Chapter 11

I woke early – it was still dark. Clara was weeping silently in her sleep in my arms, and I gently stroked her back. She stirred. “What time is it?”

I lifted my head far enough to see the clock display. “Five,” I answered.

“I’m awake,” she said.

“Me too.”

“Can we get up?”

“Of course. I’m not going to sleep any more anyway.”

Cereal and coffee, fruit juice. Get dressed. Take the top-box off Oscar’s luggage rack and check him over. Adjust the straps on the rucksack so it would rest on the rack and take the weight off Clara’s shoulders. By six-thirty we were all set. Clara stopped me from straddling the bike and hugged me tightly.

“Thank you, Rob,” and I started Oscar in the pale morning light.

We were clear of the city before the traffic began to build. An hour after starting I pulled in at the Ollerton cross-roads cafe for a substantial cooked breakfast, greeted cheerfully by the man who recently took over the business. He’s a motorcyclist himself and recognised Oscar from my previous visits; I don’t know if he’d have recognised me without the bike! The traffic was heavy at the intersection of the A46, A17 and A1 at Newark, but then it always is, and it wasn’t as bad as it might have been. We negotiated that, and, of course, the A17 isn’t a fast road, on the whole. Not to mention Oscar isn’t a racer and with a pillion passenger I couldn’t hurry. We had our lunch north of Thetford, and rolled up at Jessica’s just before four in the afternoon. We were both a little stiff and tired, but not nearly as cold that time. Jessica greeted us.

“You didn’t need to come,” she said, shaking her head, “but I have to say I’m glad you have.”

Clara:

I can’t explain it. I’m from near Cambridge, not Suffolk. But when my feet touched the ground something clicked in me. Roots! I never thought about having roots. I’ve been to Greece, Turkey, Italy, Sweden, Norway to name just a few. But Felixstowe felt ‘right’, where Yorkshire did not. I shrugged out of the rucksack, dropped it clear of Oscar and ran to Jessica. We wrapped each other up. Home.

I know the stories. Jenni was fostered, not adopted. She never sees her birth mother and Jessica might as well be her mother. Alison came along, naturally, of course. And Chrissie McKinley was adopted. Then now, there’s me.

“You didn’t need to come,” Jessica said, shaking her head, “but I have to say I’m glad you have.”

“Of course we had to come ... Mum.”

She sniffed. “Come along! Bring your stuff inside.” She led the way through to the kitchen; I dumped the ruck in the hall. “Have you had a proper lunch?”

“Yes. We had chicken korma somewhere near Thetford.”

“Good. I thought you might. I have some soup, though, just in case?”

I put my helmet down and began to peel out of my motorcycling layers, forgetting that the boots have to come off first. Rob came in, too. He’d left his stuff in the hall, and padded in on stocking’d feet.

“That sounds wonderful, Jessica. We had a good lunch,” Rob told her, “but soup sounds wonderful. I can smell fresh bread, too, I think.”

Jessica smiled. “Indeed. No-one will let me do very much, but I used to enjoy making bread, and it is a treat; at least, when it works. I think this batch is good. I’ll put the soup on to warm through.”

We sat in the kitchen and chatted. Jessica played down the concerns for her health. “Everyone’s making such a fuss! I just fainted.”

“Well, you don’t have a history of fainting, do you?” Rob asked. “You’re a very fit lady, regardless of your age, and there needs to be some reason for you to faint. But we’re here and we can keep you company and make sure you get anywhere you need to go.”

She grunted.

Hot, thick, savoury soup. Fresh, home-made bread rolls. Crumbly Cheshire cheese. All three of us enjoyed the meal.

“Does Alison know about your visit to the hospital?” I asked.

Jessica coloured slightly. “Um, no. I told Jenni I didn’t want my daughter rushing home and interrupting her studies.”

“Forgive me, but I think that’s a mistake, Mum.”

Jessica frowned at me. “Oh?”

“If it were me, I’d be ... upset ... that you kept the information from me. You’re her mother, and I think she’s closer to you than I was to my own parents. I’m sure she’s very aware that you’re older than most of her contemporaries’ parents. She’s already lost her father. I think she’d want to know, and I think she’d have been here this weekend to reassure herself you are alright – and to spend time with you while she can.”

“Thank you for reminding me I’m in the twilight of my life,” Jessica said, stiffly.

I almost ran round the table and knelt by her chair. “That’s not what I was meaning, and you know it ... Mum.”

“I suppose.” She stroked my hair. “Very well. I’ll call her in the morning.”

Not too much later, we were tucked up in bed, naked, of course, and Rob’s hands were doing wonderful things to my skin. Before we got too involved, though, “Rob...”

“Mmmm?”

“I don’t think I can live in Sheffield.”

His hands stilled and he pulled me close. “Oh?”

“It’s not that I didn’t like the city, or the country round about.”

“Mmmm?”

“It’s just ... when we got here and my feet hit the ground, I felt ... I felt ... a connection. Like, I was home.”

He didn’t respond immediately, and my heart sank a little.

