When I got home, the cockroach would be waiting for me on the arm of my chair. And come bedtime, just before I could say goodnight, it would disappear. I felt sure it must have friends and family of its own kind, but every evening it was there alone.
It wasn’t long before I discovered that the cockroach was rather partial to both wine and beer. It was good to have someone to drink with. I started to leave little snacks for it while I was away. Nothing fancy, a few Madeira crumbs, a smidgeon of jam, that sort of thing. For entertainment, I left the radio on – Classic FM one day, Radio 3 the next.
We’d been together for one month, so I thought we would celebrate with a bottle of Tesco’s best. But when I got home, we were not alone. Two cockroaches were sitting on the arm of my chair. My intuition told me to leave. Maybe there was some innocent explanation; a visiting relative, a neighbour from next door? When I got back, everything would be back to normal. We could enjoy a nice glass of wine.
But what if the other one was still here? Putting on my bravest face, I sat down, poured a glass of wine for myself and sprinkled a few drops on a saucer for my guests. As the evening went on, we were all getting merrier. My friend seemed to have fallen off the chair and was climbing back up. This was my chance. My heart raced, and my hands were covered in sweat. Just grab the interloper and flush it down the loo. Even if I could get away with it, surely the guilt would be too much to bear?
Feeling the need to make amends for the previous night, I purchased a small strawberry tart for us to share. I opened the door, fearing the alien was still there, and my heart almost stopped. Hundreds of them, crawling everywhere.