by Alex Morgan
“I’ve got a spare phone upstairs. You can plug it into the socket in the back room.”
“That’s very good of you, but I really don’t need to speak to anyone.”
Mrs McIntyre took a small spiral-bound notebook out of her handbag, tore a page from the back and wrote down a number. She handed it to Paula.
“Give this to your mother and let her be the judge.”
“All right, thank you.” Paula folded the paper and put it in the pocket of her fleece.
“Someone said I should get yon broadband for tenants with computers.”
“It would save them having to use an insecure, open network.”
“Aye, well, that’s all Greek to me, but I might look into it.”
“Not on my account,” Paula said quickly. “I don’t plan to be online that much, so I’ll risk the open network.”
Mrs McIntyre looked out of the window and Paula followed her gaze. There were thick hedges on both sides of the road, and beyond them rolling fields filled with pale golden crops or flocks of peacefully chomping sheep. Occasional patches of dense woodland, cottages or groups of farm buildings broke up the uniformity.
“Thank you for the shed key,” she said when she couldn’t bear the silence any longer.
“Did you find out who moved your bicycle?” Mrs McIntyre enquired, eyes still on the view.
“It was just a kid.”
Mrs McIntyre turned to regard her. “It’s very precious to you, isn’t it?”
“Tandems are expensive and this is a good one. It was stupid of me to leave it unlocked overnight.”
“I didnae mean its cash value,” she said gently, resuming her scrutiny of the passing countryside.
Sir Nils Olav
Paula leant her bare shoulders against the rough sandstone cliff face and gazed out to sea. The breeze that was carrying a flotilla of little yachts across the bay was chilly on her sweat-damp skin. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her body. Tendrils of newly short hair whipped across her face. She tucked them behind her ears, but the wind threw them back into her eyes and tugged on the flex of her earphones. Black Eyed Peas’ Pump It came on and she turned the volume as high as she could bear.
As the track ended, a familiar voice broke into the momentary silence. “PT, are you deaf? I said cheer up.”
Something contracted in the centre of her chest. She closed her eyes and pressed down on her breastbone. Just breathe, she told herself. Breathe slowly. It’ll pass. There was a soft thud. She opened her eyes to find Sanders crouched by her feet. Bovis landed beside him and shook herself down, peppering Paula’s legs with sand.
She paused the music. “I didn’t hear you. Please don’t call me that.”
“You said it was your name.”
“Well, it isn’t. It’s Paula.”
“Aye right.” He made a face. “Suit yourself.”
She adjusted her expression into a smile. “So where did you spring from?”
“Up there.” Sanders indicated a ledge about ten feet up and a little further along the cliff. “Didn’t you see us climbing down?”
“I was watching the boats. How did you get Bovis up there?”
“There’s a path from the top.”
“Your sister not with you?”
“Nah.”
“I still want a word with her. What mischief is she up to today?”
“Dunno.” He scratched his nose. “Would you like me to tell you some more jokes?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You sure? You look miserable.”
“Do I?”
A gust of wind turned his over-grown blond hair into a halo. “You look sad even when you’re smiling.”
“Go on then.” Paula sighed inwardly. She took the phones out of her ears. “Make me laugh.”
He thought for a moment. “What’s black and white and red all over?”
She groaned. “That was ancient even when I was your age.”
“So what’s the answer?”
“Now, let me see.” She put a finger to her lips and cocked her head. “I wonder, could it be a newspaper?”
“Wrong!” Bovis looked on patiently as Sanders did a little victory dance, punching his arms in the air. “You’re absolutely wrong. I said r-e-d not r-e-a-d.”
“In that case, I don’t know. You’ll have to tell me.”
“A penguin with sunburn!” he declared gleefully.
“I’d better get on with my run before I seize up.”
“Where are you going?”
“Since the tide’s out, I was planning to go round into the next bay and follow the coast for a bit.”
“Can we come?”
“And run?”
“I’m really good at running and Bovis is pretty fast when she wants to be.”
Paula looked down at his feet. He was wearing purple ankle-length wellingtons. “You wouldn’t get far in those. I don’t know how you got down the cliff without killing yourself.”
“Ninja.”
“Even ninjas can’t run over rocks in wellies.”
He looked crestfallen. “Please, please, pretty please.”
“All right, all right, but we’ll walk, and no more jokes.”
“Don’t you like penguins?” he asked as they set off round the headland.
Breathe, she told herself again, just breathe. When they were little, Pete had loved visiting the penguins at Edinburgh Zoo. He used to imitate the way they walked. Once he was laughing so much he tripped and gave himself a nose bleed. “I haven’t got an opinion about them one way or the other,” she said.
“They’re very interesting creatures, y’know.”
“And I suppose you’re going to tell me why.”
“If you like. There’s one at Edinburgh Zoo who used to be a wing commander.”
“Is that another joke?”
“No.” Sanders sounded wounded. “He’s been promoted and he’s a sir and the colonel-in-chief of a regiment in the Norwegian army now.”
“You’re talking drivel again.”
