“Your feet are bare.”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks for the info. I’ll just be . . .” she nodded towards her building and took a small, dainty step in that direction, withbarefeet – skin in contact with pavement. In London. There was a broken beer bottle not two feet away from us.
I reacted on instinct, something that was not a normal part of my character. But I was not going to watch her bare feet in contact with the dirty pavement any longer.
“Woah!”
My hands had gone to her hips and I lifted her straight up off the ground, then marched her over to the entrance of her building and set her down on the matting.
“Okay, well, that was, er . . . gallant.”
A couple of flashes lit up her features and both our heads spun in the direction of the light. Paparazzi. My hands were still on her hips. I yanked them back and straightened up, shot the reporters a scowl then pushed Kira through the main door (the one that should need a goddamn code at least to access, but which was in fact falling off its hinges).
“Papped again,” Kira said, a certain amount of glee in her tone. I suppressed an eye roll. “I wonder if we’ll make it intoHeatthis time? That would beawesome.”
“Yes,awesome,” I monotoned as I followed her up the flight of stairs. The hall light on her landing was still out. I shook my head in disgust.
“What the hell does your landlord think he . . .?” I trailed off as I caught sight of Kira’s door. Kira, totally oblivious as always, was digging through that huge tie-dyed cloth bag, looking for her keys.
“Your door is open,” I told her, leaning over her to push through the wide-open door and into her flat.
“Ah . . .”
“You’ve been burgled.” I surveyed the chaos and destruction of her living room. Clothes were strewn all over the place. They must have gone through her cupboards – most of the contents were splayed along her very limited work surface.
“Well . . .”
“I’d better phone the police.”
“No, don’t do that,” she said, making a grab for my phone. I held it out of her reach (not hard) and frowned down at her.
“Kira, this is serious. Someone has ripped your place apart. Look at it. We need to get the police here and . . .” I took a deep breath to calm myself down. “Okay, I’m sorry. Are you okay? I know this must be distressing.”
Kira bit her lip. I must say she didn’tlookparticularly distressed considering the damage to her property.
“I’m fine,” she said, fidgeting with her bag and not maintaining eye contact, which was unusual for her – she normally made an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. “Um . . . I’ll give the pigs a ring in a sec. You’ve got to have all sorts of crucial political activities to be getting on with, so . . .” she started ushering me towards her door. I planted my feet wide and crossed my arms over my chest. I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Sit down,” I told her. “I’llmake some tea andI’llcall the police.”
I stepped towards her kitchen-type-area and unlocked my phone again. She gave a small squeak before darting around me and snatching it right out of my hand. Before I could grab it back, she’d turned and dumped it into her biscuit tin (the bloody thing was shaped like a pig and, as you opened the mouth/lid, it oinked) then slammed it shut before turning back to me.
“Have you completely lost your mind?” I tried to reach around her small body to extract my phone as she pushed ineffectually at my chest. She was so close now that her hair brushed against the underside of my jaw, and I got a blast of her lavender fragrance. A wave of attraction swept through me, making me almost lightheaded again. I took a rapid step back. “Give me my phone.” My voice came out hoarse so I cleared my throat.
She bit her lip, but didn’t turn around to get the damn phone.
I crossed my arms over my chest again and glared at her.
“Look, I . . .” she started, shifting on her feet in front of me. “Barcos, I live like this, okay? I knew I was having peeps over the other night when you were here, so the place was sort of in order. I haven’t been burgled; I’ve just been having some trouble with the locks on my door. That’s why it was open.”
“You live like this?”
She snorted. “It’s only surface stuff.”
I picked up a piece of toast, which was jam-side-down on what looked like an important tax document from HMRC.
“Well,mostlysurface stuff. Not all of us have housekeepers you know.”
“What kind of problems are you having with the locks?”
