The Debt & the Doormat(53)

‘There you go,’ he says, plonking me down on the toilet seat.

‘Thanks,’ I say through gritted teeth.

‘You need help getting undressed?’ he asks, his eyes wickedly amused.

‘No, I think I’ll manage thanks.’ I cross my arms and roll my eyes.

He laughs and turns the shower on, flicking some water into my face.

‘All yours princess. Oh and one last thing,’ he says, his expression turning serious.

‘What?’

He leans over me, resting his hands either side of me. His face is so close that I can feel his cool breath against my chin. I can't remember how to breathe. A chill that has nothing to do with my wet clothes makes me shiver.

‘Try not to drown.’

When I get out of the shower I feel one hundred times better. I didn’t realise how much mud I had on me until I tried to wash it away. It really was everywhere. I wonder how much mud has wrecked downstairs. How am I going to fix that? Plus where the hell did Izzy go? The last thing I remember was her helping me in and saying she was getting in the shower. I must have closed my eyes for a second and instead passed out.

I hobble down the stairs, struggling to take my weight on my swollen ankle, holding my towel around me. My ankle is a bit better from the heat of the shower, but it still throbs like hell. I pop my head round the kitchen door to survey the damage. Oh dear. Ryan’s on the floor scrubbing at one of the many footprints and Toffee’s lying down on the floor next to him, soaking wet.

‘God, sorry about the mess,’ I grimace.

‘That's OK. It's my own fault for leaving you with her,’ he shoots back, his face tense.

I flinch from the resentment in his voice.

‘Well, I’m sorry I’m so incapable,’ I say hurt by his sudden change of mood.

He ignores me and carries on scrubbing. Not even an insult, this must be bad.

‘How did you wash Toffee if I was in the shower?’ I enquire, attempting more conversation.

‘I got her with the hose.’ He looks at her fondly as she lets out a yawn.

‘The hose! Poor thing, she must have been frozen.’

‘Oh, look who suddenly cares. This morning you just wanted her the hell out of here and this afternoon you’re best friends,’ he growls back.

What the hell is his problem? We scowl at each other in silence for what seems like an eternity. I decide to speak first, trying to keep myself focused. I’m in danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. The way his forehead wrinkles and his jawline tightens. Even when he’s pissed off he’s hot. Maybe hotter.

‘It's strange actually, they normally say dogs are like their owners, but she doesn’t seem to have erratic mood swings,’ I say icily.

He just glares in response and continues to scrub the floor.

I go back into my room and get changed into baggy jeans and a vest top, too knackered to even attempt to wear anything pretty. I place my slippers carefully on my feet, mindful not to aggravate my ankle. I’m halfway through towelling my hair when I hear the front door slam. Did he just leave? Then I hear Grace start to shriek.

‘Oh my God! What the fuck happened here!’

‘Oh calm down Grace,’ Ryan snaps at her.

Oh God – Grace is going to literally kill me.

‘I will not calm down! What the fuck has that dog done! And what are these foot prints? Was this Izzy?’

‘No...It was....Look, it doesn’t matter who it was.’

‘I know who the fuck it was!’ She bursts my door open and barges in. Thank God I’m dressed.

‘Poppy, what the fuck do you think you’re doing bringing all this mud into the house?’ she screams, her face red and blotchy from anger, her eyes scrunching up in frustration. This is the first time I’ve seen her truly ugly.

I stare at her dumbfounded, frozen in fear.

‘Well? What's your answer? What's your excuse for wrecking my house?’

‘I....I....’

I start to feel tears pricking at my eyes. Do NOT cry Poppy. Don’t be a baby.

‘Leave her alone Grace!’ Ryan jumps in front of me.

‘No, why the fuck should I? She swans in here like she owns the place, accuses me of pushing her over and then wrecks the house. I know it was never the best house, but it was ours and you’ve just wrecked it like you don't give a shit.’

God, she’s right. If someone did that to me I’d probably be just as mad. I mean, look how upset I get when a pillow gets ruined.

‘I’m sorry. I’m really so sorry,’ I say, trying to look at her over Ryan’s protective shoulder.

‘No, don't apologise to her Poppy’, Ryan interrupts. ‘She’s well out of order, storming into your room like this.’ Ryan to my rescue. Swoon.

