We have to enter the terrace from the alleyway behind to avoid the cement steps leading to the front door. As I unlock the back gate, I hear the sound of paws on the paving stones in the courtyard next door. I grin to myself as I swing the gate open, and Lucien leaps through the opening in the fence from Mrs Wilkins’ yard and makes a beeline for Leo. He’s running so fast that his paws skid, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen his tail wag so hard.
Leo doesn’t say anything at all, even as Lucien leaps onto his lap and licks his face, which would normally earn a stern word or two. Lucien is so excited that he cannot sit still. After a minute or two, he settles enough to accept a pat and Leo rubs the dog’s back and his ears. He leans low so that their heads are close and I hear the surprisingly strained voice of my husband as he murmurs, ‘It’s good to see you too, buddy.’
And then Lucien loses his mind again, leaping off Leo’s lap to jump up against my thighs and then run around in circles in the tiny courtyard space, chasing his tail. Leo laughs quietly for a moment, and then glancing at me, says incredulously, ‘After everything you’ve been through in the last few weeks, it’s the sight of me holding the dog that makes you cry?’
‘I’ve cried plenty,’ I mutter, and wipe the tears away with the back of my hands. There’s another sound from the courtyard next door and then we hear Mrs Wilkins calling.
‘Leo? Leo, is that you?’
Mrs Wilkins’ cane appears through the gap in the fence, quickly followed by the rest of her. She clutches her spare hand to her chest in delight at the sight of Leo in our courtyard and makes a sprightly shuffle towards us.
‘Hi there, Mrs Wilkins.’
‘Welcome home, Leo! Oh, I’m so glad you’re all right. You gave us such a scare.’
‘I think I gave myself a scare this time too,’ Leo says, and Mrs Wilkins bends to kiss his cheek.
‘I didn’t know you were coming home today. I would have cooked for you.’
‘It’s just a visit,’ I tell her quietly. ‘I’ll let you know when his real homecoming is so you can bake him a feast.’
Mrs Wilkins smiles at me. ‘Come, Lucien! Let’s give these two some privacy.’
Lucien is still chasing his tail and panting now as if he’s going to collapse, but as soon as Mrs Wilkins indicates that he should follow her, he shoots one last look towards Leo and disappears with her through the fence. I walk to the back door and unlock it, and I wait for Leo to comment on the extensions.
‘Molly,’ Leo says suddenly, and cautiously. ‘Where is my motorbike?’
‘You sold it.’
‘Why would I sell it?’
‘Because your beautiful new wife wanted to extend the kitchen. And that meant there was nowhere to store it.’
‘Oh.’ I hear the disappointment in his voice.
‘It was your idea, you know,’ I said, frowning at him.
‘I hope you realise how much I loved that bike.’
‘Apparently you loved me more.’
‘I find that hard to believe,’ he mutters, and when I gasp at him, he laughs at me and raises his palms in mock surrender. ‘I’m kidding. I obviously do.’
‘Well, you did sell it voluntarily… but I could see you missed it, and then you loved me even more when I bought you a new bike for our first wedding anniversary. We keep it at a storage facility over in Surry Hills.’
‘What kind of bike is it?’
I pause and concentrate, trying to remember. ‘I think it’s a Ducati – maybe a pan – panimari? Something like that.’
‘A panigale?’
‘Probably.’
‘You’re right. I do love you even more now.’
‘That’s all it takes?’
‘Yep,’ Leo laughs, but quickly sobers and I wonder if he’s thinking about whether he’ll ever be able to ride it again. I force myself not to think about that. He and I rarely rode together, but every time we did, it was amazingly freeing. I loved trusting him like that, holding on and closing my eyes and letting the world fly past us.
I felt invincible on the back of Leo’s bike, because he seemed invincible. On some level, I still can’t quite believe that he is actually stuck in that wheelchair at all.
‘Come inside,’ I say as I swing the door open. I’ve already been through the ground floor with a tape measure, so I know his wheelchair is going to fit. Leo moves inside and I carefully step around him and flick the coffee machine on. When I turn back, his gaze is sweeping over the entirely new kitchen.
It was a difficult project – it took months to design and then even longer to complete. I was proud of the end result and the modern country look we’d achieved, with marbled bench tops and beautiful French doors on the cupboards. I was fairly sure Leo agreed at the time, but staring at him now, I’m starting to wonder if that was the case at all. I can see the tension in his upper body – the muscles of his shoulders are locked tense and there’s a vein pulsing in his neck.
‘You know, when we did this renovation, you told me you were cool with it,’ I frown at him. He tears his gaze from the kitchen to me.
‘I don’t care about the kitchen. I’m trying to understand what you just told me about the motorbike.’
‘I told you, we needed the space––’