A Thoughtful Woman

by K T Findlay

  There was a light haze off the sea to the south which restricted visibility, but they could easily see Little Throcking to the west, its smattering of pretty houses cascading down the long green slope to the sea.

  Above it the hills grew steeper, and trees and scrub fought for the most sheltered spots as the land rose up to the moors above. The whole of this section of the coast was like that, a rising half mile wide ribbon of green fields and villages running between the sea and the hills. Throcking Castle itself was on the leading edge of these hills, looking south down the Sky river valley to the sea.

  While the Sky river claimed the western edge of the valley, the rest of the valley floor was a patchwork of small, oddly shaped fields, marked out by narrow hedge lined lanes.

  ‘Okay, from up here we can see most of our play area, how much of it do you really know?’ Sally asked Emma.

  Emma gave her a quizzical look. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Sally smiled and began to point out a number of locations. ‘That hill in the middle of the valley, down by the beach is Ornamental Estate. Holmes lives there, in the top street of course! There’s my place to the east, on the edge of Throcking. If you carry on in a straight line beyond it but a little to the left, you’ll hit Thomlinson’s house. All the way on the other side of town is the golf course and in the haze beyond that is Wesser Bech. Bob Harland lives there somewhere. Dick’s in Dalton so that’s a bit different, but the other three targets are right here. So, like I asked before, how well do you actually know the area?’

  Emma frowned. ‘Not well at all really. I mean I can follow a map to get somewhere if I have to, but apart from shopping I’ve got no reason to come east of the river.’

  Sally clapped her hands. ‘Exactly, but if you’re going to help me catch these buggers, you’re going to have to know. Now,’ she said, turning her back to the sea, ‘how about the hills? What do you know about them?’

  Emma shrugged her shoulders again. ‘Absolutely nothing, except the main roads to Ipington, Little Dimpton and Dalton. The rest of it’s just a great swathe of green to me.’

  Sally fixed her with a look. ‘Well, we need to learn all of it, especially the walking tracks.’

  ‘What the hell for?’ asked a bemused Emma.

  ‘Four reasons.’ said Sally, raising four fingers and ticking them off. ‘First off, rambling is a legitimate hobby these days so it gives us an excuse to explore. Secondly, we’re less likely to be seen as we move around the place than if we’re on the roads. Thirdly, I’ve already laid a false trail on the moors if we need a diversion, but I have to be able to get the police up there to find it, when I want them to find it! I can’t do it by road, so I’ll need to use the tracks. Lastly, if it all goes belly up and we need to do a runner, with so few roads out of here we need to know if we can use the trails instead.’

  Emma, who’d been struggling to keep her mouth closed during all this, finally burst into laughter.

  ‘Sally! I’m too old to do a runner on foot! And in any case, even if we got away, what would we do next? I’m not sleeping in ditches and baking hedgehogs for my dinner!’

  ‘That’s a pity…’ said Sally, making a sad face. ‘I’ve got a great recipe…’

  Then she raised her right index finger and grinned. ‘But, if you’re going to be all boring and defeatist about it all, we’ll just have to make sure you don’t have to do a runner! Come on, let’s go to Dalton!’

  Half an hour later, after dropping the trailer back at the hire centre, they were in downtown Dalton, standing in The Spoke and Pedal bike shop.

  Sally greeted the assistant as an old friend. ‘Hi Jean. This is Emma. You said they’d arrived?’

  Jean grinned, her eyes sparkling. ‘Last night, as we were about to close. There they are over there. They’re gorgeous! Just as good as I imagined they’d be!’

  Sally clapped her hands in delight. ‘Wonderful! Come and look at your new toy Emma!’

  Bemused, Emma followed her over to look at a pair of identical, strange looking bicycles. ‘These are handmade Overbury Wildcat mountain bikes. We’re going to go exploring!’ said Sally.

  Emma gasped. ‘I can’t afford one of these Sally. Not without George’s salary. I’ve only got his insurance and the investments to live off.’

  Sally’s grin almost split her head in two. ‘My treat silly! Graham left me very well provided for. It’s a gift.’

  Emma started to object again.

