Chapter Ten

T he fact that she was trotting along after Cordelia, suitcase in hand, like a recalcitrant child was by far the most surprising part of Lydia’s day. Mostly because Lydia could have sworn that Cordelia actively disliked her.

The late summer sun was still shining as they turned the corner into a pleasant street lined with small houses.

“It’s this one,” Cordelia said gruffly, turning up a small driveway.

“It’s a beautiful house,” said Lydia dutifully.

She wasn’t lying though. The house was neat and gray, nestled into a small garden, and had a bright blue front door. It looked like the kind of house newly weds would buy, the first family house, which was why, even though Cordelia had told her she was single, Lydia was surprised at the silence when the door opened.

It just looked like the kind of house that children spilled out of.

“This is very kind,” said Lydia as she stepped inside.

“It’s practical,” Cordelia said, kicking off her shoes and adding them to the small pile by the door. “There’s no point having a doctor that isn’t around when we need him or her. And the money will come in handy.”

“Right,” Lydia said, biting her lip. Practicality, of course. She was the practical one, she could have figured that out. This had nothing to do with whether or not Cordelia liked her and everything to do with the fact that Whitebridge was used to the luxury of having a doctor onsite and Cordelia wanted help with a few bills.

“Besides, you looked tired,” added Cordelia.

Which put Lydia right back at the beginning. So it wasn’t just practicalities then? She took off her own shoes and carefully laid them side by side next to the door. “Thank you,” she said.

“For saying you looked tired? I wish everyone was as easy to compliment.”

“No, thank you for taking me in. I… I had other options, but this is by far the best. And you’re right, it’s practical.”

Cordelia pulled a face and in the light Lydia could see what she might look like if she actually smiled. Now that she thought about it, had time to look, Cordelia’s face was very interesting. All angles and generous mouth, those eyes like almonds and the color of bottle-washed glass. It was a sharply attractive face that was trying hard not to be attractive.

“Well, I like my privacy, as I’m sure you do,” Cordelia said roughly. “So don’t go thinking this’ll be all girls’ nights in and sappy films and the like, because it won’t.”

“I’d never dare think that,” said Lydia, a smile twitching her lips at the thought of Cordelia watching anything other than shark documentaries and serial killer mini-series, which is what she was sure she watched.

“Good,” sniffed Cordelia. “Give me a minute to make up the bed in the spare room. Kitchen’s that way.”

She went off up the stairs and Lydia left her case in the hall and wandered through the rest of the downstairs.

It was strange, seeing someone’s space so intimately and barely knowing them. Cordelia’s house was… pretty. Nicely cared for, nicely decorated in calming tones of pale green and cream and blue. The kitchen had large french windows that opened onto the garden.

Alright, it wasn’t the neatest space she’d ever seen. But the bare bones were there. Everything smelled faintly dusty and faintly like Cordelia herself, a mixture of perfume and flowers and something musky and spicy she couldn’t name.

There was a pile of unopened mail on the table and the front of the fridge was bare, no photos, no magnets, no reminders.

It was, Lydia thought, the kind of house that didn’t give away much. The kind of house with no memories in it, or perhaps the kind of house where the memories had been scrubbed away in an effort to forget. Cordelia was divorced, she remembered. Maybe it had been a bad divorce.

“You’ll be upstairs on the right,” Cordelia said, coming into the kitchen. “The bathroom’s opposite, you can’t miss it. You’ll have it to yourself, no sharing.”

“Right,” said Lydia. She cleared her throat because just at that moment in the light from the garden she’d very suddenly realized that Cordelia was awfully attractive.

Her body curved under jeans and a shirt, she moved with grace, the arch of her neck was perfect, and Lydia’s mouth went very dry.

“I suppose we’d better do something about dinner,” said Cordelia. “Eggs alright? Don’t get used to it, I won’t be cooking every night.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Lydia said, brought back to the ground by Cordelia’s words. “And I can cook, if you prefer?”

“It’s my house.” She busied herself getting supplies from the fridge before realizing that there was no butter. “Fuck.”

“You should have a reminder board somewhere in here,” Lydia said without thinking as she grabbed a bottle of olive oil instead. “That way you’d remember when you used the last of something.”

Cordelia glared at her and took the oil. “I should, should I?”

Lydia sighed. “You know, it’s hard to have a conversation without using the word should. It’s a perfectly serviceable word.”

Cordelia turned on the pan and started the oil heating. “It’s a perfectly loathsome word.”

“You never use it then?” Lydia asked, grinning at her .

