The Iceman. Jeff Edwards

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      Hand in hand and with Jason planted firmly on his father’s shoulders we were taken on a tour of the farm with Jason pointing excitedly to the animals and attempting to make the sounds to correspond with each. Tom brayed, mooed and clucked along with him and we all had a wonderful time.

      Still, for all his mooing and braying Tom was reluctant to actually come in physical contact with these beasts of the field and I knew that my man, coming as he did from the slums of Liverpool, would never wish to take on the mantle of farmer. I mentally crossed that career path off my list of future options.

      But there was something else that did occur to me and I believed that now was as good a time as any for me to pursue that option.

      ‘It’s Tuesday, isn’t it?’

      Tom looked at me. ‘Of course it is.’

      ‘Do you mind if I leave you and Jason here for the moment? I need to go into the village. I won’t be long.’

      ‘Going to catch up with an old lover, are you?’

      ‘Something like that,’ I laughed.

      ‘Okay, but make sure you come back. I don’t like the way that ram over there is eyeing me off.’

      I kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘Don’t fret. I’m not about to run off and leave you at the mercy of my father’s livestock. I’ll be back shortly.’

      ‘You’re not going to tell me what this is all about?’

      ‘It’s a surprise.’ I grinned. ‘It may not work out, so I’d prefer not to tell you right now. Trust me.’

      Leaving my nonplussed husband to be cross-examined by my mother, I drove out of the farm and headed toward the village, but instead of stopping there I continued on and followed the river bank until I reached the rowing club.

      Henswytch Rowing Club’s clubhouse had changed a great deal since its early days. The growing number of visitors and members had meant that the original building had undergone several extensions over the years. Each new part seemed to represent the era in which it had been added, giving the whole building a rambling, ramshackle appearance. The boathouse had doubled in size as well, but in this case the design had remained basically the same and had resulted in a more pleasing building to the eye.

      Along the river’s edge I could see signs posted at regular inter-vals. They showed a swimmer inside a crossed red circle and warned the unwary of the dangerous waters.

      As I parked my car I smiled at the familiar surroundings and wondered what sort of a reception I was about to receive.

      Chapter 3

      Jim Sutton

      T

      he untidy old man in his well-worn and much creased suit stepped onto the board. He took up the white knight and walked between the uninterrupted rank of pawns before depositing his load on the selected square.

      Opposite him, his equally ill-dressed opponent moved his black queen’s pawn one space forward, thereby opening up a gap in his row of pawns for his rook to break out onto the centre.

      Many storeys above them, the chessboard in the park opposite seemed almost normal size and even from this height I could recognise the opponents. Both had at one time been Middle European refugees and I had played them both several times. They were a pair of old warhorses and although I had managed to beat them both, the margins of wins over losses were very much in their favour. These were a pair of men who had played chess all their lives and the game had become second nature to them while I had come to the game only in adulthood. Matty had taught me.

      The thought of her brought a lump to my throat and I tried desperately to concentrate on the game below. I needed to clear my mind of everything else, but I knew that it was useless.

       My Matty! My Matty had cancer!

      The call from the doctor had come through only minutes before. He had confidently assured me that there was still hope of a full recovery. There was always hope, he insisted, and treatment would be started immediately. I accepted his reassurances but couldn’t bring myself to fully trust him. After all, I had placed my wife in his care for a simple broken leg. It wasn’t supposed to have come to this!

      It was all my fault of course. Matty had been at me for weeks to bring that box down from the attic. The announcement that our daughter was pregnant with our first grandchild had sent her on a mission to recover the past. ‘I want Allison’s baby photos down from the attic so that I can compare them with the baby when it arrives.’

      ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘It’s not as though it can’t be Allison’s. She’s the one carrying the child.’

      Matty had stood looking at me, legs apart, hands on hips, the very picture of tried patience. ‘Don’t try that foolish logic with me, Jim. Humour me and get the box down from the attic.’

      ‘Sure, love. I’ll do it as soon as I get back from my meeting.’

      I hadn’t done it, of course, and had also forgotten to do it the second time she asked.

      I was working in the garage when she appeared in the doorway and I could tell immediately what she was about to say, but she simply looked at me as I continued to plane away at the piece of timber resting in the vice and shook her head.

      I placed the plane down. I knew instantly that I was in trouble and went to follow her, but she called out to me as she turned to leave. ‘Don’t bother, Jim. Continue with what you’re doing. It looks important.’

      As every husband knows when you’re in this sort of situation, attempting to remedy the matter by insisting on doing the right thing is the very worst thing to try to do. Matty was determined to play the martyr and nothing I could do or say at this time would help the situation. At moments like this you let your woman do what she is determined to do and wait till later to make amends.

      Sheepishly I returned to my task, wondering what I would have to do to atone for my shortcomings.

      I had decided to take her out to a restaurant for dinner that evening and was feeling better about the situation when I heard Matty give a startled yell followed by the loud crash of a falling box and the dreadful sound of a body tumbling down the stairs.

      Rushing into the hallway I found Matty spread-eagled on the floor with a large cardboard box split open beside her and its contents scattered everywhere.

      My stomach dropped as I raced to Matty’s side. She groaned and attempted to sit up, emitting a piercing scream as she did so, before grabbing at her left leg.

      ‘Lie still!’ I ordered, kneeling by her side and trying to find where her leg was injured.

      She yelled again at my touch. ‘Get your clumsy hands off me and call an ambulance.’

      ‘Are you all right?’ I asked stupidly.

      ‘No! СКАЧАТЬ