A Voice in the Distance Read Online Free PDF Page B

been
working on it half the night. Let's save it for the weekend,
OK? I'm going to have a shower.'
    I drag myself out of bed and go to the bathroom,
pulling off my T-shirt. I step into the cold tub and draw
the curtain. I turn the shower on full force—
    'Jesus!' I am knocked off balance and narrowly miss
banging my head on the tiles as Flynn suddenly springs
into the bath with me, sending the shower head flying
out of my hand. It falls to the bottom of the bath, spurting
up a fountain of water into our eyes. 'You nearly
gave me a heart attack! What on earth are you doing?
Did you even ask me if I wanted—?'
    He shuts me up with a kiss . . .
    * * *
    After my morning lecture I head over to Harry's flat in
Bayswater. The flat actually belongs to Harry's parents,
who now live in Brussels. Since moving in with Harry last
summer, Kate, his girlfriend, has had plans to strip the
flat of its austere burgundy wallpaper and paint the walls
a pale beige. However, after putting in more than a few
weeks worth of elbow-grease over the holidays, she
seems to have finally realized she has bitten off more
than she can chew. Since term started the flat has been
a building site of stripped walls and sheet-clad furniture.
The news that Harry's parents were coming over to visit
at the end of the month understandably sent Kate into
a frenzy, and so in a fit of mad generosity I offered to
help her finish decorating.
    I find her in paint-stained clothes, smoking a
cigarette out of the living-room window, looking
harassed. 'Harry helped me finish the kitchen this
morning but we've still got the living room and the two
bedrooms to do,' she tells me. 'And I think I'm suffering
from toxic fumes inhalation.'
    'Nothing that a good old-fashioned fag won't put
right,' I tease her.
    She shoots me a grin, tosses me an old shirt of Harry's
and we get to work – Kate applying a second coat of glossy
white to the living-room door while I attack the tricky bit
around the fireplace. We chat about uni, careers and our
respective boyfriends as the afternoon sunlight streams in
through the curtainless windows.
    At around two, Harry bursts in brandishing pizza and
seems suitably impressed by our morning's efforts. I
have pains in my legs, back and neck. Kate and I drop
our paintbrushes and join him as he rummages around
in the kitchen under paint-stained sheets for plates and
cutlery. Kate pulls the sheet off the kitchen table and I
collapse gratefully onto a stool, comfortably exhausted.
    'Who wants coffee?' Harry asks.
    'Have you got tea?' I ask.
    'No, but I can ask your other half to pick some up on
the way.'
    'Flynn's coming over?' I ask in surprise.
    'Yeah, I caught him on my way out of uni – he was just
finishing off something for Kaiser. Told him to come
over and have some pizza with us.' Harry digs his mobile
out of his pocket and flicks it open.
    'You tricked him into giving us a hand with the painting
more like!' Kate laughs.
    'Hi, where are you?' Harry speaks into the phone.
'Can you pick up some Earl Grey on your way past the
supermarket? Cheers. See you in a bit.' He snaps
the mobile shut and returns it to his pocket.
    'Where is he?' I ask Harry.
    'He's having lunch with a crowd from Music and
Literature,' Harry replies, his eyebrows arched in
surprise. 'He's becoming very sociable all of a sudden!'
    After we've finished gorging ourselves on pizza, we
get back to work again. Harry and Kate bicker amicably
about the merits of paintbrushes over rollers. Harry gets
paint on the cuff of his new shirt and then spends an
inordinate length of time trying to get the stain out with
white spirit and a nailbrush. Kate points out that if
Harry spent more time putting paint on the walls and
less time putting paint on himself, there would be a
chance his parents wouldn't have to stay in a hotel.
Harry points out that he wasn't the one allergic to red
wallpaper. Kate points out that she wasn't the one who
suggested they move in together. Harry adds that he
wasn't