Reluctantly, Cordelia grinned back. “Maybe once or twice, but not as often as you.”

“Fine.” Lydia leaned back against a counter. “Then maybe we should move on to safer subjects. Lived in the house long?”

“Not a safe subject,” Cordelia said. “Safe subjects are things like ‘how was the traffic?’ and ‘isn’t the weather lovely today?’.”

Lydia sighed. “Fine, isn’t the weather lovely today?”

Cordelia scowled at her. “How about we talk about you instead? How long have you been a doctor?”

“Long enough, I’m fully qualified.”

Cordelia scowled again and Lydia could see smoke starting to rise from the pan behind her.

“Cordelia, you should—”

“Stop saying that.”

“The pan…”

Cordelia turned and swore and began to scrape at the pan before picking it up and dumping it in the sink in disgust.

Surprised, Lydia looked up at the ceiling and then frowned. “You know, you really should have smoke detectors in here, right?” she began.

“Enough!”

She looked down again to see Cordelia’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Enough. This was a stupid idea. It’s not going to work out.”

“Why not?” asked Lydia, slightly confused. She hadn’t thought things were going that badly.

“For the simple fact that if you stay much longer I’m going to have to smother you in your sleep,” said Cordelia through gritted teeth. “You should, you should, you should.”

“But you should have smoke detectors,” protested Lydia. “It’s a health and safety thing, they could save your life.”

“They’re not going to save yours at this rate,” growled Cordelia.

Lydia took a breath, then nodded. “Alright, okay, I understand. Clash of personalities and all that.”

“You can stay tonight,” said Cordelia. “I’ve already made the bed.” She looked at the sink. “I’ll order a pizza or something, I suppose.”

Lydia nodded. “That sounds nice. Um, thanks. Even though it’s not going to work out. Thanks anyway.”

“I’d say nothing personal, but we both know I’d be lying.” Cordelia was starting to calm down now, her cheeks less pink. “I’ll, um, I’ll get online and order that pizza. Cheese alright with you?”

Lydia nodded. “Fine.”

When the pizza came, they ate in front of the TV, watching the news, not shark documentaries. And as soon as it was decent, Lydia excused herself, saying she was tired. Cordelia barely wished her goodnight.

Lydia waited until she was in the little spare room before she finally let out a breath she thought she might have been holding all afternoon. What a day. She hadn’t been lying when she said she was tired.

She listened carefully, establishing that Cordelia was still downstairs watching TV before she pulled out her phone and called her sister.

“Hello there sexy,” Leah said.

“What?” said Lydia. “Leah!”

“Jesus, sorry, I thought you were Rowan. He should be home any minute now. I’ve finally got both kids in bed and asleep, I’ve ordered an Indian, got the nice plates out. I’ve even got candles.” She paused for a second. “Might have shaved as well. And not just the places that show, above the knee too.”

Lydia chuckled. “Right, well, I can see you’re making the most of your time alone.”

“You’re not kidding. Now all I’ve got to do is hope that one of the kids doesn’t wake up or vomit down the stairs or something equally horrific to ruin the mood,” Leah said.

Looking down at the soft white sheets on the bed Lydia realized that Leah and Rowan needed this. They needed the time alone, they needed to be a family. One without a random aunt and sister showing up at all hours. She swallowed. She’d been about to tell Leah that she was coming back, commute be damned.

“You alright over there?” Leah asked. “Everything going according to plan?”

The bedroom window looked out over the garden and Lydia leaned her head against the glass. “Yes,” she said brightly. “Everything’s going great. Just checking in to let you know that it’s all going swimmingly.”

“Swimmingly?” Leah said. “That’s not a good word. That’s the kind of word people use when they want everyone to think everything’s okay.”

“Everything is okay,” said Lydia, afraid she’d blown it.

But over the phone came the sound of Leah’s front door opening and Rowan shouting hello. “Jesus, he’ll have the kids up again,” Leah said. “Alright, I’ve got to go. Wish me luck. You sure you’re alright over there?”

“Perfectly fine,” Lydia said. “Go on, off you go. Good luck.”

She let the phone drop onto the bed. She’d find somewhere else to stay, a hotel somewhere close enough to commute to, something like that. It would be more comfortable. Cordelia was right about the personality clash. Lydia didn’t particularly think that she’d done anything wrong, but then, she didn’t want to walk on eggshells for the next few days, so it would be better to move out.

So she didn’t bother unpacking. She used the bathroom, pulled her laptop out of her bag, lay on the comfortable bed, and started looking for alternative accommodations.