Chapter 3

Nothing changed. At least, nothing obvious; I mean something changed. Look, once she’d calmed down and we’d finished our tea, we just went about our usual routine and went to bed. Separately. What sort of a guy would have tried it on with Dora after hearing her story? Okay, I know some who would, but that’s not me. I did have to change my t-shirt. The one I had been wearing had a wet shoulder.

Anyway, the next morning, I woke to the smell of coffee brewing. Is there anything better? It was still raining. I was disinclined to stir, but I hadn’t laid there long before Dora somehow negotiated the ladder to my eyrie with an almost full mug of coffee.

“Black, no sugar – right?”

“Perfect. Thanks.” It was not particularly easy to sit up in the limited space so that I could drink, but I managed.

“A bit snug up here?” Her tone of voice told me it was a real question rather than a polite nothing.

“It’s okay for sleeping,” I agreed. “You wouldn’t want to sit in bed reading. But I’ve got a radio and a CD player. Mainly it’s good as I can leave my bed ready for use.”

“I am an inconvenience? Making my bed up each night?”

I sipped my coffee. There was a hiatus as she perched there on the ladder, but she’d just begun to move back down when I said, “No. Not an inconvenience. Thanks for the coffee.”

“It’s miserable out there,” she said – I knew, I’d heard the rain on the roof – but she went on, “how about porridge for breakfast?”

“Sounds good. There should be enough milk. If not, there’s UHT in the cupboard.” I watched as I sipped my coffee and she moved around, clearing away her bedding, fitting the table back in its place, and then getting rolled oats, milk, and a saucepan out. Having finished my coffee, there was a pressing matter which compelled my getting out of bed. I suppose making the porridge took about ten minutes or so – I never timed it – but it was enough time for me to get up and throw some clothes on, then start another pot of coffee as Dora stirred the pot.

It was good porridge. Thick, as I like it, and I complimented Dora on her effort.

“It’s pretty basic stuff,” she commented. “Did you have any plans for the day?”
“Stay in out of the rain,” I said. “Listen to music, read, maybe write a bit.”

“Do you mind if I play some more?”

“Mind? Of course not!”

“Good. I thought I might make some pastry, too. With one of those tins of stew, I could make a pie for lunch, if that’s okay?”

“Sure! That’d be great!” Then after a pause, “Dora, don’t ever think you’re a problem for me. I hadn’t realised how much I missed having someone to chat to ... even just to have someone nearby, company, you know.”

She ducked her head, blushing a little. “It takes a bit of getting used to.”

“Being wanted?”

“Um. Being accepted, maybe?” She collected up bowls and left me with a second cup of the elixir of life while she began to wash up.

Once I was properly washed and ready for the day, I got on with catching up. There were a good few emails in my inbox, mostly junk, but a few from old friends touching base. Plus one from Jim Saunders. “Give me a call when you can.”

There being nothing else pressing, I rang immediately. Of course, Jim wasn’t available right away, but I got hold of him before lunch.

“Hey, Steve! How’re ya doin’, mate?”

“Pretty good, actually! I’m in the Lake District right now. Got several projects and thought I’d earned a break.”

“Good. Good! What I wanted to talk to you about, though, Icomsec settled. How does fifty K sound?”

“Sounds like more than I expected.”

“Yes. Well, there’s a story there. Seems they were upset at losing you. Want you back.”

“Hell’ll freeze over before I work under Cawthorn again.”

“No problem there. The company sent him to Siberia. Not really, but they moved him into a position where he can’t upset anyone else. Thurso, I believe. You might want to give them a call.”

I didn’t do that right away. Dora had, as she suggested, made up some shortcrust pastry and wrapped it round some tinned beef stew. With mashed potatoes, broccoli and gravy, it was most satisfactory. When I complimented her, Dora just said, “You need a pressure cooker. I’ll make a steak-and-kidney pudding from scratch.”

“Well, next time we’re somewhere that’ll sell us one, I’ll buy one,” I said. “I didn’t pack one because they’re quite bulky. I agree it would be useful, though, if we’re going to get serious about cooking proper meals.”

The rain was still bucketing down after we’d eaten, and, reluctantly, I picked up my phone to call the once familiar number.

A woman’s voice answered; mellow, but obviously reciting her piece by rote. “Good afternoon. Icomsec Limited, How may I direct your call?”

“Good afternoon. My name is Steve Thompson. I have a message asking me to call.”

“Just one moment, Mister Thompson.” A very brief hiatus – she didn’t even put me on hold, and I could hear her soft breathing – before she spoke again. “Oh, yes, Mister Thompson. Thank you for calling. Mister van Walters would like to speak to you, but he’s out of the office just at present. I could give you his mobile number, but it would be better if he called you back, if that’s all right? It won’t be more than an hour, probably less.”

“That’d be fine ... you’ve got this number?”

“Yes, sir. Is there anything else?”

“Not at present, thank you.”

It was, in fact, less than half an hour before my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Good afternoon; am I speaking to Mister Steven Thompson?”

“You are. And who am I speaking to?” (Yeah, I know it should be ‘to whom am I speaking? But who talks like that? Um ... Yeah. I know a few.)

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Franz van Walters. Director for Icomsec North Midlands. Thank you for calling. I need to apologise for the way you were treated when your wife left. We were furious that Cawthorn ignored company guidance on domestic issues. He is no longer in a position to cause problems again.”

“Apology accepted. My solicitor tells me you’ve been generous in settling my claim for constructive dismissal.”

“I’m glad he thinks so. Of course, we wanted to head off more serious problems. But we were also hoping to soothe your justifiable anger.”

“I’m not angry. In fact, leaving Icomsec has had a positive effect on my life.”

“Oh, I’m sorry...”

“No! I don’t mean the company. I enjoyed the work, and apart from my line manager was happy in it. But I got away from a difficult situation, and out of a developing rut. It’s been an interesting experience, on the road, so to speak.”

“Ah. I was hoping to tempt you back. Either full time, or as a contractor. Either way, you could expect a substantial pay rise and promotion.”

“Um...” I couldn’t think of a suitable response.

“Would you come to see us? Talk about what we have in mind for you?”

“I’m in Cumbria just now, and I wasn’t planning on returning to Sheffield any time soon...”

“We’d be willing to meet your expenses, and of course there’s no real urgency. If you could see your way to calling in, say in the next fortnight or so?”

“I’ll certainly give it some thought, Mister van Walters.”

“Thank you. Please, feel free to call this number to arrange to see me should you be in the area.”

“I’ll do that. But I need to get on right now. Good bye.”

“Good bye, and thank you for listening.”

I turned to Dora. “Well, well. I think my next objective will be Sheffield. And I’d like to call in on my parents on the way.”

Her face froze, then showed fear.

“But ... I mean ... your parents?”

“Don’t worry. They’ll like you, I’m sure. We don’t have to stay, though they’ll want us to – for a day or so, anyway – but if you’re uncomfortable, we can move on. I can always say I need to get to Sheffield.” I watched her as she thought things over.