Four Daysby Jamie Campbell

A Goodreads Extract

(a Luci Wijn Novel)

Copyright 2015 Eltham Press

All rights reserved. No part of this book or its cover may be reproduced, stored in a retrievalsystem, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or

otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who mayquote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to events (past of future), orpersons (living or dead) are coincidental.

[Queens English version]

CONTENTS

SATURDAYShe looked lovely

SUNDAYLeaving ValettaI woke when we stopped InWe walked

MONDAYThree roadsCan we go backOnce a weekTrafficI ledIt's always windy hereWe made itYou'll need to run

TUESDAYI knew he was goneThe streets melted

SATURDAY...

She looked lovely...

SUNDAY

Leaving Valetta...

I woke when we stopped at a town called Culverden.When you run do you run for distance or for time?Distance, I said. Why have we stopped?Lunch time, and I need a stretch. I didn't mean to wake you.He hadn't. The change from open road to town had lightened my sleep, and the

change from road to car park had ended it. I returned my seat to the upright position as Jimmy got out. My shirt had ridden up and my midriff had been exposed for some time.I didn't mind. I worked hard to keep fit and I worked hard for my core strength. Besides, Jimmy didn't seem to notice.

By the time I got out he had opened the canopy and the tailgate.There's a running circuit up the road.O.K.There's shops also, for lunch or you can grab one of these. He tossed a bar at

me, wrapped in bright foil cranberry flavoured. They're all right. There's flax seed too.

I looked at the ingredient list. They were as he said, all right. I smiled and started unwrapping it. I wanted to give a non-verbal answer, I wanted not to be a bitch, and I wanted not to be hard work. Beyond us the car park was empty save for one other ute. The sun, now directly above, baked the asphalt; sending up waves of heat. Beyond was a grassed area, as brown as old leather, and beyond that came field after field (all equally brown); then a range of parched hills that ran from the horizon on one side to the horizon on the other. Jimmy stood beside me as I looked out over it all.

Where are all the people? I asked.Probably in the shade.Are we still in Canterbury?Kind of. North Canterbury. The Maori called this place Amuri.There must have been four kilometres of farm fields leading to the hills; but I saw

no-one. In Flanders there would have been thousands and thousands of people living in an area the size of Amuri. Besides Jimmy, I was alone yet behind me were shops.

It's a tourist area, said Jimmy, reading my mind. There's a really good hot springs just up the road, and a ski field a bit further on.

How do you cope with it? I asked. With the quiet?You learn to be quiet too I guess. He took another bite of his flax seed bar, and

chewed on it. I watched him, tall against the blue sky; his eyes as brown as the landscape. He looked at me and smiled. Not quite Flanders is it.

No, I said. Not at all like Flanders.By the time I thought about asking him if he had been to Flanders the moment had

gone. I regretted not thinking of it in time, not taking the chance to see if there was a link between he and I. Instead I took some photographs with my phone; and tried hard to ignore the missed call and missed text icons. Jimmy even offered to take one of me against the hills as background; but I declined. Then I regretted letting another chance to connect pass me by.

What do the Maori call this place again? I asked. Amuri. I hadn't forgotten I just wanted to hear the name spoken again.Amuri, I said, sounding the word aloud.I liked the sound of that Maori name. I liked how it flowed. I liked how the word

felt. People think that Flemish is simply the same as Dutch but it's not. To me Flemish is as smooth as Dutch is rough. Amuri. The word sounded so simply pleasant.

We didn't linger long in Culverden, and were soon back on the road and heading forthe promised running circuit; although when we arrived - it wasn't at all what I expected. We parked about ten minutes on from Culverden, in a landscaped area tuckedinto the elbow of a road junction. Jimmy parked as far off the road as he could; right in close to a row of low trees to take as much shade as he could. The road to Hanmer Springs went left, and the Road to Waiau went straight ahead. Waiau. Another name as smooth as Amuri.

There's a link road; forms a triangle, said Jimmy. It's a touch over 10 k all the way around.

So we are running on the roads? Jimmy nodded his reply. I wondered why I had expected this quiet Amuri valley to have an actual running track. O.K.

Ten kilometres was more than I would normally do this close to a tournament; but with a long drive a possibility I didn't mind. I also wasn't yet over my convoluted flight to New Zealand. It didn't help that in searching for the cheapest possible fare I had endured transit lounges and long layovers. Normally I would have gone for a post flightrun as soon as I could but Shannon's wedding didn't allow for it. If anything I needed a good long run; I needed to blow out the cobwebs (as Shannon would have said).

Jimmy sat on the ute's tailgate to change into his running shoes. I sat next to him for mine. When he stood I stood. He offered me sunblock. I shook my head. He persisted, holding the bottle out for me. I squirted some into his hands for him; then some into mine and rubbed it onto my arms and face. Jimmy discarded his track pants for the running shorts he wore underneath.

There's something about Mary, he said. Looking at me.Who?He nodded towards my face. Why talk when you could point? Why point when

you could nod? I moved to the side of the canopy so that its window would be my

mirror. I had a glob of sunblock on my temple. I rubbed it into my forehead then took off my t-shirt. Shoes, shorts, and sports bra would be all I needed I'm not exactly overendowed; and it was hot. Besides, what was the point of having the sun and not enjoying it?

