He yanked out the gun.
47
‘Wait,’ Barrington said. ‘That’s the same colour, right?’
Scott held up the sealant gun so that Barrington could get a better look. ‘Yep. Bright white. With an anti-fungal agent, too.’
Barrington nodded in approval, and Scott reached across the bath to begin pulling away the old sealant. The sudden movement sent what felt like a red-hot poker through his ribcage.
‘You okay?’ Barrington asked.
‘Yeah. Fell off a ladder last week. Bruised my ribs.’
‘Right. Only, I saw the way you were walking in here, too. I never knew plumbing could be so, like, dangerous.’
‘You’d be surprised. We go into lofts, under floors. It’s not all as simple as this.’
‘Guess not.’
Scott turned away again and continued stripping out the sealant, but thoughts were burning in his head: What if Barrington knows the scum downstairs? They’re all into drugs, right, so what if they talk to each other? What if the lads told him about a guy from this building who they beat up and robbed recently?
No. Don’t think that way.
He picked up the sealant gun. ‘Out with the old, in with the new,’ he said cheerily, but got no response from Barrington. The proper way to do this was to clean the area thoroughly, mask off the edges with tape, and put water in the bath to weigh it down, but he was relying on Barrington having little or no knowledge of DIY.
He began squirting the gunk along the edge of the bath. The combination of pain and Barrington’s intense scrutiny made it probably the worst job he’d ever done. The line of sealant was wiggly and uneven, bulging in some places and stringy in others, but it suddenly occurred to him that he might be able to use it to his advantage.
‘I just need to neaten this up. Have you got a damp cloth I could use?’
He said it as casually as he could, wondering how such an innocent request could be refused.
Just turn your back and start walking. A little bit of space and time – that’s all I need.
But Barrington simply reached to a shelf next to him, grabbed a blue cloth and tossed it into the bath.
Scott picked up the cloth. ‘It needs to be damp.’
Barrington pointed at the bath taps. ‘You’re a plumber, right? You know what they do?’
Scott turned on a tap and wet the cloth. He started to run a plastic scraper along the line of silicone, wiping the excess away on the cloth. When he was done, it didn’t look half bad.
‘That it?’ Barrington asked.
‘All there is to it,’ Scott answered as he dropped his tools back in his bag. ‘Told you I wouldn’t be long. If you can, give it a few hours to cure before you get water on it again.’
Barrington nodded, but stayed within touching distance.
Jesus. Is he ever going to allow me room to breathe?
He stood up, waited for Barrington to lead the way out.
‘Go ahead,’ Barrington said.
Scott wanted to sigh in frustration. He started walking, his unfastened backpack still in his hands. In the living area he saw the Adidas bag again – a stark reminder of why he came here.
It’s now or never.
He stopped, turned. Started to open up his backpack again.
‘You mind if I leave you my card?’ he asked. ‘You know, in case you need any plumbing work done in the future?’
He started to reach into the bag. Barrington was only a couple of feet away, but it was the best he was going to get.
‘Wait,’ Barrington said.
Scott froze, his hand partway into the bag.
‘The guy below me,’ Barrington continued. ‘You said the leak was in his ceiling.’
‘That’s right.’
‘His bathroom ceiling.’
‘Yes.’
‘So how come you didn’t know which door to go through to get to my bathroom?’
Scott’s brain stalled, exhausted by the effort of the charade. He knew he should have an answer ready on his lips, but it wasn’t there. Panic mounting, his eyes darted in search of an answer . . .
