Cyclist

Routes 16

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We ate breakfast as a family plus one (plus bear), and I noticed little nudges by Clara to Ish, with the occasional meaningful look towards Maz or myself. I waited until we had done the dishes and cleared everything away before dropping the hint.

“You want a word with me, son?”

He looked down at his feet for a few seconds, then nodded, so I led him outside into the slowly warming day.

“What is it, Ish?”

“Um, Clara, Dad. She says… Look, her staying with us was my idea, and it’s really nice, and… but she thinks you might see her as pushy, and she doesn’t want that. She wanted me to let you know that if it’s awkward, she can always go back with the others”



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This story is 131 words long.

Routes 15

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We ate in the pub again, as neither of us wanted to wrestle with the influx of paying guests for the cooking facilities, and Neil was on his last night with us before heading home. Our two girls came over from Bangor, but just for the evening, and there was a very obvious bit of silent communication between them as they clocked our (bunk)house guest.

I had slipped back for a quiet talk with Maz on the way downhill, surprised at her surge of decisiveness.



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Routes 14

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A rapid bit or negotiation followed, as Debbie clearly needed assurance her charge would be safe, and Neil was initially reluctant to move, as his little notebook was filling with e-mail addresses and names, but the promise of fresh victims finally settled the deal.

It had obviously been years since I had climbed on Milestone, but it had always been a favourite spot, right from my earliest puzzlement at how to use the unfriendly voids on Direct up to my realisation that the slab held enough holds in its ripples to make the climbing far more straightforward. As we uncoiled the ropes, Enfys was chuckling.



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Routes 13

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We joined the others just as Chrissy caught us up.

“They’re a friendly lot in there, Mike. All my stuff locked away, no humping, not even the nice sort—er, sorry. Sense of humour gets a little direct when I’m tired. Got my ear plugs, so should be safe from snorers”

Ish looked directly at me, before saying “Snap!”, and then we were inside, the lad beginning a round of introductions for the woman, before she simply cornered Steph for a chat about strings or soundposts, or perhaps sanity and its retention. As usual, Geoff simply sat and laughed, as LC quite casually sat in Neil’s lap to show him her photos



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This story is 115 words long.

Routes 12

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After a serious bit of hugging, or maybe strangling, by our girl, he passed her to her brother as Enfys set his lid onto a bunk. Settling himself onto a chair after doffing his jacket, he simply held out a hand as Alys placed a cup into it.

“How was the ride, Neil?”

“Not a bad one, mate, but I’m on the Beemer today, so took it a bit more gently. Club tonight?”



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Routes 11

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I left Hathersage by way of the Hope Valley, making a stop in Castleton for simple tourist games, and a longer one for a boat ride in the Speedwell cavern. That one nearly fell apart, though, as LC froze at the entrance.

Maz and Ish had a quiet chat with her, Ish reporting back to me with a frown.

“Caves, Dad, Being locked up in one, to be exact”



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This story is 69 words long.

Routes 10

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I soloed a couple of severe cracks, just to feel the joy of thuggery while sanctimoniously claiming it was purely to demonstrate how jamming worked, and then spotted the other three for some low level gymnastics. For Carolyn, that actually meant standing with my hands either side of her hips, while she told me her own hands were too small.

“That, my love, is why we have fists. Try it this way”



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Routes 9

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The drive south was awful, almost entirely on motorways once we had hit the edge of Newcastle. Partway through, Maz passed a disc forward, and we spent the next fifty minutes or so listening to ‘Galloways’ by Jez Lowe.

“Dad?”

LC, once again daring to break a silence, even if it was filled with someone else’s music.



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Routes 8

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Neil directed us the next day, even though I knew the way, which allowed him to prattle on about the local sites and sights while I simply drove. For once, his chatter fitted the day for it worked like a cross between a sat nav and a tour guide. We heard all about how Cragside in Rothbury, powered by hydroelectricity. how the steam turbine was invented in Newcastle, which also had the world’s first electric public lighting, using the light bulb invented in Sunderland and copied by a man called Edison, and Neil was partway through a rather too detailed account of lawsuits and combined companies when he stopped dead.

“Sorry, all. I got talking, and then I remembered another place I want to see. It’s a little before the car park, Mike”



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This story is 135 words long.

Routes 7

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Yet again that comment. I decided to leave it for as long as I could so that whatever surprise they were clearly organising would remain just that: a surprise.

We said our goodnights, and ambled back to my family, just as the food was arriving. Ish was staring at his glass.

“Dad?”

“Son?”

“This doesn’t really taste like beer”

“Not quite right, son. It’s the stuff back home that doesn’t taste like beer”



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This story is 76 words long.

