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The first time I’d bought him one it had been raining hard and he’d been sitting on the floor, soaked through. I’d passed him the coffee and he’d looked so grateful, I’d been touched. Just thinking about what a difference a hot drink could make, made me want to buy him one every day. I’d felt good about myself. Emily, bringer of coffee to the homeless. Emily, the Saint.
Ah who was I kidding? Truth was, I had a bit of crush on him. That big grin he gave me when I passed him the drink. The way he asked how I was every morning. It was the highlight of my day.
How fucking sad.
I berated myself for my stupidity all the way back to my car, and all the while angry tears leaked down my face. I remembered Christmas as a happy time when I was a kid. Now it was just one big stress. A time for reflecting on how crap your life was.
Unlocking my car, I shoved my bags in the boot, putting all of my anger into slamming it shut. Then I stood for a moment, with my hands over my face, trying to pull myself together before driving home.
‘What’s in it for me, then?’
I jumped. He was standing behind me, head on one side.
‘I already told you,’ I said. ‘Warm bed. Hot food. Christmas indoors. But don’t worry about it. I’ll manage.’
‘Are you crying?’
‘No,’ I said, opening my car door and climbing in. ‘I always look like this.’
‘No you don’t, you’re always happy and smiley.’
‘No, this is my face now. The face you’ll see when I pass you each morning, without saying hello or giving you a coffee.’
‘Don’t be like that.’
I gave him a look and went to shut the door, but he stuck his knee out to stop me. Suppressing the urge to slam the door repeatedly on his leg while screaming like a lunatic, I said, ‘Please remove your knee from my door.’
‘I do like coffee, really.’
‘Great. Well, you’re still not getting any more off me.’
He shrugged, and stood there, watching me with dark eyes and a serious expression. He still had his knee in the door. ‘I’ll help you, if you still want me to.’
I stared at him. Did I still want him to? I wasn’t sure now; he was different to how I thought he’d be. Less grateful. More complicated. Still, he’d followed me here. ‘Well, I don’t want to force you into it,’ I huffed.
He sniffed and looked away. ‘I’ll ask around the other homeless guys, if you like? See if one of them’s up for it?’
‘Yeah, go on then.’
He grinned at me. ‘I’ll do it. But if you turn into too much of a nightmare, I’m straight out of there.’ He went round to the passenger side and climbed in.
‘Do you need to tell anyone? Will anyone wonder where you are?’
‘Nah.’
‘Really?’ I frowned across at him as I started the engine and flicked on the headlights. ‘No one will report you missing?’
He shook his head. ‘I come, I go. I keep friends to a minimum. People are baggage that weigh you down.’
‘Really? That’s sad.’
‘Not really. I’m not the one making shit up to please other people. It’s no one else’s business if you’re single or married. You should be able to live your life how you want.’
I blinked at him. ‘Well,’ I said after a moment’s thought, ‘she’s my mum. She just wants me to be happy.’
‘Well, in my experience marriage just makes you miserable.’
I looked across at him. ‘Have you ever been married?’
‘Once.’
‘Ended badly then?’
‘Yep.’
‘Okay, well, hopefully this won’t end badly and you can leave at any time you like. I’ll try not to be too much of a nightmare, as long as you do too.’
He chuckled. ‘I ain’t making no promises.’
I joined the queue of traffic to get out of the city centre and we sat in silence for a while. His stale, unwashed stench filled the car and I wondered if it would be rude to open a window. I’d have to get him some new clothes. And some wash stuff. ‘I might nip to Asda on the way home,’ I told him. ‘Pick up some stuff. What do you fancy for tea?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t care. I’m not a fussy eater.’
‘I’ll get you some clothes too. What size do you reckon you are?’
‘I dunno.’
‘About a medium?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Do you want to come in with me?’
‘No, I’ll wait in the car.’
‘Fine.’
More silence. The traffic began to move and I put the car into gear. ‘So, I suppose you’ll need to know a bit about me if you’re going to pretend to be my husband,’ I said.
‘Go on then.’
‘Okay, I’m Emily Fielding. I’m thirty-four. I’m an accountant. I went to Warwick University. I like all animals, but especially dogs. I have a cat named Roger –’
‘Roger?’
‘I used to ice skate but gave up when I was fifteen after a bad fall. I love music – pop music mostly, but I like a bit of country. I like reading and romantic comedies. Ermmmm what else, what else… Oh, I’ll think of more after. What about you?’
‘What about me? You don’t need to know about me if I’m pretending to be someone else. What’s my name, anyway?’
‘Sam, isn’t it?’ I looked across at him in surprise.
‘My real name, yeah, but what about your faux-husband’s name? What did you tell your mum?’
‘Oh! Well.’ I felt my cheeks flame. ‘Sam, actually.’
There was silence and I could feel him looking at me, eyes wide with terror. ‘Why did you choose that name?’ he asked at last.
‘Oh, it was before I met you,’ I lied, my voice bright and amused. ‘I’ve always liked your name. Quite a coincidence, huh?’
‘Hmmmm.’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_c8785a92-e9dd-5b74-8d97-ddfc93073387)
‘You must be out of your mind!’ Lydia hissed, pushing past me into my flat and looking around wildly. ‘Where is he then? Where is he?’
I stared at my best friend for a moment, shocked by the murderous glint in her eye. Shocked that she was here at all, actually. I’d only got off the phone to her ten minutes ago, and yet here she was, standing in my flat, having obviously got straight into her car and driven to mine as fast as she could. I could only marvel at her speed; it took me ten minutes to get from the car park up to my flat, let alone all the way from Lydia’s house.
