Beth O’Leary - The Flatshare

The Flatshare

Title

Copyright

First published in Great Britain in 2019 by

Quercus Editions Ltd

Carmelite House

50 Victoria Embankment

London EC4Y 0DZ

An Hachette UK company

Copyright 2019 Beth OLeary Ltd

The moral right of Beth OLeary Ltd to be

identified as the author of this work has been

asserted in accordance with the Copyright,

Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication

may be reproduced or transmitted in any form

or by any means, electronic or mechanical,

including photocopy, recording, or any

information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the publisher.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available

from the British Library

HB ISBN 978 1 78747 440 6

TPB ISBN 978 1 78747 442 0

EBOOK ISBN 978 1 78747 439 0

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,

businesses, organizations, places and events are

either the product of the authors imagination

or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or

locales is entirely coincidental.

Ebook by CC Book Production

Cover design 2019 Ghost

www.quercusbooks.co.uk

Dedication

For Sam

Contents

February

Tiffy

Youve got to say this for desperation: it makes you much more open-minded.

I really can see some positives in this flat. The technicolour mould on the kitchen wall will scrub off, at least in the short term. The filthy mattress can be replaced fairly cheaply. And you could definitely make the argument that the mushrooms growing behind the toilet are introducing a fresh, outdoorsy feel to the place.

Gerty and Mo, however, are not desperate, and they are not trying to be positive. I would describe their expressions as aghast.

You cant live here.

Thats Gerty. Shes standing with her heeled boots together and her elbows tucked in tightly, as though occupying as little space as possible in protest at being here at all. Her hair is pulled back in a low bun, already pinned so she can easily slip on the barristers wig she wears for court. Her expression would be comical if it werent my actual life we are discussing here.

There must be somewhere else within budget, Tiff, Mo says worriedly, bobbing up from where he was examining the boiler cupboard. He looks even more dishevelled than usual, helped by the cobweb now hanging from his beard. This is even worse than the one we viewed last night.

I look around for the estate agent; hes thankfully well out of earshot, smoking on the balcony (the sagging roof of the neighbours garage, definitely not designed for walking on).

Im not looking around another one of these hellholes, Gerty says, glancing at her watch. Its 8 a.m. shell need to be at Southwark Crown Court for nine. There must be another option.

Surely we can fit her in at ours? Mo suggests, for about the fifth time since Saturday.

Honestly, would you stop with that? Gerty snaps. That is not a long-term solution. And shed have to sleep standing up to even fit anywhere. She gives me an exasperated look. Couldnt you have been shorter? We could have put you under the dining table if you were less than five nine.

I make an apologetic face, but really Id prefer to stay here than on the floor of the tiny, eye-wateringly expensive flat Mo and Gerty jointly invested in last month. Theyve never lived together before, even when we were at university. Im concerned that it may well be the death of their friendship. Mo is messy, absent-minded and has this uncanny ability to take up an enormous amount of room despite being relatively small. Gerty, on the other hand, has spent the last three years living in a preternaturally clean flat, so perfect that it looked computer-generated. Im not sure how the two lifestyles will overlay without West London imploding.

The main problem, though, is if Im crashing on someones floor I can just as easily go back to Justins place. And, as of 11 p.m. Thursday, I have officially decided that I cannot be allowed that option any longer. I need to move forward, and I need to commit to somewhere so I cant go back.

Mo rubs his forehead, sinking down into the grimy leather sofa. Tiff, I could lend you some...

I dont want you to lend me any money, I say, more sharply than I mean to. Look, I really need to get this sorted this week. Its this place or the flatshare.

The bedshare, you mean, Gerty says. Can I ask why it has to be now ? Not that Im not delighted. Just that last I checked you were sitting tight in that flat waiting for the next time he-who-must-not-be-named deigned to drop by.

I wince, surprised. Not at the sentiment Mo and Gerty never liked Justin, and I know they hate that Im still living at his place, even though hes hardly ever there. Its just unusual to hear Gerty bring him up directly. After the final peace-making dinner with the four of us ended in a furious row, I gave up on trying to make everyone get along and just stopped talking to Gerty and Mo about him altogether. Old habits die hard even post break-up weve all dodged around discussing him.

And why does it have to be so cheap? Gerty goes on, ignoring the warning look from Mo. I know youre paid a pittance, but, really, Tiffy, four hundred a month is impossible in London. Have you actually thought about all this? Properly?

I swallow. I can feel Mo watching me carefully. Thats the trouble with having a counsellor as a friend: Mo is basically an accredited mind-reader, and he never seems to switch his superpowers off. Tiff? he says gently.

Oh, bloody hell, Ill just have to show them. Theres nothing else for it. Quickly and all at once, thats the best way like pulling off a plaster, or getting into cold water, or telling my mother I broke something ornamental from the living-room dresser.

I reach for my phone and pull up the Facebook message.

Tiffy,

Im really disappointed in how you acted last night. You were completely out of line. Its my flat, Tiffy I can come by whenever I like, with whoever I like.

I would have expected you to be more grateful for me letting you stay. I know us breaking up has been hard on you I know youre not ready to leave. But if you think that means you can start trying to lay down some rules then its time you paid me for the past three months of rent. And youre going to need to pay full rent going forwards too. Patricia says youre taking advantage of me, living in my place pretty much for free, and even though Ive always stood up for you with her, after yesterdays performance I cant help thinking she might be right.

Justin xx

My stomach twists when I reread that line, youre taking advantage of me , because I never intended to do that. I just didnt know that when he left he really meant it this time.

Mo finishes reading first. He popped in again on Thursday? With Patricia?

I look away. He has a point. Hes been really good to let me stay there this long.

Funny, Gerty says darkly, Ive always had the distinct impression he likes keeping you there.

She makes it sound weird, but I sort of feel the same way. When Im still in Justins flat, it isnt really over. I mean, all the other times, hes come back eventually. But... then I met Patricia on Thursday. The real-life, extremely attractive, actually quite lovely woman Justin has left me for. Theres never been another woman before.