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Too Little, Too Late? 40

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CHAPTER 40
We joined the rest a little later, somewhat more relaxed, and over breakfast we planned the day’s campaign. The morning and early afternoon for Will at the college, while three of us did the rounds of the shops, and then Neil and Mam would meet us with the cars for a drive out to the coast and an early tea. Back home, change, and into the town again for our night out.

That time of year

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Christmas. I know it is a month and a half away, but already it raises its head. I am not on top form at the moment, with the PTSD making inroads into my daily thoughts, and the usual feelings of 'unreal' and 'fraud' sitting laughing at me. As I came home today, the boss was pushing me to come out on the team Christmas do next month, and it was all I could do not to cry in front of him. He is a good friend, but he deserves better from me.

Not a good time at the moment, so whatever I write may suffer. Sorry.

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Too Little, Too Late? 39

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CHAPTER 39
It had ended up as a happy evening, with just the one slight shadow as Will broke away to call goodnight to his mother. The soft southern ears seemed to be tuning in steadily to the odd vowels and vocabulary, and once the rough and tough Northerners had played enough of their little game of confuse-a-visitor they did their best to communicate. Communication was clearly on Jim’s mind that night, especially where Rachel was concerned, and towards the end of the night a plate of sandwiches was brought over as a welcome. Rachel sniffed carefully at one.

Too Little, Too Late? 38

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CHAPTER 38
We finished off our drinks, and after a quick nod of thanks to Jim we set out for the Club. Rachel was smirking.

“That was clever of him”

I had to ask, and she explained.

“Look, we’re off somewhere else, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“Licensed premises, that have lower prices than his pub, yeah?”

“Well, aye”

Too Little, Too Late? 34

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CHAPTER 34
He looked drained, and for the first time ever I saw him look uncertain, and I wondered if he had actually been following us or just stumbled into our group as he rounded the corner. He had a copy of the Helm “Shorebirds” open in his hands, so I assumed that it was the latter.

“Hello John”

Too Little, Too Late? 33

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CHAPTER 33
I looked at him, the puzzlement plain on his face. Every minute I spent with James was a surprise. At times, he came across as mentally damaged, in the sense of speaking like a small child or someone of profoundly limited intelligence. Other times it took the appearance of OCD, especially in his persistent need to number things, or to say everybody’s name as a greeting. And then…and then there would be a break in his walls, usually when his sense of threat had faded, and there would be a bright, clever boy who very simply couldn’t get past his own mouth. Those were the times when I could see why his current Mum loved him.

Too Little, Too Late? 32

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CHAPTER 32
He was pushed right up against the window, a camera with a stupidly-long lens to his eye, and every now and again I saw his elbow give a dig to someone who had just knocked his arm. He wore a Bluetooth earpiece, and the shape and weight of his satchel suggested a number of heavy books. I leant over to Rachel and whispered in her ear.

Finally it happens! I am vindicated!

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For years and years and years I have been receiving spam. Interesting, sometimes, especially when I realise exactly how many beloved friends I have in West Africa, and how astoundingly generous they are. However, so much of the mail has been woefully misdirected.
Gambling: I don't gamble.
Job offers in the USA: bit far to commute.
Become a driving instructor: I have never, ever owned a car.
Laser eye surgery: I have 20/20 vision.
Beautiful girls wanting marriage in Foreign: er, yeah, a bit off target.
Herbal or counterfeit viagra: REALLY off target.

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Too Little, Too Late? 28

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CHAPTER 28
I slept the sleep of the just that night, the just-ravished, for Larinda had been true to her word. She had lain on my shoulder, afterwards, while she went through options for William’s future, almost as if he were her own.

“What?” she demanded.

“Just, dunno, you seem to be taking charge, almost, with Will”

Too Little, Too Late? 26

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CHAPTER 26
That had been a hard one. Alec was clearly switched on, which I had expected, but it had come almost as a shock to realise how much he actually cared. I had expected the usual NHS assembly line treatment, where all the right things are said from a mask of compassion put on for each patient in turn, but he had made me realise how lucky I really was.

Too Little, Too Late? 24

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CHAPTER 24
I woke up once more with Larinda’s weight on me, and the knowledge that the Von problem was, if not exactly sorted, at least on a different plane. She knew, that was all. I didn’t think she was likely to torch the flat or boil lagomorphs, but there was a temper behind her Valleys persona that could burn hot or simmer slow and deep.