Routes 6

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Once she had slaked her lust for her list tick, I whispered in her ear, “Something else for you round the corner, love”

Neil led the way again, back across the wall and then traversing the hillside towards the crags between the dark waters of the lough and the crags of the Whin Sill below the Wall, and Maz’ smile became a grin as I took her hand once again.

“When we went out to Statham’s that first time, and I asked what the rock was, and then said I was familiar with it?”

“That you’d climbed on it before? This is the place, isn’t it?”



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This story is 109 words long.

Routes 5

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Our second evening was almost as good, spent in the Forth, just up Pink Lane from our hotel, because we had a visitor. We had just given our food order at the bar when Maz squealed, LC looking terrified for a few seconds as Ish calmed her, before turning to offer a hand to our new arrival after he had released Maz from his hug and finished wiping his eyes.

“Neil. Be welcome, mate. Be so bloody welcome! Carolyn?”

She started, almost as if slapped.

“Ish?”



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This story is 86 words long.

Routes 4

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LC simply looked confused, but it was our son’s turn to help, Ish calling out, “When I was very little, I had a stuffed rabbit”

“What’s a rabbit?”

Moments like that cut me, for each was a reminder of how much of our child’s life had been stolen by those bastards, along with that of my wife. Ish was still on point, though.

“It’s a little animal, Carolyn. We’ll show you some real ones, but mine was a toy, like your bear, for cuddling. Another name for a rabbits is ‘Bunny,’ and because I was very little, I called mine Bunbun”

“Have you still got it?”



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This story is 111 words long.

Routes 3

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“Friend of ours. Lives near Gatwick, but I know her and her husband by way of climbing”

“Ah! Peak? Lakes? Snowdonia?”

“Peak and Eryri. They’re mates of Penny and Keith”

Al nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, we assumed you’d end up heading that way. Anyway, Jimmy’s basically doing tonight in return for a few pints and a place to kip. I suspect he’s fully aware of…”

He stared at Maz for a few seconds, then put his tea down.



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Routes 2

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Our first morning in the UK was brighter, a communal breakfast taken in the conservatory and garden, bunkhouse style in the way everyone clubbed together. I still felt like shit, my usual reaction to long haul flights, but Maz and I had been woken by our daughter at about seven, Maz pretending to be asleep even after a prod from the girl. I understood why when LC finally turned to me for permission.

“Dad?”

“Yes, love?”

The slightest of twitches from her, and then that surge of confidence, or maybe hope, that warmed my heart.

“Can I play with the dogs again?”



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Routes 1

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I posted in a blog that I was writing this, and I am afraid it will be an exercise in complete self-indulgence. I just fancied letting a collection of my favourite people relax together. Don't expect any dazzling revelations here; then again, as I am still writing it, who knows? For new readers, this story won't make much sense unless you have previously read my novel 'Mates', available on this site and on Kindle.



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Opening Doors

That, folks, was the end of 'Closing Doors', as the last sentence carries a huge amount of freight for those who know the full extent of Mike's story. I feel it wraps up the story arc neatly, and didn't want to over-egg things. As I explained in a comment, it is the reason I chose Diane as the narrative voice, so as to bring neutrality to events that will have left Mike incoherent.

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Closing Doors 7

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Our dog man shouted something in Indonesian, and two other uniforms trotted up with spades; as he pulled the animal back, those two spades struck the ground.



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Closing Doors 6

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Candice was most definitely channelling Fluffy, without the slightest hint of Blonde.

“What it is, Mike, is we talk you through it, and I type it up as we go, so I might stop and start you several times. We then read it through a few times, and you’d be surprised what can pop out of the back of your mind”

“Why didn’t the Malaysians do this?”

“Having read the paperwork, I suspect it was due to a lack of any shits available for giving. Hang on: Lexie, am I down to do Fluffy or Fang?”

“Fluffy, I believe”

Candice smiled once again.



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Closing Doors 5

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 I was still curious, though concerning the hints about ‘Even more forn parts’, until Bevan called into our team office, which was, to say the least, unusual. He had a stranger in tow, who didn’t smell like plod, so we gathered round, drinks in hand along with a few sandwiches, and awaited introductions and, we were guessing, a briefing. Bevan waited till we were all settled, and smiled around the room.



