Emily’s amber was under her pillow and she could feel it, like the Princess and the Pea, its jagged edges pressed up through the soft foam. She expected to be in trouble when Emily eventually noticed it was gone. She imagined being dragged in front of her to apologize. Emily wouldn’t understand that she did it to be closer to her; she would think Katya was a thief. That made her start to panic. She fetched her compass from her desk, brought it back into bed with her. She pressed the point into her skin, piercing between the birdlike bones, feeling relief wash through her like a tide of warm water.
She needed the toilet. In the kitchen the television was still on but the gunshots and car chases had been replaced by canned laughter. She moved soundlessly and locked herself in, wincing at the scrape of the bolt as she slid it across. She didn’t dare use the flush. Afterwards, she pressed her ear against the panels and listened, then edged the bolt back slowly, turned the handle and stepped out into the corridor. The laminate floor was bouncy beneath her feet and moonlight shone through the narrow, stained-glass windows on either side of the front door.
‘Katya?’
She ran past the stairs into her bedroom and threw herself on to the bed, hoping he’d think he had imagined what he heard. Five minutes went by, then ten and just when she thought she’d got away with it, her door opened. Luke stood on the threshold, his tall figure blocking the light, his eyes on the hump of her body. She regulated her breathing, keeping it shallow and audible, hoping to convince him. She felt his weight as he sat down on the bed beside her.
He stroked her hair. ‘I know you’re awake.’
His voice wasn’t exactly slurred, but it sounded thicker than normal and softer-edged. He smelled of alcohol and sweat. She was too used to drunks not to know that they were seldom benign.
‘I needed the toilet.’
‘So you’re talking to me now, are you? Come and watch the telly with me.’
‘I want to sleep.’ She yawned to prove it.
‘Plenty of time for that when you’re dead.’ His smile wavered when he saw her expression. ‘It’s a figure of speech.’
‘A what?’
‘It’s just something people say. You’re not dying, not anytime soon at any rate. I’m sure you’ll live to be a very old lady.’ His tone was mocking but kind.
‘I’m really tired. I don’t want to get up.’
‘Ten minutes then. You can fall asleep on the sofa if you like.’ He sighed. ‘What with Sally away and everything else that’s been going on, I need cheering up.’
She assumed he meant the job interviews that never produced jobs. She felt some sympathy for him, but also mortification because no one wanted him. Then she remembered Emily’s expression when she asked if she could stay; how embarrassed she had been because Katya was unwanted. How she deliberately turned her back on her. Katya knew how it felt to be rejected. She pushed the duvet off her legs and reached for her book.
He had been watching a boring chat show. On the coffee table there were four empty cans of beer, half a bottle of vodka and a plate smeared with meat juices.
‘Why are you reading that book again? Aren’t you too old for fairy tales?’
‘I like them.’
Before she realized what he was up to, he had grabbed it off her, laughing at her dismay. He flicked through it, reading passages out in a creepy voice while she sat scowling with outrage, her chin jutted.
‘Not exactly Disney, are they? Bloody hell, Katya. Listen to this, “After some moments she began to perceive that the floor was all covered over with clotted blood, on which lay the bodies of several dead women, ranged against the walls.” Is this the sort of thing you like then?’
‘Yes. So what?’
‘So, I’m just surprised. You are a dark horse, aren’t you?’
She wasn’t sure what he meant but she didn’t like the sound of it. ‘I’m not. Give me back my book.’
‘I think I might confiscate it,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t seem very suitable.’
She got up on her knees and tried to snatch it, but he lifted it out of her reach. She tried again, standing up, wobbling on the sofa cushions in her bare feet. ‘Give it to me! It’s not yours.’
‘But is it yours, Katya?’ His eyes crinkled. Luke was beautiful when he laughed but she didn’t like his looks any more. There was something wrong, something unsettling about the way those brown eyes examined her. As if she was food on the table. A nice juicy steak.
‘It was my mum’s.’ She was close to tears now. ‘You can’t take it away. You’ve got no right.’
He lowered his arm and when she reached again, jerked it away so that she toppled towards him, involuntarily grabbing his shoulder to stop herself falling.
Luke put his hands firmly on her hips; hot hands that almost wrapped around her entire body. ‘Steady. You might hurt yourself.’
She pushed him away and jumped off the sofa, furious. ‘I’m not staying here any more,’ she said sullenly. ‘I’m going to tell Sally what you did.’
‘You won’t do that.’
‘I will. You’re horrible and I hate you.’
He handed the book to her with a smile and then turned back to the television. ‘Sit down.’
‘No.’
‘Come on. I was only teasing. Sit.’ He patted the cushions.
He sounded sad not hostile, so she sat, as far away from him as possible, and tucked her book behind a cushion. After that he appeared to relax; he even yawned. She hoped he would fall asleep.
In the commercial break, he spoke. His voice was soft, the words measured. ‘You don’t want to talk to anyone, Katya. You know they won’t believe a word you say. I haven’t hurt you, have I?’
He hadn’t. Not exactly. ‘No.’
He turned and smiled at her. ‘There you are then. There’s no harm in a cuddle between friends. I don’t want us to fall out. I like you. You don’t nag me like Sally does, or make me feel I’m not good enough. And you’re such a clever little thing. Now shift over and stop treating me like a leper.’
She could feel his eyes on her profile and with that the horribly familiar build-up. She didn’t move a muscle, just kept staring at the screen, pretending to laugh at jokes she didn’t understand, hoping he’d be more interested in the celebrities than her. It didn’t stop him. He held out his hand and kept it there between them, opening and closing it in a quick, impatient gesture. When she didn’t react he leaned over and took hold of her, pulling her towards him and trapping her under his arm. He pressed his nose into her hair.
Katya could hear the blood rushing past her ears; feel her heart thumping behind her ribcage. Up close, his smell was overpowering: stale yeasty beer and meat. When his fingers brushed her skin she flinched and scrambled away, but he moved as quick as a snake and before she could escape he was on her, pinning her down with his body, his hands groping between her legs. She screamed but he clamped his hand over her mouth.