We Are All Made of Stars by Rowan Coleman

Author:Rowan Coleman [Coleman, Rowan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781448175130
Publisher: Ebury Publishing
Published: 2016-06-29T18:49:59.172000+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

HUGH

Sarah opens her door as I walk up my front path, and I discover that I am pleased to see her – I’ve been thinking about her.

By the time she’d got in last night after I’d looked after Mikey, I’d dropped off in front of the TV, and Mikey had taken himself to bed. Suddenly, I was aware of her weight on the sofa, and forcing my eyes open I turned to look at her, collapsed into the all-engulfing cushions, her neat profile and small nose ending in a perfect ski slope. She’d smelt faintly of bleach, her jogging trousers were ripped at the knee, her boots worn down. Her hair was tousled, her hands looked chapped and cold, her sooty eyes were closed. She was too tired to talk; as I watched her, her breathing stopped and then slowed as she drifted into much-needed sleep in the very place she had been able to stop.

‘How was it?’ I’d asked her, because somehow it felt wrong to leave her sleeping there, her long day so unfinished.

Her eyes had fluttered open, and she sighed.

‘You know, cleaning up other people’s mess, it’s always the same.’ She’d reached out an exhausted hand and it landed heavily on my knee, with a soft thud. ‘Cheers, though. You saved my life.’

Before I could reply, she’d used my leg as a prop to force herself into a weary standing position, and I’d followed her into the hallway, guessing how much she wanted to be in bed for a few short hours.

‘Night,’ she’d said, leaning on the front door as she opened it. And just before I left, she stood on tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. That’s the part that I have been thinking about.

‘Hello, Hugh,’ she says now.

‘Hello, Sarah,’ I reply. ‘Everything OK?’

‘I hope you don’t mind: I wanted to say thank you for last night, for you sitting with Mikey and that, so I made you a casserole. It’s nothing fancy, just cobbled together out of what I’ve got. You don’t even have to eat it if you don’t want to.’

‘Well, that would be stupid,’ I say. ‘It smells lovely, better than the pizza I was thinking of ordering.’

‘You probably think I’m weird.’ She laughs as she holds out a casserole dish, encased in a tea towel. ‘Last place I lived, no one talked to each other. We spent most of the time just trying to stay out of each other’s way. But I remember my nan saying that she and her neighbour were always in and out of each other’s houses, back in the day, and that … I always thought it must be nice to live that way.’

The look on my face must say a lot, because she laughs.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not eyeing you up for regular childcare. I just think if a person is nice, you should be nice back, right? I mean, that’s what it’s all about – I reckon, anyway.’

‘Yes.’ I find myself smiling, and I take

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