Chapter 6

Olaf:

It was good – really good – having Wendy staying. In fact, the longer she was in The Mews, the better I liked it. The morning after she arrived to stay for the first time, I was in the kitchen when she appeared. She was wearing just a ... well, it looked like a long t-shirt, but I expect it was made to be a nightie ... with a teddy-bear snoozing on the front, and a pair of woolly socks. Her hair was a little mussed, her eyelids drooped, she yawned, and she looked wonderful. The t-shirt reached just about to her knees, and what I could see of her legs, well, let’s just say they were shapely, smooth and lightly tanned.

“Good morning,” I said, cheerfully. I switched on the coffee-maker.

“Goo...” a yawn interrupted her, “morning. Olaf. Coffee?”

“A few minutes,” I replied. “Breakfast? Bacon, eggs, et cetera?”

“God, no!” Yawn. “Toast, or cereal. Please.”

I put a box of Alpen on the table and a jug of milk, then got out a bowl and spoon. “Toast as well?”

“Not right now, thanks.” She poured Alpen into the bowl, added milk. She began to eat as I checked the coffee, which was still dripping through. “I’m on duty at mid-day, then I should be back between nine and ten. At least I hope so.”

“What about food?”

“Oh, I’ll grab a sandwich or something.”

“I could have something hot ready for when you get back?”

“That ... that’d be lovely. But I can’t guarantee a time.” She took a couple of mouthfuls as the coffee dripped through. When it finished, though, and I had tipped the carafe to fill first her mug, then mine, she went on, “What you need here is a climbing-frame. Tim’d love it, and you’ve loads of room. You’d just need to leave some space with the bird feeders.”

“Yeah...” I sipped my (second) coffee thoughtfully. “Yeah. I can see that.” Sip. “Have you plans for the next hour or so?”

“Well ... I was going to ask if I could raid your shelves and listen to some music.” There was a slight smile on her face, and her eyes were twinkling.

“You’ve no need to ask; treat the house as your own. Perhaps I might keep you company?”

“That’d be lovely.”

She picked through my CD collection. I was a little surprised when she picked out Ana Vidovic, classical guitar, and said so.

“I like music, almost any music.” She slipped the disk into the player, waited for it to start and adjusted the sound to her preference.

The disk has a selection of composers, two of whom I hadn’t heard of before I bought it, but it begins with an expert rendition of a transcribed Bach partita. I love the precision and, I suppose, the predictability of Bach and it appeared that Wendy liked the music too. We sat together companionably, finishing our coffee. At the end – just over an hour – of the album, she sighed, got up. “I’d better get ready and go,” she said. “Thank you.”

I was in my office, looking for climbing frames, when she poked her head round the door.

“I’m off,” she said.

“Would you like to take the Panda?” I asked, “Rather than getting togged up and extracting your bike from the garage?”

She hesitated in answering, “That’s a kind thought, er, Olaf.” Then, “But no. Riding my bike is part of my way of ... distancing myself ... from the stress of the job. I may take you up on your offer in the future. Not today, though.”

She left. I resisted the temptation to peer out of a window and watch her go. In due course I selected a climbing frame, one which I would have loved as a boy. I was brought up in a second-storey apartment, quite large and comfortable, but without any garden. I can’t really complain. There was a park quite near with its own play facilities, but of course I had to be accompanied to go there to play. I took a walk around, noting that the grass was due for mowing. Yep, plenty of room for what I’d selected. Perhaps I’d move the bird-feeder ‘tree’ further away from the house, nearer the bushes and young trees I’d planted by the fence. Returning to my office, I made the order and added ‘next day’.

In the kitchen I checked my stores and decided a trip to town was in order for groceries. If I was going to have Wendy and Tim to feed as well as myself, it made sense to organise plenty of food. In fact I made a visit to what I thought of as the ‘eco-shop’. I am in no way a vegetarian, and that shop caters for such, but it’s a good source of pulses and organic grains. I was used to buying my flour, oats and dried beans there. I loaded those purchases into the old Panda then headed for Tesco. I bought wholemeal bread, butter and margarine, pies and quiches, flat bread for pizza, tins, tomato puree, and fresh fruit and veg. Lastly, a visit to my favourite butcher obtained a chicken, sausages, bacon, and eggs.

