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CHAPTER 15
Morning arrived at its normal time, far too early. Henry thrust one arm from under the bed covers and turned the little black alarm clock on the bedside cabinet around. He glared at its indifferent face and sighed. Still only six o’ clock. As usual. Really too early to be up, but further sleep would be as elusive as it always was. Any effort to return to slumber would only result in a stiff neck and a feeling of slight muzziness for the rest of the day, and Henry disliked the feeling of muzziness intensely. It was better to be up and about.
With a sigh, he threw the covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed before commencing the semi automatic routine that would take him up to seven thirty. Shower, dress, breakfast. He looked at the food with distaste. Cereal with milk and a little sprinkling of sugar and a poached egg on toast, the slice of bread browned under the grill on only the one side because he couldn’t be bothered to turn it. Nowadays, he actually preferred his toast done that way. The thought crossed his mind that he might occasionally try to be a little more adventurous, but he never would. He knew that. He never was. Never had been. At least, not as far as he could remember, and that was a long time. Too damned long. There had been a time in the dim and distant past when... He shrugged the thought off. That part of his life was over and done with. Let it be. He was too old to be adventurous any more.
Washing up done, he donned hat and coat, and walked briskly to the newsagent round the corner some two hundred paces away and close to one of the University colleges. Correction, he told himself. Two hundred and thirteen paces exactly, except sometimes in the winter, when he took two hundred and forty eight slightly shorter steps on the slippery surface that the early morning frost gave. He could have the paper delivered, but felt it was better to get out of the house at least once a day. He did little more than glance at the main stories, even then. Murders, rapes, a worsening international situation, racist attacks, police brutality, a baby fell from a thirteen story window and survived, all was as normal, nothing had changed. Henry thrust the newspaper under a cushion, not wanting to see it any more, not wanting to have his own powers of reason addled any further. Why he didn’t buy a better class paper he didn’t know. Why there wasn’t a better class of newspaper available was a thought that never occurred to him. Still on semi automatic, he switched the kettle on and made a mid morning mug of coffee, eating up the last piece of semi stale cake. That finished, he glanced at the clock. Still only ten. He shrugged. It was almost predictable. Dammit, it was predictable. It was always ten when he finished his mid morning coffee and semi stale cake or whatever the left over happened to be. There was no need to peek at the clock to know that. Neither was there the remotest need to eat up semi stale left overs, but somehow, he couldn’t abide waste.
It looked like being a long day. Just like every other day, in fact. What should he do? Ah, now there was an idea. He hadn’t been down to the river for some time. He could even make a day of it, pack sandwiches and take a flask along with his favourite rod. With a bit of luck he might have fish for tea. Not that fish was his favourite food, but it made a change, and a change was what he sought this day. That change was about to happen, although there was nothing in the day so far to indicate it.
Wondering about the weather, he walked the fourteen paces from kitchen to front door and opened it. The sun was shining, that he knew already, but wasn’t so certain about the temperature, that dictating the amount of clothing he should put on. Warm enough. A slight breeze, but otherwise pleasantly warm. Only a light anorak would be needed, and that more to keep the water off his better clothes. He saw no reason to wear poor clothing just because he was fishing. The time for poor clothing had long since passed him by. Those days, thank goodness, were over. The students were riding their bicycles past his house at their usual furious pace, presumably late for lectures again. He grinned wryly, considering all that rush, and at this end of a man’s life, all that seemed to be left was looking for something to fill in the eternal hours.
He’d been successful in life in financial terms, anyone would admit that. Socially, however, he was a dead loss, at least in the way that modern society measured social activity. He gave another wry grin as he considered the way his life had slipped away without noticing how much sand had poured through the hourglass already. It was the usual story, of course. He had made a fool of himself over a woman, and never really got over it, compulsive work having taken its place. He shrugged mentally. Well, if there was no woman in his life, he had had other compensations. Still, when all was said and done, he often felt lonely, had done so all his life.