“Honest I’m not. He’s a king penguin and his name’s Sir Nils Olav and he’s the mascot of the Royal Norwegian Guards. It was in the paper. There was a picture and everything – I cut it out. He’s 80 centimetres high, and a load of soldiers came over from Norway to give him a medal. They pinned it on a band round his flipper and patted him on the shoulders with a big, shiny sword. They even put a statue of him outside the penguin enclosure. Mum was going to take me to see last summer, but Nan got sick and we couldn’t go. I really want to go and see him.”
“Does he wear his medal?” Paula enquired trying to sound serious.
“Course not. It’s only for special occasions.”
“So how do people know which one he is?”
“Duh! They ask a keeper. The statue’s nearly as tall as me and it’s made out of bronze.”
“Sounds like you’re quite a penguin fan.” She wondered if Nils Olav had been there when she and Pete used to go. “How long do penguins live?”
“Fifteen or twenty years usually, sometimes longer.”
Probably not then.
“People think they’re dull because they just waddle about and swim and eat fish and crap all day, but they’re not dull at all.” Sanders unclipped Bovis’s lead from her collar and she galloped towards the water’s edge, sending a group of seagulls, which had been bobbing in the shallows, flapping and squawking into the air.
He lowered his voice and leaned towards her. “There’s a gay penguin at Central Park Zoo in New York. He’s called Silo and for six years he had a boyfriend called Roy. The keepers gave them an abandoned egg after they tried to hatch a rock and they looked after it and raised the chick together. It’s called Tango.”
“How on earth do you know all this?”
“It was in one of Mum’s magazines. Anyway, this girl penguin called Scrappy arrived from another zoo and Silo dumped Roy and built a nest with her. Isn’t that sad?”
&nb
sp; “Very sad. What happened to Roy?”
“It didn’t say.” Sanders kicked over a mound of seaweed, releasing a cloud of tiny black flies. “What’s your favourite animal?”
Paula thought for a moment. “I don’t know really. I quite like donkeys. They’re so velvety and placid. I think they used to have some on the beach here.”
“What were they doing on the beach?”
“Giving rides to children.”
“There are donkeys up at Mr Thompson’s farm.”
“I don’t suppose it’s the same ones. This was more than twenty years ago. They’re probably long dead.”
“They might not be. They live even longer than penguins. I went once with Nan, and Mr Thompson let me pat them. He said they could live to be over forty.”
“You’re a bit of an animal expert.”
“Well,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets, “they’re nicer than a lot of people.”
“I’d have to agree with you there.”
“What else do you like?”
“Other animals?”
“Anything.”
“That’s a big question.” She stopped. In the distance, Bovis had caught up with another dog – it looked like a spaniel – and they were chasing each other in and out of the sea. “I like reading historical biographies and novels.”
“Books about dead people?” He screwed up his face. “What for?”
“Because they’re interesting. Their lives were so different to ours and yet in so many ways they were just the same.”
“Do you watch TV or is that too modern?”
She couldn’t help smiling. “I like romantic films and comedies.”
“I hate all that romance stuff – there’s too much kissing and blubbing.”
“What’s your favourite programme then?”
He grinned. “The Simpsons.”
“They’re fab. I love Marge’s mad hair.”
“I like Oor Wullie too.”
“Oor who?”
“Wullie. Haven’t you heard of him?” he asked aghast.
“He sounds vaguely familiar but I can’t think why.”
“He’s only the best cartoon character ever.”
“On TV?”
“No, in the Sunday Post.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a newspaper and he has his own annual at Christmas – I’ve got lots of them. You really, really don’t know anything, do you?”
Paula grimaced and sat down on a rock. “Sanders, you’re very rude sometimes.”
He pretended not to hear. “So you haven’t seen him?”
“Not that I can remember. I think I’ve seen the Sunday Post in the newsagent. It looks like a paper for pensioners. What are you doing reading it?”
Sanders chuckled. “My nan gets it. It’s got the Broons too. They’re good, but Oor Wullie’s my hero.”
“Why? What’s he like?”
“He looks a bit like me – messy hair and a wee round nose. He’s only eleven though. Did I tell you I’m twelve?”
“You did.”
“And he wears dungarees and sits on a bucket. He rides around in a go-kart made out of wood and gets into all sorts of trouble.”
“Sounds like your kind of guy.”
Sanders grinned. “What other things do you like?”
“I like running and I love cycling.”
“On that bike with two seats?”
“On the tandem,” Paula confirmed. “You’ve seen it?”
“I saw it over the gate.”
Closing her eyes, she saw herself climbing onto their first tandem. The assistant had wheeled it out of the shop and was holding it steady on the pavement for them. She was thirteen years old and her leg shook with a mixture of fear and excitement as she lifted it over the crossbar and settled her weight onto the back seat.
“That looks a good fit for both of you,” the assistant said. “Are you ready to take it for a spin?”
“Right now?” she heard herself asking.
“Come on, PT, don’t be a coward,” Pete chivvied. “There’s no point getting it if you’re not going to ride it.”
She sucked a huge breath into her lungs and let it out slowly. “All right, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“Hold on tight and pedal,” he called over his shoulder.
