by Sue Nicholls
When Twitch emerges into the playground, night has fallen. Streetlights glow along the pavement and cars cruise by, their headlights scanning the hedges and fences of houses opposite and washing over cars in sheltered driveways.
Twitch steps into the dense darkness of the bicycle shed, thinking of Luke. She is not really in the market for a relationship, but Millie is on her mind. What a waste of life. She fumbles to unlock her bike and decides it is time to give herself a break, there is nothing wrong with a cup a coffee and a chat.
She drops the bike padlock into her bag next to her rolled up efforts from tonight. Expertly mounting her bicycle, she switches on her cycle light and bumps onto the empty road. Fee will be waiting to hear how the evening has gone. Twitch will describe her fellow students, the amply proportioned model and of course Anna but there will be no mention of Luke – yet.
Chapter 46
The brown heads of roses and hydrangeas lie in a yellow trug on the lawn, another sign of autumn’s approach.
Twitch, her skirt tucked into her knickers, and bare legs thrust into Maurice's enormous wellington boots, brought inadvertently in the confusion of moving out, energetically hoes a flower bed at the end of the garden. Overnight rain means the morning earth now steams in the sunshine. Birdsong chatters and flutes all around and the scent of the soil fills her nostrils. Perspiration bathes her back, and prickles on her face and she wipes the back of an arm across her upper lip.
The children have returned to school after the holidays, and Twitch is trying to catch up on house and garden. They have had a good time, but she is glad it is over. It has been hard keeping them occupied, and Fee could not take more leave from work because she had so much time off after Millie. Twitch is looking forward to her art class starting again this week.
The phone rings faintly from the house. Damn and blast. The handle of the hoe drops to the soil as she flops up the lawn, the enormous wellingtons smacking against her calves. By the time she has climbed out of the boots and shuffled into the hall in her socks, the ringing has stopped. Disgruntled, she plods into the kitchen to run herself a glass of water. The phone rings again, making her jump. ‘Hello?’
‘Twitch?’
She recognises his voice immediately. ‘Hello Luke. Did you ring just now?’
‘Yes, sorry, I don’t like answer phones. Hope I’m not disturbing you.’
‘Not at all, I needed a rest. I’ve been gardening. The weeds are growing faster than I can cope with.’
They make small talk, while Twitch wonders what Luke wants. Eventually, and with audible discomfort, he tells her that he has collected his bike from the repair shop. The price causes her to wince, but she assures him she will bring the money to the art class.
***
She pushes open the classroom door, with the folded cheque in a pocket of her art bag. Her eyes scan the other students, but Luke is not here, and she feels a twinge of anti-climax. There are three other people in the room besides herself: Jess, sitting at the front of the room drinking from a mug as usual and chatting to Anna, and another woman unpacking paints and brushes near an ornate seat in the centre of the room.
Twitch positions her easel diagonally to the chair so she will be able to see part of Jess’s face and left side. The Queen Ann style seat will be a challenge, with its complicated carving and strangely angled back, and she holds her pencil out, trying to get a sense of its proportions.
There is a tap on her shoulder and Luke is grinning behind her.
‘You made me jump,’ she says with a thudding heart
‘Sorry. How are you?’
‘Fine thanks,’ lies Twitch. Her hand, holding the pencil, is suddenly clumsy so that she drops it, breaking the lead. She bends to retrieve it and places it safely on the ledge of the easel then fumbles in her bag. ‘I’ve brought your cheque. I didn’t know what surname to put on.’
He looks embarrassed but slides it into his top pocket. ‘Don’t worry. I can add that. I’ve brought my bike with me. Have you got yours?’
She nods. ‘Yes.’
‘If you want, we could cycle down the road to the pub afterwards.’ He shrugs his shoulders. ‘It doesn’t matter if you don’t, I just thought…’
Twitch interrupts, ‘That'd be lovely. You can educate me on the finer points of cycling.’
‘Well, I suppose I could bore you with that, or maybe we can find other things to talk about.’