A sudden metallic noise and a cry of pain aroused him from his musings. A young girl lay spread eagled on the pavement in front of his house, almost within touching distance. A bicycle lay a few paces away, front wheel spinning, back wheel ominously bent with broken spokes. Quickly, he knelt down and addressed the girl.
’I say, are you all right? Sorry, that’s a silly question. Can you move everything, or is it anything serious?’
She struggled to get up. Henry offered his arm and lifted her to a sitting position. With a feminine gesture, she brushed her coat down to cover her knees.
’I’m all right,’ she said. ’I think. At least, there’s nothing broken. Ouch, that hurts.’
’Where?’ asked Henry. ’Can I help at all? Do you need the ambulance?’
She looked up at him. ’No, it’s not that bad. I was just riding my bike when the chain gave way and pitched me off onto the pavement.’
Henry looked. ’Yes, the chain’s broken. I say, it’s made a bit of a mess of your back wheel. It got tangled in your spokes. For that matter, and rather more importantly, it’s made a bit of a mess of your leg.’
’That’s what hurts,’ she said. ’It got me in the calf as I came off. Could you help me to my feet, please. I’m not sure about standing up without a bit of support.’
Taking her by the shoulders, Henry lifted, and she came up inelegantly, but upright, and standing unsteadily on two feet. She looked at the cycle and muttered something inaudible but probably very modern and rude under her breath, tried a couple of steps and clutched at Henry’s arm for support. He made a decision.
’Come on inside,’ he said. ’Don’t worry about your bike. I’ll prop it up against the wall. No-one’s likely to steal it in that condition, not unless you feel really lucky. Then you come with me and we’ll see about getting you cleaned up. That’s a nasty looking cut on your leg. It’s got oil in it too by all appearances, and if you don’t want the ambulance, you’ll have to suffer my ministrations. Come on.’
Supported by Henry, the girl hopped through the front door, along the passage and into a richly furnished living room, where she was lowered gently on to a high seated leather club chair.
’You wait there,’ her rescuer said. ’I’ll bring your bike indoors for the moment. I’m not too sure about the thieves even in that condition, not in this town, where bicycle theft seems to be something of a passion. I doubt if you have it insured. I’ll just be a moment, then I’ll bring you some hot water and sticky plasters or a bandage. You can’t go far like that.’
He was as good as his word, coming back a few minutes later with a bowl of water, several bottles of strange looking liquids, a towel, plasters, scissors and safety pins as well as a box with a red cross painted on the top. Kneeling before her, he deftly smoothed the sticky oil away from the cut on her calf, dabbed on some antiseptic and wrapped a bandage around, sealing it with two short lengths of tape, then packed everything away in neat order. All the time, his hands were cool, competent and impersonal. Especially impersonal, for which she was grateful. With a slight grunt, he rose to his feet, flexing his knees as he did so.
’I assume there’s no other damage,’ he said. ’I guess you would have mentioned it. Well, how does that feel? It doesn’t look so bad as it did, and I think I’ve got all the dirt out. The cut wasn’t so deep after all. It was more of a graze really.’
’That’s marvellous,’ she said. ’Much more comfortable. Thank you. Thank you very much. I’m all right now.’
There was a slight tremble in her voice, and her hands quivered noticeably. Henry looked at her in concern.
’That fall shook you up more than you might have thought,’ he said. ’Tell you what, you wait here again, and I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
’Oh, I don’t want to put you to any trouble,’ she said.
’No trouble at all,’ he assured her. ’You’re suffering a bit from shock. Tea is exactly what is needed, right?’
She drew in a deep breath and smiled tremulously. ’Right. It’s very kind of you.’