The assistant stepped back and the bike bounced off the pavement into the road, as they began to turn the cranks, legs moving in absolute unison thanks to the chain that linked them.
Paula’s stomach tightened to a fist of anxiety as the bike wobbled from side to side. They were going to fall in a heap on the tarmac any second.
Then, suddenly, something unexpected happened: they were under control, picking up speed and heading down the road in a perfectly straight line.
She began to relax.
They reached a set of traffic lights just as they turned to red. “Stop pedalling, foot down,” Pete instructed.
She did exactly as she was told.
“Okay, pedal up, push on.”
They pulled away as smoothly as if they had been riding together all their lives. Rounding a bend, they found themselves at the top of a sweeping hill.
“Tuck in,” he ordered, “we’re going for warp speed.”
Paula crouched down until the crown of her head was touching the small of his back. Tucking elbows and knees in as far as she could get them, she glanced down. The road was a dizzying streak of grey under her feet.
When they reached the bottom, she lifted her head and let out a whoop. “That was amazing.”
“Wasn’t it magic? I told you we’d be good at this.”
“You two are naturals,” the assistant observed as they reluctantly slowed to a halt in front of the shop. “You’ll be winning races before you know it.”
“Did you hear me, PT?” Sanders tugged on the hem of her T-shirt.
“Sorry, no.”
“You were miles away.”
“I was.” She rubbed her eyes. “What did you say?”
“I said Bovis and me have got to get back now. Nan’s expecting us for lunch.”
“Okay, on you go. I’m going to run a bit further.”
Paula made a ham and tomato sandwich and took it through to the study. Her laptop was on the desk, untouched since she had unpacked it. She switched it on, found an open network and within seconds emails were pouring into her inbox. Most were the usual spam – carelessly spelt sales pitches for replica watches, dodgy mortgages and loans, fake Viagra and university degrees where the only qualification was to be in possession of a credit card.
She kept her finger on the delete button until there were just two messages left. The subject line on the first read, Please get in touch!!!!!!
She clicked it open and began to read. All right, I get it,” Ollie had written. “You don’t want to speak to me. But please, please, please reply to this. Just a single line to let me know you’re okay. I’m missing you dreadfully. Don’t cut me out of your life, not now, when we need each other so much. I couldn’t bear it. Ollie.
She was about to hit delete, when she noticed the PS – If I don’t hear from you by Wednesday evening, I’m going to call the police.
It was already Wednesday afternoon.
Can’t talk right now, she typed furiously, but I’m okay. Need you to leave it at that. She hit send.
The next message was from Jen. How are you doing, girl? Ollie reckons you’ve gone away somewhere. Good idea, I say. He was convinced he could persuade you to come to Dan’s party. I don’t know what goes through that man’s brain sometimes, but I do know he’s in a pretty bad state. He got pissed out of his head on neat vodka – I thought Poles could hold their drink – and cried on my shoulder for most of the night.
Anyway, I’m not going to ramble on. Just wanted to tell you I’m thinking about you. Do you know if you’ll be back for your birthday? We don’t have to go out or do anything. At least promise you’ll be back in town by September fo
r mine – I can’t face the big three-oh without my best girl. I’m planning to get hammered on tequila slammers and fizz, take my top off, dance on the bar, fall off and chuck up all over myself, so I’ll need you there to pick me up, put me in a taxi and remind me all about it the next day. It’ll be brilliant!!
Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, take care of yourself, and if there’s anything I can do, you only have to ask. Love you, Jen xxx
Paula closed her laptop and pressed her fingers to her eyelids. Her birthday. Her extra-special extra summer birthday, the one she shared with Pete. She couldn’t bear to think about it.
Sandra on the run
Paula was coming out of Adrian Linton’s shop when she spotted Sandra and Bovis turning down the cobbled lane that led to the harbour. She made it to the corner in time to see Sandra’s pink ra-ra skirt disappearing around the side of the granary. Paula ran along the front of the building, carrier bag of groceries thumping against her thigh as she weaved between the strolling holidaymakers. She was certain she would to catch them as they emerged at the far end, but there was no sign of them on the harbour wall or behind the granary.
She was about to head back to Main Street, when an exceptionally tall woman in her mid-twenties stepped out of the building’s front door and into her path.
The woman smiled at her. “Hello. Are you Mrs McIntyre’s new tenant?”
“How did you know that?”
She held out her hand. “Rachel Fanshawe.”
Paula racked her brain as they shook hands. Then it came to her. “Of course, the estate agent. Sorry, I’m not quite with it today.”
“It’s the warm weather,” the woman said pleasantly. “It slows the thought processes.”
“How did you recognise me?”
“I was driving past and saw you and Mrs McIntyre going into her house the other day.”
“We’d bumped into each other on the bus from Westwick.”
“How do you like the place?”
“It’s lovely, but it’s a bit strange having her coming and going through the hall.”
“It is a slightly unusual arrangement.” The woman smiled again. “Betty converted the house to give her extra income, but she was adamant she didn’t want the vestibule carved up. She said if she keeled over it would cost too much to undo when her children wanted to sell.”