Chapter 3

There was a knock at Lynda's bedroom door.

"Come in," she said around the pencil clamped between her teeth.

The door opened and Spike's tousled head appeared around it.

"Hi, Lynda. Your mom said it was okay to come up?"

"Sure, come in," said Lynda distractedly. "Sorry, I'm just getting these notes down."

"No rush," said Spike, coming into the room. "I told him we'd be there by 6.30, we've got plenty of time. And it's nice to be invited in, for a change."

He made to sit on the bed next to Lynda, who simply clicked her fingers and pointed to the chair by the desk.

"Right." Spike took the chair as directed and looked around the room as Lynda scribbled in her notebook.

"Hey, this has changed since I was last in here," he observed.

"What has?" asked Lynda distractedly.

"That fan there, on your wall. Wasn't there before."

Lynda looked up in surprise. "No, it wasn't. My dad brought it home for me from Indonesia."

"Yeah?" Spike looked interested. "What was he doing over there?"

"He's in the army. Was stationed over there for a while. Peace-keeping."

"Your Dad's in the army?" Spike asked incredulously.

"Yes. Haven't I mentioned it?" asked Lynda.

"No, you haven't." Spike was fascinated. "So is this the reason for the whole Rememberance Day special? Is he going to be involved?"

"Maybe. If he's home in time," said Lynda shortly and returned to her notes.

Spike sensed it might have been a sensitive issue but his mouth couldn't help itself.

"So he's away a lot then, huh?"

Lynda nodded without looking up.

"Do you miss him?"

"Of course I do. What a stupid question. You really are thick sometimes, Thomson." She gathered up her notebooks and strode to the door. "Are we going then?"

"Sure, sure," Spike leapt up and followed her out of the room and down the stairs.

"Bye, Mum," Lynda called on her way out.

"Bye, love. Bye, Spike," came the reply from the living room.

"Bye, Mrs Day," replied Spike. Passing through the hall, he noticed a picture of a guy in military uniform on the wall.

"That must be Lynda's Dad," he thought to himself and as Lynda fussed about putting her jacket on and collecting her keys, he surreptitiouslystudied the picture. He could see where Lynda got her eyes and determined chin from, not to mention her military-like bearing.

"Spike! Come on!"

He couldn't help himself and snapped a brisk salute. "Yes, ma'am!"