bubbling over rocks on its way to the lock, and the sound of Radio Two coming from an open window.
After dropping off a small package at number eight, and a handful of birthday cards at number ten, Sam wheeled his bicycle past the next four houses who had no deliveries this morning, to the magnificent Queen Anne manor at the end. It was the only residence on Holly Way to be fronted by electric gates and a CCTV camera that registered all the comings and goings outside. Sam knew the security was because of Robert Paige’s job, but exactly what Robert Paige did he couldn’t rightly say, except it was something scientific. He received a lot of special deliveries, and if he wasn’t around to sign for them then Sam had to take them away and leave a note to let Robert know on his return that something was waiting. Apparently not even Mrs Paige couldaccept his mail, though Sam had never asked why. He simply went along with the system as he’d been told to, minding his own business and feeling secretly glad that he didn’t have the same kind of pressures in his job that Robert Paige probably had in his.
Propping his bike against the impenetrable laurels, he was about to ring on the entryphone when he heard a car coming into the street. Turning round he squinted against the morning sun, trying to work out who it was. He knew everyone, and liked to wave out to his customers, but as yet he couldn’t make out who the car belonged to. It definitely wasn’t one he recognised, but then he wouldn’t, because he could see now that it was a taxi and it seemed to be coming right down to the end of the road.
Next thing the solid black gates behind him began sliding open. The taxi slowed up, waiting to gain entry, and as it came to a stop the back window went down.
‘Morning, Sam,’ Robert Paige called out. ‘Have you got something for me?’
Sam held up the large brown envelope he was on the point of delivering. ‘Something from Florida,’ he said, bringing it over. ‘Needs a signature, so our timing’s good today. How are you? Out and about early for a Saturday morning.’ He’d known Robert Paige since the day Donald and Monica had brought their squalling bundle home from Yeovil hospital, which was going on forty-one years ago now, and right from then he’d had a soft spot for the lad.
‘I’ve just come down from Heathrow,’ Robert told him, deciding to get out of the car there, instead of inside the gates. ‘Took the red-eye back from Washington.’
‘Been hobnobbing at the White House again?’ Sam teased as he passed over his book for Robert to sign.
Robert laughed. ‘I was too busy to fit them in this time,’ he quipped. ‘I’ll give them your best next time I’m there.’ He was a fine-looking man, in Sam’s opinion, maybe a little thick around the middle these days, and starting to lose his fair hair in recent years, but there was a genuine warmth to his blue eyes that never failed to remind Sam of Donald, his father, and an infectious cheeriness to his smile that both he and Alicia had inherited from their gentle beauty of a mother.
Chuckling as he took his book back, Sam watched Robert haul his briefcase from inside the car, and pay the driver. ‘Right, best be getting along,’ he said, as the taxi started to reverse. ‘Oh by the way, good news about your Alicia paying us a visit, eh? Haven’t seen her yet, but my Missus had a little chat with her last night at the pub. Bloody shame about her husband, wunnit? Must have been a terrible shock for her, being that sudden and all. And the kids still so young. Made me think of how you lost your dad when you was about the same age.’ Belatedly remembering how his old school chum, Donald Paige, had met his end, he felt an uneasy heat spread up from his collar. ‘Yeah, well, it’s good to see you, as always, my boy,’ he mumbled, reaching for his bike. ‘Forecast’s for more sun today, and we could do with it after all the rain we’ve been
After dropping off a small package at number eight, and a handful of birthday cards at number ten, Sam wheeled his bicycle past the next four houses who had no deliveries this morning, to the magnificent Queen Anne manor at the end. It was the only residence on Holly Way to be fronted by electric gates and a CCTV camera that registered all the comings and goings outside. Sam knew the security was because of Robert Paige’s job, but exactly what Robert Paige did he couldn’t rightly say, except it was something scientific. He received a lot of special deliveries, and if he wasn’t around to sign for them then Sam had to take them away and leave a note to let Robert know on his return that something was waiting. Apparently not even Mrs Paige couldaccept his mail, though Sam had never asked why. He simply went along with the system as he’d been told to, minding his own business and feeling secretly glad that he didn’t have the same kind of pressures in his job that Robert Paige probably had in his.
Propping his bike against the impenetrable laurels, he was about to ring on the entryphone when he heard a car coming into the street. Turning round he squinted against the morning sun, trying to work out who it was. He knew everyone, and liked to wave out to his customers, but as yet he couldn’t make out who the car belonged to. It definitely wasn’t one he recognised, but then he wouldn’t, because he could see now that it was a taxi and it seemed to be coming right down to the end of the road.
Next thing the solid black gates behind him began sliding open. The taxi slowed up, waiting to gain entry, and as it came to a stop the back window went down.
‘Morning, Sam,’ Robert Paige called out. ‘Have you got something for me?’
Sam held up the large brown envelope he was on the point of delivering. ‘Something from Florida,’ he said, bringing it over. ‘Needs a signature, so our timing’s good today. How are you? Out and about early for a Saturday morning.’ He’d known Robert Paige since the day Donald and Monica had brought their squalling bundle home from Yeovil hospital, which was going on forty-one years ago now, and right from then he’d had a soft spot for the lad.
‘I’ve just come down from Heathrow,’ Robert told him, deciding to get out of the car there, instead of inside the gates. ‘Took the red-eye back from Washington.’
‘Been hobnobbing at the White House again?’ Sam teased as he passed over his book for Robert to sign.
Robert laughed. ‘I was too busy to fit them in this time,’ he quipped. ‘I’ll give them your best next time I’m there.’ He was a fine-looking man, in Sam’s opinion, maybe a little thick around the middle these days, and starting to lose his fair hair in recent years, but there was a genuine warmth to his blue eyes that never failed to remind Sam of Donald, his father, and an infectious cheeriness to his smile that both he and Alicia had inherited from their gentle beauty of a mother.
Chuckling as he took his book back, Sam watched Robert haul his briefcase from inside the car, and pay the driver. ‘Right, best be getting along,’ he said, as the taxi started to reverse. ‘Oh by the way, good news about your Alicia paying us a visit, eh? Haven’t seen her yet, but my Missus had a little chat with her last night at the pub. Bloody shame about her husband, wunnit? Must have been a terrible shock for her, being that sudden and all. And the kids still so young. Made me think of how you lost your dad when you was about the same age.’ Belatedly remembering how his old school chum, Donald Paige, had met his end, he felt an uneasy heat spread up from his collar. ‘Yeah, well, it’s good to see you, as always, my boy,’ he mumbled, reaching for his bike. ‘Forecast’s for more sun today, and we could do with it after all the rain we’ve been
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