CHAPTER 73
Eventually, Neil found some equilibrium, and Maz and I managed to shuffle hm into the spare room he was using, before finally settling into our own bed. Maz was unsurprisingly rather pensive as she cuddled into me.

“So many triggers in him, love. How the hell has he survived?”

She tried to answer her own question, musing about his ‘borderline Asperger’s’ and whether it acted as some sort of insulation, but I couldn’t agree with her, for what felt like the first time.

“I suspect it’s working the other way, Maz. More like a hard casing. Like… like a grenade? I don’t think he’s had a chance to talk it out, like we’ve done”

“Still do, love. That night we went through the old photos was so painful”

“I remember”

“Yes, but it was also sharing. It was… Mike, we got to see each other in the raw, and I don’t mean clothing. When… what I thought was, ‘I love this man, and this is how he has loved, how he still does.’ If I hadn’t already been in love with you, that would have been the clincher. Neil won’t have had that”

She lay silent for a while, then hugged me.

“Just a thought, husband of mine. If it’s like you say, like a dam bursting, then he might be able to be, we might be able, to lift him up a little”

I pulled her closer.

“Do you think he might resent us, love? Having everything he lost sort of thing?”

She sighed long and hard into my chest.

“No, love. I don’t think he has that in him. Not a bad bone, as far as I can see”

“No hate in him?”

She actually chuckled, which was a surprise, given the topic.

“Oh trust me, dear husband: he can hate. I was wondering if he had ever spoken to Nigel the Range Rover bastard. Neil’s not a small man”

I took that thought into sleep with me, memories of how certain local families had treated Alys right at the very centre of my thoughts, and ended up surprised by the morning light. Maz was already up, and I heard the sound of flushing followed by the tap as she cleaned her hands. Breakfast, then, before deciding what state Neil might be in, and what to do with his time. I joined my wife in the kitchen as she busied herself with bacon, eggs, sausage and tomatoes, and took over the kettle and toast duties. The smell, of course, drew Neil from his room, and he looked dreadful. He was also doing his best to avoid our eyes, poor man. Maz simply put down her spatula and crossed the kitchen to hug him, so of course I followed suit, whispering to him “No shame, mate. Never. Remember that day we first met? Neither of us dumps a mate because he has been dealt a shitty hand. And that’s three of us in that boat”

I raised my head, still holding them both.

“Wife, we still have time off from work. Where are we going?”

“Husband, I have no idea, BUT! This wife would like some music, and it is the club tonight, and that means, for Neil’s benefit, that we have the day to fill first. Husband, shall we play with the ropes?”

“Indoors or outdoors, my queen?”

“Oooh… shall we introduce our guest to those bolt things?”

Her idea was absolutely inspired, so I switched to speaker and rang Vern to see if anyone would be at Statham’s that day.

“Me and a group, mate. How was Espy?”

My own mind threw out ideas almost as quickly as had my wife’s.

“We intend to do a photo share day after tomorrow, Vern. Barbie at ours, mammoth photo review, Dal’s videos, assuming he’s done the editing. Bring cold beers and a warm man. Oh, and three of us are at the quarry today, then it’s the folk club”

“Ripper, bonzer, she’ll be right and whatever else bloody Kul says. Sounds like a plan, mate. Crashing space?”

“Limited, a little. Not like Chez Butt”

Neil had a hand up.

“You have two tents in the garage, Mike. Enough space on the grass. I’d be happy to—before I went exploring, I bought a bivvy bag. Leave the bed for a couple, if people are staying”

How to reopen a fresh wound, oh fucking my.

“You sure, mate?”

“Absolutely. Anyway, what was that about bolts?”

Vern started to laugh, finishing up with a slightly snigger-infused “You’ll find out in a bit, mate. What size feet you got, Neil? I’ll loan you some rock shoes from the stores here, be good”

Breakfast was fine, Neil’s focus having been rather brutally derailed, as all he wanted to know was the type of rock awaiting us. We still had several more days to fill, and when I reminded him that we not only had Maz’s car but my other bike, his morning disappeared in a rush of internet searches and map reading. In the end, we sorted his laundry out ourselves, and ran it through the machine with the rest of our own.

It was bikes to Statham’s for ease of parking, but public transport to the music club later, for ease of drinking. Neil’s reaction to the nightmare bodge that is an ‘Aussie bolt’ was astonishing, as it amounted to a shrug and the comment “You want to see what we use underground”

Vern just shrugged.

“Not likely, mate, as that would mean being underground in the first place, which is simply not going to happen. Now, this route…”

It was a lovely day, despite the all too frequent murmurs of “Those two are from that video, aren’t they?”

I was slightly embarrassed when one of the young women in the group answered her friend’s comment with, “Yeah, but he’s got more clothes on”

What sort of videos did she usually watch?

I remembered the Hiatts’ description of Neil’s climbing as ‘utilitarian’, or maybe ‘workmanlike’, but it wasn’t. He was calm and steady throughout, his moves controlled and deliberate. Slow extensions rather than dynos; careful balance rather than lurch. I felt he overprotected his leads on the few trad routes available, but not in a way that led to rope drag. It was simply more of that sharp and narrow focus he exhibited.

The club night was all floor spots, which was fine, and the barbie evening was filled with absolutely no surprises at all apart from Dal’s utter professionalism in his video work. Tales were told, smiles were shared, piss was taken appropriately and, well, ‘tastefully’ is the wrong word; ‘gently’ or ‘lovingly’ work better. Chad and Vern ended up in the guest room, the Butts went home in the early hours, and Maz and I slept in until ten o’clock, when it was our turn to be woken by the smell of cooking as Neil did his best with the contents of our fridge.

We filled his remaining free days with trips out, including a couple of overnights so that we could see the stars yet again, something I never tired of. Neil even rode out with us once to that park Maz liked, where he was the one to spot the rock just under the surface of the water, and capture an amazing shot of what my wife called a little corella apparently standing on its own reflection as it bent to drink.

The night before his final departure, it was Butt Barbie Day, as Kul dubbed it. Most of what was almost an extended family was there, including betty and her crew, who had their own pictures to share. Even with the savagery of Neil’s pain and loss, life for most of us seemed better than just ‘good’.

We saw him off the following evening en masse, and he got a little weepy, but that was allowed, as I told him during my own farewell hug.

“I suppose so, Mike. Thanks, for so many things”

Maz joined us in the hug, telling him how there was no need for thanks, and asked the obvious question.

“Are you going to be all right, love?”

“I have to be, Maz. I have a little girl to look after. Another Maddy, but this one I will get right”

Just before I let go of him, he whispered in my ear.

“And that cunt Nigel is a long game, and I am very good at playing those. I don’t forget, because I am unable to, and this is not something I will forgive. Long game, Mike, and I am already playing it”