopped. A tremendous
weariness came over me. 'I remember cleaning out the bath.'
'Don't worry,' he said gently. 'We'll help
you sort this mess out.'
'I don't understand.' To my horror, I felt
tears sliding down my cheeks.
'Miranda! Listen...' Kerry's voice was
sharp.
'Ssssh,' said
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