‘ME OUT OF ORDER!?’ she screams, her eyes bulging out.

‘Yes, you! Look, Toffee is my dog and if you want to take it out on anyone take it out on me.’

‘But it's HER fault!’ she shrieks. A vein in her neck is bulging now. Wow, she really hates me.

‘I don't care,’ he says coolly, still standing protectively in front of me.

‘I’ll pay for it to get fixed,’ I say impishly over his shoulder.

‘Pay for it to get fixed! You think you can just throw your money at it do you!?’ she screams, her eyes mad and bulging with anger.

It’s like she's possessed. Maybe at first I could sympathise with her, but now she’s just acting un-hinged, her face getting redder by the second. God, she’s ugly when she’s mad.

‘Come on Poppy,’ Ryan says, putting his arm around me and guiding me past her. ‘We’re going out.’

‘But...I don't have...’

It’s too late. He practically drags me out of the house and into his car before I realise what's happening. He leans over me to strap my seat belt on, giving me the opportunity to smell his hair. It annoys me that he treats me like I’m incapable of doing it myself, but having him so close to me still makes my heart splutter hyperactively.

He disappears into the house, only to appear a second later with Toffee in his arms. He opens my door and places her on my lap. The smell of wet dog is so powerful, but I just pull myself together, scared of making more of a fuss. You’ve wrecked his house. Don't moan. He gets in the car and takes a big deep breath.

‘The fucking cheek of her,’ he huffs, starting the engine.

‘Yeah, but I did kind of wreck the house. I’d have probably gone mad too.’

‘That's not the point,’ he says, a new blast of anger broad siding him as he pulls out of the space and onto the road. ‘She just thinks she owns the place and to hell with everyone else.’

‘I suppose,’ I say, stroking Toffee’s head.

They say the closest thing to hate is love. Him getting this angry just makes me realise that Grace is right. There really must be something between them.

‘Anyway, it was nice for you to pull me out of there, but there’s really no need for you to just drive around aimlessly. We can go back now. I’m big enough to fight my own battles.’

I just want to go home and have a little cry.

‘Hmm, yeah looks like it. How’s the ankle?’ he snickers.

‘Its fine,’ I lie through my teeth. ‘Seriously, we can go back now.’

‘We’re not going back,’ he says, a smile breaking across his face as he stares ahead at the road.

‘Then…where the hell are we going?’ I ask, suddenly panicked.

‘We’re going to drop Toffee back.’

‘Oh.’ Then it hits me where Toffee lives. ‘We’re going to your Grandma’s house?’

‘Yep,’ he says, a soft enchanting laugh escaping.

Oh my God. I’m going to visit his Grandma dressed like a tramp, with wet hair and no makeup.

‘I can't! I haven’t got any make up on! And my hairs wet. And I’m in SLIPPERS! Please, can you at least go back and get my make up? Or a jacket? I haven’t even got a bra on!’

‘Oh I know, I noticed,’ he says, eyeing my boobs and smiling playfully.

I immediately cross my arms over them and start to panic. Ok, calm down. I pull down the mirror and look at myself. My hair doesn’t look that bad. It's drying into its usual un-tamed waves, but it's not horrendous. At least there’s no more mud in it. My skin is clear, but without make up I look so pale I could pass as a vampire, small purple bags under my eyes.

I pinch my cheeks and start looking around his car. He must have something here that an old girlfriend left behind. I go through the glove box and throw out the contents.

‘Hey, are you trying to wreck everywhere today?’ he asks with a flash of irritation.

‘Ha ha,’ I shoot back, still rifling through.

I feel some kind of fabric and pull it out, hoping it might be a small jacket, but all that comes out is a tiny pink diamante thong.

‘Get many visitors in your car, do you?’ I ask holding it up with one finger.

‘Shit, how did that get in there?’ he laughs, but not before I see a flush of embarrassment.

I throw it on the floor and carry on looking through, but I can't find anything! Why couldn’t there be a mascara in here!?

‘What's wrong?’ he asks, amusement still clearly in his eyes.

‘I can't find any make up! I seriously cannot meet your Grandma like this. I’ll have to wait in the car.’

‘You look fine. And anyway, I didn’t think you were one to be bothered about make up.’