He goes to the back of the car and lays down one of the levelling blocks. ‘Reverse backwards about twenty centimetres.’
Well,that’seasier said that done. It takes several minutes of going backwards and forwards, moving a little to the left and a little to the right, before Charlie is satisfied that the van is on level ground.
‘Do I really have to do that every time I go out in this bloody thing?’ I ask.
‘If you want to sleep well at night,’ he replies.
I’m starting to understand why Julia and Justin stick with cycling.
Chapter 10
I do sleep better that night – so much so that I’m going to be late if I don’t get a wriggle on. I wash my hair and leave it to dry naturally.
I feel as if Charlie and I bonded a bit yesterday, and I’m actually quite looking forward to seeing him this morning. It’s only when I get to his place and there’s no answer that I remember he’s dropping April to his parents. Luckily, I have the keys, so I let myself in.
There’s a purple bike in the hall. A pretty purple bicycle.
He meant it, then.
I dropped off the hired bike yesterday after Charlie left, figuring it wouldn’t be too much of a pain to rent another if he changed his mind.
I run my hand over the bike’s frame and find that it’s shiny and dust-free. There’s even a helmet clipped to one of the handlebars.
I sit on the bottom stair, staring at the bike. I don’t know why I suddenly feel so sad.
Has Charlie still got everything that belonged to Nicki? Is her wardrobe still full of her clothes? Is the television cabinet still full of her DVDs? Are there chutneys in the fridge that he can’t bear to throw out because they’re hers, even though he hates the taste of them? Her office seems untouched since she died. How long does a person wait before they let go of the one they love?
And Charlie clearly loved her very much, as she did him. No one can write about love so beautifully – so believably – without experiencing it themselves.
Panic rises up within me as, not for the first time, I worry that Nicki’s publisher made a mistake in hiring me.
How am I going to pull off this novel? How am I going to write about love the way Nicki did?
The protagonist is a travel writer just like you, so you should be able to identify with her brilliantly, Sara said.
But I need to connect to Nicki’s heroine, Kit, at a far deeper level, and I don’t know how I’m going to do it.
I get up and sigh loudly, picking up my rucksack and heading into the kitchen. I pull out my speaker and iPod and look for a suitable song. It’s not long before I’m head-banging to Def Leppard’s ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’.
My hair will be dry in no time.
I don’t hear Charlie come back because I’m in the office with my music turned up, so the first I know of his return is when I see him out in the back garden.
I’m a little surprised – piqued, even – that he didn’t come to say hello after yesterday, but fair enough if he’s keen to crack on. I watch as he carries one of the sanded branches out from under the veranda and sets it across two workbenches before glancing up at the office window. I shrink back instinctively and then want to kick myself. Why didn’t I just wave? Obviously, I don’t want him to think that I’m spying, but it’s hardly a crime for me to notice he’s back.
I stand up and open the window to try to cover up.
‘It’s a bit warm in here today,’ I say, pausing my music.
The way he shades his eyes to look up at me makes me think he probably didn’t even see me before.
‘Hey, thanks very much for the bike,’ I say.
‘No worries,’ he replies.
‘How was the rest of your weekend?’ I ask.
‘Pretty quiet. Yours?’