Two tickets to the gun show please?What gun show? I asked.You really don't watch many movies do you?I work hard, I said, and flexed my muscles for effect. Who has time for the

cinema?Jimmy picked up the sunscreen bottle and handed it to me again. I shook my head.

He asked me about the worst case of sunburn I could remember.None especially, I said.You'll remember this one if you don't put some more of this stuff on. Even in the

shade the heat was as much as a New York summer. Whatever clouds had started the day were long gone; and the roads were shafts of heat haze heading off into the distance.

O.K. I rubbed the lotion into my midriff as best I could; then resealed the bottle. Happy now?

Yes, said Jimmy. Are those muscles for show or go? They are not for show, I said.Let's find out then.Jimmy closed up the canopy and locked it then tied the ute's key to the draw

string of his running shorts. Then we ran. I hadn't expected Jimmy to be able to hang with me during the run; but he was still there when we turned off the Hanmer road and onto the hypotenuse of our triangle of roads. I picked up the pace.

We can run along the centre line if you like, he said. It's a quieter road.The Hanmer road hadn't exactly been busy. In three kilometres we had seen maybe

ten cars.Why?The camber, said Jimmy. The road's flatter in the middle. Easier on the knees

and hips.I smiled. I had to. We were running at a solid pace and he was chatting to me.You can if you want old man; but I'm O.K. here, I said.I picked my pace up again, not just one notch, but two. That would sort him and

his knees out. As I ran off I saw him in the corner of my eye as he angled out to the middle of the road. Then he was lost to me. I figured that I would run maybe a kilometre at this pace before slowing to allow him to catch me. I even had a landmark picked out where I would slow down.

Then he caught up to me; smiling and running down the very centre of the road. Ilooked at him and scowled. I would have to show him now. I eased into a faster stride; but the appetite grew with the eating and as Jimmy matched me I found myself

sprinting for all I was worth. I had in mind forty metres, maybe fifty that would be enough. That would have to be enough. I sucked in as much air as I could, hot air, dry air; and pumped my arms and legs as fast as I could. Jimmy did the same; at least he did until he simply buried me.

I forced myself to hang with him for as long as I could. I forced myself to run another ten meters, another twenty, thirty even. Then I gave up. I had to. It was as if I was standing still. It was as if his efforts were effortless. My lungs were burning, my legs felt like failed elastic. My whole body ached with oxygen debt. My hands were onmy knees by the time Jimmy jogged back to me. I raised my head to look at him, and saw nothing but stars.

Stand up straight, he said, through sharp breaths. Mountain Pose.I did as he said.Deep breaths... Like me.He stood in front of me, close enough to touch. Covered too in sweat. I could feel

his heat. Smell his sweat.Shoulders back... Hands on hips.They werent commands; but I acted as if I had been commanded. I wondered why.Keep your breaths... As deep as you can.I mirrored everything he did. After thirty or so breaths I felt as though I would be

able to keep standing. I tried to smile between breaths; and he tried as well.By standing up... You get more air... Into your lungs.I nodded. After a minute or so I felt able to continue. He said something, but I

missed it. Did he call me stubborn? We jogged off, slowly. He told me that I should never put my hands on my knees; no matter how knackered (his word) I was.

You are quite fast for a farmer, I said.That? He pointed back over his shoulder with his thumb. I know heaps of

farmers that can do that. Then he pointed towards the centre line of the road. Can we?

O.K. old man. I don't want to hurt your knees.Hips, he said. And there's something you should know.What?I read your Wikipedia entry. We're the same age. Google. The ultimate invasion

of privacy. An unstoppable invasion of privacy. He would know my history at least my history as far as Wikipedia went (which was thankfully not far, not with my ranking). There's something else.

What?When you were asleep someone called Piet called you like five times... So I

answered it.You did what?I answered it. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. What does godverdomme

mean?

I scowled. I stopped. He stopped. This man, this man I hardly knew had talked to Piet. No wonder Piet had sworn at him. Then Jimmy smiled. But when I didn't smile back uncertainty came across his face. I didn't really answer... Sorry. It was a bad joke.

After Shannon told you not to be a dick.I know, I'm sorry it's a gift. He shrugged. His eyes were so brown. I wondered

if he knew I had noticed them; and then I realised he was still afraid of my reaction.Godverdomme Jimmy, I said and I realised it was the first time I had used his

name. He still looked worried though. I smiled, then as he smiled I whacked him on his arm with the back of my hand. When I ran off he ran after me. At first I was relieved that it had been a joke that Piet didn't know about Jimmy. Then I realised thatJimmy's sweat was on the back of my hand and that its evaporation caused a chill. I began to enjoy the fact that I had touched him; and that the chill on my hand was a memento of that touch.

