Bumping Uglies

Chapter Twenty Four

My thigh ached with a dull, pulsing pain. It was as if a tiny hand were buried deep within the sinews of my leg, squeezing a bundle of nerves every couple of seconds.

It was going to rain.

As handy as it was to have a meteorologically-psychic wound, I think I preferred it when the first indication I had of impending rain was getting wet.

Still, we can't undo the past, can we?

I lay on my back watching through the skylight as the clouds roiled overhead and the first droplets spattered onto the glass. I suspected that E. L. James hadn't spent much time in the Midlands; we have far more than fifty shades of grey in our rainclouds alone.

I had been lying awake for some time, listening to the mid-autumn dawn chorus and processing my thoughts and feelings. I really should have been thinking about the case and the possibility that we would find Richard later that morning, but I wasn't.

Instead I was trying to come to terms with the root of what I felt for both Sophie and Elira.

Sophie was easy. I had known for a while that I liked her. Really liked her. It could well be love if it weren't for the nagging sensation of there being something vaguely wrong about her behaviour. It was certainly enough to cloud my judgement in matters pertaining to the case.

Elira was a harder nut to crack, and, in fairness, she had actually cracked my nuts. I felt something for her, and I was adamant that she should not be exposed to any more danger or pain from this whole business. But, in my heart-of-hearts, what I felt towards her was a sense of obligation and a kind of fraternal love, which, given the things that we had done, made me worry in a different way.

I yawned and stretched; twisting and wriggling but trying not to disturb Sophie who slept on her side facing away from me.

I needed to sweat, and to think.

I pulled on shorts, an old Megadeth T-shirt whose blacks had long since washed to dark grey and a pair of battered trainers before heading out into the rain.

I used to run a little and work out with weights a little more. Now I found that jobs around the farm catered for most of my exercise needs and the wound in my leg prevented me from running without pain.

This time I ran with the pain for a mile or so, though jogged would be a more accurate description. I went out of the farm, through the village of Pebble Deeping and onto a narrow country lane lined with hedges taller than me.

I was sucking wind and grimacing through the little jolts of fire in my thigh and the wound on my side alike. I clambered over a style and up a hillside that was dotted with small jagged rocks and the dark shapes of cowpats lurking treacherously in the long verdant grass.

The rain picked up a little, and as I reached the crest of the hill I stopped and stood for a while to let it wash over me while I gasped down air.

I was acutely aware that I had no one that I could talk to about any of this situation that I found myself in.

Ty was not the kind of guy you could bare your soul to. Priya had got me into this mess in the first place and would most likely laugh. Sam, well, Sam was a great guy but crustier than yesterday's toast.

The person I needed was Mary, my sister, and she was dead.

I lay down in the long, wet grass and began a torturously slow circuit of press-ups, crunches and plank variations. Sweat streamed off me and mixed with the rain. I may have begun to steam a little in the cool air.

By the time I collapsed, panting, and lay still on the hilltop I had come to a resolution.

I would see this case through to its conclusion. I would find Richard and get the evidence to close The Tunnel of Love. I might even be able to retain my reputation and all of my limbs in the process.