It was pleasant just to sink back into the comfortable hide and survey her surroundings. Books. That was the overwhelming impression she got from the room. Books. Shelves and shelves of books, reaching from floor to ceiling. The room was clearly large, much larger than average, but the number of books seemed to shrink it to something almost tiny and cramped. She tried to count, but gave up quickly, as the total certainly ran into thousands. She wondered who her benefactor was. She couldn’t remember seeing him around the town before. Unconsciously, her mind registered the fact that his skin was of a shade best described as swarthy. Perhaps his roots were in the Mediterranean area or somewhere like that. Arab. North African perhaps, although he didn’t seem dark enough for that. His accent was pure English anyway. She shrugged internally, the thought disappearing from her mind as rapidly as it had come in.
The door opened and he came in bearing a tray on which was a teapot, two mugs, sugar bowl and milk jug. He placed them all on a nearby occasional table and disappeared again, saying something she didn’t quite catch. He reappeared almost immediately, carrying another tray, on which stood a selection of mouth watering cakes. He set that on another table, and looked at her quizzically.
’One lump or two is what I’m supposed to say at this juncture,’ he said, ’but I’ve always thought that sounds a bit silly, especially when I don’t possess joined up sugar. Let me pour, though, and you can just help yourself. I brought mugs because saucers can be a bit awkward to handle, and it saves having to fill up all the time. Besides, I’m not greedy, but I like a lot.’
’It looks lovely,’ she said.
’So,’ he said. ’Time to introduce myself. Henry Forsyth at your service. And assuming it’s any business of mine, you will be?’
She gave him a warm smile. ’Anyone who patches me up the way you have just done is my friend for life. I’m Lynn Parrish.’
’At the university, I assume. I caught sight of your books on your bike.’
She gasped. ’My books,’ she exclaimed in dismay. ‘I’d forgotten all about them.’
’Don’t worry, they’re all there, in the hall with your machine. Your bag was open, but clearly nothing has escaped. At least, nothing obvious. I didn’t see anything on the pavement that shouldn’t be there, apart from the usual dirt our local council never seems to get around to cleaning. Personally,’ he said with a grin, ’I blame the university students. They’re always dropping things on the ground. Bikes and bags amongst other things rather less mentionable. I’ve got yours safe.’
’Oh, that’s a relief. I have papers in there as well, papers I wouldn’t want to lose. You’re right, I’m at university, I’m studying history, just coming to the end of my first year.’
’Enjoying it?’ he enquired.
’Immensely. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. It all opens a whole new world, one I never really knew was there. It’s hard work, but I’m glad I made the effort to come here.’
’It sounds fun,’ he said.
’Oh it is.’ She paused. ’You’re not at university yourself?’
Henry shook his head. ’No. I wouldn’t be now, in any case. Too old, I would say, but I never got that sort of education in my younger days either. I was too busy working, making a living in non academic ways. I don’t say I didn’t enjoy it, but I’ve often thought it would be nice to be better educated, or at least educated just for its own sake. I’m not complaining, mind you. What I never had, I never missed, and I’ve made up for it in other ways. What sort of history are you doing?’
The change of subject gave her a start, but she recovered her wits quickly. ’At the moment, Scandinavian history, with special reference to Viking times. It seems to be an interest of yours, to judge by the books I can see on your shelves.’
’That’s right,’ he agreed. ’I had business connections in Sweden at one time, and it’s difficult to miss the Vikings there, unless you really work at it. The country’s full of them. I’ve seen quite a lot of the old remains, runestones, long boats and the like. It’s very interesting indeed. That’s why I bought the books, to give me more of the background. I’m no expert though.’
’They’re not all in English, are they? At least not to judge by some of the titles I can see.’
’No. Most are, of course, but there are some in Swedish.’
’You can read Swedish?’
’Yes. Well, as I said, I had business connections there at one time, and it seemed better to learn the language rather than use an interpreter all the time, or wonder about the exactness of other peoples’ English. Somehow, it never seemed as bad as other people wondering about the exactness of my Swedish, which is rather illogical, don’t you think? I’ve forgotten a lot, but I still know how to read it all right, even if I have to use a dictionary now and again.’
’What sort of business was that? May I ask?’
