through the filing cabinet, trying to see if any other paperwork matched up to the one hundred names. It was pointless because she had no idea what the names meant and how they could be linked to anything else. She Googled the names but nothing of interest came up; everything led her down deceiving paths.
By the end of day two, after an embarrassing meeting with Pete in which she had nothing to report, she returned home to find her flat with red-paint-splashed toilet paper hanging in strands across the front door as if to mimic a crime scene.
Despite going to bed without an ounce of hope and a blocked toilet from when she’d tried to flush away all the toilet paper at once, she managed to wake up somehow feeling vibrant and full of possibilities. A new day meant a new start to her search. She could do it. This was her moment to redeem herself, to make Constance proud. Her final thought of the night had been that the people on the list could be absolutely anyone – and where else do you find people who could be anyone? Not bothering to get dressed, she retrieved the phone directory and sat at the table in her pants.
She had made various photocopies of Constance’s list, not wanting to damage the original, which she had placed back in Constance’s filing cabinet. Kitty’s own copy was now covered in thoughts, questions, cartoon squiggles and shapes and so she took a fresh copy, a new notepad, the phone book, a fresh mug of coffee – instant, as Glen had taken his coffee machine and fresh coffee beans – took a deep breath and prepared herself. She heard a key in the door and it suddenly opened and she was faced with Glen. Her hands went straight to her naked chest. Then, feeling vulnerable, she folded her legs, opened the phone directory and covered herself more.
‘Sorry,’ Glen said, still frozen at the door, key in hand, staring at her. ‘I thought you’d be at work.’
‘Do you have to keep staring at me?’
‘Sorry.’ He blinked, looked away, then turned his back. ‘Do you want me to leave?’
‘Too late for that, isn’t it?’ she snapped, marching to her wardrobe.
‘Oh, here we go,’ he said, politeness leaving his voice. The door banged and he followed her into the bedroom.
‘I’m not dressed yet.’
‘Do you know what, Kitty, I’ve seen it all before and I really couldn’t care less.’ He didn’t glance at her as he rooted in her drawers.
‘What are you looking for?’
‘None of your business.’
‘It’s my flat, of course it’s my business.’
‘And I’ve paid my half of this month’s rent, so technically it’s mine too.’
‘If you tell me what it is, I can help,’ she said, watching him root. ‘Because I’d really like for you to take your hands off my knickers.’
He finally retrieved a watch from her underwear drawer and strapped it around his wrist.
‘How long has that been there?’
‘Always.’
‘Oh.’
How much more hadn’t she known about him? That’s what they were both thinking: how much more didn’t they know about each other? They were silent for a moment, and then he looked around the room again, more gently this time, placing shoes, CDs and other miscellaneous items he’d left behind into a black bin liner. Kitty couldn’t watch and went to sit at the kitchen table again.
‘Thanks for telling me you were leaving,’ she said as he passed her and made his way around the kitchen. He took the oven gloves, the
oven gloves.
‘It was very gentlemanly of you.’
‘You knew that I was leaving.’
‘How the hell did I know that?’
‘How many arguments did we have, Kitty? How many times did I tell you exactly how I felt? How many more arguments did you want to have?’
‘None, of course.’
‘Exactly!’
‘But this wasn’t quite the outcome I was hoping for.’
He seemed surprised. ‘I thought you weren’t happy. You said you weren’t happy.’
‘I wasn’t having a happy
time
. I didn’t think that … anyway, it doesn’t
By the end of day two, after an embarrassing meeting with Pete in which she had nothing to report, she returned home to find her flat with red-paint-splashed toilet paper hanging in strands across the front door as if to mimic a crime scene.
Despite going to bed without an ounce of hope and a blocked toilet from when she’d tried to flush away all the toilet paper at once, she managed to wake up somehow feeling vibrant and full of possibilities. A new day meant a new start to her search. She could do it. This was her moment to redeem herself, to make Constance proud. Her final thought of the night had been that the people on the list could be absolutely anyone – and where else do you find people who could be anyone? Not bothering to get dressed, she retrieved the phone directory and sat at the table in her pants.
She had made various photocopies of Constance’s list, not wanting to damage the original, which she had placed back in Constance’s filing cabinet. Kitty’s own copy was now covered in thoughts, questions, cartoon squiggles and shapes and so she took a fresh copy, a new notepad, the phone book, a fresh mug of coffee – instant, as Glen had taken his coffee machine and fresh coffee beans – took a deep breath and prepared herself. She heard a key in the door and it suddenly opened and she was faced with Glen. Her hands went straight to her naked chest. Then, feeling vulnerable, she folded her legs, opened the phone directory and covered herself more.
‘Sorry,’ Glen said, still frozen at the door, key in hand, staring at her. ‘I thought you’d be at work.’
‘Do you have to keep staring at me?’
‘Sorry.’ He blinked, looked away, then turned his back. ‘Do you want me to leave?’
‘Too late for that, isn’t it?’ she snapped, marching to her wardrobe.
‘Oh, here we go,’ he said, politeness leaving his voice. The door banged and he followed her into the bedroom.
‘I’m not dressed yet.’
‘Do you know what, Kitty, I’ve seen it all before and I really couldn’t care less.’ He didn’t glance at her as he rooted in her drawers.
‘What are you looking for?’
‘None of your business.’
‘It’s my flat, of course it’s my business.’
‘And I’ve paid my half of this month’s rent, so technically it’s mine too.’
‘If you tell me what it is, I can help,’ she said, watching him root. ‘Because I’d really like for you to take your hands off my knickers.’
He finally retrieved a watch from her underwear drawer and strapped it around his wrist.
‘How long has that been there?’
‘Always.’
‘Oh.’
How much more hadn’t she known about him? That’s what they were both thinking: how much more didn’t they know about each other? They were silent for a moment, and then he looked around the room again, more gently this time, placing shoes, CDs and other miscellaneous items he’d left behind into a black bin liner. Kitty couldn’t watch and went to sit at the kitchen table again.
‘Thanks for telling me you were leaving,’ she said as he passed her and made his way around the kitchen. He took the oven gloves, the
oven gloves.
‘It was very gentlemanly of you.’
‘You knew that I was leaving.’
‘How the hell did I know that?’
‘How many arguments did we have, Kitty? How many times did I tell you exactly how I felt? How many more arguments did you want to have?’
‘None, of course.’
‘Exactly!’
‘But this wasn’t quite the outcome I was hoping for.’
He seemed surprised. ‘I thought you weren’t happy. You said you weren’t happy.’
‘I wasn’t having a happy
time
. I didn’t think that … anyway, it doesn’t
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