• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 1052 0

happened. Could it be he wasn’t well yet? Was his mind still a bit ‘disturbed’? He knew Casey had also been uneasy about the experience they’d been through, but was that merely the transference of his fears? He knew how easy it was for tension from one person to be passed on to another until a whole group of people were infected. He needed to relax. The strain of the past hour had already drained him, left him feeling agitated and restless. Why hadn’t he wanted Casey to get out of the car? Did he really think this fog had something to do with his own recent illness? He wasn’t at all sure of his motives, but hadn’t wanted her to be subjected to too much of the smoke-like substance. Maybe the feeling of apprehension would pass once his body – and his mind – had fully rested.

They drove the still grumbling Hodges to the doctor’s surgery, left him in capable and friendly hands, then drove on to London.

5

A few hours later, after stopping for a pub lunch on the way, they reached Holman’s flat in St John’s Wood Road, opposite Lord’s cricket ground. He parked the car in the forecourt and wearily they took the lift to his flat at the top of the old but well-kept building. His flat was sparsely uncluttered and comfortable. A few original paintings hung on the walls, but otherwise the decorations were kept to a minimum. In one corner stood the tall, long stem of a plant, its length completely bare, but with thick rich foliage sprouting from its top. He claimed laughingly that it had climbed over the wall of the London Botanical Gardens and found its way to his flat because it was looking for someone to love. The truth was Holman had stolen it one night many years before on a drunken raid on the Gardens with some equally inebriated friends. He had no idea of the correct name for it so he called it George.

His bedroom window looked out on to a flat roof where he had spent many a peaceful summer’s evening just gazing at the stars, a contrast to the side of him that demanded excitement, to be involved in trouble. The only big luxury he had allowed himself to indulge in was his bed. He liked to sleep, he liked to make love; when he slept he hated to feel cramped by a partner; when he made love, he hated to feel cramped by a bed. So it was logical his bed should take up most of the space in his medium-sized bedroom. On first seeing it, Casey had giggled; on sharing its luxury, she had become immensely jealous of Holman’s past. But in the time she had known him, she had matured enough to accept the life he had obviously once led.

She made him coffee while he slumped in a chair, pulling his shoes off for greater comfort. She brought the cups in and sat at his feet, placing the coffee on the floor.

‘How do you feel now, John?’ she asked gently.

‘Oh, a little bit tired, that’s all. Post-hospital depression I think it’s called.’

She rubbed the soles of his feet abstractedly. ‘I’ve decided to leave Theo.’ She always called her father by his first name, another habit Holman unreasonably found irritating.

‘Leave him?’ He sat up in surprise, studying her face as if her expression would confirm or deny her statement.

‘Yes. I discovered a lot of things about myself when you were in hospital, John, the most important being that I love you more than I could have imagined possible. More than Theo. More than anything. I nearly gave up, darling. I nearly left you there when I thought you were beyond help.’

He leaned closer to her, taking her face in his hands, saying nothing.

‘The way you were,’ she continued, ‘things you said. It frightened me – I couldn’t believe it was you.’

‘It wasn’t really me, Casey,’ he said softly.

‘I know, John. But it was like a nightmare. Not knowing if you’d ever recover, ever be close to me again – ever hold me like this. I went home and rang Theo. I was going to leave you, to go home. But as I spoke to him I realized I couldn’t. And when I went back to the hospital the next day and they told me there was the possibility that you could die – I realized I’d be nothing without you. My father could never mean