‘Well?’ She glared at me before grabbing a heavy Christmas musical snow globe off the sideboard and holding it in one hand like a weapon.
‘What are you doing? Give me that; you’ll break it.’ Closing the door, I prised it from her grip and placed it back on the side. ‘There’s no need to stress. He’s in the bath. Come through to the kitchen and I’ll make us some tea.’
‘Tea? Tea? I need wine.’
‘You’re driving, aren’t you?’ I hesitated and gave her a look, noticing for the first time she was wearing pyjamas tucked into long fur-lined boots with a coat thrown on over the top. I winced. Lydia never left home without looking her best. I must have really panicked her for her to come out so quickly.
‘I’ll stay.’
‘There’s no need to stay. It’s all perfectly fine.’ I walked past her into the kitchen. I’d dimmed the lights in the lounge and the fake flames of the electric fire cast flickering shadows across the room. My Christmas tree twinkled in the corner.
‘There’s nothing perfectly fine about this. You must be crazy.’
‘You must be crazy!’ I laughed to soften my words. ‘I told you on the phone that everything was sorted and yet here you are, sticking your nose in.’
‘You phoned me, remember.’
‘Only to let you know that everything was fine. I didn’t expect you to come straight round, threatening to cave his head in.’
‘Emily, listen to me.’ Lydia gripped my arms and stared at me with anguished brown eyes. Her usually sleek blonde hair was uncharacteristically ruffled and fluffed up around her pink cheeks. ‘You don’t know this man. He could be anyone. He could be a psychotic murderer for all you know. A rapist or a violent criminal. A thief… Look how nice your place is.’ She swept an arm out to indicate my lovely flat with its mushroom-coloured carpet and cream sofa. ‘Do you really want him in here, messing up the place?’
‘I’m sure he won’t. He’s seems really nice.’ My throat closed as I said this, making my voice sound strangulated. I wasn’t sure about anything any more. And Lydia was right, I was funny about my flat. I was having a real “what have I done?” moment, but I’d phoned Lydia to make me feel better, not worse. Sam hadn’t said two words to me since we’d got back to the flat. Granted, he’d been in the bathroom for most of that time, but still…
‘Oh yeah, that’s what he wants you to think so you take him in. Now he’s here, he’ll be impossible to move. Do you really think he’ll want to go back to sleeping rough after Christmas?’
‘It’s not like it was his idea. I had to practically beg him to come with me.’
Lydia’s eyes nearly popped out of her head in disbelief. ‘You begged him? You begged?’
‘Well, maybe beg is too strong a word.’ I cleared my throat. Yeah, right. I glanced nervously over my shoulder in case Sam should appear out of the bathroom. ‘But you know I had to do something. Mum’s going to be here tomorrow. What else was I going to do?’
Lydia frowned. ‘Well, not ask a homeless guy to move in with you for a start.’
I shrugged. ‘Have you got a better idea?’
‘How about asking a friend? Someone you know and trust?’
‘Like who? All the guys I know are already married. Their wives aren’t going to be impressed if I borrow their husbands for Christmas, are they?’
‘I don’t know. Isn’t there anybody at work you could ask? Or what about that Will you went out with last year? Dave still sees him down the pub. He broke up with that girl he left you for so I bet he’d help you out.’
‘What?’ I looked at her, incredulous. ‘Why would I want to ask for his help?’
Lydia shrugged. ‘You only went out with him for a month or so, didn’t you? You didn’t seem that bothered when you broke up. I thought you were still on friendly terms.’
‘He went back to his ex-girlfriend, Lydia. I haven’t seen him since.’
‘You weren’t upset about it though.’
‘I wasn’t exactly pleased, either.’ I shrugged and sighed. ‘I suppose I wasn’t that bothered about him really. Which only adds to the question why would I ask him for help? I have no wish to even see him again, let alone spend time pretending to be married to him.’
‘Oh, but you want to spend time with some homeless loser that you don’t know from Adam? He could have lice or scabies or anything.’ She screwed up her face in disgust.
‘Will could have lice or scabies for all I know,’ I snapped. ‘Besides, Sam seems like a really nice guy who’s down on his luck, that’s all.’ I picked up the kettle and filled it with water.
‘Emily!’ Lydia sounded exasperated. ‘Why don’t you just tell your mum the truth? It’s gone too far now. You can’t deceive her like this.’
‘Oh that’s rich! Weren’t you the one who said I should tell her I’d met someone to shut her up?’
‘Met someone, yeah. Not say you were married.’
Sighing heavily, I leaned on the oak worktop and rested my head against the cream cupboard door. ‘It’s going to be okay. Mum’s checking into a hotel so she’s not even staying here. She might only have to meet him a couple of times. We’ll get through Christmas and then in the New Year I’ll tell my mum that we’ve split up. No worries.’
‘Emily!’
‘Well, what else can I do? I don’t have time to do anything else. Mum was really excited about meeting him. She’s bought him a Christmas present and everything.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘I know. It’s a right mess.’
I bit my lip and stared up at the chrome spotlights above my head. The kettle boiled, the water inside bubbling away in much the same way as my stomach.
‘So what’s Sam’s story then?’ Lydia said. ‘How come he ended up homeless? Oh no, please don’t tell me he’s some poor troubled teenage kid and you’ve gone all Cougar on me.’
‘Don’t be daft. He’s a bit older than us, I’d say. Late thirties, early forties?’
‘Oh great. I bet he’s an alcoholic. “Alcopops”.’
‘Don’t!’
