The Dinosaur Feather

want to live without you. I can’t live without you. I’ll change. I’ll never hit you again. I’ll put it right with the children. Take me back, please. I’ll try harder. I promise.’ Clive struggled to hold on to the handset; the wind seemed to change direction, it started blowing directly at his back and the hand which held the telephone. His telephone card counted down. There was silence down the other end.
    ‘Kay?’
    ‘Call me tonight, my friend,’ she said, suddenly sounding tender. ‘I can’t talk now. I’m going out with Annabel. But tonight I’ll be . . . in our house. You can call me then.’ She hung up.
    A flash of jubilation exploded in his chest. It wasn’t too late! Kay loved him!
    He went back to the hotel. Michael had left three messages. Clive left one for him. If he didn’t get the meaning of that one, he had to be an idiot. He went to his room and switched on his computer. He wanted to book a trip for Kay. She hadnever been across the Atlantic and had often mentioned how much she would like to see Paris. It was sixteen degrees Celsius in Paris. Autumnal, but nothing like the raw cold that dominated Copenhagen. He checked flight departures and began to plan. There was a departure from Vancouver, via Seattle, over London and onwards to Copenhagen the next day at 1.20 p.m., arriving at Copenhagen Tuesday morning at 6.20 a.m. Clive could meet Kay here and together they could fly on to Paris at 12.35 p.m. He paid for the ticket with his credit card. Almost two thousand Canadian dollars for a return flight. It was a lot of money. But then he remembered that he hadn’t bought Kay a present for their silver wedding anniversary. He also remembered that he didn’t want to be alone. He tried to call her at Franz’s, but no one answered. He imagined she would like some time to pack. Soon afterwards he fell asleep. He slept heavily and only surfaced a couple of times, when the telephone in his room rang angrily, but he slipped back to sleep the moment it stopped. At first, he dreamt about Helland, about Kay, about the boys, about Michael and Tybjerg. They all apologised to him. The dream changed and became about Jack. Jack stood close to him, smiling, as he said something. Clive couldn’t hear what it was because there was music playing. Clive asked Jack to repeat himself, but when he did, Clive could still not hear it. Suddenly, Clive realised that Jack’s face was that of a child. He was as tall as a grown man and wearing a grown man’s trousers and thin sweater, but his face was a boy’s; the sharp upper lip, which had pointed at Clive for nearly forty years, his eyes filled with a child’s admiration. Clive’s groin throbbed. Jack smiled and nothing felt wrong.You’re allowed, Jack said. The music had stopped. It was very quiet. Clive knelt in front of Jack and carefully pulled his trousers down over his slim hips.
    Clive woke up with a start and sat bolt upright in the bed. He was dripping with sweat. He dried himself furiously with a towel and tried to rub away the stains on the sheet. His watch on the bedside table glowed fluorescent green. The alarm would soon go off to remind him to call Kay. Clive showered and when he sat, clean and refreshed, in the chair by the telephone, he called Kay. She answered after four rings.
    ‘Hi,’ she said gently. ‘I’m glad you called.’
    Clive breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to be alone.
    ‘Do you know what you’re doing tomorrow?’ he said.
    ‘Looking after Annabel. She has tonsillitis,’ Kay replied.
    ‘No, you’re going to Paris!’
    ‘Paris?’
    ‘Yes, I’ve bought you a ticket. If you check your e-mail, you’ll see. Your flight leaves tomorrow afternoon at 1.15 p.m. from Vancouver, via Seattle and London, and on from there to Copenhagen. I’ll meet you at the airport, and we’ll fly to Paris together.’ There was silence down the other end.
    ‘I can’t.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ Clive was flabbergasted.
    ‘I can’t. I’ve plans tomorrow.’
    ‘But I’ve already bought the ticket,’ Clive protested.
    ‘You should have checked with me first.’
    ‘Can’t you cancel your plans? What are you doing, anyway? You can look after Annabel some other time.’
    Pause.
    ‘Kay?’ he said.
    ‘I don’t want to,’ Kay said quietly. ‘You should have checked with me first. I want to go to Paris, but I’m looking after Annabel tomorrow. It’s important to me. She’s looking forward to it. You should