swift cigarette wasn’t going to hurt and if it did, I’m not sure I’d mind so much.’
‘Nancy?’ I say, scared to repeat the name. It lingers in the air along with the trails of smoke.
Clive holds the cigarette vertically in front of his face, almost crossing his eyes a little, it’s so close. It’s as if he’s forgotten what it is and he’s having to examine it closer. In a rush he stubs it out, half-smoked, as if he recognises it’s poison.
‘Disgusting things. Haven’t had one for fifty years. I’m not sure what came over me.’
‘Did you want some breakfast?’ I say in an attempt to get us back to what we should be doing.
‘I’m okay for breakfast, but a coffee wouldn’t go amiss.’
I think we’ll both benefit from one. I shake my head before going back inside, trying not to dwell on what’s just happened.
We’re inside the warmth of Tess’s café as quick as possible and I notice there is a slight shuffle to Clive’s gait as if his left foot isn’t entirely willing to follow the right. It makes me wonder about his health and whether he’d be willing to tell me, a relative stranger, about how he is doing. I’m getting the impression that if there were any problems he wouldn’t be quick to report them. Or even notice them.
An idea occurs to me. I’m only supposed to take Clive’s vitals once a week for the trial, but I can increase it to daily to try to keep an eye on things. It will be a minor white lie to make sure he’s okay.
‘This is Tess,’ I say, when we reach the front of the queue.
‘Hello, Clive. I’m so glad you’ve made it.’ Tess skips round the counter to give Clive a quick hug. ‘Any time you need breakfast or a coffee, you just pop by.’
‘Ah, so you must be the lady who knows about our arrangement.’ Clive nudges her with his elbow in a completely unsubtle way.
I glance around wondering what anyone in hearing distance would make of the statement.
‘Indeed,’ Tess replies. ‘I’m Keisha’s friend, confidant and matchmaker as well as the best café owner she knows.’
‘Matchmaker you say?’ Clive raises an eyebrow. ‘Keisha never said.’
‘She’s having a short break. She’ll be back on the mission soon.’
‘Really? Well do let me know if I can be of any help. And I love this café. Perfect amount of décor.’ Clive gives the surroundings sweeping looks of admiration.
I wonder what assistance Clive thinks he can provide on the dating front. I can’t imagine he’d know anyone to send me on a blind date with.
After Tess provides us both with takeaway coffees, we head back to the university campus, rushing as much as we can to get there before the storm clouds break. It isn’t the route I regularly take, but I figure Clive needs to know the simplest path from A to B. We wander past a row of shops and takeaways and I figure this way has the advantage of more landmarks and people around to ask directions.
‘I’m sure you’re aware of this, but there’s no smoking anywhere in the research building.’ I blame Lucy for the way I approach health and safety at work. She needs everything explained to her as plainly as possible. I tend to apply it with everyone.
‘Don’t you be worrying about that. I haven’t smoked for over fifty years. I’m certainly not about to take up smoking again any time soon.’
‘But you just…’ I don’t complete my sentence, catching the blank look on Clive’s face. ‘When did you last have a cigarette then?’
‘I’ve not even had a cheeky puff since the sixties. Not even the good stuff.’ Clive smiles as he says it, proud of the achievement.
This truly confirms it. Clive is a ticking time bomb and I’ve brought him right into the centre of my world. The heavens start to open as if they know something is wrong.
What I’m witnessing is a glitch. A tiny slippage in his memory, and it makes me wonder… How many other moments does he have like this? How big can those slips be?
As we run in from the rain, I realise, if I wasn’t worrying before, now is the time to start. If the picture in Clive’s mind isn’t clear, maybe I need to find out what really happened to help make it clearer.
20
Clive
It had been a considerable time since Clive had worked for anyone, and in all his seventy-nine years, he’d never had a