At Her Place

During training, for the first time since Alkmaar, Fenna forgot to listen to herself. She felt her legs, the strength and the tiredness, but didn't have to ask with every effort whether this was better. She did what she and Gita had agreed, and when it went well she knew before anyone said a word.

Afterwards she stood beside her bike with her hands on her hips. She was grinning. She hadn't noticed until Madelon asked if someone was giving away money.

'No. It just went well.'

'Me too. Shall we tell them?'

They looked at Gita, who was talking to another rider. Fenna gave her two thumbs up. Her coach saw, nodded and pointed to her own forehead. A gesture that might mean either keep your head or stop being ridiculous. Fenna was happy with both. Her afternoon was already made.

It wasn't a miracle that she could do everything again. She had never forgotten it all. On Monday she had still spoken to Gita about Alkmaar as if something needed serious repair. Gita had let her talk, then returned to the work they had planned anyway. Now Fenna felt how good it was when the things you kept doing suddenly showed. Not a fresh start. A good Thursday.

Madelon left earlier. She had something to finish at home for an appointment the next morning and didn't want to stay talking for ever this time. At the door she turned.

'You've got a visitor tonight, haven't you?'

'Yes.'

'Have fun.'

'See you Monday.'

'I wasn't asking when you'd want to see me again.'

Fenna laughed. The teasing was kind enough that she didn't have to play down how she felt. She wanted to see him. Not because she needed somebody to tell her today had gone well. She wanted to take the good feeling home and have him there with her.

His own session was later. Before driving home, she messaged from the car park to say he should come when he was finished. There was food. For a moment she considered adding that he needn't expect a special welcome. She didn't send it. She did want a special welcome, even if it was only letting him in and having nothing else to do all evening.

In the late-afternoon light her flat looked solid and a little dull. She loved the broad windowsill and the view of two treetops. She had bought the sofa second-hand from a woman genuinely saddened that her new husband didn't like it. Fenna had had no husband to consult. She was still pleased with her purchase.

She showered, then stood in the bedroom holding a clean pair of trousers. She wanted something comfortable. She also wanted him to look. Both wishes could exist at once. She chose a soft jumper and the trousers she felt good in, and stopped wondering whether this was an odd amount of preparation for somebody she had met while sweating.

In the kitchen the food was almost ready. She put off the last few jobs. If she finished everything now, she would sit waiting and time would become unpleasantly visible. She put on music, hummed along and took her time cutting the last piece of vegetable. This was the time she had so often thought she didn't have: looking forward to something that didn't have to be a race day.

Marten rang just after she had dried her hands. He wore a clean jumper. He looked as though, on the way over, he'd thought some more about what to say on her doorstep. She didn't help. When he saw her he stood looking for a moment.

'Hi,' he said.

'Well prepared.'

'That was the long version.'

She pulled him inside and kissed him. He put his hands on her waist. It was different at once from standing outside beside a car, with the cold eventually making you move. She could stay where she was. So she did, until he smiled and rested his forehead briefly against hers.

'You said something about food?' he asked.

'Yes. There's still food.'

She let him hang up his coat and led him into the living room. He looked round. She had expected to explain something, the position of the sofa or the empty corner where a cabinet had once stood. She said nothing. He went to the window and pointed at the house opposite.

'Ours have nicer curtains.'

'Ours?'

'The neighbours I look out on. Don't look so pleased with yourself already.'

She stood beside him and nudged him with her shoulder. He kept looking outside, but his hand found hers. When she threaded her fingers through his, he pulled her a little closer. She had no objection to looking pleased with herself. She would probably get better at it.

Over dinner he told her about a young man in his endurance group who had given a long account of how gently he was going to start, then from the first moment thought of nothing but winning. Fenna didn't know him. She knew the type. She said a gradual build-up was particularly nice when other people did it.

Marten put down his fork. 'This is why I'd rather not race you.'

'You wouldn't know what to do with me either.'

'I've got a few suggestions already.'

She looked at him. He went on eating with an expression that wanted to seem innocent but wasn't taking the attempt very seriously. She brushed her foot along his ankle under the table. He stopped chewing and looked as though she had done something unfair. She left her foot there.

