Free Breakdown by Katherine Amt Hanna Page A

had in weeks. He eased his legs over the edge of the bed, and saw a note on the chair, a small scrap of paper.
    “Decided to let you sleep!” it said with a little smiley face. Chris picked it up, his heart pounding, his hand shaking. He held it, stared at it. It looked a lot like Sophie’s handwriting. She used to leave him little notes with smiley faces on them. But then she would put an “S” inside a little heart. He sat holding the note for long minutes, blinking, then folded it up and left it on the bureau. He took his towel to the loo and had a wash and a shave. He changed out of the shorts and T-shirt he’d slept in. It hurt getting his shirt on and bending over to lace his shoes, and it made him cough. He went downstairs.
    Grace was arranging cutlery and plates on the kitchen table. “Good afternoon, Chris. Did you get some good sleep?”
    “Yes, thank you.”
    George’s wife was there, taking a dish out of the oven.
    “You didn’t meet Marie yesterday, did you?” Grace asked him.
    “Hello,” Marie said with a smile. She was small and dainty, with light-brown curly hair cut short, and glasses. “Pauline looked in on you, but you were sleeping so soundly she decided to leave you. You’re just in time for lunch.”
    “Can I help with anything?”
    “You can ring the bell to call them in,” Marie said. “Just outside the door. Give it a good jangle; that will get them in here.”
    Chris found the bell mounted on the wall beside the door and swung the cord back and forth a few times. He stood outside, breathing in the fresh air as deep as his aching ribs would allow, but then he had a coughing fit.
    “It doesn’t sound as bad today,” Pauline said, coming around the side of the house. She wore the same mucky clothes as the day before.
    “Definitely improving,” he agreed.
    She took hold of the handle of a pump next to a tub and worked it vigorously. The water came spurting out. “You were so asleep earlier, I didn’t want to wake you for breakfast. Especially since you didn’t sleep so well last night.” She peeled the brown jumper off over her head. She had another shirt on under it, tucked into her cords. She pushed up her sleeves and washed her hands and arms.
    “No, not a good night. Sorry about that.”
    “Don’t worry about it.” She grabbed a towel hanging on a hook, dried her hands, and rubbed it over her face. “I’ll get you a candle for tonight. Candles are cheaper than the oil.” She worked the pump again and put a bucket under it. When it was full, Chris reached for it. “Don’t even!” she scolded. “You’re resting, remember?”
    “I’m not exactly an invalid. I was unloading lorries the day before yesterday.”
    “Which is why you’re in the state you’re in.” She turned to keep the bucket out of Chris’s reach.
    George was coming across the yard from the barn. He grinned at Chris. “I wouldn’t bother to argue with her.”
    “Okay, I give up,” Chris said. He opened the door for Pauline and held it.
    “Thank you.” She smiled and went in, kicking off her wellies, as she had the day before.
    * * *
     
    Chris went up to the spare room after lunch, feeling guilty, like he was skiving, but his ribs ached, and Pauline wouldn’t let him do anything anyway. He lay back against the pillows, tried to relax. He thought about Pauline and Michael. She was a strong-willed, no-nonsense type, it seemed, and he wondered why she would let herself waste time with someone like Michael. It was clear she cared for him, in the way she asked about him, the disappointed look on her face when he had told her Michael had no plans to come when he was released. But maybe it was just leftover feelings from before, more worried friendship than anything else. For all he knew, there was someone else on the scene already, someone he and Michael didn’t yet know about. It would be interesting to find out. Chris let himself drift off into sleep.
    He was in London, standing by the old