Without A Song

Chapter Twelve: Good company

I almost blurted 'Bloody hell Casey, I've only known her for three weeks yet she haunts both my sleeping and waking moments,' but I didn't.

"Casey, I can't shake her out of my mind, not that I want to either, I just feel lost without her."

Casey laughed, "If it's any consolation, she feels the same way about you. She's said as much this weekend. She's animated when we talk of you, she's been asking all sorts of questions. When she goes quiet I can almost see her looking at you. You'd better sort things out quick and come back, otherwise she'll move in with us until you do."

"I'll do what I can Casey. Please, can I ask you a big favour? Can you find out her shift pattern for the next two weeks? When I return I want to try to spend as much time as possible with her."

Without pause Casey, "Yes, no problem and you can let us know officially and unofficially what's going on. As you know, there are ways that the company can help, even out here. You may have to stay up the hill a bit longer to pay off your debts though."

Again the laughter.

"Casey, I don't know what I'd have done without you. If you can get a message to Nicole saying I'm thinking of her it would be just great. Please thank Mark and Ben again and I'll call you as soon as I know what's happening. Love to all."

"Will do Stephen. Just get back as soon as the time is right. Byeeee."

I put the receiver back in its cradle and wandered back into the living room.

Leanne poured me a large brandy. "You in need of this?"

"Yes and no." I replied. "I'm feeling a bit distant, a bit broken, a bit lost and a tad frustrated. I don't know what to do next." I took the brandy and poured it down my throat.

Rupert refilled my glass. "So Stephen, this mess aside, how is life in Saudi?"

We spent the evening talking, playing board games and broke open a new bottle of Talisker single malt whisky I'd bought in duty free. Talisker is a dark, single malt whisky from the Isle of Skye. I like good malt whisky and for me, this is one of the best. Much darker and meaner than many of its rivals, its brooding soul belies its origins. Never to be taken lightly this one, its strong peaty taste soothes away all of life's troubles. An old friend to me was this malt and you met old friends with respect. It was after midnight when I got to bed, much comforted and warmed to the very soul. I hadn't told them about Nicole.

Somewhere between bed and the morning the last three weeks shuffled in and out of my dreams. Rupert's email, my lousy radio show, getting sodden drunk and the business at the pool. Nicole, Ben and Casey, the whole whirlwind organisation to come home and seeing Terri again in Dernewell. My dreams gave way to Sue, Paul, Maddy and back to blaming Sue for what must be the beginning of the inevitable end to my connection with Old Dereham. Whatever the outcome of my current visit home one thing was for sure, it would never be the same again. I was all set on divorcing my wife, changing allegiances to Nicole until my mother's voice invaded my thoughts.

"Stephen, always wait and make sure situations are dead before setting off on another adventure. You can do so much damage otherwise."

Is what I was doing? Is it just a new adventure, an opportunity to slip away because my marriage to Sue had hit an iceberg? Was I distancing myself from Sue on purpose? If so I could hardly go much further than back to Australia or up into the heights of the Arabian Escarpment.

When the pale light of dawn crept through the fierce dusting of dew on my windows I was still troubled from a sleepless night. Forcing myself, I dressed and made my way to the kitchen. It was deserted, there was no one else about. Of course not, it was Friday and Rupert would be at work, there would only be Leanne and Patricia somewhere about the house. It was eight o'clock here but eleven o'clock in Saudi and I chastised myself for oversleeping. Outside the mill house cold blue skies scattered high clouds across a clearing sky, promising warmth later but it would not be the warmth that I was used to. These unfamiliar surroundings weren't mine, the silence was unrecognisable. I was used to music from somewhere, anywhere. Before I'd left Akhbar I'd scripted an hour of Christian music to be played on alternate Friday's radio shows while I was away. The scripts took the form of an Anglican Communion service and would be hosted by Eric Morson from the American home church while I was in England. Bernie Sellas was sitting in for me on the weekday radio shows so either way, all the good information would continue to be put on the airwaves, albeit in an unfamiliar style.