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Closing Doors 4

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The place wasn’t familiar, of course; the stench of Charlie Cooper was still hanging over every part of the City, but we were out at Winsford, not that far from Neil’s address. Mr Sedgewick had been cheeky, asking specifically if I could possibly visit Gemma’s before the trip, so both Candice and I were carrying several cardboard boxes of pastries in readiness. She had found a pub that did rooms in a place called Little Budworth, as there was sod-all in Winsford, and neither of us fancied a Purple Palace again. She was driving, a works car, because the public transport was also non-existent. At least the HQ had a decent amount of parking. We waited at the desk like good little girls until a civilian came to collect us, and off we went to Mr Sedgewick’s office, towing the consolidated evidence bundle in a non-small pull-along suitcase.



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Closing Doors 3

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“Ah. Do tell”

“Prospective Deform councillor?”

“That’s him”

“Well, I traced his Bookface and Twix accounts, and then I redacted the identifying stuff, and took the results to our local experts for assessment. Um, Debbie and Marlene”

“What did they say?”

He didn’t actually turn pale, but his face clearly wanted to.



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Closing Doors 2

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We got the formal ‘Go’ from the Super the following afternoon, presumably after he had cleared up the pecking order with Sedgewick and the Cheshire brass. Sammy was absolutely in full focus.

“Di, I want you to take Candice for the bags. She does fluffy better than you—shut it, Blondie. You know full well you can. Take a works car, and make sure the stuff gets locked away properly. Some of the court boxes, the ones with padlocks, they’ll do. And Blake?”

“Yes?”



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Closing Doors 1

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This is the final work in Mike and Neil's story. I haven't yet worked out how many parts it will split into, but it's all written. Diane Sutton, formerly Owens, takes over the narration as the SCRU goes after Nigel.

Please be aware the direct reference is made to suicide here, along with particularly nasty harassment.

CLOSING DOORS
CHAPTER 1
Candice was out with Jon taking a statement in yet another fraud case that had spun off from the Evans building fiddles heap, the gift that simply refused to stop giving, but the rest of us were in. Sammy was in feral mode, which triggered my interest, as it always did. He waved Lexie forward.

“You have the floor. DC Doyle. Go for it”



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A Colder Dish 4

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We joined the other pair after two hours, Alys having stepped in halfway through with fresh cups of tea and a plate of non-greasy nibbles, plus a hug and cheek kiss for two of us. The story was even worse than the bare bones Mike had given us. Lexie was calm, gentle in fact, throughout, but I was picking so many cues from her face and hands it was clear how hard she was having to work to keep that poise. There was one episode Neil recounted, involving a particular dress, that made me want to hit someone. Lexie’s jaw muscles worked a little as she spoke.



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A Colder Dish 3

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It was a couple of weeks before I managed to find the right moment to talk with Neil, and I could feel the nerves wrapping themselves into tangles as I did the usual brew in the bunkhouse before his arrival, turning the kettle on as I heard the burble of his big German bike. The weather was not great, so we had the place to ourselves, and I left him to get out of his voluminous waterproofs before opening a pack of back bacon and lighting the hob.



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A Colder Dish 2

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Neil was late in arrival, and we had already given up on him and headed for the pub. No music, but an awful lot of people to smile at and be lifted by a smile’s return, often with extra warmth. Debbie and her girls were still with us, and Alys and I had a quiet moment of pleasure spotting which ones we recognised, and which were still coming to terms with their new lives. I could almost read their minds: is this real? I get to be myself, in public? There’s no catch, no taking it all away again?



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Mates 88

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CHAPTER 88
“Did she check in?”

The woman tapped at her terminal, frowning slightly.

“Yes. She booked the ticket, paid for it, checked in online, and that is the last interaction I can find, Mr Rhodes”

“Do you have a number for the office in KL?”

“I can ring them for you, sir”



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This story is 52 words long.

A Colder Dish 1

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My darling wife was cooking that evening, which was sometimes a bit of a lottery. While I love her to distraction, her culinary skills are a moveable feast. By that, I mean that there are times when she gets overambitious, and we have to move said feast from our dining room to a local pub or takeaway. One thing she does do well, though, because she was taught by experts, is a decent barbecue. There are local issues on that score, however, geographical ones related to typical precipitation patterns and being resident in North Wales.



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Mates 87

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CHAPTER 87
She called me about three hours later, from Kuala Lumpur as Ish and I walked the Jurassic Mile.

“Arrived in one piece, love. Busy as, here. I’m heading for the exit in a few, but didn’t really want to have Mum earwigging this call. I’ll find somewhere quiet and call you tonight. About nine?”

“Ideal love. The lad can stay up that late, say hello. Bit of video so we can see your face?”



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Mates 86

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CHAPTER 86
Life went on, though, as it almost always did. Ish went to school, where he switched his sports to rugby and swimming, Maz and I started the ‘matrix’ training, and the ‘protection’ stayed in the bedside cabinet’s drawer.

