Page 77 of Indie

I bit my lip, knowing my answer wouldn’t help this woman feel better. I’d heard the same grumble for years from my mother.

“No. I hadn’t planned for either of them.”

Suzy nodded, saying nothing, but she couldn’t hide the defeat in her eyes.

“Have you seen the doctor?”

“Yeah. Had tests and everything. Can’t find anything wrong with either of us. We’ve tried fertility drugs and all sorts. Just not IVF yet.”

“I hear that’s supposed to be effective,” I offered, feeling her sadness seeping into my skin.

“Yeah. It’s expensive. And because we don’t have any diagnosed problems, we can’t get it on the NHS. Magnet is saving up hard, though. So, hopefully, we might get a chance soon.”

*****

“Hey, Spuggy,” Indie said softly, the bed dipping under his weight.

“How did your meeting go?”

“Yeah, well, no one got punched, so that was a win. Hey, do you reckon you can get your mam to watch the kids at the weekend?” He quickly changed the subject. “The Valhalla’s Vandals rally is on. It’ll be chilly this late in the season, but would be a weekend away.”

“Hmmm,” I snuggled against his warm, bare flesh. “A weekend spent in a tent in the cold and probably in the wet?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How could I possibly say no?”

“Yeah, but your mam could.”

“I guess. I’ll ask her. See if she’s not on shift, whether she would have them.”

Indie kissed the top of my head.

“It would be good to have you there. But it’d also make me feel better having someone to hand just in case my dad has a turn.”

I jolted upright.

“What do you mean?”

“My dad, he’s coming to the rally, too.”

“Indie…”

“I know. I know. It’s a stupid idea. But it’s in his head that’s what he’s going to do. And well, he’s dying anyway. It’s not like we’re taking him to Disneyland to go on the rollercoasters.”

“I get why you want him home, Indie. But a rally? A tent? Dying or not, it’s really not a good idea.”

“I know, Emmie. I’m not for it. I’ve told Tori we’ll bring him home at the first sign of him deteriorating. And she’s taking him up in the car. So, he’ll not be riding the bike up.”

Indie pulled me down into the crook of his arm, his flesh warm, and I snuggled against him, listening to the sound of his heart beating in his chest, my own mimicking a similar rhythm.

*****

“I didn’t expect the rally to be so big. It looks like those music festivals I’ve seen on TV,” I muttered to Indie as I passed him another long, thin black pole.

It had rained on and off the entire ride up north, and the air grew cooler as we moved closer to the Scottish Border, sea air tussling with cold clouds blown down from the mountains by a north-easterly wind.

“Us bikers like a party. And we don’t get to do it often enough.”