  Sally held up her hand. ‘You’re having it. In any case, I’ve already bought them. We want to explore the trails around us, and it’s too slow to do it on foot.’

  Emma laughed. ‘I’m fifty five dear. I haven’t ridden a bike in decades! And never one as odd looking as this. Why’s it got those silly tyres on it?’

  At this point Jean moved tactfully away before she laughed and ruined the sale.

  Sally exploded into passion, as if she was gunning for a commission. ‘They’re mountain bikes, the latest thing! No more boring racing bikes that get a puncture as soon as you show them a pebble!’

  She then launched into a speech, redolent in detail about the coming age of the mountain bike and why the Wildcat was best. It was over three minutes before Emma found find a gap to break into the conversation.

  ‘How on earth do you know all that?’ she asked in astonishment

  Sally smiled. ‘Haven’t you heard darling? Girls can do anything! Well, I can anyway!’ she laughed heartily.

  Emma looked at it dubiously. ‘It seems complicated.’

  Sally laughed. ‘It’s no more complicated than your car, silly. Now, what else will you need? Gloves? A helmet?’

  ‘A helmet?’ squeaked Emma. ‘Is it going to be dangerous?’

  ‘Not if you don’t want it to be.’ replied Sally. ‘But if you’re nervous, a helmet might help you relax a little. Your call.’

  By the time they’d left the shop, they had the two bikes on a rack hanging off the back of the Range Rover, a spare bike rack for Emma’s car, and for each of them a helmet, padded gloves, cycle clips, a strong rear carrier and a pack to sit on it.

  ‘That way we don’t have to wear a sweaty back pack all the time.’ explained Sally, as Jean waved them away, happy with a full day’s profit secure in the till.

  On the way home, they stopped at the Throcking golf club for lunch. A man stood up and beckoned them over when they walked in. ‘Sally! We’re over here! Come and join us. There’s room for two more.’

  Sally bounced over and gave him a hug.

  ‘Emma, this is Peregrin McEwan, Hilary McEwan, Alison Falconer, and Felicity Coutts. Four of my very best friends in the whole world. And this everyone, is Emma Nixon, a new friend.’ said Sally.

  ‘What have you been up to Sally?’ asked Alison as they all shuffled round the table to make space.

  ‘We’ve been buying bikes to explore the trails and lanes. There’s so much of this place I’ve never seen, and it’s just too much effort on foot. Too slow too!’

  Hilary laughed. ‘I hope it can carry an easel and paints.’

  Sally nodded. ‘Of course! We got carriers and bags that can carry all kinds of stuff. I’m not using Emma as a Sherpa!’

  Emma smiled shyly. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘So where did you two meet?’ asked Alison.

  There was a short silence.

  ‘In court.’ said Peregrin.

  ‘That was in very poor taste darling.’ chided Hilary gently.

  ‘It’s true though.’ said Sally. ‘Emma had the misfortune to lose her husband just like I lost Graham.’

  ‘Almost identical.’ said Peregrin. ‘It may interest you to know Sally, that Edgar Thomlinson is no longer on the force.’

  Sally stared at him. “On grounds of…?’

  ‘He resigned.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Sally.

  ‘He seemed to think it best.’ smiled Peregrin.

  ‘What did you do to make him do that?’ she persisted.

/>   ‘Me?’ Peregrin protested. ‘I can’t think what you mean!’

  Felicity smiled and rested her index finger gently on her lips. Sally took the hint. ‘Well at least he won’t screw up anything else, that’s at least something. What’ll you have Emma?’

  Emma, despite bursting with questions of her own, took her lead from Sally and stuck to the menu. ‘I’d like the fish and chips please, and a glass of Chablis.’

  ‘And I’d like the chicken pie please Adam.’ said Sally to the waiter. ‘And a Beaujolais Village please.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you have be having white with chicken?’ asked Emma.

  Sally laughed. ‘Remember I said that girls can do anything? That includes having the wine I want with the food I want. I like Beaujolais. It goes with pretty much with anything, I think.’

  ‘That’s my girl.’ said Alison. ‘Nice to see you’re as stroppy as ever.’

  Sally shook her head to make her hair fly around. ‘I’m a free spirited sort of a gal I guess.’ she grinned happily. ‘Anyway, what have you lot been up to?’