’Oh, this and that. Import and export of anything I could get hold of. Tools and machinery, household appliances. Nothing of any great interest really. Just making a living the best way I could. Like most people.’
She sighed. ’It must be lovely to own all those books. You have quite a lot of those we have in the university library. I’m supposed to study them, but they’re so popular, it’s difficult to get hold of some of them at times. I can see at least three I’ve never even seen before, although they are on my reading list. May I take a look, please?’
’Of course. No, stay where you are, I’ll bring them. Which do you want?’
Henry crossed to the bookshelf and removed half a dozen volumes, setting them on the arm of the chair the girl was sitting on. She picked them up one at a time, leafing through them and exclaiming with delight as she noticed something that particularly attracted her attention. Henry studied her openly as she glanced at the books. He was too old, he considered, to begin acting like a teenager, pretending he wasn’t looking. That was one of the compensations of age. Her small size had led him to the conclusion that she was younger than she obviously was, although nineteen wasn’t exactly one foot in the grave time. At least, he assumed she was nineteen, as this was the end of her first year in university as she had said. Of course, she may have started later, but he doubted it. Fairly pretty, too. Not the sort of features that would send a man raving and climbing up balconies with a box of chocolates and a rose between his teeth, if it wasn’t the other way around, but attractive enough to be worth a second look, if not one or two more. She looked vaguely familiar. Presumably he had seen her around on the streets sometime. The town, especially in the university area, wasn’t so large and the same faces tended to crop up constantly.
’Oh, these are lovely books,’ she exclaimed. ’You’d probably better count them after I leave.’
’Too many for that, but I’ve got your bicycle as a hostage,’ he reminded her.
’Oh, the bike. Yes. Some hostage. It’s probably not worth much more than a paragraph or two, or a single page at most. Now what can I do with that? I can hardly ride it back. I’ll have to push it to a cycle repair shop.’ She glanced at her watch. ’Oh dear, I’ll have to be going as well. I have a tutorial this afternoon. I’ll be late if I don’t rush.’
Henry shook his head. ’I’ll take you in the car. No, no arguments. You can’t walk properly on that leg, I’m sure. Certainly you won’t be rushing anywhere for a while. Nor can you push the bike in the condition it’s in. It’ll need to be carried. Leave it here for now. You can come back for it later. I promise I won’t steal it. In the meantime, I’ll get you to your college, or wherever it is you want to be.’
She stood up, testing her leg, and grimaced. ’You’re right. I can hardly stand. I’m in no position to refuse, unfortunately. If you’re sure it’s no bother, I’d love to accept a lift.’
Not only did Lynn accept a lift, she accepted the use of Henry’s arm for support as she hobbled across the pavement to the car he had brought round to the front door. Her eyes opened wide when catching her first sight of the car. It was one of the biggest she had ever seen, with what just had to be real leather seats, even more comfortable than those in the living room. A sense of mischief took hold of her as the car wended its way around the narrow, one way streets, and she waved in what she hoped was a regal manner to anyone she knew, and to a good many who were total strangers. She caught sight of Henry looking at her, grinning.
’I know the feeling,’ said Henry. ’Somehow, traffic just seems to move out of the way. It’s almost like being royalty. That’s the effect a Rolls Royce has.’
’This is a Rolls Royce?’
Henry gave her another grin. ’Actually, I’m gilding the lily just a little. It’s really a Bentley. There’s not a lot of difference, but it’s cheaper. I may not be as rich as I appear, but at least I don’t have to rely on a bike with a twisted wheel and no chain.’
The car glided to a halt in front of an unprepossessing door, one of the many that lined the narrow side streets of the town, and Lynn alighted. She couldn’t, she thought, do anything as common as simply get out of the car. Having alighted, she accepted Henry’s arm as far as the front door, and turned to thank him warmly again.
’My pleasure,’ he replied. ’And don’t worry about your bike. I’ll look after it until you are fit to pick it up.’