And then, as Louisa pulled up the blinds and made us all some tea, they looked at each other like two people wondering whether to let you in on a secret, and they told me about going away. Ten days. Not sure where yet, but it would probably be long haul and it would be good. Would I come and help?
Does a bear shit in the woods?
I had to take my hat off to the girl. If you had told me four months ago that we’d get Will off on a long-haul holiday – hell, that we would get him out of this house – I would have told you that you were a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Mind you, I’d have a quiet word with her about Will’s medical care before we went. We couldn’t afford a near miss like that again if we were stuck in the middle of nowhere.
They even told Mrs T as she popped by, just as Louisa was leaving. Will said it, like it was no more remarkable than him going for a walk around the castle.
I have to tell you, I was really pleased. That ruddy online poker site had eaten all my money, and I wasn’t even planning on a holiday this year. I even forgave Louisa for being stupid enough to listen to Will when he said he hadn’t wanted her to do his tubes. And believe me, I had been pretty pissed about that. So it was all looking great, and I was whistling when I shouldered my way into my coat, already looking forward to white sands and blue seas. I was even trying to work out if I could tie in a short visit home to Auckland.
And then I saw them – Mrs Traynor standing outside the back door, as Lou waited to set off down the road. I don’t know what sort of a chat they’d had already, but they both looked grim.
I only caught the last line but, to be honest, that was enough for me.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Louisa.’
20
‘You what?’
We were on the hills just outside town when I told him. Patrick was halfway through a sixteen-mile run and wanted me to time him while following behind on the bicycle. As I was marginally less proficient on a bicycle than I was at particle physics, this involved a lot of swearing and swerving on my part, and a lot of exasperated shouting on his. He had actually wanted to do twenty-four miles, but I had told him I didn’t think my seat could take it, and besides, one of us needed to do the weekly shop after we got home. We were out of toothpaste and instant coffee. Mind you, it was only me who wanted the coffee. Patrick was on herbal tea.
As we reached the top of Sheepcote Hill, me puffing, my legs like lead, I decided to just throw it out there. I figured we still had ten miles home for him to recover his good mood.
‘I’m not coming to the Xtreme Viking.’
He didn’t stop, but he came close. He turned to face me, his legs still moving under him, and he looked so shocked that I nearly swerved into a tree.
‘What? Why?’
‘I’m … working.’
He turned back to the road and picked up speed. We had reached the brow of the hill, and I had to close my fingers around the brakes a little to stop myself overtaking him.
‘So when did you work this out?’ Fine beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead, and tendons stood out on his calves. I couldn’t look at them too long or I started wobbling.
‘At the weekend. I just wanted to be sure.’
‘But we’ve booked your flights and everything.’
‘It’s only easyJet. I’ll reimburse you the £39 if you’re that bothered.’
‘It’s not the cost. I thought you were going to support me. You said you were coming to support me.’
He could look quite sulky, Patrick. When we were first together, I used to tease him about it. I called him Mr Grumpy Trousers. It made me laugh, and him so cross that he usually stopped sulking just to shut me up.
‘Oh, come on. I’m hardly not supporting you now, am I? I hate cycling, Patrick. You know I do. But I’m supporting you.’
We went on another mile before he spoke again. It might have been me, but the pounding of Patrick’s feet on the road seemed to have taken on a grim, resolute tone. We were high above the little town now, me puffing on the uphill stretches, trying and failing to stop my heart racing every time a car came past. I was on Mum’s old bike (Patrick wouldn’t let me anywhere near his racing demon) and it had no gears so I was frequently left tailing him.
He glanced behind, and slowed his pace a fraction so that I could draw level. ‘So why can’t they get an agency person in?’ he said.
‘An agency person?’
‘To come to the Traynors’ house. I mean, if you’re there for six months you must be entitled to a holiday.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘I don’t see why not. You started work there knowing nothing, after all.’
I held my breath. This was quite hard given that I was completely breathless from cycling. ‘Because he needs to go on a trip.’
‘What?’
‘He needs to go on a trip. So they need me and Nathan there to help him.’
‘Nathan? Who’s Nathan?’
‘His medical carer. The guy you met when Will came to Mum’s.’
I could see Patrick thinking about this. He wiped sweat from his eyes.
‘And before you ask,’ I added, ‘no, I am not having an affair with Nathan.’