  ◆◆◆

  It was about three o’clock when Sally pulled up outside Emma’s house.

  ‘Why didn’t you press him more about Thomlinson?’ asked Emma. ‘I wanted to know more about the bastard!’

  ‘Understood,’ said Sally, ‘but we’re supposed to be letting it go, remember? Probably not the best idea to let Peregrin know we’re still deeply interested in Thomlinson if we’re going to kill him later. And besides, Felicity was warning me to stop asking questions in public. Peregrin probably shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.’

  ‘Oh.’ said Emma. ‘I’d forgotten about us letting it go, what with planning to kill him and all.’

  ‘All good,’ smiled Sally, ‘now, let’s give you something else to think about and go for a ride. You said you couldn’t do a runner on foot, and with the Wildcat you won’t have to!’

  Ten minutes later, Emma was coasting slowly down Chandler Street towards the beach, both brakes on, face tense.

  ‘What are you scared of?’ asked Sally.

  ‘Going over the eff-ing handlebars!’ fired back Emma through gritted teeth.

  ‘The only way you’ll do that is if you don’t stop at the end, so try and stop now. Just gently increase the pressure on both hands.’

  Emma did as she was told and brought the bike calmly to a stop.

  ‘See?’ said Sally. ‘Now, let’s do it again, and again, and again, before we hit the bottom.’

  “I wish you hadn’t said hit!’ spat back Emma, but did as she’d been told and by the time they finally reached Beach Road she’d gained a degree of confidence.

  Emma began to turn her bike to the right, to head down the final slope to the village but Sally shook her head. ‘Nope. We’re going down there.’ She pointed across the road to a track that swept across the fifty or so yards of turf before turning east and disappearing into space.

  Emma’s eyes bulged. ‘It’s dirt! On a cliff face! Are you quite mad Sally?’

  Sally laughed. ‘The track runs on a terrace down there. It’s about thirty yards wide and most of it’s flat. There’s just a gentle slope for the first bit, gentler than what we’ve just come down.’

  ‘But it’s dirt Sally! I’ll fall off!’

  ‘No you won’t. We’ll not be going fast, you’ve got great tyres, good brakes, and one of the best bikes you could possibly have. You’ll be fine.’

  ‘If I grab the brakes, I’ll skid and go over the cliff!’ snapped Emma crossly.

  ‘No you won’t. Come on. Follow me slowly.’

  Emma watched Sally cross the road and ride onto the track. Sally looked back over her shoulder. ‘Come on! Better crashed than duffers. If not duffers won’t crash! With apologies to Arthur Ransome!’

  Emma shook her head in defeat, and pedalled slowly across the road. The dirt track was initially every bit as smooth as the tarseal had been, but as she began to descend the gentle slope to the cliff terrace, she could feel the wheels begin to chatter gently over the odd rock and lump. As her anxiety rose, her hands and arms began to tense up, followed by her shoulders.

  ‘Keep your body relaxed Emma!’ Sally called back. ‘Gently squeeze the brakes if you start to get scared. Once you know you’re in control, and can stop if you want to, you’ll be fine.’

  Emma swore softly under her breath, and called Sally a few choice names, but did as she was told. She carefully brought her bike to a halt again, pushed off, stopped, pushed off, stopped, and then in a flush of hope, gave her steed its head to the bottom of the slope where her friend was waiting.

  ‘Wheeeeeeee!’ laughed Emma as she shot past a grinning Sally. ‘You were right! This is fun!’

  Sally stood on the pedals and raced to catch up. Emma didn’t look back. She’d got her confidence now, but not so much that she was going to stop looking where she was going. The bike continued to chatter and shimmy over the slightly uneven ground, the bumps thumping up through the handlebars, and slightly less comfortably through the saddle. But there was a serenity somehow, about gliding over the ground at well over walking pace, the ever changing view, the cool breeze in her face, and feeling her long blonde hair whipping out behind her. She hadn’t felt this free in years.

  She pedalled on, sometimes coasting, sometimes accelerating hard, slowly learning how to work with the bike. She forgot all about Sally behind her. They hadn’t spoken a word for over five minutes. At one point the cliff and the terrace turned left, then right around a small bay, where she could hear the gentle sound of the waves breaking against the shore below.