“I understand,” he said, quietly. “I can do what I do anywhere, almost. We’ll start to sort things out tomorrow, okay?” Then, “Clara, I love you. Home, for me, is where you are.”

I couldn’t help myself – I started to cry, and clung to him. “I love you, too. You’re just too good to me.”

I don’t know if he responded to that, because the next thing I knew was that the room was beginning to get light; I must have dropped off in his arms. But his warm body was right there, so comforting. My hand wandered and encountered ... evidence of his masculinity. Would he mind if ... dammit, I must have left him hanging last night! I was moistening even as I thought. Moving slowly, I slid over until I was on top of him. More gentle movements and I could feel him, right there. Somehow – I’m sure I didn’t actually do anything – he was in me. I was full. Complete. I did move a little and my nipples – when did they get hard? – scraped through his chest hair.

I imagine what happened was something like tantric sex; I don’t know anything about yoga. Neither of us moved, even when his eyes opened and he smiled at me. But I could feel my arousal, the slow progress to completion. There was just no urgency about it at all. The completion was ... overwhelming. There are no words; I cannot say how long we were like that, or where we went. I drifted back to normality, his dick still half-hard in me.

“I’m sorry about last night,” I offered eventually.

He chuckled, and that had interesting effects down below. “I’m not. Especially after what just happened.” We lay liked that for a few minutes, then he went on, “I’m glad you told me how you feel. Seriously. What just happened between us confirmed to me that we’re meant for each other. It was wonderful and we need to be honest with each other to keep that.”

“You think?”

“I’m sure.”

Hunger drove us to get up. After a necessary shower – together – we dressed and went in search of breakfast. Jessica was sitting in the kitchen, and stood when we entered.

“Scrambled eggs, you two? Coffee?”

“Yes, and yes, please,” I answered for both of us.

She placed a full jug of coffee on the table, with mugs, and single cream for me, then popped wholemeal bread in the toaster and began to scramble the eggs. As soon as our breakfasts were in front of us, she said, “I’m going to call Alison, Clara.”

I smiled at her as she passed. She nodded and half-smiled in return. I’d taken the last mouthful of my scrambled eggs, and had picked up my mug of coffee when Jessica returned. There was exasperation in her tone as she spoke.

“Here’s Clara, Ally. Clara, convince my daughter I’m not at death’s door.” She handed me her phone.

“Hey, Ally! How are you?”

“Worried, Clara! Did you come down to Felixstowe because Mum’s ill?”

“Partly. We came down because Jenni said your mum’s advised not to drive. That’s despite the hospital not finding anything wrong. But now I’m here, I realised I’m happier here than in Sheffield.”

“So, how is she?”

“If I didn’t know she’d been in hospital, I’d have said she’s fine. She seems her usual self, she’s cooking for us, that sort of thing.”

“She’s probably bored out of her skull...”

I picked up on a slight chuckle at the end of that statement. “I’m sure you’re right. But we’ll keep her occupied.”

“I wanna come home...”

“Can you do that without missing anything important?”

Sigh. “Not before Thursday.”

“Look, she seems fine. I promise that if there’s any concern, we’ll call you, okay? Come home when you’re free for a bit, and reassure yourself. You know Jenni’ll keep an eye on things.”

“I suppose. I ought to trust Jenni. And I hope I can trust you, too.”

“You can, Ally. We’ll see you ... Thursday evening?”

“Yeah. Unless something happens. Look, if she faints, or whatever, again, call me, okay?”

“Sure. Rely on it.”

“Great. And Clara ... thanks.”

“Any time.”

Rob.

I think some people have roots that are stronger than others. I mean, I was born and brought up in Yorkshire, and I love my city, but if it comes to living there, or somewhere else with Clara, there’s no contest. Besides, back a generation or three, I’ve got ancestors who hailed from East Anglia. Of course, others were from Kent, I even had a great-gran who originated in Aberdeen; she was a herring-girl who met great-grandad who was an Essex blacksmith and married him. Wouldn’t happen today; the fishing industry collapsed years ago. Just one of those ways of life that are now part of history. Of course there’d need to be some arrangements made. Would I sell the flat? Lease it? Where would we live? And what about Clara’s degree?

For now, there were matters to deal with. My publisher was duly informed of where I was residing, temporarily at least. My parents needed to know where we were, and why. Clara and I took a walk after breakfast and met Charlie Taylor, who greeted us, or me, anyway, with, “Hey, Mate! Good to see you. The ol’ Norton’s still here. Don’t neglect it.”

That was a thought. “Thanks! I’m sure we’ll find time soon.”

Back at the house, Jessica was all set to do some shopping, so we piled in to her little Audi and drove into town. We parked in the Great Eastern Square car-park, for free, and walked up Hamilton Road together. Jessica took us into the library to register and by the time we were done we reckoned it was lunch-time. Orwell Fisheries, on Orwell Road, provided us with fish’n’chips to their usual high standard. We resisted the temptation to call in at the second-hand book-shop we had to pass (both ways). Back at Great Eastern Square we raided the Co-op for supplies.