the hand was always avoided. What would the payback be for me? And when?
Chapter eight
A COUPLE OF DAYS after I got the Norton I found the nerve to drop around to Karen’s place. I had blown it but I wasn’t prepared to flag things so easily. I hoped that beyond her parents and the differences between our backgrounds we might still have the chance of getting something going. Thought we could rise above the fishhooks of family.
I had this idea that arriving with the clean washing might help smooth things over. I folded it neatly, bagged it and tied it to the back seat of the bike. By the time I arrived at the front gates I’d had second thoughts. My nerves were wavering. Maybe another peace offering was in order.
I knew this big rose garden that looked out over the sea. A good chance to ‘say it with flowers’. I went back and in a few minutes I had hacked off a big bunch of stems with my pocket knife. On the other side of the plots there was a bus load of old people wandering around yakking, so I tried to keep a low profile. But maybe a knife-wielding, rose-stealing motorcyclist isn’t that inconspicuous, because a posse of them bore down on me and drove me out of the gardens. One big old guy made a staggering rush to catch me so I had to shove the roses down the front of my shirt to avoid ‘an unpleasant incident’.
When I got to Karen’s the second time I drove up the drive and parked my bike right outside the front door. Karen’s mother answered the bell.
‘Oh, it’s Trace.’ She looked back over her shoulder. ‘And what can I do for you?’ Her voice cold.
‘Yeah, I guess I umm … blew things the other night. That wine sort of snuck up on me … I’ve brought back your sheets.’
She seemed to soften.
‘And, umm, these roses.’
‘How nice,’ she said and then, ‘Trace, you’re bleeding.’
And so I was. The roses-down-the-shirt trick had scratched the front of my chest.
‘Just a flesh wound.’ And then, ‘Blood and Roses. Good name for a band.’
She seemed pleased with my wit.
‘That’s really sweet, Trace. Look, Karen’s not here at the moment. I’ll give them to her when she gets back.’
I was going to say how sorry I was: for getting drunk, for breaking the wine glass, for vomiting over the bed clothes, for coming across like a hoon. But it looked like I wasn’t going to get the chance.
I stood there on the step, wondering what the hell to do next, then Helena said something that was meant to resolve it once and for all.
‘Trace, this year is a really busy one for Karen. She has Bursary coming up and a lot is riding on how well she does. We like to treat her like an adult as much as we can but in this instance …’ she faltered, ‘… in this instance, Raymond has decided that it would be best for all concerned if she gives study her
undivided attention
.’
She said this crisply, like those politicians you see reading a prepared statement.
‘Isn’t she coming back to work?’
She shook her head.
We stood there for a moment or two. I didn’t know what else to say. She seemed to have a few things she wanted to say too,but nothing came. It was tense and embarrassing. I was only one step from her, but the gap seemed as wide as the Grand Canyon. I had this feeling that someone else had stepped into my life when I wasn’t looking and had messed about with stuff. That I was crap, and a fool. I said goodbye and left.
Everything felt hollow on the way home. The bike’s hoarse exhaust note and massive weight were the only things that had any solidity. The rest of the world was as thin as tissue paper and in danger of floating away.
As I arrived back at Mrs Jacques’, Sergei was seeing off August at the front gate. He made some smart-arse comment as I climbed off but I couldn’t hear it because I had my helmet on. August’s mum, an upmarket blonde woman, was chatting to them both while her husband waited in the car. They both stopped talking and stared at me as
Chapter eight
A COUPLE OF DAYS after I got the Norton I found the nerve to drop around to Karen’s place. I had blown it but I wasn’t prepared to flag things so easily. I hoped that beyond her parents and the differences between our backgrounds we might still have the chance of getting something going. Thought we could rise above the fishhooks of family.
I had this idea that arriving with the clean washing might help smooth things over. I folded it neatly, bagged it and tied it to the back seat of the bike. By the time I arrived at the front gates I’d had second thoughts. My nerves were wavering. Maybe another peace offering was in order.
I knew this big rose garden that looked out over the sea. A good chance to ‘say it with flowers’. I went back and in a few minutes I had hacked off a big bunch of stems with my pocket knife. On the other side of the plots there was a bus load of old people wandering around yakking, so I tried to keep a low profile. But maybe a knife-wielding, rose-stealing motorcyclist isn’t that inconspicuous, because a posse of them bore down on me and drove me out of the gardens. One big old guy made a staggering rush to catch me so I had to shove the roses down the front of my shirt to avoid ‘an unpleasant incident’.
When I got to Karen’s the second time I drove up the drive and parked my bike right outside the front door. Karen’s mother answered the bell.
‘Oh, it’s Trace.’ She looked back over her shoulder. ‘And what can I do for you?’ Her voice cold.
‘Yeah, I guess I umm … blew things the other night. That wine sort of snuck up on me … I’ve brought back your sheets.’
She seemed to soften.
‘And, umm, these roses.’
‘How nice,’ she said and then, ‘Trace, you’re bleeding.’
And so I was. The roses-down-the-shirt trick had scratched the front of my chest.
‘Just a flesh wound.’ And then, ‘Blood and Roses. Good name for a band.’
She seemed pleased with my wit.
‘That’s really sweet, Trace. Look, Karen’s not here at the moment. I’ll give them to her when she gets back.’
I was going to say how sorry I was: for getting drunk, for breaking the wine glass, for vomiting over the bed clothes, for coming across like a hoon. But it looked like I wasn’t going to get the chance.
I stood there on the step, wondering what the hell to do next, then Helena said something that was meant to resolve it once and for all.
‘Trace, this year is a really busy one for Karen. She has Bursary coming up and a lot is riding on how well she does. We like to treat her like an adult as much as we can but in this instance …’ she faltered, ‘… in this instance, Raymond has decided that it would be best for all concerned if she gives study her
undivided attention
.’
She said this crisply, like those politicians you see reading a prepared statement.
‘Isn’t she coming back to work?’
She shook her head.
We stood there for a moment or two. I didn’t know what else to say. She seemed to have a few things she wanted to say too,but nothing came. It was tense and embarrassing. I was only one step from her, but the gap seemed as wide as the Grand Canyon. I had this feeling that someone else had stepped into my life when I wasn’t looking and had messed about with stuff. That I was crap, and a fool. I said goodbye and left.
Everything felt hollow on the way home. The bike’s hoarse exhaust note and massive weight were the only things that had any solidity. The rest of the world was as thin as tissue paper and in danger of floating away.
As I arrived back at Mrs Jacques’, Sergei was seeing off August at the front gate. He made some smart-arse comment as I climbed off but I couldn’t hear it because I had my helmet on. August’s mum, an upmarket blonde woman, was chatting to them both while her husband waited in the car. They both stopped talking and stared at me as
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