Sleeping with the Soldier. Charlotte Phillips

She stood up. ‘You can get straight in the shower and rinse that shampoo out, and then you can ring your landlord and sort out a plumber.’ She made for the door as if the subject was closed.

      Poppy made it all sound so straightforward. But then of course she had a proper family background, supportive childhood and, let’s not forget, her big brother on the premises. She had no need to let coping with a crisis be complicated by things like pride and self-reliance and managing by yourself.

      ‘Just a couple of days, though,’ Lara qualified, finally giving in and following her. ‘Just until the water’s sorted out, and I’ll pay rent, of course.’

      With what exactly, she wasn’t sure. But she would find a way. She always did. Being indebted to someone really wasn’t her.

      ‘It’s only small, I know …’ Poppy said apologetically.

      ‘It’s absolutely perfect,’ Lara said, wondering vaguely how she could possibly fit all her stock in here. The room was tiny, the only furnishings a small dresser and lamp and the narrowest single bed Lara had ever seen. But in terms of living space, it was a gift. She supposed it might seem small to Poppy and her friends. Lara had heard them talk about boarding school and their families; spacious living was clearly the norm. Lara had had many bedrooms over the years. The dispensable bedroom was part of the package when you were working your way through the care system. She’d lived with a succession of foster families over the years and a room of your own still felt like something to be prized. And after the flood debacle, it really was. ‘I can’t thank you enough,’ she said. ‘All I need to do now is source some storage for the rest of my stock. Until the shop gets going I’ve got a bit of a stockpile. I’ll have a look and see if there’s somewhere locally that I can keep it cheaply.’

      Poppy flapped a hand at her.

      ‘There’s no need for that. You don’t want to be putting those gorgeous clothes in some hideous manky lockup. You can keep them in Alex’s room—there’s tons of space in there.’ She led the way along the hall and opened the door on what was possibly the neatest room Lara had ever seen. The bed was made with symmetrical coin-bouncing perfection, the top sheet neatly folded back in a perfect white stripe across the top of the quilt. She narrowed her eyes as she took in the radiator, the ends of which were visible either side of the headboard. Goodness knew what acrobatics he’d been performing in this room to make the hideous racket she’d had to put up with.

      After the cosy bohemian colour of the rest of the flat, the room was practically austere. Poppy moved to one side so Lara could see properly. Open shelving ran the length of the opposite wall, filled with perfectly folded rectangles of knitwear and T-shirts. Gleamingly polished shoes were lined up neatly in pairs along the lowest shelf. A shelf was devoted to books, their spines lined up in order of height. Not an item was out of place, not a speck of dust marred the clear floor space. A dark oak wardrobe stood at the side of the window. Lara imagined his shirts and jackets would be hung in colour co-ordinated perfection if she were to look inside.

      ‘Wow,’ she breathed.

      ‘I know,’ Poppy said, completely unfazed. ‘He’s a million times more tidy and organised than I am. That’s what comes of being packed off to boarding school at the age of five and then later going into the military. He’s the most organised, methodical person I know.’

      A pang of sympathy twisted in Lara’s chest at the thought of Alex as a five-year-old fending for himself when he had a family of his own back at home. She’d been forced into that situation by necessity; there simply hadn’t been an alternative for her mother. She couldn’t comprehend why anyone would want to send their child away when they didn’t have to, and they probably paid a fortune for the privilege too.

      ‘He does all his own washing and ironing,’ Poppy was saying. ‘He just needs a bit of, well, female influence in his life.’

      Lara looked at her with raised eyebrows. Female influence? Poppy grinned at her.

      ‘Maybe not that kind of female influence. I’m not sure he’s short of that.’

      He certainly wasn’t, judging by the frequency of his overnight guests.

      ‘He needs someone a bit more long-term in my opinion. He’s spent far too long with only blokes for company. Who knows? Perhaps a roomful of lingerie might put him in touch with his feminine side a bit more.’

      ‘Are you sure he won’t mind having the clothes rails in here?’ Lara said doubtfully. ‘I mean, it’s so tidy. I’ve got quite a lot of loose stuff too.’

      Poppy shrugged.

      ‘I’m doing him a favour here, letting him stay. It’s my flat, after all.’ She tossed her hair back. ‘Do you want a hand moving in?’