The Hollow Places by Dean Edwards Page B

seeing her with and without make-up. The
morning after a night out her beautiful molasses sugar skin would
be sucked dry of moisture, ashy, her lips cracked. She'd be
standing over a pot of coffee in a similarly fluffy dressing gown,
inhaling the caffeine fumes for an early hit and trying not to be
sick. Although she appeared to be healthier now than she had been
on those occasions, there was something unwholesome about her now.
It was difficult to say why on a first impression. She had put on a
stone or two, but that wasn't it. Her hair was combed out and
unglamorous, secured on top of her head by a purple scarf, in
preparation for future styling, but that wasn't it either.
    It was late
and her eyes were red. Sarah would have expected that of anyone
else, but Geraldine had always been full of life, full of energy.
Her eyes told a new, sombre story. They used to sparkle and
everyone believed that she would become an actress as she wished,
because she had an intangible quality that made people want to
listen to her. Even when she was murderously angry, she had a light
of sorts.
    That all
appeared to be in the past.
    “I can't
believe you're here,” Geraldine said. “I can't believe you're doing
this.” Her voice could be politely described as husky. To Sarah it
was something rubbed dry and raw.
    “I'm
desperate,” Sarah said. “I've got to get off the road for a while.
I could sleep on the floor.”
    Geraldine
hesitated. “I'm married now, Sarah,” she said. “Things have
changed.”
    “Married?
When? Who?”
    “I didn't
think you were that bothered. You never answered my calls.”
    Sarah held her
head in her hands. Keep it together.
    “Congratulations,” she said.
    “What will he
think if he wakes up and finds you on the floor.”
    Sarah couldn't
believe what she was hearing. Geraldine giving a fuck what someone
else thought? When did that happen? Like oil in water, it changed
everything.
    “Can you talk
to him?” Sarah asked and Geraldine sniggered then sighed.
    “He's asleep.
It's best if he doesn't ever find out you're here.”
    “I'll be
silent,” Sarah said.
    “You're good
at that.”
    “Look … I am
sorry.”
    “You look. I'm
going to keep my promise, but in the morning you have to find
somewhere else to stay. I don't ever want to see you again.”
    It stung even
more than Sarah had imagined. She followed Geraldine into the dark
hallway and Geraldine shut the door behind her. Sarah could smell
perfume on her dressing gown – Calvin Klein, one of her own
favourites – intermingled with a fragrance for a man, something
equally expensive, layered with stale cigarette smoke.
    As they
ascended the stairs, Sarah following Geraldine's swinging hips, she
could smell oil and eggs and sausages and was suddenly starving.
She hoped that Geraldine would offer her a snack, but instead she
pushed open a door off the landing and said in a low voice:
    “Stay in here.
Don’t come out. Don’t come out for anything. Don’t make a sound. Do
you understand?”
    She sounded
like Simon.
    “Yeah, yeah, I
get it,” she said.
    “Do you need
to pee?”
    “No.”
    “You’re
sure?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Good.”
    It was at that
moment that Sarah's phone rang. It began as a tentative rumble in
her pocket and then there was a woosh as the ringtone began to
sing. She pulled it from her pocket, intending to cut it off
immediately, but she found herself staring at Simon’s name on the
display, terrified, confused and elated all at once. Geraldine
attempted to snatch it from her grip, but she pulled away.
    “Sarah!”
Geraldine hissed. In the darkness, Sarah couldn't see her
expression and she was glad. She sounded furious and she was right
to be, but she could not hang up. She felt connected to her brother
again. She wanted to answer the call so he could tell her
everything was alright again. Needing to make a quick decision, she
decided that it didn’t matter that it might not be safe. It was
worth the risk. It's