upcycler, me! I’ve always purchased clothes second-hand and I’ve saved myself a fortune and a lot of waste in the process.’ Clive thought about his favourite item of clothing. ‘I have a sewing machine at home, and over the years I’ve become very adept at making alterations. I only wish I was able to make another jacket like my patchwork one.’ He was wearing a lighter pale-blue jacket at the moment, the patchwork one too thick to wear in the lab and in need of a trip to the dry cleaner’s after its stint in hospital.
Keisha looked at him in that strange, thoughtful way. His example probably wasn’t quirky enough. It wasn’t exactly a serious revelation, not one to help unlock the truth of her pulse-taking routine.
‘Are your pants second-hand too?’ she asked, her face creasing with the question.
‘Ah, you’ve got me. Pants, socks and vests are my only exception and only ever Marks and Spencer. But anything other than the base-layer clothing has been second-hand.’
‘And when did that start? What made you decide to always buy clothes to recondition?’
‘I think it stems from the era I was born in. We were coming out of a war where resources had been limited. It meant we always made the best of what we had. If clothes were beyond repair then they would find another purpose. They’d become tea towels or rags or furniture covers. They should put rations in place again at some point. There are a lot of skills to be gained from not having everything you desire at your fingertips.’
She finally looked satisfied. ‘I take my pulse because I find it reassuring. It’s something I often desire to have at my fingertips.’ Keisha clutched her wrist to her body. ‘I know you’re trying to be helpful, but you need to understand it’s not a problem to solve. I know it’s unusual, but there’s nothing wrong with that. There are all sorts of things going on in the world that need fixing. Me taking my pulse isn’t one of them.’
Clive nodded, helping himself to a second cookie at the same time. ‘My apologies. I was just being curious. I figured there was more to it.’
He knew there was, but he also knew that was a wall that wasn’t about to move with just a gentle nudge.
Later, once Keisha had left, Clive had another night of trying to amuse himself. The expected insomnia had set in. After his first stint of decent sleep, he’d not had a great one since. All this space and time to think wasn’t a good thing.
After Keisha went home, the evenings stretched out in a long and never-ending fashion. He’d taken it upon himself to carry out an activity each night to try to fill the time. Sadly, the resources for such attempts were limited, and he was restricted to the areas where he wouldn’t end up attracting the attention of the security staff. One evening he’d given all the mugs a proper rinse with bleach to get rid of all the tea stains. On another he’d taken it upon himself to deep clean all the gym equipment. When he found the label maker he had great fun making up motivational notices to counter all the instructions about the place.
Clive would freely admit that Keisha not noticing these changes was disappointing. He thought she’d be very quick to pick up on any differences. But apparently Smile, it costs nothing branded on the fridge wasn’t slogan enough to get her attention, not even the hoped-for smile.
Now on his fifth night, Clive was running out of things to do. Organising the desk drawers seemed like a good idea and, because he wasn’t in someone’s home, it didn’t feel like prying. He wasn’t doing it in the hope of learning more about Keisha. Not when all he was moving about were staplers, hole punches and sharpeners.
It wasn’t even a mess, to be fair, but once he’d started Clive decided the inside was gathering dust and it would do the drawer some good to have a clean. It made him feel useful. He guessed it was the kind of task Keisha wouldn’t normally find time for, and while he was living in limbo it gave him something to do.
It was when he removed the organiser tray that he found them… Keys.
He’d been of the understanding that the only spare set to the lab were with Lucy and Keisha hadn’t wanted to ask for them. The idea had been that while