for the handle of the door opposite instead. I shrugged, but slid the bolt on my door once I was safely inside. Then I climbed back into bed and slept like the dead for what remained of the night.
***
I woke around seven the next morning, courtesy of my in-built alarm clock. A lazy mist hung over the trees and the river, promising another long hot day ahead. I glanced down onto the forecourt and saw a snazzy little race-replica Honda RVF400 with a Northern Irish plate on it parked up next to Jacob’s old Range Rover. Nice bike. It seemed that in amongst the rest of the genes, Jacob had also passed on his love of biking to his son.
I slipped into the bathroom first, then climbed into my leather jeans and a clean shirt, glad I’d made that detour. I looked in briefly to the bedroom Jamie had taken but he was spark out, lying diagonally across the bed in a face-down sprawl.
I went downstairs and let the dogs out, then rang the hospital again for news of Clare. Comfortable, they told me, which seemed absurdly optimistic of someone with as many broken bones as she had.
The sun was already throwing out warmth, beginning to heat up the stones of the old house. I drank my first coffee of the day sitting out on the terrace in peaceful solitude, soaking it up. The events of yesterday seemed remote, like a dream. I remembered my conversation with Sean and almost wondered if I’d imagined that, too.
Away to my right came the sound of water running down the drainpipe from the bathroom. Sleeping beauty awakes. I went back inside to put a fresh pot of coffee on.
I was halfway through filling a cafetière when the drive alarm went off. The dogs scrambled out of their beds, barking furiously like they’d been practising the drill. The combination of the two made me jump and slosh hot water onto both the kitchen floor and down the leg of my jeans. Good job they were leather or I’d have been scalded.
When I looked out of the window onto the forecourt, it was just in time to see the post van pull up outside.
“Oh yes, very dangerous he looks,” I told the dogs, sarky, as the mail dropped through the letterbox in the front door. They whined and avoided my gaze and looked embarrassed. I wondered if it was the alarm rather than the vehicle the dogs reacted to, like some Pavlovian experiment. Was that why they hadn’t kicked up a fuss last night?
Jamie arrived just as the coffee was brewed. He didn’t wait to be invited but helped himself, retrieving a mug from the cupboard next to the kitchen door without hesitation.
“Know your way around, don’t you?” I said, nodding to the mug.
He paused, startled for a moment, then he grinned at me. “That’s where they’ve always been kept,” he said. “Dad’s nothing if not a creature of habit.”
He was wearing the same leather bike trousers he’d had on the night before, and a clean T-shirt with a designer label on the front. He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table, turned it round and sat astride it, leaning his forearms on the back.
“I’ve rung about Clare and they tell me I can go in and see her this morning,” I said. “You want to come?”
He frowned for a moment, warring emotions flitting across his face.
“It’s not compulsory,” I put in mildly. “She may not even be awake enough to talk to.”
“No, no, I’ll come,” he said quickly. He nodded towards the kitchen window where we could just see his Honda outside and gave me a smirk. “If you’re feeling brave enough I can give you a lift on the back of my bike.”
“Yeah, I can well imagine that getting on the back of your bike would be a pretty quick way to a hospital,” I returned with an answering smile. “But no thanks – I prefer to ride my own.”
***
Jamie watched rather anxiously as I wheeled the Suzuki out of the coach house. He only relaxed when he recognised the bike for what it was and worked out
***
I woke around seven the next morning, courtesy of my in-built alarm clock. A lazy mist hung over the trees and the river, promising another long hot day ahead. I glanced down onto the forecourt and saw a snazzy little race-replica Honda RVF400 with a Northern Irish plate on it parked up next to Jacob’s old Range Rover. Nice bike. It seemed that in amongst the rest of the genes, Jacob had also passed on his love of biking to his son.
I slipped into the bathroom first, then climbed into my leather jeans and a clean shirt, glad I’d made that detour. I looked in briefly to the bedroom Jamie had taken but he was spark out, lying diagonally across the bed in a face-down sprawl.
I went downstairs and let the dogs out, then rang the hospital again for news of Clare. Comfortable, they told me, which seemed absurdly optimistic of someone with as many broken bones as she had.
The sun was already throwing out warmth, beginning to heat up the stones of the old house. I drank my first coffee of the day sitting out on the terrace in peaceful solitude, soaking it up. The events of yesterday seemed remote, like a dream. I remembered my conversation with Sean and almost wondered if I’d imagined that, too.
Away to my right came the sound of water running down the drainpipe from the bathroom. Sleeping beauty awakes. I went back inside to put a fresh pot of coffee on.
I was halfway through filling a cafetière when the drive alarm went off. The dogs scrambled out of their beds, barking furiously like they’d been practising the drill. The combination of the two made me jump and slosh hot water onto both the kitchen floor and down the leg of my jeans. Good job they were leather or I’d have been scalded.
When I looked out of the window onto the forecourt, it was just in time to see the post van pull up outside.
“Oh yes, very dangerous he looks,” I told the dogs, sarky, as the mail dropped through the letterbox in the front door. They whined and avoided my gaze and looked embarrassed. I wondered if it was the alarm rather than the vehicle the dogs reacted to, like some Pavlovian experiment. Was that why they hadn’t kicked up a fuss last night?
Jamie arrived just as the coffee was brewed. He didn’t wait to be invited but helped himself, retrieving a mug from the cupboard next to the kitchen door without hesitation.
“Know your way around, don’t you?” I said, nodding to the mug.
He paused, startled for a moment, then he grinned at me. “That’s where they’ve always been kept,” he said. “Dad’s nothing if not a creature of habit.”
He was wearing the same leather bike trousers he’d had on the night before, and a clean T-shirt with a designer label on the front. He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table, turned it round and sat astride it, leaning his forearms on the back.
“I’ve rung about Clare and they tell me I can go in and see her this morning,” I said. “You want to come?”
He frowned for a moment, warring emotions flitting across his face.
“It’s not compulsory,” I put in mildly. “She may not even be awake enough to talk to.”
“No, no, I’ll come,” he said quickly. He nodded towards the kitchen window where we could just see his Honda outside and gave me a smirk. “If you’re feeling brave enough I can give you a lift on the back of my bike.”
“Yeah, I can well imagine that getting on the back of your bike would be a pretty quick way to a hospital,” I returned with an answering smile. “But no thanks – I prefer to ride my own.”
***
Jamie watched rather anxiously as I wheeled the Suzuki out of the coach house. He only relaxed when he recognised the bike for what it was and worked out
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