Her Melting Point

Walk the Walk

The next morning was a haze; but by lunchtime she managed to pull herself together. She made a few phone calls. By Wednesday she'd arranged two coffee dates with her former colleagues. She'd reached out to both of them on the pretence of potentially collaborating on an education project for a large teaching conference in Spring. Manoeuvring a conversation towards the desired topic wouldn't be a problem; Jackie had always been ace at that. One of them was a pleasant enough person; they used to be in an amicable, supportive working relationship. The person also had definitely disliked Gabe, which meant that, if they knew anything, they'd tell her. The second colleague had never been fond of Jackie, possibly jealous of her career achievements; which hopefully would ensure that they would gleefully share with her what her 'better half' had been up to.

She met up with the first one on Thursday, after work. Based on the promising information she'd gathered - it seemed that there was nothing tangible behind the allegations against him - she decided that sending Gabe the contact of the solicitor was safe; given she was extra careful to put nothing incriminating in writing. It was meant to simply gain her more time; she was certain he'd got the information already. On Friday, she once again headed to London to see the second person. The cab fees set her back about the cost of hiring a professional chauffeur.

When Tartufo woke her up demanding his brekkie on Saturday morning, she hid under the blanket.

"I don't want to go," she groaned, referring to the away football game Kestrels were playing. "I'm staying here."

She'd gotten about three hours of sleep the night before - and about the same on each night since Gabe's call. Eating had been even less of a concern; and now she felt absolutely wretched. Getting dressed and taking yet another cab - there was no way she'd survive a trip by coach at this stage - seemed like the most taxing of chores. Since Alexander's return from California, she hadn't missed a single game. To say that she loved watching him play would be an understatement. His large strong body leaping, darting, pouncing, and charging, made her giddy - and randy, loved-up, and embarrassingly smug. It was some sort of a purely primal, non-progressive proprietary pride of a partner to a healthy, powerful specimen. On the pitch, he was breathtaking - and he was all hers!

The cat scraped at her duvet. Jackie interpreted it as Tartufo giving her permission to skip the game as long as she fed him. She dragged herself to the kitchen and popped a tin open. The smell of salmon filled her nose, and she rushed to the bathroom. After a series of dry sharp heaves, pain slashing across her empty stomach, she slid down along the wall and dropped her head back. She allowed herself two minutes of silent crying and then forced herself to go back. Tartufo was peacefully eating straight from the tin. She decided to appreciate small mercies and plodded back to the bedroom. Before she passed out, she texted Alexander to wish him luck and to let him know she wasn't well and was staying home. His answer was predictably courteous and concise.

A re-energising nap didn't happen, despite all the nature sounds and sheep counting she'd thrown at her overtired brain. The thought of sitting down and pondering and strategising caused another bout of nausea. Every muscle and joint in her body aching, she got up; bundled up in two old thick jumpers, her favourite gilet, wellies, and a bobble hat; and pushed herself out of the cottage.

The weather was appropriately depressing: the sky was overcast, with heavy grey clouds; and a cold mizzle hung in the air. She skipped the path that led by the football fields, quickly dove off the road, into the thin shrubbery, crossed a pasture, and followed a game trail she'd discovered when exploring the area during her first month in Fleckney. Rain grew heavier, and Jackie shivered but continued plodding forward.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts - or more precisely, in her attempts not to think those thoughts - that she hadn't noticed the dog until it was already right in front of her. The canine was bouncing in that joyous manner that only very large, very young dogs had - and Jackie gasped and jerked her hands up, recoiling from the animal.