I didn't try to run away from Jimmy; I ran so that we would soon be running together so that we would run together. And when he caught up with me we ran eitherside of the centreline; a gentle pace, a warm-down pace that helped my sweat cool me. I remembered the morning back at Valetta, and standing at the open window with the cool night air caressing me. I could see in my mind's eye the shapes of the men walkingacross the field; and that the tallest of them was Jimmy. If Piet had known that I was running with Jimmy (in my sports bra) then maybe he would have sworn; and maybe hewould have had good reason to swear.

Jimmy? We were back at the ute and doing our post run stretches against the opened tail gate. Having used his name once I wanted to use it again. What time is it?

Four.What field is the tennis court in? I meant it as a joke a tennis court in a field.

But Jimmy took my question seriously, and I guessed that he did so because he thought that I had used the word field in error. Or maybe he was scared of further jokes becauseof my reaction out on the road.

Here's the thing. We passed the one I had in mind this morning. I didn't answer. The trepidation he wore with his failed joke came back across him. Pretty sure there's one up ahead.

Pretty sure?Better find out I guess. How long of a hit out do you want?An hour. If you're up to it.Jimmy smiled at my taunt. If he was half as good at tennis as he was at running I

would get the hit-out I wanted. We closed up the tail gate and the canopy (I felt confident enough to help with the latches). He didn't say anything when I helped. If I had to choose a word for him I would have said reserved, or maybe hidden; perhaps even uncertain (the more I thought about his failed joke the more the last word seemed

to fit). What was clear was that I had no idea of what he thought of me.I didn't want him to think of me as a bitch; although when I shook his hand at the

airport he probably thought I was. I also didn't want him to think I was hard work or worse, a combination of the two. I especially didn't want him to think I was the sort of woman (and I did want him to think of me as a woman, rather than a girl) who wore a sodden and practically see-through sports bra in front of a man I hardly knew; and for that reason I put my T-shirt back on.

The next town was soon upon us if anything it was smaller than the last. Jimmy turned to me as he drove us down the sparse main street. I had thought that he was going to try and explain the absence of the promised tennis court. Instead he asked me to do him a favour.

Sure, I said.Do you think you can call me James? As soon as the words were out of his

mouth he turned his eyes back to the road ahead and reaffirmed his grip on the steering wheel.

If you like.It's just-- I told him he didn't need to explain. But he did anyway. It's just that

Jimmy is the name I had as a child.I am happy to call you James. I wasn't, not really. I had only called him Jimmy

twice and now he was taking that intimacy away from me.We didn't talk after that. He concentrated on his driving; and I simply looked out of

my window. I'm not normally a very good tourist. I don't normally show an interest in land forms or scenery. As we drove I began to wonder why. I guessed that partly it wasbecause I either flew and saw nothing; or took familiar trains through Europe to familiarcities. Even I noticed that this Amuri was different from anything I had seen; and even Inoticed that in the last few kilometres the Amuri valley had changed. The hills were gone and in their place a broad braided river had risen from the land. Mostly its channels looked as if they had been carved hundreds of years ago by an ancient flood that had come once but never returned; leaving nothing but an endless convoluted arrangement of river stones.

I couldn't imagine this place ever seeing rain. I couldn't imagine the river bed ever justifying its width. When I looked back at Jimmy (I couldn't think of him as James) hiseyes were resolutely ahead and his jaw set as if driving on this dead straight and ridiculously quiet road required utter dedication. I couldn't imagine this man ever beingstraight forward. He had been utterly confident when he directed me to stand up straight and fight to control my breathing - and his confidence had grabbed me. Yet he had been so utterly lost when his joke failed. Now he looked as out of place as the riverwe were following.

It's not fair you know.Why's that? he asked.You've googled me but it's not like I can google James Smith.

You could, he said. But I'm not a Smith. My last name is Bell.I looked back at the river. I had toyed with the idea of googling Jimmy Smith so as

to be even with him; but wondered at the point of it. Now I had to acknowledge that such a search would have been the very definition of pointless. I sighed, and hoped thatmaybe he had heard my sigh over the sound of the road. Then I rested my head against the seatbelt as I had that morning; and let the rhythm of the road flow through me.

You are the one that is hard work, I said.My shirt had ridden up again, but this time I pulled it back down.We're here, he said.A large roadside sign proclaimed Welcome to Waiau. I sat up to look as the road

hooked around towards the river and lined up to cross it on a very long and very narrow single lane bridge. We slowed as we crossed the bridge and I wound down my window to lean out and get as good a view as I could of this twisted and needless river. The bridge must have been four or five hundred metres long and bridged mostly dry gravel. At the far end, the very far end, came a single run of water maybe five metres wide. As the bridge ended I pulled myself back from the window and faced forward.

Welcome to Waiau, he said, as we turned on to the town's main street. He looked at me; for the first time as James Bell. I looked back at him, and into the depths of eyes much deeper than any river Amuri had to offer.

I need to pee, I said.

In, I said....

We walked...

MONDAY

Three roads met at Waiau...

Can we go back...

Once a week...

Traffic...

I led. James let me....

It's always windy here...

We made it...

You'll need to run...

TUESDAY

I knew he was gone...

The streets melted...

End Matter

Thank you for reading this preview. If you want to find out more about Luci and James then follow the Goodreads links to your favourite e-book supplier.

Thanks.Jamie Campbell.