The Catcher by Kerry Birds

Author:Kerry Birds [Birds, Kerry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

23

ELENA

Through the door glass, I saw the distorted outline of Celia’s petite frame. I took a deep breath, and my sore arms itched again, as if to remind me of the restless night I’d spent uncomfortable in bed. I couldn’t understand it, I really couldn’t, because I’d never suffered from skin problems before.

‘Good afternoon,’ Celia said, slipping off her sandals.

‘Hi, Celia. Fancy a cuppa before we go? I’ve made a pot.’

Celia nodded and smiled, and I smiled back at her. Her smiley character was contagious, which made me forget about it all, the mess, if only momentarily.

I placed two mugs on the table and took the seat opposite. A small brown stain marred the pale tabletop and it wouldn’t come off, regardless of how hard I rubbed. The swish of my shirt set off the itching again, so I pressed on my sleeve and tried to make it stop without scratching.

‘You’re a creature of habit.’ Celia nodded at my red and white mug, the one a paralegal bought me after we shared a joke about my excessive tea drinking. ‘You used the same cups last time.’

I curled my hand around it, covering the ‘Keep Calm and Carry On Brewing’ slogan, and told her I always used it and nothing seemed to taste right from the others. Apparently, Celia didn’t have a favourite mug or gin glass, though she did have a favourite knife with a perfectly sized handle and a sharp blade, which she kept top slot in the knife block, always to hand.

Silence.

Celia held the tea in her mouth for a moment before she swallowed. ‘You make good tea – nearly as good as Alistair. Though you must be the only two people in Britain who bother with a teapot.’

I touched my cheek and hoped my face wouldn’t flare like a sparkler. Absent-mindedly, I ran my hand up my forearm. Through the thin fabric, I felt the cracking, and when the fabric ended, I felt the damaged skin peeking out.

‘Have you got eczema?’

I held out my arm and peered at it, hovering my hand. ‘No, but my skin’s sore and crawling. It’s driving me mad.’

‘It looks dry. Try some moisturiser.’

‘I have. I’ve put loads on.’ Yet it still got worse by the day. Drier and more red, new inflammation on the old. I paused, thinking. ‘Perhaps it’s the lotion?’

‘Not if it’s your usual brand. Put on some more. Your skin definitely looks dry.’

Without warning, she touched a raw place with her fingertips and I froze, breath baited, waiting for the accidental stab of a nail. ‘We’ll pop to the pharmacy in town and get you some hydrocortisone cream. I need to buy a pregnancy test anyway.’

A pregnancy test. As much as I tried to hide it, I sensed the hollow behind my eyes. At the thought of them, their intimacy, the unwelcome and immoral bitterness soured the milk in my drink. I couldn’t stand to drink it, so I pushed it away.

‘Have you finished?’ I asked. ‘Maybe we should go before it gets too late.

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