  She accelerated again, and the noise of the surf faded away under the increasing rush of the air past her ears. She stood on the pedals as hard as she could. The rear wheel chittered occasionally as it struggled for grip in the dirt, but by now she was relaxed. She trusted the Wildcat to look after her, and it did, but all good things come to an end and eventually her lungs and legs couldn’t keep up with her spirit.

  Emma coasted to a halt, her chest heaving. She hunched over the handle bars for a minute, sucking the air deep into her lungs, waiting for her heart to settle back to something close to normal. Finally she looked back at Sally, and just grinned, and grinned, and grinned. It was a huge grin, one that spread across every part of her face. Life had re-entered the soul of Emma Nixon and set up home once more.

  Sally didn’t say a word. She just beamed back at her friend.

  Emma jerked her head towards the river mouth, Sally nodded, and they set off once more.

  The terrace angled down again as they approached the mouth of the Sky river, until there was just a shallow sloping beach of river sediment between the water and the grass, which itself had opened out to be about fifty yards wide.

  They cycled up the river bank, with the cliff to their left and the river on the right. Soon they came to a cluster of trees completely filling the gap between river and cliff. The track weaved its way amongst the trunks, and here and there the odd low branch threatened to sweep them from their bikes.

  About a third of the way into the trees they entered a clearing, with its eastern side open to the river. From a concrete block set into the ground in the middle of the clearing, a stout steel cable stretched up across the river to the top of a high platform, perched at the edge of a fifty foot cliff.

  ‘It’s a flying fox!’ Sally said excitedly. ‘How cool is that?’

  Emma smiled. ‘I remember those. Great fun. Not sure I’d be willing to have a go on it these days.’ She looked at Sally’s amused grin. ‘But, you never know. After all,’ she said, waving her hand like a conductor, ‘girls can do anything!’

  The phrase finished with their two voices in harmony, which threw them into fits of laughter.

  Emma really wanted to go on, but Sally suggested that they should call it quits for the day. The afternoon was marching on, and the April sun was sinking fast. In fact it was already dark enough for neither of them to notice James
and Freddy watching them silently from the trees on other side of the clearing.

  ‘That’s interesting.’ murmured James.

  ‘Agreed.’ responded his colleague. ‘Why did you get us these old fashioned boneshakers when you could have got us bikes like that?’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about the bikes, I meant it’s interesting that those two have hooked up like that.’

  ‘I guess they have things in common.’ said Freddy.

  ‘That’s exactly why it’s interesting,’ James replied, ‘and the reason you aren’t on a mountain bike is because the boss wouldn’t pay for one. Just be glad it’s not a ten speed. You’d have had to fix five punctures by now. Let’s give them a few minutes head start shall we?’

  Sally and Emma’s ride home was slower, partly because they were now a bit tired, but mainly because there were three climbs to do. That’s the thing about a bicycle. It’s a lot more work going up than it is going down. By the time they reached Emma’s house, she’d had enough for the day and was glad she’d listened to Sally.

  ‘You’ll probably be a bit sore tomorrow.’ said Sally. ‘It takes time to get the muscles back again.’

  ‘There are certain lady’s parts that are a bit sore right now!’ said Emma. ‘Surely there’s a better saddle to be found than that?’ she asked.

  ‘The pros call it butt ache.’ said Sally.

  ‘Hah!’ spat Emma. ‘It’s not the butt I’m talking about!’

  Sally laughed. ‘Well, these are female saddles, and they’re Brooks, the best we can get. But they do take time to bed in.’

  ‘Good God! These are the best? Then I don’t want to know what the rest of them are like!’

  They went inside, showered, and had dinner. Afterwards, they pored over an Ordinance Survey map that Sally had bought. It showed all the roads, lanes and trails in the area. It even showed the flying fox.

  They were happily planning a series of explorations when there was a knock on the door. Emma’s sons Tim and Alan burst in full of excitement.

  ‘We got the bastard mum!’ said Tim.

  ‘Who did you get Tim?’ asked his mother calmly. ‘And what do you mean “got”?’