A Hand In the Bush by Jane Clifton

Author:Jane Clifton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, mystery, detective
ISBN: 9781921921667
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Published: 2012-04-02T00:00:00+00:00

Decca awoke with a gasp, her back arched and one arm trapped beneath her. Turning slowly before pulling her shoulders up onto both pillows, she saw that her bedroom was filled with light. The bedside clock read 10.15. Saturday, she thought, it must be Saturday.

Her pulse slowly returned to normal, while the cast from her nightmare slowly shuffled from the stage, dragging sets, props, masks and costumes behind them, until, at last, she felt ready to get out of bed.

Coffee or bike? Both had their charms. The bike, however, would help to rinse the poison from her blood, while the coffee would just up the ante. She reached for her lycras and headed for the bathroom.

Red-rimmed eyes loomed back at her from the mirror. She splashed water on her face, cleaned her teeth, brushed her hair back into a low ponytail, then pulled on the gear.

Mid-morning sunshine was not enough to ease the winter chill. The ocean was still and almost navy blue beneath the cloudless sky. A heady mix of wrack and saltbush filled her nostrils as she clamped her shoes into the pedals and pushed off.

The ride was hard work. Not only had the night before taken its toll, but there were too many people around at this hour. Decca had to slow down every few metres to give way to women with prams, men with dogs, toddlers with balls, boys on skateboards, weekend joggers in expensive footwear, chainsmoking fishermen. It was so busy even the pelicans had opted for the tops of light poles.

She set her teeth in grim determination, and, when the Timeball Tower came into view, she was dripping with sweat. Bye-bye wine, bye-bye whisky, bye-bye Vernon Giles, she thought. One more loop towards the Titanic, then home. She had never wanted a coffee so badly.

A small pop from the back tyre sent her swerving across the track before she lost control and fell onto the grassy verge in a tangle of spokes, shoes still clipped to the pedals.

How long had it been since she’d had a puncture? There was always a scatter of glass and nails on this stretch of path, but she had long since stopped carrying a repair kit. Bugger! She’d have to walk the rest of the way.

Decca unclipped the shoes, untangled herself from the bike and rubbed her shins. Her left wrist and elbow had taken most of the fall, but the frame had crunched her legs as she hit the ground. She felt ridiculous, but grateful there were no witnesses; weekenders tended to avoid the back way into Nelson Place.

She stood up slowly, took off her helmet and ran her hands through her damp hair, before lifting the bike. With the front wheel between her legs Decca twisted the handlebars back into alignment as best she could before considering her next move.

A nearby cafe beckoned. Her bike shoes didn’t make for normal walking, but she could sit outside, or get a takeaway.

She pushed the bike along the track, feeling as banged up as if she’d been hit by a truck.

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