The Flatshare - Beth O'Leary Page 0,1

he never seems to switch his superpowers off. ‘Tiff?’ he says gently.

Oh, bloody hell, I’ll just have to show them. There’s nothing else for it. Quickly and all at once, that’s 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,

I’m really disappointed in how you acted last night. You were completely out of line. It’s 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 you’re not ready to leave. But if you think that means you can start trying to ‘lay down some rules’ then it’s time you paid me for the past three months of rent. And you’re going to need to pay full rent going forwards too. Patricia says you’re taking advantage of me, living in my place pretty much for free, and even though I’ve always stood up for you with her, after yesterday’s performance I can’t help thinking she might be right.

Justin xx

My stomach twists when I reread that line, you’re taking advantage of me, because I never intended to do that. I just didn’t 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. He’s been really good to let me stay there this long.’

‘Funny,’ Gerty says darkly, ‘I’ve always had the distinct impression he likes keeping you there.’

She makes it sound weird, but I sort of feel the same way. When I’m still in Justin’s flat, it isn’t really over. I mean, all the other times, he’s come back eventually. But . . . then I met Patricia on Thursday. The real-life, extremely attractive, actually quite lovely woman Justin has left me for. There’s never been another woman before.

Mo reaches for my hand; Gerty takes the other. We stay like this, ignoring the estate agent smoking outside the window, and I let myself cry for a moment, just one fat tear down each cheek.

‘So, anyway,’ I say brightly, withdrawing my hands to wipe my eyes, ‘I need to move out. Now. Even if I wanted to stay and risk him bringing Patricia back again, I can’t afford the rent, and I owe Justin a ton of money, and I really don’t want to borrow from anyone, I’m kind of sick of not paying for things myself, to be honest, so . . . yes. It’s this or the flatshare.’

Mo and Gerty exchange a look. Gerty closes her eyes in pained resignation.

‘Well, you clearly cannot live here.’ She opens her eyes and holds out a hand. ‘Show me that advert again.’

I hand her my phone, flicking from Justin’s message to the Gumtree ad for the flatshare.

Double bedroom in sunny one-bed Stockwell flat, rent £350 per month including bills. Available immediately, for six months minimum.

Flat (and room/bed) is to share with twenty-seven-year-old palliative care nurse who works nights and is away weekends. Only ever in the flat 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. Monday to Friday. All yours the rest of the time! Perfect for someone with 9 to 5 job.

To view, contact L. Twomey – details below.

It’s not just sharing a flat, Tiff, it’s sharing a bed. Sharing a bed is odd,’ Mo says worriedly.

‘What if this L. Twomey is a man?’ Gerty asks.

I’m prepared for this one. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say calmly. ‘It’s not like we’d ever be in the bed at the same time – or the flat, even.’

This is uncomfortably close to what I said when justifying staying at Justin’s place last month, but never mind.

‘You’d be sleeping with him, Tiffany!’ Gerty says. ‘Everyone knows the first rule of flatsharing is don’t sleep with your flatmate.’

‘I don’t think this sort of arrangement is what people are referring to,’ I tell her wryly. ‘You see, Gerty, sometimes when people say “sleeping together”, what they really mean is—’

Gerty gives me a long, level look. ‘Yes, thank you, Tiffany.’

Mo’s sniggering stops abruptly when Gerty turns her glare on him. ‘I’d say the first rule of flatsharing is to make sure you get on with the person before you move in,’ he says, cannily redirecting the glare to me again. ‘Especially in these circumstances.’

‘Obviously I’ll meet this L. Twomey