Chapter 7

No, Wendy and I didn’t become intimate. When we were ready to sleep we took ourselves, separately, to bed and slept. In the morning, she went to work and, being Saturday, Tim played on the climbing frame. So nothing changed, then. When Wendy came home that evening, she told me that she was to go to be taught to drive. At least, she was going to qualify as a Police driver, and then as a motorcyclist. The expectation of an officer’s driving or riding skills is much higher than that of a civilian. I suppose that should be axiomatic, but incidents involving Police vehicles might indicate that officers are human and as prone to error as anyone; the training implants a high level of skill along with good habits, thus reducing rather than eliminating driving errors.

“I’ll be away Monday to Friday, for two weeks,” she informed me. “I’ll be free at the weekend, though, if you don’t mind me coming back here.”

“Mind? I don’t think you understand. I’m very happy to have you here.”

She took a deep breath. “Thanks. I’ll leave late tomorrow, and be back Friday night.”

I took Tim along to the ‘Family’ service at church, which was led by a young woman from the parish church in Whitley Magna. Tim seemed to enjoy himself, and sat between Ingrid and Charles. The latter looked as though he was well on the way to recovery. Indeed, after the service, Ingrid asked me to have a quiet chat with her while Tim played with some other kids he knew.

“Olaf, I know what I said before, but spending so much time looking after Charles, well, we ... fell in love. He’s asked me to marry him. I’m, well, I’m nervous, but I feel I need to take a chance and trust him. Do you mind? What do you think?”

“I think...” I paused, “from what I know of him, I think he’s not going to beat you up, and in view of your faith, the two of you are probably much better suited together than you and I would ever be. So I think this is the best possible outcome, and I wish you both well. Are you ready to have Tim living with you again?”

She looked at me for what seemed a long time. “Is he a problem?”

“Oh, no, not at all. As far as I’m concerned he can stay as long as you like, as long as he likes.”

She chuckled. “Oh, he loves living with you. That climbing frame really clinched it. I want him with me, that’s true, but it might be best if he stays with you until Charles and I are married. After that, we’ll see.”

“That sounds good to me, and Tim will always be welcome at The Mews, even if only to play on the frame!”

“Thank you.” She smiled, stretched up and kissed my cheek. “You’ve been so good to me and Tim.” She paused, frowned, and went on, “Wendy is very fond of you, you know.”

“I’m...” I hesitated, “I’m pretty fond of her too.”

She left it at that, and I went home, leaving Tim to have lunch with his mother and her fiancé. That left me alone with Wendy from lunchtime until Tim returned in time for tea. Sadly, I couldn’t swallow my reluctance to risk embarrassment, and since (I later found out) Wendy was in a similar position emotionally, the opportunity passed.

The three of us ate tea together, a traditional English tea of sandwiches, buttered scones and cake, after which Tim asked me to read to him. I need to explain something here. To some, reading to a seven-year-old may not seem unusual. But I was reading pretty fluently by the time I was seven, and don’t remember being read to particularly. Tim was like me in that respect. I’d dug out a box of books from my childhood, and he’d poked through them. It turned out that he really enjoyed my being silly and making all the appropriate sounds (or trying to) to go with the Thomas the Tank Engine stories. As I say, he was quite capable of reading them himself, but I suppose he’d never been taken to one of Britain’s heritage steam railways. Anyway, early on, I’d read from them to him before I realised how bright he was, and when he questioned, I found DVDs of steam locomotives as well as some of the Thomas the Tank Engine stories. That formed an additional area of contact between Tim and me.

Wendy left while I was reading to Tim, and I suppose that was the point when I realised that I was going to miss her – badly – while she was away. And I did.

Anyway, that week I buckled down and got on with work – not that I’d neglected my customers to that point, you understand – did some tidying up outside and had Ingrid and Charles to supper two evenings. They – the suppers – led, after Tim was in bed, to a free-ranging discussion of metaphysics, theology, religion and belief. That might have been confrontational, but actually was thought-provoking and interesting. As Ingrid and Charles left, I told the older man, “You’ve given me food for thought. I don’t think you’ll make a believer of me just yet, but I have to agree that there is much that science cannot explain – yet, at least.”

Charles just smiled and shook his hand. “Just approach your life with an open mind and an open heart. I think you will find fulfilment.”

They left, and I settled down with a glass of beer and a book.

Friday came around, and Wendy appeared in the early evening. I offered to cook.

“Oh, no, thanks, Olaf. I really appreciate the offer, but there’s a pretty good restaurant at the Training Establishment. A sandwich will do fine.”

“Bottle of beer?” I offered.

“Oh, absolutely!”

She made herself a plate of sandwiches while I was fetching bottles of beer. I’m sure there are other ways of companionship, but for me, sharing a beer with a friend is up there with the best – bear in mind I’m not a very social person. A beer helps.

“So ... how was the week?”

“Oh, I’ve done the basic course before, so this was advanced; what’s needed for pursuit, motorway patrol, escort, that sort of thing. Next week is going to be fun; they’re going to teach me how to ride a motorbike.”

“But ... Wendy ... I’ve seen you ride.”

“Yeah! I’ve been riding since I was old enough to hold a licence, and I’ve done some civilian advanced training which was based on the Police system. Have you heard of the IAM?”

“Well, yes...”

“When you learn to drive, they teach you ‘mirror, signal, manoeuvre’, right?”

“Yeah...”

“Well, the Police ‘Roadcraft’ system is designed to get a driver or rider to plan ahead. Much further ahead. So you can take advantage of a gap in traffic, or avoid a potential hazard. It means you cover the ground quicker, without speeding and without getting into trouble. Most of the time.”

“You hear about incidents involving Police drivers,” I commented.

“You do. Even Police drivers make mistakes. But usually it’s a result of a civilian under the influence or just being stupid.”

I wasn’t about to get into a discussion on the subject. In all honesty, I just don’t know enough about the subject to argue. “I never saw much point in advanced driving courses.”

She shrugged. “I’ve seen you drive. You’re careful, cautious, safe. You don’t hurry, and you don’t drive for the sake of driving. An advanced course might enhance your skills, but in all probability you’ll never need it. Unless you get keen. That little Panda is quite lively, but you don’t drive to the limit, and that’s fine. I’m learning as a professional, and I did the motorcycle course because I love my bike, I love riding it, and I wanted to be safe and ride well.”

We were silent for a while, enjoying our beer – Black Sheep Ale – until Wendy caught my eye again. “You said you didn’t mind dancing...”

“I did, though I’m not wonderful at it.”

“There’s a ceilidh in the town Community Hall tomorrow evening. Would you be willing to keep me company?”

“I’ve never done any Scottish dancing,” I demurred, not entirely accurately. There had been a couple of sessions in school.

“There’ll be someone calling the steps; it’s intended for newbies.”

“Well, okay. I’d like to spend the evening with you, just as long as you don’t mind my two left feet.”

“Oh,” she actually giggled, “don’t worry. I’m no better. I’ll need to buy some clothes, though. I haven’t got any mufti suitable.”