Mum and I nodded. We’d heard it, ooh, once or twice.
‘Well, things have reached crunch point. When I complained again about the leak in the bathroom, the broken fridge and the light fitting that blew up, he sent me a bill for the repair work, saying it was my doing! He hasn’t even arranged for anyone to do the work yet and he wants me to pay!’
This was true, although it had been three separate bills, over the course of the winter. Karina had not paid, and she did now have a replacement fridge.
‘That’s horrendous!’ Mum gasped, outraged that someone would treat her new friend like this.
‘Is it?’ Karina asked, blinking. ‘I don’t really know how things work in this country.’
‘You mustn’t pay him.’ Mum tutted.
‘I can’t pay him.’ Karina shook her head woefully. ‘But now he has said that I must leave. I have to find a new place to live, as quickly as possible.’
‘What?’ Mum considered this for a couple of seconds. Karina and I surreptitiously held our breath, willing her to reach the intended conclusion herself. ‘What are you going to do? Where will you go?’
‘I don’t know.’ Karina cranked things up a notch with a sniff and a wipe of one eye. ‘I’ve had a look as best I can, but I can’t find anywhere close enough to work that’s affordable. If I could find a nice person to share with, that would help, but I dread having to move in with a stranger. There are such unpleasant people about, anything could happen!’
Mum sat up straighter, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Come on, Mum, make the offer!
‘I could ask around at the Buttonhole, see if anyone’s heard of anything? You never know.’
‘Thank you.’ Karina smiled weakly. ‘I’m scared I will end up homeless if I don’t find somewhere soon.’
‘Oh, shush now, I’m sure it won’t come to that.’
Okay. Time to steer this back on track…
‘What about here?’ I said, as if the idea had just come to me that very second.
‘What?’ Mum frowned.
‘You and Karina get on so well. Maybe she could stay here for a while, at least until she’s managed to sort something else out?’
‘Oh my goodness, I couldn’t possibly!’ Karina exclaimed, shaking her head so hard her chin wobbled.
Mum sat back in her chair. ‘It’s a lovely idea, Olivia, but our tiny box room is full of things. It doesn’t have a bed. I mean… obviously if it came to that or the streets… but for anything other than a night or two, we don’t have the space…’
Right. Deep breath, Ollie, here we go…
‘Actually. I have been meaning to talk to you about that.’
‘About what?’ Mum pressed one hand to her chest, eyes wary.
‘I’ve been thinking that it’s time I moved out, found my own place to live.’
She turned pale as the blood drained from her frozen face.
‘I’m starting my new job in a couple of weeks, and commuting from here would mean really long days.’
Mum cleared her throat. It sounded as though she was choking on her own panic. ‘Well, you didn’t think that was a problem when you accepted it.’
I took my time in answering. I knew that this was incredibly hard for her. I tried to understand, to be patient and kind, even as I resolved to be clear that this wasn’t negotiable.
‘I did consider it, actually. I decided that the best option would be to move out.’
‘And you didn’t think to mention this to me?’ The question was forced through stiff lips, the words hoarse.
‘I didn’t want to worry you until I was sure.’
‘Oh! So you’re sure?’ She kept patting and rubbing her chest, as though comforting a fractious baby. ‘Well. There’s not much point discussing it then, is there?’
In the next instant, her face collapsed, and she let out a long, all-too-familiar moan.
I don’t know how I managed it, but I simply looked straight at her and said, ‘No.’
Karina jerked her head towards me. I caught her gaze, and she gave the tiniest of nods.
Mum, taken completely aback, paused mid-chest-rub, her mouth drooping open.
‘You can have, once again, some conveniently timed chest pains. You can call an ambulance, and I will come with you if, instead of making the usual miraculous recovery, the paramedics decide you need to be admitted. I will do whatever is reasonable as a daughter, in the unlikely event that you turn out to be genuinely ill. But I am still moving out. I’m twenty-nine. You can’t keep me here forever.’