her… PTA stuff at Jake’s school. I haven’t seen her for a few years
though. But we ran into her and she’s helping out with the fundraising. I did
tell you.’
‘Probably,’ Ged agreed carelessly. ‘You tell me a lot of stuff.’
‘Well, Harry is organising a
Lifeguard Olympics to raise money.’
There was a guffaw from behind
the paper. ‘ Lifeguard Olympics ? Is it like
Lyme’s answer to Baywatch? If it is I’d pay to see it.’
‘I don’t know,’ Darcy answered, a
defensive note creeping into her tone. ‘But you don’t turn down an offer of
help, no matter how lame it sounds… besides, I happen to think it’s a fantastic
idea.’
‘Yeah, I’m sure it is. His number
is on the pad.’
Darcy got up to find the message
pad.
‘Oh, Darc ,
there’s some money in a tin on the mantelpiece. I sold some raffle tickets at
work.’
Darcy pulled down the paper and
kissed him on the head. ‘I knew you cared really.’
‘Just don’t tell everyone, I
don’t want people thinking I’ve gone soft.’
‘Your secret is safe with me.’
Ged’s paper went back up to hide the grin that was
spreading across his face. Darcy went to the phone table and ripped the top
page from the pad. She stared at the number. It was a mobile number, not the
Simmons’ house number as she had thought it would be. The idea caused a strange
kick of excitement in her guts. She shook herself, feeling ridiculous. Her gaze
travelled to Ged , half
obscured by the Independent . He could be a pain but he deserved
her loyalty, didn’t he?
‘I’ll call the house, speak to
Julia. I’m more likely to get him there anyway.’
There was
nothing more than a grunt from Ged in reply. Darcy wondered if he had even been listening to her. She
checked her watch. There wasn’t really time to do anything before the school
run except grab a quick glass of juice and put the recycling out. Whatever
phone call she made, it would just have to wait.
No matter how many times Darcy squeezed her eyes shut tight
and tried to empty her mind, no matter how many times she plumped her pillow,
turned it over, kicked Ged to break the steady snore
that rolled from his throat, sleep wouldn’t come. She looked at the clock on the
bedside cabinet yet again, and the digital display showed 3AM in mocking red digits. Only twenty minutes had passed
since the last time she had looked and yet it felt like a year.
It was rare to see the house so
utterly still and quiet, and as Darcy made her way down to the kitchen, she
could almost imagine it had somehow been frozen in time. She couldn’t
remember the last time she had drank a plain glass of milk, she reflected as
she poured herself one, but it tasted good, like the only thing that was right
for the mood she found herself in. Not since Sophie had first been diagnosed
had she felt so vulnerable, so lost, only this time she couldn’t put her finger
on what had dragged those old fears to the surface. All the things that
had happened that day – the tarot reading, the phone message from Harry, Ged’s apparent disinterest in the event – seemed to point
to a runaway train on a path to disaster. Only now it was too late; she had
already boarded. She didn’t even know where this idea had come from, but she
couldn’t shake it. She had phoned the Simmons’ house and spoken to Julia,
who told her that Harry was out and not answering his mobile anyway (she didn’t
know where but was fairly certain large amounts of alcohol would be involved)
but she filled Darcy in on what she knew of his plans for his fundraiser
Olympics and they decided that an update was probably all he was phoning Darcy
for anyway. Nothing of note, nothing to cause her concern had happened for the
rest of the evening – dinner had been eaten without remark or thanks, as
always, and Jake had fallen foul of Ged’s temper, as
he seemed to do every night lately, but Darcy had spent it in an uneasy and
sombre mood, more than those regular
though. But we ran into her and she’s helping out with the fundraising. I did
tell you.’
‘Probably,’ Ged agreed carelessly. ‘You tell me a lot of stuff.’
‘Well, Harry is organising a
Lifeguard Olympics to raise money.’
There was a guffaw from behind
the paper. ‘ Lifeguard Olympics ? Is it like
Lyme’s answer to Baywatch? If it is I’d pay to see it.’
‘I don’t know,’ Darcy answered, a
defensive note creeping into her tone. ‘But you don’t turn down an offer of
help, no matter how lame it sounds… besides, I happen to think it’s a fantastic
idea.’
‘Yeah, I’m sure it is. His number
is on the pad.’
Darcy got up to find the message
pad.
‘Oh, Darc ,
there’s some money in a tin on the mantelpiece. I sold some raffle tickets at
work.’
Darcy pulled down the paper and
kissed him on the head. ‘I knew you cared really.’
‘Just don’t tell everyone, I
don’t want people thinking I’ve gone soft.’
‘Your secret is safe with me.’
Ged’s paper went back up to hide the grin that was
spreading across his face. Darcy went to the phone table and ripped the top
page from the pad. She stared at the number. It was a mobile number, not the
Simmons’ house number as she had thought it would be. The idea caused a strange
kick of excitement in her guts. She shook herself, feeling ridiculous. Her gaze
travelled to Ged , half
obscured by the Independent . He could be a pain but he deserved
her loyalty, didn’t he?
‘I’ll call the house, speak to
Julia. I’m more likely to get him there anyway.’
There was
nothing more than a grunt from Ged in reply. Darcy wondered if he had even been listening to her. She
checked her watch. There wasn’t really time to do anything before the school
run except grab a quick glass of juice and put the recycling out. Whatever
phone call she made, it would just have to wait.
No matter how many times Darcy squeezed her eyes shut tight
and tried to empty her mind, no matter how many times she plumped her pillow,
turned it over, kicked Ged to break the steady snore
that rolled from his throat, sleep wouldn’t come. She looked at the clock on the
bedside cabinet yet again, and the digital display showed 3AM in mocking red digits. Only twenty minutes had passed
since the last time she had looked and yet it felt like a year.
It was rare to see the house so
utterly still and quiet, and as Darcy made her way down to the kitchen, she
could almost imagine it had somehow been frozen in time. She couldn’t
remember the last time she had drank a plain glass of milk, she reflected as
she poured herself one, but it tasted good, like the only thing that was right
for the mood she found herself in. Not since Sophie had first been diagnosed
had she felt so vulnerable, so lost, only this time she couldn’t put her finger
on what had dragged those old fears to the surface. All the things that
had happened that day – the tarot reading, the phone message from Harry, Ged’s apparent disinterest in the event – seemed to point
to a runaway train on a path to disaster. Only now it was too late; she had
already boarded. She didn’t even know where this idea had come from, but she
couldn’t shake it. She had phoned the Simmons’ house and spoken to Julia,
who told her that Harry was out and not answering his mobile anyway (she didn’t
know where but was fairly certain large amounts of alcohol would be involved)
but she filled Darcy in on what she knew of his plans for his fundraiser
Olympics and they decided that an update was probably all he was phoning Darcy
for anyway. Nothing of note, nothing to cause her concern had happened for the
rest of the evening – dinner had been eaten without remark or thanks, as
always, and Jake had fallen foul of Ged’s temper, as
he seemed to do every night lately, but Darcy had spent it in an uneasy and
sombre mood, more than those regular
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