‘That should see us through for a while,’ I thought, ‘and I can freeze a lot of it’.

I collected Tim from school, and we had steak and onion pie, mash and vegetables. He had a little homework to do after tea, then he called his mother, who, he said, seemed happy, but wanted to speak to me. She did. She apologised, and asked if I minded looking after Tim, as there wasn’t room at the vicarage – strictly, not a vicarage, but the curate’s dwelling, just a cottage in the village. I, of course, said I thoroughly enjoyed having Tim with me. Ingrid went on to say that Charles really needed her help for the time being. I told her not to worry about Tim.

Tim took himself off to bed, and I waited for Wendy to arrive home, reading an intriguing thriller by Mike Lunnon-Wood; ‘Dark Rose’. The book has a fascinating premise and is a gripping read, the combination of international intrigue, Irish legend and lore, and military action held my attention in a vice. So much so, that it was a shock to realise that it was nearly eleven o’clock, and Wendy still hadn’t returned. I checked my phone, which was in ‘do not disturb’ mode, since I’d forgotten to change it. There was a terse message.

“Sorry, problems, home before midnight, I hope.”

It was, then, eleven oh five. What the hell – time enough to have a hot meal ready? Let’s try. Potatoes. Carrots. Cabbage. The steamer on, to bring the water to the boil. Oven on to pre-heat. One of the individual pies I bought earlier. Gravy, made with Bovril though.

F’sure, I could microwave it, but I prefer to do it the old-fashioned way, and started everything at twenty past. When the veg was ready, it was a quarter to, and I turned out the gas. The pie was ready five minutes later, and my heart sank a little when Wendy hadn’t appeared. My panic receded, though, a few minutes after that when I heard the door open.

She looked ... worn.

“Rough day?” I hope my tone was sympathetic.

“You have no idea.” She sighed. “Tell you all about it if you like.”

“Supper’s ready for you now,” I told her. “I should eat first, if I were you.”

“You’re right. But can I have a hug first?”

“Absolutely.” I opened my arms and she walked into them. It was a good hug, at least I thought so. We stood like that for several minutes.

“Oh, God. That’s better,” she said. “You said something about food?”

“Come on, in the kitchen.” Putting a warmed plate on the table, I turned to the oven to extract the pie. “Only a supermarket special,” I said, apologetically, “but the veg is fresh.”

“Olaf, it’s a hot meal which I didn’t have to prepare at the end of a lousy day.”

I pulled out a chair for her and she smiled brilliantly, sat as I pushed the chair in, and helped herself to vegetables and gravy while I boiled a kettle for tea. I am used to drinking my tea weak and without milk, but left hers for a minute or three longer before pouring it.

We were silent as she ate. Finished, she leaned back and sighed. “Thank you so much, Olaf. Let’s take this tea into the lounge, okay?” She led the way, sat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her. “Sit with me, Olaf. Please?”

I sat, and she shuffled up so we were touching, and sat sipping tea until we’d finished.

“Olaf, in my job, there are days, sometimes, when I wonder whether – if there is a God – whether He, She or It is actually good, bad, or fickle. You know that cross-roads in town?”

I did know, though I rarely drove through it, so I nodded.

“An MPV set off as the lights changed, but a truck driver tried to beat the lights and side-swiped it. Another car behind – too close behind – rear-ended the MPV. We arrested the truck driver for dangerous driving, but ... two adults, a man and a woman, not related, are dead, two kids about six are dead and two kids about four are critical in hospital.”

I – tentatively – reached an arm around her, and she leaned in.

She sighed. “Thanks.” Then, “There are surviving parents, they’re with the two young ones. But ... Lord! Losing your partner and your older child like that. We had to help the Fire and Rescue Service deal with the mess. It was heartbreaking. They’d just taken the kids to the zoo, and that ... bloody idiot ... shattered two families.” She sniffed, and I tightened my arm around her.