Two People in the House

Anouk answered by asking whether she had opened the wrong version. Liv was still on the pavement outside the guesthouse. She walked a little further, out of the wind brushing the microphone.

‘I don't know,’ she said. ‘Which one have you got?’

Anouk read out the filename. The sample from the beginning of the week. She had written the three tape numbers on a piece of paper beside her computer. Two, five, nine. She could follow the questions on two, but didn't want to give anyone the impression on Tuesday that the whole interview was finished.

‘It isn't.’

‘No. That's why I'm asking.’

Liv squeezed her eyes shut. Behind her, the guesthouse door closed. She didn't turn.

‘There's more work than I thought,’ she said. ‘On the selection. The transitions aren't good enough.’

‘It doesn't have to be all neatly finished by Tuesday. We're going to listen to it with people.’

‘There has to be something.’

‘Yes. So what can we have?’

Liv told her about the two accounts that weren't quite about the same thing. The question she should have kept with one of the extracts. Anouk didn't ask for a new version there and then. She wanted to know whether Liv could have a small selection ready on Monday, with enough context to discuss the choices. She didn't want an afternoon in an empty room with a laptop full of files that only Liv could find.

Yes, Liv said. She had Sunday and Monday. She heard herself offering up the days as though they were still blank.

‘Monday, before late afternoon,’ said Anouk. ‘Then I can make sure everything we need is there. Will you say what you haven't done yet, too?’

Liv promised. Anouk said she was going to her other appointment now. The call was over before Liv could explain the past few days. She stood with the phone to her ear for a moment, then lowered it.

That evening she ate the food in Roos's container. The microwave had softened the crust. She added pepper, tasted it and forgot to eat half of it as she read her messages. Els had written that the bag had arrived safely. Then she asked whether Liv still wanted to help tomorrow. Roos could come for a while after work. Not all afternoon.

Liv went back to her conversation with Anouk. She entered two times in her diary, estimating the work she could fit between them. It couldn't take hours any more. She couldn't imagine three boxes of Christmas decorations taking that long. She typed that she would come before they ate, and asked if they needed anything.

A loaf, Els wrote. But not if it means a special trip.

Liv put down the phone. Next morning she arrived with two loaves because the first had been smaller than she expected.

Els let her in at the back. She had swept the courtyard; a narrow wet streak ran towards the drain. Liv locked her bicycle and looked up. Eight's window was shut. In the glass she could see the pale rectangle of sky, not the things inside.

‘You've brought two,’ said Els.

‘Yes.’

‘I haven't invited the whole street.’

‘We'll eat tomorrow as well.’

‘You might.’

She took a knife from the wooden block. Liv was already feeling unfairly told off when she noticed the corner of Els's mouth. She could have asked what Els still had to laugh about. Instead, she took a board from the cupboard and laid it on the table.

Els cut thick slices. She kept the end separate, apparently a habit. Liv laid the table for two and asked where Roos would sit. Later, Els said. She needed to go home and shower first.

‘She doesn't want to be thinking about orders the whole time she's here. I understand that.’

Blank guest forms were on the table too. Els had gathered them up to put away. The top sheet had a stain on one corner, a smeared brown arc. Liv slid her plate over it until the stain disappeared. She flattened the corner of the paper before setting down her glass.

As they ate, Els told her about someone who had sat in this very chair trying to haggle down the price of two nights because he only slept a few hours a night. He worked shifts. She hadn't known whether he was joking, so she had charged the full price. Later he sent a postcard from somewhere warmer, saying he now got to lie outside as well for the same money.

‘I must have that card somewhere.’

Els looked at the cupboard but didn't get up to find it. She poured more tea. Liv told her about the roofers and the empty screw box she had kept. Els said she could throw that out. If a roof came down for want of a single screw, there was something wrong with the whole job.

It reassured Liv more than it should have. She laughed and said she would throw it away when she got home. In the metal recycling, said Els. There was bound to be one left in it.

After eating, they went to fetch empty containers from the kitchen cupboard for the things in eight. One crate was high up, wedged between a pan and a stack of lids. Els took hold of its base. Liv saw one corner catching behind a wooden batten.

‘Wait, I'll take this side.’

She moved beside Els, took the other end and angled the crate a little. They didn't have to pull. It came free, heavier than expected because there were still two bottles inside. Els blew a strand of hair out of her eyes.

‘That's just what I didn't want.’

Together they set it on the table. Liv lifted out the bottles while Els wiped a wet ring from the worktop. It took less than a minute. Neither mentioned what they had heard.

The containers could stay downstairs until Roos came, Els said. Liv pulled out a chair and asked whether she could use her computer meanwhile. She had brought it, along with an extra jumper she hadn't known whether she would need. Els pointed to the breakfast room.

