Page 85 of Indie

“No, it’s alright. You need some space and I need to tidy the house up and get the kids back into their home.”

Indie passed me a cup of coffee, fresh from the machine in the kitchen.

“Fury will be over in half an hour. Your car’s all fixed. I’ve asked him to pop it over.”

“Ok. Take care,” I mumbled, as he thrust his arms into the leather jacket, pulling the waistcoat with his back patch on over the top.

I spent the next two days tidying up, trying to find something to do now I didn’t have a shift to work. I didn’t have to rush the kids into school, and I’d even taken Daisy on a proper walk. Now she lay at my feet, cuddled up at the bottom of the sofa, the kids long in bed and the TV droning away in the background as my eyes drooped with tiredness.

I must have dosed off, because suddenly at my feet was a low growl, Daisy sitting up suddenly, her attention on the door from the lounge. My attention was there too, straining my ears over the sound of the television, watching a shadow to see if it moved. But there was nothing. Daisy relaxed, curling back down at my feet, tucking her chin over her feet. The clock on the TV stand ticked gently, almost ten-thirty. I should go to bed, capitalise on all this time I had to sleep, not lie here on the sofa half-watching a TV programme I wasn’t really interested in. Daisy sat up again, her ears pricked. And now I did hear something. A knock on the door. A short sharp tap.

“Shush, Daisy. You’ll wake the kids.” I told the dog that landed on the floor as lightly as a cannon ball.

My new door had a peephole, the image in front of me distorted. Men in bike leathers. Indie and some others, I presumed, and I opened the door.

I presumed wrong.

Chapter Thirty Eight

It was hard to focus on the run up to Holy Island, my mind drifting off, the heaviness in my chest from the dread building within me about what I needed to do next. I was lucky the roads were reasonably straight, because several times I couldn’t remember riding the last few miles.

When I got to the edge of the causeway, I had to wait. The tide hadn’t quite gone out, the water receding but not having cleared the road enough to proceed. And now, without the rumble from the Harley’s exhaust, or the feel of the vibrationsunder me, my mind had nothing at all to distract it. The air was chilly today, the nip on the coast even icier, and the wind from yesterday hadn’t quite blown itself out. I tried to focus on the numbness of my finger ends, the throb in my toes and the fresh sea air against my face, where I’d slid my visor up.

The wind had pushed the clouds away, a bright blue sky offering compensation for the rain that battered the clubhouse long into the night. My eyes felt dry, and despite the lack of tears that I’d shed, I felt like I’d cried all night. I was tired, and it felt like my eyelids were stuck to my eyeballs after every blink. Emmie had slept lightly, waking every few hours to check I was still there, and I’d spent most of the night staring at the ceiling and listening to the wind and the rain.

Now in front of me, the road cleared. A few more minutes and the causeway would be clear enough to ride over, and the next agonising thing I had to do would begin. Maybe I should wait a bit longer, sit and watch as others made their crossings. Listen to the shouts of the gulls and the purr-like ring of the curlews wading in the retreating water.

Taking a deep breath, I turned the ignition, the big bike coming to life beneath me and for a moment drowning out all other noise, the deep voice of the engine the only thing that rang in my ears. I released the clutch; the bike moving forward onto the wet road, and I chased the rest of the North Sea from the causeway.

I could see her in the snug little lounge reading something, a half-drawn painting standing to the other side of the quaint little log burner. She was probably just finishing breakfast. She’d always been late to eat, getting up to pursue a sunrise and then falling back to sleep until late. I stood a little while watching, delaying giving the message I was here for, putting off havingto say those words. They’d been long apart, but I’d always got the sense she’d still loved him, and I thought I could never understand why, not until now.

Somewhere a clock chimed, deep and resonating, urging me to do what I’d come to do. In the street, the metal door knocker clanged loudly.

Mam’s door opened with a clatter, the door vibrating and the knocker striking the plate again, just a little less loud than before.

“Indie,” she greeted me with happiness, and then a frown. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know, mam.”

And she knew too, her face changing from elation to worry in an instant. I followed her inside, letting her lead me to the kitchen. I let her fill the kettle and then settle it on to the stove. It didn’t seem right to stop her preparing, and I suspected she knew the news that I had come with.

“It’s Dad…” I started, unable to keep my voice from trailing off, getting stuck over a lump in my throat.

“He’s gone, hasn’t he?”

I nodded. I’d been able to say those words to Demon, but I couldn’t say it to her. She turned away from me, moving to the sink. Her hands gripped the ceramic basin, and her head dipped down in front of her. And that first sob hit me so much harder than I’d ever expected. I let her cry, her shoulders shaking, her back to me, my first real tear trickling down my face. Then the rest came, like a dam had just been breached.

Mam turned and walked towards me, wrapping her arms around me like she used to do when I was a kid, and my dadwasn’t watching. We stood like that together for a long time until the shrill scream of the kettle pulled us apart and the moment subsided.

“I never stopped loving him, you know,” she said as she handed me the cup of tea.

“I don’t think he ever stopped loving you, either.”

“I know.”

“He said something at the end. That he let you go to keep you safe?”

She smiled weakly.