New Lease of Life by Lillian Francis Page B

again.
    Blearily Pip pushed himself up onto his elbow and then keyed in the code to wake his phone. The sleeping phone flared to life, revealing a photo of a bear wrapped up in a duvet. Colby’s teddy bear. Tucked up in Colby’s bed. On a whim he didn’t question or attempt to examine too closely, Pip saved the photo and set it as Colby’s alert.
    A horrendous banging noise started up from downstairs. That’s what had ripped him from sleep. Surely it was far too early for someone to be hammering on his door. Although, distracted by the bear, Pip still hadn’t checked the time. There was something he’d intended to do today, first thing and as a matter of urgency. Damned if he could remember what it was, though, not with his head still groggy from sleep. He rolled over, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he groped for the crutch on the floor and came up empty-handed. Blinking away the film over his eyes that turned everything into a children’s kaleidoscope, Pip noticed the intricately carved handle of the walking stick. Ah yes, Colby’s stick.
    Pip pushed himself up and swung his legs out of bed, reaching for the stick before easing himself to his feet. That’s right. He intended to return the cane and had planned to phone Colby first thing to see if he could come by and pick it up.
    Another hammering blow rattled the door in the frame. An impressive task considering the solid weight of the door.
    Maybe there was a fire. Or perhaps Colby had preempted him. And while he wasn’t actually looking forward to getting the awkward metal crutch back, seeing Colby again, however fleeting, would more than make up for it.
    Knowing he couldn’t possibly make it down the stairs quickly enough for the person beating the shit out of his door, Pip hobbled—his ankle always seemed worse first thing in the morning, despite having rested during the night—into the spare room where the window overlooked the front door.
    Sparing a glance at the lush green of the park opposite, Pip pushed up the sash window and leaned out over the ledge.
    A stranger, with a seriously receding hairline, battered at Pip’s door with his fist.
    “Knock it off!” Pip snarled at the man that wasn’t Colby, the buoyant high he’d woken up on disappearing instantly. “What the hell do you want?”
    “Phillip Long’ampton?”
    “Yes.”
    “ You called me, mate. About quoting for an en suite. I’m the plumber.”
    “Damn! Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you so early.”
    “We said half nine.” The plumber glanced at his watch. “It’s a quarter t’ ten. I ’ad trouble parking.”
    Ten. He’d not slept for that long, or uninterrupted, since he’d come out of hospital.
    “Oh. I overslept. Can you give me five minutes?”
    Plumber pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen. “Tell you what, mate. I’ll give you fifteen and pop ’round the corner for a coffee.”
    “Thanks.” Pip pulled his head back in, already working out how much he could accomplish in fifteen minutes. Wash. A coffee. Maybe call Colby. Pip sighed.
    The plumber had already started up the steps to the street and was almost level with him when Pip popped his head back out the window. “Look, sorry about the shouting.”
    “No problem, mate. I ’ate getting woke up like that. Yanked from sleep by some idiot smashing down your front door.” The man shrugged, the buttons of his shirt straining across his belly. “I’ll see you in quarter of an hour.”
    Knowing he didn’t have the time to shower before the plumber returned, Pip carried out the most basic of ablutions and slipped into yesterday’s discarded jogging bottoms and a clean T-shirt. Then, while his coffee brewed, Pip spoke to Colby.
    Well, he actually spoke to the answer phone at the shop, and then tried to avoid staring at his mobile, willing it to ring.
    In an attempt to take his mind off of what he would actually say to Colby when he called back, Pip opened the fridge to check on the milk situation,