He slowed, and glanced down at the tarmac, until he was practically jogging on the spot. ‘What is this, Lou? Because … because it seems to me that there is a line being blurred here between what is work and what is … ’ he shrugged, ‘… normal.’
Does a bear shit in the woods?
I had to take my hat off to the girl. If you had told me four months ago that we’d get Will off on a long-haul holiday – hell, that we would get him out of this house – I would have told you that you were a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Mind you, I’d have a quiet word with her about Will’s medical care before we went. We couldn’t afford a near miss like that again if we were stuck in the middle of nowhere.
They even told Mrs T as she popped by, just as Louisa was leaving. Will said it, like it was no more remarkable than him going for a walk around the castle.
I have to tell you, I was really pleased. That ruddy online poker site had eaten all my money, and I wasn’t even planning on a holiday this year. I even forgave Louisa for being stupid enough to listen to Will when he said he hadn’t wanted her to do his tubes. And believe me, I had been pretty pissed about that. So it was all looking great, and I was whistling when I shouldered my way into my coat, already looking forward to white sands and blue seas. I was even trying to work out if I could tie in a short visit home to Auckland.
And then I saw them – Mrs Traynor standing outside the back door, as Lou waited to set off down the road. I don’t know what sort of a chat they’d had already, but they both looked grim.
I only caught the last line but, to be honest, that was enough for me.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Louisa.’
20
‘You what?’
We were on the hills just outside town when I told him. Patrick was halfway through a sixteen-mile run and wanted me to time him while following behind on the bicycle. As I was marginally less proficient on a bicycle than I was at particle physics, this involved a lot of swearing and swerving on my part, and a lot of exasperated shouting on his. He had actually wanted to do twenty-four miles, but I had told him I didn’t think my seat could take it, and besides, one of us needed to do the weekly shop after we got home. We were out of toothpaste and instant coffee. Mind you, it was only me who wanted the coffee. Patrick was on herbal tea.
As we reached the top of Sheepcote Hill, me puffing, my legs like lead, I decided to just throw it out there. I figured we still had ten miles home for him to recover his good mood.
‘I’m not coming to the Xtreme Viking.’
He didn’t stop, but he came close. He turned to face me, his legs still moving under him, and he looked so shocked that I nearly swerved into a tree.
‘What? Why?’
‘I’m … working.’
He turned back to the road and picked up speed. We had reached the brow of the hill, and I had to close my fingers around the brakes a little to stop myself overtaking him.
‘So when did you work this out?’ Fine beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead, and tendons stood out on his calves. I couldn’t look at them too long or I started wobbling.
‘At the weekend. I just wanted to be sure.’
‘But we’ve booked your flights and everything.’
‘It’s only easyJet. I’ll reimburse you the £39 if you’re that bothered.’
‘It’s not the cost. I thought you were going to support me. You said you were coming to support me.’
He could look quite sulky, Patrick. When we were first together, I used to tease him about it. I called him Mr Grumpy Trousers. It made me laugh, and him so cross that he usually stopped sulking just to shut me up.
‘Oh, come on. I’m hardly not supporting you now, am I? I hate cycling, Patrick. You know I do. But I’m supporting you.’
We went on another mile before he spoke again. It might have been me, but the pounding of Patrick’s feet on the road seemed to have taken on a grim, resolute tone. We were high above the little town now, me puffing on the uphill stretches, trying and failing to stop my heart racing every time a car came past. I was on Mum’s old bike (Patrick wouldn’t let me anywhere near his racing demon) and it had no gears so I was frequently left tailing him.
He glanced behind, and slowed his pace a fraction so that I could draw level. ‘So why can’t they get an agency person in?’ he said.
‘An agency person?’
‘To come to the Traynors’ house. I mean, if you’re there for six months you must be entitled to a holiday.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘I don’t see why not. You started work there knowing nothing, after all.’
I held my breath. This was quite hard given that I was completely breathless from cycling. ‘Because he needs to go on a trip.’
‘What?’
‘He needs to go on a trip. So they need me and Nathan there to help him.’
‘Nathan? Who’s Nathan?’
‘His medical carer. The guy you met when Will came to Mum’s.’
I could see Patrick thinking about this. He wiped sweat from his eyes.
‘And before you ask,’ I added, ‘no, I am not having an affair with Nathan.’
He slowed, and glanced down at the tarmac, until he was practically jogging on the spot. ‘What is this, Lou? Because … because it seems to me that there is a line being blurred here between what is work and what is … ’ he shrugged, ‘… normal.’
