Easy As Crawling In A Nike.
by:Angharad
part:362

I got home and locked the door before rushing up to my bed and throwing myself upon it. I cried for a while and then must have fallen asleep. I awoke to the phone ringing. It took me a moment to recognise where I was, and when I sat up my eyes felt red and sore and my mouth was thick and sticky.

"Hello?"

"Cathy, it's Tom, can you let me in, please?"

"Uh?"

"The front door is locked, and it's starting to rain."

"Oh, sorry, be right down." I replaced the receiver and once I got my sea legs, trotted down the stairs and opened the door."

"Thank you, Why was it locked?"

"Sorry, I shut it in a rush and didn't realise I'd locked it."

"Your eyes are all red, are you going to tell me why you've been crying?"

"No."

"What's for dinner?"

"I don't know."

"Let's have a cuppa and then you can tell me why you're upset, or not as the case may be." He steered me into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. Next he pulled out a chair and I was gently pushed into it. I touched my sore hand against the table and winced.

He took my hand and looked at the palm. "How did you do this?"

"My paper knife broke."

"Too much pressure on it, I expect. What were you trying to open, a jiffy bag?"

"Something like that," it was actually the aorta of a certain security guard, I wish.

"Really, you girls ought to know better, let me get a plaster." He pulled out a small pack of plasters from a kichen drawer and using one of the bigger ones stuck it over the palm of my hand. "That should keep it clean as well as stopping it bleeding over my carpets."

"I'm sorry if I got blood on anything..." I burst back into tears.

"Right, Catherine bloody Watts, if you don't tell me what happened, I am going to make you a cup of tea and you will drink it."

"All right, I'll tell you." I pouted and sulked a little for good measure. "But I'll make the tea first."

After we drank the reviving fluid, which would have tasted like embalming fluid if Tom had made it, I told him roughly what had happened.

"I shall see the Dean first thing tomorrow. How much did Neal see?"

"He didn't see anything, he heard me shout but not what I shouted. It would be his word against mine."

"If he was threatening you, I want him gone."

"That just makes his threats stronger."

"If he's been sacked, they'll be from further away."

"I don't want to make an issue of it."

"I think you're making a mistake, I hope it isn't a big one."

"Look, Tom, I know what you're saying and part of me agrees with you. But, and it's a big one, I suspect it would just make things worse. I feel that if I ignore his threats as bluster, he won't do anything else because he'll see his power trip has failed."

"Even if he wasn't in the Paras in Afghanistan, he's twice your size so my money would be on him to win."

"Why do you think he's doing it?"

"Who cares, let's just get rid of him."

"But I'd like to know."

"Why? What good would that do?"

"It might help me resolve things."

"Earth to Cathy. Look, I know you like to analyse things to the nth degree and understand as much as possible, I don't see why it's important we know why some psycho wants to hurt you."

"Maybe he sees me as unattainable?"

"Cathy, stop dreaming and come back to real life. I don't care if he wants to marry you, if Simon finds out, he's catfood."

"But the only way we have of stopping him is if we understand him."

"Simon won't see it that way, and will stop him a lot quicker."

"What good does violence do?"

"It's expedient."

I had no answer. I knew in some ways he was right, but part of me wanted to resolve this not just terminate it. If he had issues with me, maybe they could be worked out? Perhaps I should talk to him?

"For the third time of asking, will you go and smarten yourself up and I'll take you out to eat."

"I can't be bothered, Tom, but thanks anyway."

"You will be bothered, now go and change this minute."

I didn't have the energy to protest and I was quite hungry, my lunch was on its way to a sewage farm by now. I went upstairs and after washing and changing into a skirt and boots, shoving on some makeup and combing my hair I was ready to go out.

I took Tom's arm and he led me out to his Landrover. "Can we use my car? I don't think I could cope with the smell of that tonight."

"Ye imperrrrrrtinent weeeeeeee husssssssssy!" he said in an exaggerated Scots accent, "Agatha, will sulk now."

"Agatha?"

"Yes, my wee Landie."

"Wee? It weighs about two tons."

"Ach ye'll neverrrrrrrr underrrrrstand, it's a boy thing, the love of Landies."

"Landies?"

"Och, ya pudden heid, a Landrover, Agatha is ma Landrover."

"Why have you gone all Robert Burns on me?"

"Ah dinna ken."

"Ken who?" This was fast approaching farce.

"Let's go in your Krautmobile, then."

"I must be really slow tonight, Tom, but what are you on about?"

"Your VW, I said let's use your VW."

"Oh, I thought you were saying something very different." I have a German friend and I know they don't like the 'K' word. Besides, it's an Americanism from the war.

I let him drive, content to sit and let someone else take control. He parked it near the Spinnaker Tower and Gun Wharf Quay, and we walked to a traditional fish restaurant and had fish and chips.

He told me a little about his childhood in Scotland. He 'wis frae Dumfries' although he'd lived south of the border since he was fifteen. His father was a doctor and they'd moved to Surrey to take over a general practice there.

I asked him why he'd not gone into medicine, and he shrugged his shoulders, he simply preferred studying bugs to treating them. I smiled at his play on words. We tend to call insects and so on, bugs. We also refer to infections as bugs.

We had a long walk around the quay before going back to the car. The rain had cleared and it was a lovely evening. I held on to his arm for support and to show my affection for him, he shook it free and put it around me, holding me to him and protecting me. It felt a much more paternal act than I could recollect my father ever doing. It felt nice.

When we got back, he poured us out a brandy each and we sipped them talking about things in general, so I went to bed very relaxed and slept like a log.

I was listening to the local radio while I dressed when an item of news caught my ear:

'Police are searching for the Bike Attacker after another woman was attacked near Portsmouth University. The victim, a twenty two year old woman student, was taken to hospital with a broken collar bone and several cuts and grazes.

Inspector Clive James, of the Hampshire Constabulary, said, 'We need to get this person before he does someone a serious injury. We don't know why he has this thing about women cyclists, but we urge all members of the public to be vigilant, especially those who cycle. Anyone who saw or knows anything of this incident are urged to call the police headquarters as soon as possible.'

My blood ran cold. I was half thinking of cycling and it was only because I didn't want to impose on Tom to take in my marking, that I was going to use the car. If we really wanted to be kind to the earth, we'd car share every day. It just wasn't always convenient.

Tom was waiting as went down. "There's been another attack on a cyclist."

"I know, I just heard it on the radio."

"It's one of your students."

"Who? How do you know that?"

"I know because I have a friend in the police, and they told me who it was."

"Who was it?"

"Denise, somebody or other."

"Oh no, she's one of my recorder group."

"I didn't know you were musical?"

"Tom, you know damn well what I mean."

"Oh, a tree rat counter."

"One of these days you'll say that and I'll slap you one."

"This from the woman who abhors violence."

"Grrrrrrrrrr!"