He asked about training, and she told him the part he would understand without giving a report: how good it had been not to carry her last bad race into every effort. She noticed herself leaning closer to the table whenever she grew enthusiastic. Marten listened and laughed when she interrupted herself.

'I talk a lot.'

'You're happy about something.'

'You only wanted dinner.'

'I never said that.'

She briefly lowered her eyes. He hadn't meant it as another joke, not only. Her foot was still against his. She could feel his warmth through their socks, or thought she could. It was enough to change the rest of their conversation. The things they told each other were no less interesting. She just also heard how his voice sounded when he didn't quite finish a sentence.

After dinner they cleared the table together. He asked where something went and she pointed. She watched his hands as he turned on the tap. Hands that had been round handlebars earlier that evening and were now simply rinsing a plate in her kitchen. She found it so attractive that she laughed at herself for a moment. She stood behind him and put her arms round his waist.

He turned off the tap.

'I can do it slowly too,' he said.

'Leave it.'

He turned. She kissed him and felt his hand against her back. This was no longer a greeting, no kiss that ended because one of them wanted to say something else. She moved closer and he sought her mouth as though he had wanted to interrupt her all evening. She drew back a little to look at him. His eyes were darker than at the track. He in turn looked at her mouth.

'Will you stay?' she asked.

'I'd love to.'

She took him to the bedroom. There was nothing solemn about it apart from the moment they both stopped and realised this was new. He tucked her hair behind her ear. She put a hand on his chest and felt how warm he was through the fabric. She didn't want to wait for the moment to pass by itself. She took off her jumper and saw his face change.

He put his hand against her side and bent towards her. She shivered when he kissed her there. She closed her eyes and let herself lean against him.

Sometimes they laughed, softly and close. She found the place by his neck that made him fall briefly quiet, and remembered it. He pulled her closer when she said something in his ear that a week ago she would barely have dared think.

He asked if she had condoms. She pointed to the bedside table and kissed him again before switching off the lamp beside her bed. The light from outside was enough to see his face. He kept looking at her and she no longer wanted to guess whether he understood how much she wanted this. She drew him to her.

Afterwards she didn't feel like saying much. She lay with her cheek against his shoulder, warm and languid, listening to him. His breathing settled. His fingers stroked her arm, the same slow movement each time, in no hurry. She wanted to lie closer and realised she was already as close as possible.

'That was a good suggestion,' he said.

She smiled against his skin. 'I can't remember who made it.'

'I'm prepared to share the credit.'

She lifted her head. He was looking at her with a satisfaction she recognised but had not yet associated with herself. She kissed him, briefly this time, and lay down again. She didn't have to make a joke straight away. He could simply be glad he was with her.

After a while they went to the kitchen for water. She had put her jumper back on and he his trousers. It was funny enough to stand together at the sink and realise how ordinary you wanted it to look. He put down his glass and slipped an arm round her. She rested her head against him and looked at the dark window.

'I'd actually imagined a very different evening,' she said.

'A bad one?'

'No. More talking.'

'We can still start.'

She turned to him. 'You're allowed to shut up for a minute too.'

He understood at once. She felt him smile as she kissed him. There was still washing-up. A car went past outside. There was nobody anywhere they needed to tell that the evening had turned out like this.

Later in bed he asked what time she had to get up. She told him, and he didn't make the usual face people made when they thought she started her day too early. He asked whether he should get up then too. She thought for a moment, longer than the answer needed. She wanted to see him tomorrow morning. Not as a surprise that was gone before she had looked properly.

'It's nice, having you here,' she said.

He smiled. 'That's an excellent word.'

She squeezed his arm. Not because he was wrong. Because he remembered how awkwardly he had used that same word at the track, and now she meant it very seriously.

Once they were quiet, she stayed awake a little longer. The bed was narrower with him in it, warmer. Over the past week she hadn't pretended she only wanted a new friend. She had wanted to kiss him, touch him, know how he was without the rest of the world around him. Now he lay beside her and she still wanted him. The prospect of sleep did nothing to change that.

She turned onto her side, towards him. He opened his eyes and softly asked if everything was all right. She nodded, rested her hand on his chest and felt his hand cover it at once. She fell asleep sooner than she had expected.