thwarting the mongrel’s bid for friendship. Then he cycled three times clockwise around the square, but she had gone home and who could blame her? He should have had more sense than to abandon her. It had been the biggest mistake of his life, and even then he’d thought so. Matlock could have waited, such a place there forever, so what had driven him to go on alone?
As more rain came he only hoped, though it was hardly a help, that she had set off home a few minutes after he had left. Working hard on piece work at the clothing factory, the fourteen miles to Ripley had worn her out. It was a marvel she had got even that far. He should have put his arms around her on hearing she couldn’t go on: ‘I can’t stand the thought of biking all that way, either. Let’s go back together.’ He ought to have cared for her as he liked to be looked after when exhausted and miserable – though he couldn’t remember a time when he had been. They should have cycled happily homewards, stopping at a cafe?in Eastwood for something to eat so that she would have enough energy to go on pedalling.
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