Page 1 of Safe Hands

1

Lauren

“You again,” Lauren muttered, craning over her steering wheel.

Becky’s Mini was parked in the driveway. It sat at just enough of an angle to block Lauren’s Volvo, leaving her half on the kerb, half in the neighbours’ holly bush and, usefully, out of sight of the living room window.

She scooped the pile of envelopes from her passenger seat and prised open the door. It clunked into the holly. Wincing, she wriggled free, trying not to meet the same fate as her wing mirror.

On the other side of the bush, she darted around the Mini, back flat to the bungalow wall as she edged towards the side gate. Already ajar. Excellent.

Lauren paused, eyes flicking to the warm rectangle of the kitchen window. She’d have to crouch past that. Post tucked under one arm, she bent forward and crept through the flower bed, careful to avoid any deposits left by next door’s cat.

At the back door, she straightened and leaned towards the edge of the window. Inside, Paige sat at the kitchen table with a half-savaged slice of toast in one hand, the other dabbing at her jumper.

Lauren smiled. Then she rapped on the back windowpane and set every dog in the street barking.

“What are you doing in my house?” she yelled, her face pressed to the glass hard enough to leave a smear.

“I think you’ll find it’s my house,” Paige shouted back, without looking up.

“Maybe so, but you don’t live here anymore.” Lauren barged through the door and tossed the envelopes beside Paige’s plate, scattering crumbs in all directions. “See? I have the council tax bill to prove it. Tenants have a right to privacy. I need twenty-four hours’ notice in future.” She jabbed a finger at Paige. “Written notice.”

“Out of interest, how was the lasagne I left in the freezer for you?”

“Honestly? A little under-seasoned.”

“I’ll season it with arsenic next time.”

“Great. Put me out of my misery.”

Lauren dodged the back of Paige’s hand as it flew towards her backside and decided to risk the gauntlet of black bin bags instead. At the sink, she filled the kettle, fished out the last two decaf tea bags and flung the empty box towards the recycling bin.

When she turned back, Paige was smiling and beckoning her closer.

“What is this?”

“The kitchen? A Saturday afternoon? The month of October?”

“Your hair.”

“Oh, that.” Lauren retrieved a couple of mugs from a half-packed box on the worktop and dropped the tea bags inside. “Shouldn’t you be nesting? You know, putting blankets in a box under the stairs or something?”

“I’m pregnant, not a cat.”

Lauren leaned across the table and submitted to Paige’s fingers ruffling her hair. After a decade of hacking at it herself, she’d finally allowed a professional to tidy the shaggy blonde mess and shave the sides.

“It’s hot, right? A new look for a new phase of my life.”

“A new, ever gayer phase? It’s a very lesbian haircut.”

Lauren circled a finger around the sleeve of tattoos on Paige’s arm. “That’s rich coming from you.”

She only shrugged. “How was the match?”

“Cold and depressing. I’m not cut out for management. Your girlfriend has a lot to answer for.”

“Sorry!” Becky shouted from the living room.