Beer in hand, I lean against the kitchen counter and idly watch Cleo work. She’s been out most of the day. I’m guessing that’s what has her typing so vigorously tonight. My fingers reach for my camera on the kitchen table, operating on impulse to capture the moment – the low flames in the hearth, the warmth of the lamplight, Cleo lost in her work. Have I turned into a creepy stalker neighbour spying on the girl next door through an invisible window? I lower my camera and it’s good timing because she closes her laptop and pushes her headphones off.
I don’t say anything as the first rule on the fridge list is staring me right in the face. No chatting. I watch her throw her blanket aside and get to her feet, stretching. Is she balancing on one leg? From the way she’s swaying, I’d say she is.
She turns and catches me watching her, and gives me a small, embarrassed wave, the kind you might give your neighbour who just caught you doing something weird.
‘Yoga?’ I guess when she comes over to the kitchen and pulls the wine from the fridge.
‘Something like that,’ she mutters, reaching for a glass. ‘Can you stand on one leg with your eyes closed?’
I can’t say I’ve ever tried. ‘Of course.’
‘Go on then.’ She sounds a lot like a teenager issuing a challenge.
‘Now?’
She nods towards my half of the lodge. ‘Over there in the clear space in case you fall.’
I scoff. As if. I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, and because this admittedly bizarre one is momentarily pushing the rest of my crap to the back of my head, I go with it to distract myself.
‘I will if you will.’ I put my beer down. ‘You on your side of the line, me on mine.’
We cross to the space behind the sofa and stand opposite each other, a couple of feet behind the line.
Cleo ties her hair up securely and rolls her shoulders like a fighter.
‘Someone’s been watching too much Rocky,’ I say.
She ignores my jab. ‘Don’t forget to close your eyes, that’s important.’
‘Why?’
She frowns. ‘Because I say so.’
I sniff. ‘Bossy.’
‘My game, my rules,’ she says.
‘Eyes open, eyes closed. It makes no difference to me,’ I say.
‘Oh, it will.’
I allow myself a tiny eye-roll. ‘I’ll close my eyes.’
‘On three,’ she says, uber-confident.
‘One, two, three,’ I say, then raise one leg and stretch my arms out to the sides.
Cleo lays one foot flat against her other calf and steadies herself, her arms spread too.
‘Eyes shut!’ she barks through clenched teeth, closing hers.
I do as I’m told, and shit, it’s actually harder than I thought. Much harder. I squint through one eye, struggling; while she’s still bolt upright, I’m about to fall, and oh – there I go.
‘Goddamn it,’ I say, as I hit the floor.
She has her eyes open now, still standing upright on one leg as if to make a point.
I could let her claim victory right now, but I don’t. I wait it out and hold her gaze. She’s turning beetroot with the effort, and then she suddenly starts to sway like a palm tree in high winds and face-plants to the ground.
‘You’re over the line. Five-second penalty,’ I say. ‘Which I think you’ll find makes me the winner.’
She sits up and retracts her foot back over into her own half, rubbing her ankle. ‘Er, I don’t think so. I was standing for a good ten seconds longer than you.’
‘Best of three?’
She puffs. ‘I would but I think I’ve twisted my ankle. I need you to pass me my wine to numb the pain.’
‘A likely story,’ I say, but I get the wine anyway. I snag my beer too, never one to let someone drink alone. I sit on my side of the line again, my back turned to hers.
‘What are you doing?’ she says.
‘Leaning against the boundary wall,’ I say.
I hear her laugh under her breath and then the sound of her shuffling, grumbling about her ankle until she’s sitting back-to-back with me.
‘I went up to the village today,’ she says.
‘You did?’ The back of her head touches my shoulder. It’s unsettling.
‘I joined the knitting circle.’
‘You joined the what now?’ I say, surprised.
‘The knitting circle.’ I feel her laugh against my back when she moves. ‘Do you mind if I pretend you’re the actual wall? I can’t lean against nothing for long.’