Twitch looks at him sharply, but his face and body illustrate profound discomfort rather than innuendo, and she relaxes. Other students begin to arrive and the room to fill. Luke retreats to another part of the room as Twitch smiles and nods to faces she recognises from last term.
Towards the end of the class, everyone wanders round the room to see what others have created. It is amazing how differently people approach the same object. She reaches Luke’s easel with curiosity and is amazed and impressed by the intricate, almost photographic quality of the image he has produced.
At nine O’clock, the two leave the building and make for their bicycles. Soon they are sitting in a window seat overlooking the garden at the Kings Head, their bikes padlocked to a fence. Neither is drinking alcohol. Twitch wants to keep her head this evening, and Luke needs to be sober when he cycles home along the busy night-time roads. She asks about his job.
‘Do you mind if we don’t talk about work. Let’s just say it’s endless, frustrating, and very often a waste of time. Sorry, if that sounds rude.’
‘No, not at all. I understand. You want to unwind.’
He looks relieved. ‘Exactly. Do you work?’
Twitch tells him of her home life, Millie’s death, and her longing to do something creative. ‘That’s why I’m here, I want to get my eye back in, and maybe, who knows, perhaps finish my degree one day.’
‘So, we’re both fed up with our jobs then, we’ve found something in common already.’
‘Can’t we find something positive?’
The evening passes easily, and when Twitch looks at her watch, she is surprised to see that the time is 10.30. ‘I should go. Fee’ll wonder where I am.’ She puts her empty glass on the table and rises to her feet. Luke follows suit, and they stare at one another for a long moment, then Twitch blinks and stoops to grab her rucksack.
‘See you next week then.’ Luke mutters, ‘Unless…’
The word gauche, springs to mind as she straightens, swinging the bag over one shoulder. ‘Yes?’
‘Well… I enjoyed this evening. If you like, we could do it again before next week.’
‘That would be nice.’
They leave the pub side by side, almost touching, and when they have unlocked the bikes, wondering to each other what the traffic will be like and how much the temperature has dropped, they wheel them to the road and part company in opposite directions. Luke swings a leg over his saddle with more grace than he has shown all evening, and Twitch pedals under the streetlights, humming a tune: A fine romance, with no kisses.
Chapter 47
It is not a big hill, more a long slope, but the children shriek with a mixture of terror and excitement. Seated one behind the other, arms wrapped round waists and legs herring-boned along its edges, the long wooden trolley carries them over the bumpy grass and slows to a halt just before the fence.
Maurice, grinning at the top of the hill, watches Paul ferret between the front wheels for a rope. In the carpark beyond, Maurice’s car stands beside Paul’s motorbike and sidecar.
Paul flexes his body and begins to heave his small passengers back up, and Maurice lopes towards them to share the load. At the top, the two men drop to the ground, breathing hard.
‘Come on Daddy, do it again.’ Kitty rocks the cart back and forth.
‘Careful Pops.’ Paul sticks a toe under one of the wheels.
A chilly wind feathers Kitty’s hair into her eyes and she brushes it back with two gloved hands. The boys are protected by woollen hats, and Olivia’s springy curls shiver round her head as
the wind whips the grass and sends white eels of sunlight across its surface.
Maurice and Paul have been labouring up and down this slope for about an hour now. Mick’s children, Lucas and Olivia have come along to help test Paul’s home-made vehicle. Judging by the sparkling eyes and beaming faces, the expedition has been a huge success, but Maurice has had enough. ‘I think it’s time we went home.’
‘O-oh.’ Chorused on two notes the small word conveys big disappointment.
‘We’ll come back another day, but you lot need to get back.’ Maurice struggles to his feet. ‘Come on, I’ll pull you back to the cars. Hold tight.’
The two men heft the trolley into the back of Maurice’s estate car then then Olivia, Lucas, Sam and Josh, scramble into the passenger seats, while Kitty settles, snug in the sidecar.
When they reach Crispin Road, Maurice herds his small passengers through the gate, and Kitty skips from the sidecar to join them.
