Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
“Thanks,” Mum said to him. “For helping me. Scott’s a jackass.”
“He’s more than a jackass,” the man upstairs said. “He’s a violent, abusive, cunt.”
My breath hitched at the sound of the C word spoken in such a posh tone. I was staring as he put his phone back in his pocket, his eyes still angry.
“Do you need the hospital?” he asked Mum. “It’s Beverly, yes?”
She nodded, giving him a lip-swollen grin. “Bev, yes. And no, thanks. I’ll be alright. It’s only a couple of bruises. No big deal.”
I despised the way she always made it sound so normal.
His green eyes burned into mine.
“And you’re Rosie?”
I wondered how he knew my name, since nobody ever spoke to him.
I straightened my glasses back up, took a breath.
“Yeah, I’m Rosie.”
“Julian,” he said.
Julian.
I got up from the sofa, so grateful for his help that I wrapped my arms around his waist to give him a hug. “Thank you so much for helping us.”
He stiffened up at that, uncomfortable, giving my shoulder a token pat as I squeezed him tight. He backed away as soon as he could do, straightening his tie. His emotions retreated, eyes turning duller as the adrenaline in the room came back to earth.
“Do you need some help cleaning up in here?” he asked me, surveying the damage, but I shook my head. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.
“No, thanks. We’ll be ok now.”
He gave the slightest nod.
“Please do call the police if he shows up again.”
“I will,” I lied. “I’ll call them.”
“I’ll be upstairs,” he told us. “I’m happy to be called as a witness.”
The genuine expression on his face made my heart sink at its contrast in my life. This place was always so two-faced and dismissive. Nobody usually gave a shit.
I followed him to the front door, embarrassed at how I’d hugged him. I waved him off like he was just a passer-by, not someone who had just saved my mother’s life.
“Bye,” I said.
It sounded so pathetic, but he smiled as he held up his hand.
“Please, try to persuade her to call the police.”
“I’ll try,” I said.
I watched him reach the staircase before I locked us in tight, making sure I put the bolt across. Mum was sitting up straight when I joined her, daring to touch her ribs to check out the damage. No broken ones, it seemed. Lucky for her.
Weirdly, she was grinning. She looked bizarrely happy for a woman in the aftermath of an attack, with a split lip and swollen jaw.
“He’s really nice,” she said. “The man upstairs.”
I nodded. “Yeah, he was great. I’m so glad he helped us.”
“He saved me,” she said, looking over at the doorway. “Did you hear his accent? He’s definitely from somewhere posh.”
Yes, I’d heard his accent. The memory gave me goosebumps. Nice ones.
“What a great guy,” she said again.
I knew her voice when she was like this. Loved up, like whenever she made up with Scottie, gushing after he’d bought her a cheap bunch of apology flowers from the corner shop. I got a tumble of sparks in my stomach. A barrage of sensations all at once. Relief, mixed with hatred of Scottie, bound up with gratitude for the man upstairs. And something else… a feeling that floated like Mum’s voice did, right down deep.
“Julian,” she said, like he was a saviour.
And he was a saviour. He’d opened his door to me as I screamed.
Mum stared wistfully over at the door.
“I really like Julian, you know,” she told me, and I nodded.
Yeah. I really liked him, too.
Chapter Two
Julian
My heart was still pounding as I paced around my living room, trying to comprehend the events in apartment three. It had been a long time since I’d felt like a hero, and a much longer time since I’d been in a physical altercation with a criminal.
It had only happened once before, in fact, when some reprobate tried to steal my wallet on a family holiday to Barbados. My kids had watched me battle with the thief, and I’d won. I’d held the wallet over my head like I was Apollo, and we’d had a celebratory round of ice cream sundaes by the pool.
Such a shame I didn’t have anyone left to share my glory with. I’d have loved to tell my brother, Michael, how I’d thrown a violent prick across someone’s living room, but I would be the last person he’d want to be celebrating with. I doubt he’d even believe my words. Not now I was dead to him.
I should have called the police and reported the criminal I’d accosted, but the sad look in poor Rosie’s eyes had spoken volumes. Her mother wouldn’t be telling them the truth. There would be no repercussions for Scottie, and his getting like that sometimes.
Even now, I felt my morals throwing punches, despite being such a huge self-hater that I wanted to rot in hell.