The letters became more frequent, eventually becoming bulkier as her mother started sending her own photos down, all of older members of her family, according to Maz.



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Wrapping up

Well, I have been writing quite rapidly for a few days, and I have the bulk of the content for the book following 'Mates' ready, as well as its structure. The story order is deliberate.

'Mates' will finish properly. The next book will consist of the following, in order.

Black and White
Happiness is a Warm Hound
A Colder Dish (Neil's story conclusion part 1)
Blindside
Closing Doors (Neil's story conclusion part 2)

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Mates 85

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CHAPTER 85
Agreement to our proposals was surprisingly quick, given the allegations about ‘Wily Orientals’ I had grown up with, and within two weeks we were already at the stage of drafting a training roster, splitting Maz and I so that we could work twice as fast while still leaving time for our childcare responsibilities.

The first lot were the ‘matrix’ people, including Audrey, who turned up in one of my classes. They were all frighteningly intense in their approach to the work, and I began to suspect that the local working culture might be just a little competitive, maybe with a touch of canine cannibalism.



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This story is 105 words long.

Mates 84

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CHAPTER 84
Bobby was down at our place two hours before the start time we had suggested, ostensibly to check on the barbie but very clearly as an opportunity to answer a very simple question from Maz as he slumped on our sofa, Ish out in the pool.

“What on Earth was all that about?”

“Snirgeing, Maz”



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This story is 56 words long.

Mates 83

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CHAPTER 83
The settling-in period went far too quickly, as did our boy’s enrolment in the International School. That second part was actually eased by my wife’s presentation of some old photos of the place, because it had actually been her former father-in-law’s school in the ‘East of Suez’ days.

I had to force myself away from worry, because the school were offering a minibus service for pupils, recognising how those needing an ‘international’ school were rather likely to be ‘international’ in their own right, and possibly rather busy. So we made his packed lunch each evening, left it with a cold drink in the fridge for him, and one of us walked him down to that familiar bus stop, as Maz and I worked swap shifts until we were sure he could handle coming home to an empty house.

He was a Big Boy, but always our baby.



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This story is 151 words long.

Mates 82

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CHAPTER 82
We had a week to settle in, a process that didn’t leave a lot of free time. We did get some exploring in, though, which included a trip to the Botanic Gardens. Maz had seemed almost ashamed when she had asked what amounted to my permission, and our late-night discussion became quite emotional for some very obvious reasons. We were both a little bleary-eyed when we roused Ish that morning, asking him to pack his raincoat and the little digital camera we had treated him to.



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This story is 88 words long.

Mates 81

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CHAPTER 81
We landed in the afternoon, just after a rain squall had blown through; the place was a lot wetter than WA, that was clear. Maz had the window, and as we descended towards Changi, she was almost dancing in her seat, pointing out places that I couldn’t actually see, as Ish was already leaning over her for his view. I would just have to see it all from ground level.

“This was the military airfield originally, Mike. Alan’s Dad used to go to the beach here. There was a place called the South China Sea Club, but it was just palm thatched huts, a bar, a juke box and a local man cooking chips in a wok over a gas ring. On the floor. Such changes!”



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This story is 129 words long.

Blindside 6

I, me, the one with the rapid-fire gob, it was still hanging open, so I hauled it shut by pure force of will, and sought the right words, hoping to avoid the reflex “Didn’t think you were a queer”. I may be ‘queer’ myself by most people’s definition, but I had to learn about homophobia. I’m as straight as they come, in every double meaning of that word, and the idea of two men together had always been a bit ‘ick’ to my younger self. I know full well how wrong those thought are, so did my best to make it ‘were’, but my hindbrain still kicks in at inappropriate moments.



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Blindside 5

I took the skewers out as instructed. Leaving them to be slathered with gloop and slapped onto the grill, and then stood for a few seconds to put my thoughts in order. There was something about him, something off, that didn’t match the Norman Rossiter I remembered from that school. The lad I had known had been one of the rugby crowd, exactly the people I had spent so much energy in avoiding., and their behaviour could never have been fairly described as ‘accommodating’ or ‘inclusive’, unless it was a matter of intersectional hatred. The Venn diagram of their world had been a classic double circle: ‘Us’ and ‘every lesser being’. That second circle could just as easily be labelled ‘targets’.



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This story is 122 words long.

Blindside 4

Breakfast was more than a little awkward, Jules sneaking little glances at me before ducking her head whenever I caught her gaze. I assumed it was a mixture of smugness and shame, like that song about him knowing that she knew that he knew and so on. The two of them had shared some intimate moments, occasionally with most of the county from what I’d heard prior to inserting my little foam plugs, and she knew that I did, indeed, know. In an instant, my traitor mind came up with ‘Not so much kiss and tell as shag and scream’, but I think I managed to hide the smirk, and to be sure, I covered it with words.



