The Debt & the Doormat by Laura Barnard Page B

foot where they’ve rubbed.  The last ten minutes of my walk home I had to rip them off and go barefoot.  Jazz keeps telling me off for doing that. 
    ‘Hey Pops.  Bad day?’ Izzy asks coming into the room wearing nothing but a towel. 
    ‘Yeah.  Understatement of the year actually,’ I answer, feeling very sorry for myself.
    She begins towel drying her hair and I can’t stop noticing what an amazing body she has.  Don’t get me wrong – I’m no lesbian,  but her legs are so toned and tanned.  Her whole body looks like it should belong in a high gloss magazine, not in this grotty sitting room in Shepherd’s Bush.  In fact, if there were a girl to turn me it would probably be her.
    ‘Poppy?  I said what happened?’
    I pull myself back into the room, telling myself off for daydreaming again.
    ‘Oh, sorry.  It's a bit of a long story actually.’
    ‘Oh, well to be honest,’ she says, scrunching her face up in regret, ‘I haven’t got too much time on my hands.  Me and Gracie have got dates.’
    ‘Oh really, that's great.  Anyone special?’ I ask, pleased that the conversation has turned back to her.
    ‘No.  Just some guys from her office.  Probably bores, but you never know.’  She winks at me.
    ‘Oh, well have a great time.’
    ‘Thanks.  And I will chat to you about this, I promise.  Why don't we go for brekkie tomorrow before work?’
    ‘Oh.’ I’m genuinely surprised at the offer of real friendship.  It’s been so long since I made a new friend.  ‘Yeah that would be great.’ I try to smile half as widely as her, while pretending I will be fine to get up at a ridiculous hour.
    ‘Awesome.  Well I’m gonna go blow dry my hair, but I’ll wake you in the morning, ok?’
    ‘Yeah, cool.’
    *                            *                            *
     
     
    When she’s gone I make a big bowl of spaghetti bolognaise.  If there's one thing I’m sure will always cheer me up, it's a plate load of carbs and it’s easy enough for even me to make.  I always end up making enough to last me the week.  Then I usually eat most of it in one sitting, spending the rest of the night crying, disgusted at what a beast I am.  I really must ask Izzy what the deal is with buying food and stop stealing theirs in the hope that they won't notice. 
    I’ve just put the garlic bread in the oven when my mobile rings.  I run to get it and my spirit picks up when I see that it's Jazz.  I’ve got so much to tell her. 
    ‘Hiya love,’ I sing down the phone.
    ‘Disaster!  I need your help urgently.  Can you come round?’  Her serious tone shocks me. 
    ‘Yeah, but why?  What's wrong?’
    ‘Oh Pops,’ she says, her voice breaking slightly.
    She’s been in a car crash.  No, worse, she’s set my flat on fire. 
    ‘What??’
    I hear her take a deep breath.
    ‘I need to get the morning after pill.’
    ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

Chapter 6
     
    The tube is a nightmare.  Trust Jazz to have an emergency at rush hour.  And trust me to always find the sweatiest, most obese people to be squeezed between.  When I finally get to the flat I find her sitting at the kitchen table in my track suit bottoms, a half empty bottle of wine beside her.  This must be bad.  She never wears tracksuit bottoms. 
    ‘Tell me everything.’ I demand as soon as I take my coat off.
    ‘Oh it's such a fucking mess.’  She drains her glass.  There’s smudged mascara under her red rimmed eyes, indicating she’s been crying.  ‘Have you got trainers on?’ she asks, suddenly staring disapprovingly at my feet. 
    ‘Yes, but TELL me.  What happened?’
    ‘They look terrible.  I thought I told you to wear the shoes today?’
    How can she pick on my shoes in the middle of an emergency?
    ‘I did and they gave me fucking blisters!  Now tell me what the fuck happened?’
    ‘Ok, ok,’ she waves her hands in the air.  She takes a deep