‘Plenty of table space in there. The heating's off.’

‘I only need to get something ready.’

‘If it's longer, turn it on. Don't sit there hunched inside your coat.’

Liv went in and drew a chair away from the wall. The socket was low, behind a table leg. She knelt to plug in the lead. From the kitchen came a brief rattle of bottles, then Els's voice: ‘I'll stay a little longer.’

Liv looked out from under the table. She could see the short stretch of passage between breakfast room and kitchen. Across it, Els's coat hung over the banister. Perhaps she was talking to Roos on the phone. Liv called that they needed her for the things in eight.

‘I know,’ Els replied.

From behind her.

Liv turned so fast that her shoulder struck the underside of the table. Els stood in the other entrance to the breakfast room, holding a rubbish bag. She had come round through the hall. Liv hadn't heard her footsteps.

‘You said you were staying.’

‘I did.’

‘To who?’

‘Roos. She wants to know if I'm coming back before she comes over. I rang her. My toothbrush is there.’

Els raised her phone. The bag crackled in her other hand. She might have been showing it as proof. It was also simply awkward holding two things at once.

‘I thought you were still in the kitchen.’

‘I can walk round this way.’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you want me to announce which door I'm using from now on?’

Liv's shoulder throbbed, not enough to mention. She crawled out from under the table and put the chair back.

‘No. I don't.’

Els took the bag to the front door. Liv waited for the closer to pull it shut. She meant to open her work file, but her hand hovered over the keyboard. She had recognised the voice. The words had really been spoken. Everything she had put around them had been wrong.

For twenty minutes she worked on Willem Kooij's extract. The question had to stay; the answer went on further than she remembered. He corrected himself, went back to that one morning when a boat had been stuck. It was tempting to take only the clearest sentence. She put a marker before the correction instead of after it.

Roos came in while Liv still had her headphones on. She only noticed her when Els pointed. The loud first syllable of the greeting made Liv jump. Roos held the door and asked whether she had done something wrong.

‘No. I was miles away.’

‘I thought that was the point of those things.’

She carried a small bag and had changed out of her work clothes. Her hair was still wet at the nape. She could stay until four, she said. After that she had to be home for someone delivering something. Els didn't ask what. She pushed a chair towards her, and Roos sat to fasten her shoes properly.

They discussed what was in eight. Only what could go today, not everything: the Christmas boxes, the ironing board if they could manage the turn together, the loose chairs. They would need Bram to help disentangle the mixed stack with the heavy dark chair. Els didn't want to drag that down the stairs without knowing what might catch. Liv had seen the broad frame. She nodded.

‘Where's it all going?’ asked Roos.

Els went through the possibilities. Nothing in the hall. There was space at the front of the old cupboard once the empty crates were out. A few loose chairs could go in the breakfast room if they didn't block the back door. She still needed to be able to use the ironing board.

‘That's why I'm asking,’ said Roos. ‘Or we'll end up bringing it all back.’

Liv shut her laptop. She wanted to save the selection under a new name, but it was already saved. She pushed the computer aside. By the door, Els freed the rubbish bag from a protruding shoe and moved it clear of the stairs.

While Roos washed her hands, Liv's phone vibrated. Anouk asked whether she could have the section with the question a little earlier, for a listener who might want to refresh their memory at home. Not a whole interview. Liv looked at the closed laptop.

‘I have to work on that on Monday anyway,’ she said aloud.

Els stood beside her. ‘Do it on Monday, then.’

‘She's asking now.’

‘Yes. And we've got Roos now.’

Roos came from the kitchen, her hands still wet. ‘What's up?’

Liv said nothing was, heard how unpleasant that sounded and corrected herself. It was a work question. It could wait until they had finished. She told Anouk that and silenced her phone, leaving it face up beside the computer.

Els had set three empty containers at the foot of the stairs. She moved them apart so someone could still get through. Something rattled as she picked up the first: a loose lid, not a bottle. Liv took the second. Roos tucked the third under her arm and kept her free hand on the banister.

On the landing they stopped. Liv went to open eight, but Els asked her to put down the container first. The door scraped at the familiar spot. Roos looked at the brown mark on the floor.

‘That's annoyed me before.’

‘Bram's coming to sort it.’

‘Good.’

The open door lay against the left wall. Opposite, on the right, the chairs were tangled like cutlery in a drawer that wouldn't shut. A dark leg jutted between two pale backs. The edge of a rubber foot had split. Liv looked at the space in front where they meant to put the containers.

Els didn't go to the wooden case. She took an empty plastic bag off the first box and flattened it. Dust rose, so fine Liv only saw it drifting past the window. Roos pushed up her sleeves.

‘These three first?’

Els nodded. Liv moved beside her to lift the first lid.