Truly Madly Guilty

'Sure,' she said. 'Why? Do you want one?'

chapter forty-three

'We can't find stuff because we keep too much stuff,' said Sam. 'We need to have regular throw-outs. We need to declutter.'

He went to Holly's chest of drawers, pulled out an entire drawer, dumped the contents on her bed and picked up a T-shirt at random. 'See! She never wears this. She says it's all scratchy.'

'This isn't helping me find her strawberry top,' said Clementine, looking at the mound of clothes. It made her think of Erika's mother. You could almost understand how you could lose control of your possessions until it was just so overwhelming you didn't even know where to start. 'This is just making a mess.'

Sam tried to pull out another drawer, but it jammed. He pulled harder and swore. The chest of drawers rattled. There was something disturbing about seeing him there in his business pants but no shirt, pulling violently on the little white drawer, his jaw clenched, his muscles flexed. For heaven's sake!

'Leave it!' said Clementine. 'You're going to break it!'

He ignored her and yanked again, and this time the drawer finally came free and he dumped another pile of clothes on the bed.

'You know what I was doing,' he said suddenly, standing there with the empty drawer hanging from his hands. 'Just before it happened?'

Oh God.

'You were trying to open a jar of nuts,' said Clementine dully. She knew this. He'd told her this before. She didn't know why he kept bringing up the jar of nuts. It had nothing to do with anything.

'I was so desperate to open that fucking jar,' said Sam. 'I had beads of sweat popping on my forehead, because I knew Vid would take it off me and he'd just open it with one twist of a meaty hand, and you couldn't take your eyes off him.'

'What?' said Clementine. This was new. 'Don't pretend you were doing it for me. It was for her. It was to impress Tiffany!'

'Yeah, and what were you doing? Tell me that! What were you doing?' He slammed the empty drawer on Holly's bed, stepped towards her and loomed over her. She felt little flecks of spit land on her face.

Hit me, she thought. She lifted her face. It would feel so right. It would begin something. It would end something. Please, please hit me. But he took a sudden step back, hands lifted, like a guy in a pub brawl making it clear he isn't getting involved.

> 'We were all doing it!' shouted Clementine. 'All four of us!'

chapter forty-four

The day of the barbeque

'Why? Do you want one?' Tiffany couldn't resist. These people were so freaking cute, so easily shockable.

'A lap dance?' Clementine's eyes shone. Tiffany knew she was just drunk enough and, yes, vanilla enough, to be the perfect target. 'No!'

'Sure. A lap dance.'

Oh God, Tiffany had forgotten how much she enjoyed this. It had been so long since she'd felt that rush of sexual power straight to the head like a line of cocaine.

'Do we get a discount?' said Sam.

'No charge,' said Tiffany. 'On the house.'

'Enjoy my wife's lap dance,' said Vid to Clementine. He pulled out a chair. 'I insist.'

'Oh stop it,' giggled Clementine. 'Anyway, the music is wrong. She can't do a lap dance to a cello concerto.'

'I could give it a shot,' said Tiffany. She had no intention of giving her next-door neighbour's friend a lap dance. It was a joke. It was all in good fun.

'She is very adaptable,' said Vid.

'It's very kind of you but I really don't want a lap dance,' said Clementine. 'Thank you anyway.' Her voice sounded husky. She cleared her throat self-consciously.

'I think you do,' said Sam.