Too Little, Too Late? 23

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CHAPTER 23
The train rattled and shook its way down the Arun Valley, Arundel castle looming to the right, and I started looking for the Hawker Hunter jet fighter still on its plinth at what had been Ford airfield. It was almost a milk train, stopping at nearly every station on the line, passing three castles, two cathedrals and any number of harbours.

Too Little, Too Late? 19

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CHAPTER 19
I was a little slow to work the next morning, which was an office day. I stopped at the coffee shop next door and bought a large filter coffee, which they called by some stupid name or other, and along with that a double espresso, which I intended to tip straight into the large white as soon as there was room.

Too Little, Too Late? 18

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CHAPTER 18
It was Neil who drove me to the airport in the end, Mam eased into the front seat of his car, and it was an emotional farewell in the car park as I insisted she didn’t walk into the terminal building. I wanted to be in control, and tears were not something I wanted photographed at the security gate.

Too Little, Too Late? 16

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CHAPTER 16
I took Ian’s old bed that night, as my room was now her sewing and craft room. It was a better evening after the confrontation, and I noticed how much effort Mam was putting into how she addressed me. It was almost as if she had forgotten I was ever called Rob, and that simple act did so much to bring me back from the pain and hatred that Bell had triggered.

Too Little, Too Late? 15

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CHAPTER 15
We sat for a while, talking. That sounds banal, but it wasn’t, not at all. This wasn’t passing the time, but rather the first time I had ever been able to tell my mother who I was, a moment I had fretted and worried over, and at the same time dreamt of. She got straight to the point.

“What are we having for tea?”

Too Little, Too Late? 14

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CHAPTER 14
I paused for an attempt at thought. All my plans were collapsing around me, and it was as if I was in a river taking me where it wanted to go, regardless of how hard I swam. She sat there in Her Chair, a dumpy old woman, close-cropped grey hair giving back almost as much light as her glasses.

Too Little, Too Late? 13

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CHAPTER 13
Von was back in Hampshire a couple of days afterwards, so I had to fit in a trip down on the Monday, a day she wasn’t at work and I was able to squeeze a day’s leave in. I walked out of the Harbour station, HMS Warrior bulking beside it, and round to Gunwharf Quay, where I found her sitting in one of the coffee bars.

Too Little, Too Late? 10

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CHAPTER 10
“So…”

She turned to look at me, naked, absolutely unashamed, a slightly puzzled look on her face.

“You’ve obviously got, or had, a partner, but I can’t see her wearing clothes in size 14 as well as size 22. I know I have the odd binge and diet sort of thing, cycle, yeah, but this is silly. What…ah”

Too Little, Too Late? 9

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CHAPTER 9
There were, it turned out, more than a few sites that dealt with what I wanted, but most of them, to be honest, were either weird or simply not for me. I didn’t want some Japanese snuff-buddy, nor advice on how to exit with dignity and a terminal illness in Switzerland. Some parts of that country have struck me as a terminal illness in their own right, but never mind.

Too Little, Too Late? 6

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CHAPTER 6
She left me with a hug, and I wondered how this was happening so fast. I hadn’t started out that day with the intention of telling anyone else at all, and there I was spilling my guts to the leading light of both Debt Management and Gossip Central. Some small voice was telling me, however, that this was one piece of gossip she could and would contain.

Too Little, Too Late? 3

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CHAPTER 3
I walked with them as far as the bike cages, Karen staying close by me. There was a little bit of eye language, and Terry disappeared into the toilets with James. I gave Karen as hard a stare as I could manage.

“You’ve told him, right?”

“He’s my husband. I know you have a problem with that, but if there is one person I will trust, it is the man I took my vows with. You have a problem?”

Too Little, Too Late? 1

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CHAPTER 1
The weather had held fine for once, with just a hint of a drop of rain as I left home and none at all by the time I rode down past the speed humps to the Barnes reserve. The lockers were waiting, steel-mesh cages perfect for locking up the Galaxy complete with panniers, and as I changed shoes I felt almost happy.

Riding Home 38

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CHAPTER 38
I have already said that no matter how careful one plans and prepares, there is always that collection of ‘little things’ that make themselves known right at the last minute, and in this case it was courtesy of Stewie. His old Roller, the wedding present that he and Sally were lending us for the day, along with a couple of other cars, had a visit from the Faery Folk en route to our house.

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