Fee comes to the door. ‘Hi Maurice.’ She looks towards the curb and raises a hand to Paul, still astride his bike. He nods, and she drops her eyes to the troops. ‘Hello everyone, have you had a good time?’ She smiles down at the children as they clamour to explain what they have been doing, then raises her eyes in bewilderment to Maurice.
‘Paul’s made a sort of giant go-cart,’ he explains. ‘All the kids sat on it, and we ran it down the slope at the foot of Little Callun Hill.’
Fee’s puzzlement clears and she hustles the children into the hall to take off their coats and shoes. ‘Come in a sec, could you, Maurice. I was hoping you could do me a favour.’
The children thud up the stairs leaving a heap of muddy shoes in the empty hall.
Maurice glances back at Paul, then steps inside. ‘I can’t stay long. Paul and I need to unload the trolley from the car.’
‘I won’t keep you a minute.’
She closes the front door and hugs her waist with crossed arms. ‘I hate to ask this, but do you think you could have Sam and Josh again tomorrow? It’s just that Twitch is going out with her art group, and I’ll be on my own with them all. It would be a big help.’
Maurice thinks of Paul standing on the pavement, then of his ex-wife gadding about enjoying herself. ‘I’m sorry Fee. You know I would if I could, but I’ve got something important to do tomorrow. I’m not sure how long it will take, or I’d offer to come for them afterwards.’ He looks at her face, its pleading expression dropping to one of disappointment. ‘Look, if I can manage it, I’ll call for them later in the day, how’s that?’
‘Whatever you can manage, Maurice.’
‘I’ll call you.’
‘OK. Thanks.’
Back at the bike Maurice says, ‘I may as well leave this thing in the car for now. You get home and we’ll unload it tomorrow.’
‘OK mate.’ Paul flexes his back. ‘I’m bloody knackered. There’s a lager in the fridge with my name on it. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘See yer.’ Maurice cocks a leg into the car and nods towards the trolley. ‘Looks like it’s good and strong.’
‘Yeah. It was good today.’
‘Yes. Bye.’
Chapter 48
Twitch and Luke have arranged to meet on a Saturday at the viewpoint overlooking the Callun Valley, a local beauty-spot. Twitch feels slightly uncomfortable having lied to Fee that she is with her art group. Luke is one of her art group so it is not a complete fib, she tells herself.
A light, warm breeze blows coils of her hair astray as she puffs up the final hill towards Luke, whose eyes squint against the sun, his head awash with gold.
Although they have dated a few times, the relationship has got no more physical than a brief hug and a peck on the cheek. Luke seems to sense Twitch’s nervousness and up to now, has not as much as held her hand. Today, she feels, will be different. There is something in the air.
‘I thought we might cycle a bit further if you’re not too tired,’ Luke suggests when they have greeted one another.
‘As long as it’s downhill!’
‘It is as a matter of fact. There’s a piece of woodland - there.’ He points to a spot a couple of miles along the valley. ‘Can you see it? Most of it is closed off for repairs to the footpaths, and there are No Entry signs all around it, but I found a bridleway they haven’t taped off. It leads to the lake. There won’t be a soul around so we can have our picnic in peace.’
‘Sounds wonderful. Lead the way.’
Luke is riding a different bike today with fatter tyres and thicker framework. He explains that he has borrowed it from a friend as his own cycle is not suitable for this sort of terrain. As they ride side by side, Twitch feels a delicious anticipation.
In accordance with Luke’s prediction, the little woodland is deserted, and they dismount and push their bikes between trees to the edge of the lake. Luke flaps a tartan rug onto the earth and pulls food and a bottle of wine from his rucksack. The fact of their rule breaking adds a frisson to the increasingly charged atmosphere. Each movement, each brush of hand against hand causes Twitch’s heart to skitter.
With fumbling fingers Luke opens the bottle and pours wine into two tumblers, presenting one to Twitch and wedging the bottle between the roots of a tree. He raises his glass, making no toast, and swallows. Twitch mirrors his action, and they dig into the food. She’s hungry - it must be the exercise. Afterwards they sip their wine and stare at the water in silence. Luke sits a few inches from her and still he does not make a move. When she has almost given up hope, he puts down his wine and turns his face to her. His kiss is tender, exploratory, just what Twitch had hoped for. Her confidence grows and she opens her mouth wide to his, her tongue snaking round his teeth and her body pressing against him. With only the birdsong to keep them company, they give rein to their passion.
