The Three Rs by Ashe Barker Read Free Book Online Page B

emerge from the ladies. “Fancy a coffee? Or something to eat?”
    I thank him, and we head for the Costa section of the concourse. Cain gets us both a coffee and some sticky chocolaty concoction to share. He hands me a spoon. “Dig in. We’ve a way to go yet.”
    It’s heavy and decadent and absolutely delicious. We clear the plate between us. When he’s not being rude and confrontational, Cain Parrish can be very, very nice. If he continues to bribe me with chocolate, I could really get to like him.
    He offers me the choice of music to listen to on the drive so I rummage in the glove box and shove something by The Killers into the CD player. I recognize the picture of Brandon Flowers on the CD case, so that seems a safe bet. Still playing nicely, Cain nods his approval. We both have a sweet tooth and we share the same taste in music. It’s something to work with.
    I catch sight of the imposing Angel of the North—that awesome piece of outdoor art towering over the Tyne and Wear landscape—long before we actually get to it. From a distance the haunting outline of the Angel, arms or wings outstretched, is intriguing. Up close it’s simply stunning. I love art, in any form. This is the first time I’ve actually seen this particular masterpiece, I don’t want to just sail past.
    “Could we stop? I mean do we have time?”
    “Of course. We’ve made good time so far. And we’re in no hurry anyway.” Cain signals to pull off the motorway and follows the signs to a small parking area. The huge statue is in front of us, just rising up and up from the grassy mound alongside the road, almost as if it’s been planted in a field. There’s a path leading to it, and a gaggle of people strolling around. I grab my bag and open the van door. Cain says nothing, but there is a thud from his door closing so I know he’s coming too.
    Up close, the metalwork seems rusty, but I know this is what the artist intended. The real impact of this piece is gained from looking up at it. The ground slopes away downwards so I make my way to the foot of the hill, and turn to look back at the Angel. Moments later my sketchpad is out, and I’m seated on the ground, my pencil moving swiftly across the sheet as I draw the shape of the Angel silhouetted against the bright blue of the sky.
    “Most people would take a photograph.” His tone has no hint of impatience in it. Instead, he sits down beside me and slightly back so he can watch me drawing.
    “Not me. I like to draw.”
    “I can see that. You’re good at it.”
    “Thanks.”
    We sit in companionable silence while I finish my sketch. It’s a simple enough image, which is probably why it is so beautiful. It doesn’t take long. When I finish I pass the sketchpad to Cain for him to look at my picture.
    “Mmm, it’s good. Better than a photograph.”
    “It’s just different, that’s all. I prefer drawings. Later, I might copy it in watercolors.”
    “That’d be nice too.”
    I turn to grin at him. “Now you’re just being polite. You want to get off, don’t you?”
    He shrugs, smiling as he hands the sketchpad back to me. “When you’re ready. No rush.”
    Even so, I get to my feet and turn to him. He extends his hand, an invitation that I should pull him up too. I grin, admiring his cheek. And his optimism. I take his hand, and with some effort haul him to his feet. Laughing, we make our way back to the van.
    * * * *
    I don’t know Berwick at all so I’ve no idea where we should be headed. Still, I’m surprised when Cain maneuvers the van between the pillars of a large gateway and along a graveled drive lined with thick shrubbery. He parks in front of an imposing double-fronted house.
    “This doesn’t look like a builder’s yard. Why are we here? I thought you were going to drop me off at my new flat.” I turn to him, puzzled, but strangely I’m not alarmed by this unexpected turn of events. Cain might be intimidating, and on occasions rather too forceful for my