Chapter 14: Marlin Court

Clara's POV

The Marlin Court flats were a brown brick block behind a tire shop in Bridgeport.

Unit four was on the second floor, at the back.

Miles stayed on the landing with his back against the wall.

I knocked once.

"Lydia. It's me."

Nothing.

"I'm not going to shout. I'm going to count to ten, and then I'm going to ask the super for a key."

The chain rattled before I got to six.

She stood in the gap in my old grey cardigan, which she had stolen from my closet two years ago.

Her face was puffy.

Her hair was unwashed.

"You came," she said.

"You left a note asking me to."

"I didn't think you would."

"Neither did I."

I went in and she shut the door behind me.

The flat was neat in the way of a place nobody had chosen.

A bed with a navy cover, a kettle, a shelf of prenatal vitamins arranged by size.

A hospital bag, packed, sat by the door.

On the table lay a white envelope with a small gold crest in the corner.

The crest was the Ashworth Foundation's.

"Is that his stipend?"

She nodded.

"Every first of the month. Cash, in that, left with the super."

"And the rent?"

"He pays the lease. I've never seen it."

I sat down on a kitchen chair, because my knees had gone.

She stayed standing by the sink with both hands on her stomach.

"You look terrible," I said.

"I haven't eaten since the bus."

"Sit."

"Clara."

"Sit down, Lydia. I'll make toast."

I made toast.

It was a stupid thing to do in the middle of the worst week of my life.

I had done it for her on a dozen hungover Sundays, and my hands knew how.

I put the plate in front of her, and she began to cry.

Keep reading free with an account. Start He Kept Me Secret Seven Years, Then Proposed to Her from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.