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Blindside 3

I watched the expressions dance over her face, realising how much the ‘O’ and ‘W’ words meant to her, poor girl.

“I’m in Salfords, as Jules probably told you, so train will work well if you’re in Horley. There’s a bus stop as well. Where are you based?”

“Top end of Lumley Road”

“Ah. Several buses go past there”

He reeled off some suggestions, all of which I was aware of, although my own choice was usually the number twenty. I was a little puzzled by his knowledge, as he was a driver, like most estate bloody agents, but I assumed it was all part of the toolkit for potential sales.

“Where to, then?”



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This story is 117 words long.

Blindside 2

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Friday morning came the way it usually did, far too late in the week. I managed a bus trip without added audio, and after assembly shepherded a flock of teenagers as they laid out the tables ready for our start at ten thirty.

I was still shaken by the scene with Jules, and the vast depths of her fear. I couldn’t quite see it as she did, because I was someone that fitted the lived reality of trans women rather than the usual fictional stereotype of ‘small, pretty’. I couldn’t feel all of her fear because she was in a place I had never been permitted to enter. No pain, no gain, and as I had never gained, I had avoided at least some of the pain.

Sod that. She had been smiling when she had left my place that evening; just stand by her, ready to catch her if she fell and pray that she wouldn’t.



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Blindside 1

“YOU A GEEZER, OR WHAT?”

Volume control wasn’t his strong suit, evidently. Thankfully, the bus was already there, so I stepped on as if he hadn’t spoken, eructated, puked, whatever. Good start to the day.

Usual start to the day.



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Mates 80

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CHAPTER 80
We had other issues to think about just then, as Ish was navigating the sudden complications of primary school. There had been the usual sequence of birthday parties throughout his time in what I still thought of as ‘infants’ school’, but now he was in what my memories called ‘junior school' things were changing, as boys did their traditional dance of realising that girls were not only different, but actually distasteful which is not exactly the best process for continuing our species. His size and balance were both a little above the average, the latter no doubt helped by his emerging love of climbing, and that meant he avoided the old school horror of being ‘last pick’ for games, and THE local game for Perth was ‘footy’



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Mates 79

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CHAPTER 79
Life was good. We celebrated Ish’s seventh birthday by withdrawing some of our accumulated bonus money and flying out to Esperance for some seriously wet fun, including a stop on Woody Island for penguin watching. Trying to explain the why and wherefore of polar bear and iceberg absence reminded me yet again of our son’s real age, despite his literary tastes, but there were places to swim, burgers to eat and granite outcrops to play on.

Neither Maz nor I had any truck with the sexist convention that women were meant to be mothers, but we were parents, and it was wonderful, most of the time.



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Mates 78

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CHAPTER 78
“Right, darling, these three pictures go together, because they are all wedding pictures. This one is me and your Dad, over on Rotto”

“That’s a golf place, Mum”

“Yes. One of our friends arranged it as a wedding present, and before you ask, not as a game of golf bit as somewhere we could all sit, somewhere nice, Oh, and this picture as well. Recognise it?”

“King’s Park, Mum”



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Mates 77

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CHAPTER 77
Year by year, both our business and our son grew, and Geeta got her wish to see Sydney when we opened another branch there. Kul running it as a manager until we had integrated some more employees. One of them turned out to be Betty, who took over from Kul after a very few months, allowing the Butts to return. Ish was now five years old and in proper preschool, which he would regularly complain about.

“The reading’s boring, Dad!”



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Mates 76

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CHAPTER 76
We got a regular flow of letters after that, or perhaps it could be described as an intermittent drip feed. Every now and again, we would pop off a new snap of our boy, and hint about dates, but my mother-in-law never bit, not even to the extent of mentioning me at all, or using anything other than Malay for her correspondence. According to my wife, Mrs R even appeared to be matchmaking a few times, even though her daughter was already married. I began to feel a little unwanted by her.



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Mates 75

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CHAPTER 75
I couldn’t remember ever being as tired as I was those first few months, but it was Maz who bore the heavier load at first, as she was the food source. Both of us felt rather stupid when the health visitor talked us through the secret of rewarmed previously expressed milk, and I am sure Maz felt relieved rather than embarrassed. Kul asked us if we hadn’t actually sprogged in England, leaving the kid with persistent jet lag, as his circadian rhythm seemed utterly disconnected from Western Australia. Dal picked up on that, naturally, and suggested that Ish was an alien changeling from another planet.



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