Chapter 49
Fee looks at her watch for the third time - it is getting late. She goes to the hallway, and as is her habit on a Friday, winds the grandfather clock. If she left it to Twitch, the clock would never tick. She checks her wrist and adjusts the minute hand of the old timepiece a fraction. Satisfied, she peers through the bottle glass in the front door but there is no movement outside.
A fresh, crusty loaf sits on the table, its flaky surface gleaming under the soft glow of the dining room light. It will be served later with a salmon salad. They have promised themselves a healthy evening with no wine, as both have been hitting the bottle too much since Millie went.
Only Kitty is at home, tucked up now and fast asleep. Maurice turned up mid-afternoon looking so flustered she felt guilty. Mick picked up Lucas and Olivia at lunch time, but Paul made some excuse that he had business elsewhere.
Aware of Twitch’s fragile state of mind Fee has been trying to get home from work earlier and as a result, her meticulous attention to detail has slipped, causing raised eyebrows in the office. To add to complications, she has started seeing Will, and he wants more from their relationship than she is ready to give.
She glances at her watch again. What can have happened to Twitch? It is good that she is making a social life for herself, but it would be nice to get a call.
At eight o’clock, Fee gives up waiting and with rising indignation loads a plate and sits at the breakfast bar sipping fruit juice, resisting the temptation to change it for something stronger.
At nine o’clock, feeling anxious, she calls the hospital, but nobody matching Twitch’s description has been admitted. If Twitch has not had an accident, then what can be keeping her? One heard of people walking out on their families. Can Twitch have been sicker than Fee or the doctor had realised? On an impulse she picks up the telephone again and dials a number from memory.
‘Hello?’ Will’s warm and comforting voice comes through the ether, and she is dismayed to find tears erupting from her eyes. ‘Fee, is that you?’ Will’s voice sounds far away. It is, she realises, somewhere in the North Sea.
‘Will.’
‘Has something happened?’
‘
I don’t know. I suppose - probably not, but...’
‘What's the matter?’
She blurts out her fears for Twitch’s safety, the cycle ride, with friends unknown, the missed meal, the dark night.
There is a long silence.
‘Hello. Will? Are you still there?’
His voice comes back. ‘Yes. Sorry. I was just wondering what to say. I’m so far away I can’t really help.’
He asks a few questions then says, ‘She’ll be back. I expect she’s lost track of time or decided to go for a meal. I’d go to bed. She’ll come creeping in, in the early hours of the morning.’
It is a comfort to hear his pragmatic advice. ‘When will you be home?’ She asks.
‘Thursday evening. Don’t worry, she’ll be home soon. Text me when she gets in, to put my mind at rest.’
Fee ends the call and decides to take his advice. She washes and dries her plate and cutlery and puts them away, then wipes round the kitchen and turns off the light, switching on a table lamp to provide hospitable warmth in the hall. In the bedroom, Kitty lies, mouth open, her hair a blond froth on the pillow. Fee pulls the duvet over her slender shoulders and starts her own night-time routine, her ears straining for a sound from the street. Cars cruise by and alcohol-noisy voices pass on the pavement, but there is no clicking of the gate latch or footstep on the path.
Not knowing is worse than any truth. Fee reclines onto her pillows and picks up a book, then turns it face down on the covers in front of her and stares at her empty room. After a long time, she floats into an edgy doze.
***
It is still dark when her eyes fly open. Something has woken her. Deluged with relief she swings her bare feet to the carpet. There is no light under Twitch’s bedroom door; she must either be asleep or downstairs. Fee crosses the landing and opens Twitch’s door with care. The flat outline of the bed is suffused in the light of a streetlamp shining in through the open curtains. The slow tick and tock of the grandfather clock percusses in the deep silence downstairs. It whirrs, and chimes, one, two and three. Time to call the police.
