“Um…better,” I admit as I sit down.
“Would you like a coffee, dear?” Mrs Crawford asks.
“Sure.”
Mrs Crawford boils the kettle. As she focuses on that, I lean in, wanting to ask Conner if we should leave, but the words don’t come out. Instead, I lean back in my chair after grabbing a sugar cookie. I want to know what they were talking about while I was…I guess…recovering.
Why can’t I remember anything?
Mrs Crawford turns around with a cup of coffee. I murmur my thanks.
“Okay, I’m off to bingo, dear,” Mrs Crawford announces. “I won’t be back until seven. Could you be a dear and look after the house while I’m gone, Noya?”
“Um…” I furrow my brow as I say, “Okay.”
I follow her out the door, and she slings her purse over her shoulder once she is out, and slides on her shoes that are already outside the door.
“I’m sorry about all this, Mrs Crawford.”
She shakes her head and says, “No fuss, sweet.”
“We will leave shortly as well.”
“Sweet, you aren’t going anywhere in your condition, and I refuse to let you go home sick while that monster is there.” She shakes her head. “You’re staying here to rest for the day, okay?”
I blink rapidly, struggling to keep the tears in. “Why?”
“Because there’s a fine piece of prime meat in my kitchen, desperate to take care of you,” she chortles, and my face reddens.
“There’s Netflix already installed on the TV in the room you were in. The control is in the first drawer next to the bed.” Mrs Crawford touches my shoulder, squeezing tightly. “You deserve a proper rest, Noya. Use it. I’ll bring food home for you, and so help me, if you leave, I’ll knock on your door. That monster doesn’t frighten me.”
My bottom lip trembles, and without a thought, I hug Mrs Crawford. She smells of musky perfume. “Thank you,” I murmur.
Afterwards, she walks down the pathway instead of getting into her car.
I close the door but leave it unlocked and enter the dining room. Conner is at the sink, washing his cup. I smile nervously, unsure of where to stand, move, or go. I don’t even know where the toilet is in Mrs Crawford’s home.
“Noya, what are we going to do?” he asks as he sets the mug on the drying rack.
“Uh…” Personally, I want to leave. If anything, I’m invading Mrs Crawford’s home, and it doesn’t bode well for me. However, the mental image of her pounding on my door when Dad is drunk scares me more than hanging out at her place.
So…here it is.
“We can watch a movie in the room—unless you want to go home, that is.”
“I’ll stay.” He looks behind me as he says, “Can you show me the bathroom first?”
“Uh…I’ll do a house tour,” I announce. He arches a brow but remains silent as I march towards the door in the hallway and open it. Blue and white tiles, a shower across the back wall, and a toilet and basin beside it. “This is the uh…bathroom.”
“Okay,” he breathes a laugh.
As he closes the door behind him, and I hear the click of the lock, I open the door beside it—the laundry. Then, the door at the very end is another bedroom. Mrs Crawford’s bedroom, and I make a mental note of it in case Conner wants an actual house tour.
I close the door and creep back to the bathroom as Conner opens the door. With more confidence in the tour, I show him the other rooms before leading him to the room I woke in.
Conner sits on the bed with his arms folded across his chest, looking a little out of sorts, while I try to figure out how to work the remote. I can’t remember the last time I held a remote before. We have one TV at home, but Dad is the only one who uses it, and he gets angry whenever someone switches the channel. Mum and I learned the hard way when I was younger.
“Can I try?” he asks, and I hand him the remote. Within a second, the TV turns on.