by Daisy Tate
Dylan was a nutter. A funny nutter, but, Raven looked away. When people were funny with her it made her suspect. As if the friendly banter was all an elaborate set-up to make her the punchline of a joke she hadn’t seen coming.
‘So.’ He did some display hands across the line of bicycles, taking over Bryan’s role with clear relish. ‘Which model are you looking at, Madame? Is this for pleasure or for pootling about our lovely Oxfordshire lanes?’
‘It’s for a charity ride.’ Wot???? Which weird demented spirit made her say that?
‘Cool. Cool beans. How long?’
‘Just under two hundred miles.’ Seriously??? Shut the actual fuck up, Raven!
‘Super cool. In, like, India?’
‘Nooo.’ Why would she buy a bicycle here to ride in India? ‘Hadrian’s Wall.’ And why was she still talking?
‘Nice. Charity ride, hunh?’
‘Yeah.’ Sweet mother of over-talkative teens. What was going on with her? ‘LifeTime. It’s the—’
‘Mental health charity.’ They finished together. She met Dylan’s eyes and saw a flicker of something she wouldn’t have expected to see in there. Recognition. And then it was gone.
‘You set up an Insta account yet? I could follow your adventures.’
This caught her cold. She looked away and touched a little girl’s bike that had purple sparkly tassels coming off of the handlebars.
‘That one might be a bit small,’ Dylan joked, then saw she wasn’t smiling. ‘Hey. You okay?’
‘Yeah, yeah. Fine.’ She zipped up her coat. ‘I’d probably better get going.’
‘That’s cool. Hey,’ Dylan looked over his shoulder to where Bryan appeared to be trying to be helpful to the blonde clerk. ‘Top tip? Get one on eBay if you don’t really know what you want. Total money saver.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Take it from a man who’s been there, done that.’
Raven scrunched her nose up. Dylan could lurch from persona to persona faster than she could blink.
‘Seriously, though,’ Dylan said, following her to the door. ‘If you want me to help, I go through bikes like that.’ He snapped. ‘That’s why I’m here. Bryan’s looking to become a freestyler, like wot I iz and we’re going to go see a BMX. Dude went and broke his leg and is giving it up.’
‘Wouldn’t it be bad luck? Buying someone’s bike that they got injured on?’ she asked, remembering too late she’d just moved into the house where a man had killed himself.
Dylan looked at her with a dazzling smile. ‘Not if you’re a better rider than them. Seriously.’ He pulled his phone out of his pocket and wiggled it between them. ‘You want any help? I’m your man.’
He was obviously a complete and utter idiot. And a nutter. But by the time Raven was halfway to the bus stop, she realised she was smiling too.
Incident No: 627428
Time of Call: 07:27
Call Handler: SUE YOUNG
Call Handler: You’re through to the NHS 111 service, my name’s Sue and I’m a health advisor. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?
Caller: I’m calling about my daughter.
Call Handler: Can you tell me your daughter’s name please?
Caller: It’s Lily Vestry.
Call Handler: Lily? That’s a lovely name. May I have your—
Caller: Rebecca Hattersby. It’s my maiden name.
Call Handler: Very good. And can you please let me know why you’re calling about Lily today?
Caller: She’s got flu. She’s in a wheelchair and has got very special health needs. I have to get to work in an hour, her father’s not answering the phone and her carer’s going to be late, so can you send a doctor over, please? I’m a bit worried about her temperature and I’ve not got the time to bring her to the A&E.
Call Handler: Alright.
Caller: Oh, thank god.
Call Handler: No. Sorry, I’m just trying to find … Have you tried contacting your G—
Caller: No. We’re well past that. Look. Lily’s GP isn’t all that helpful as her needs are so specialised, but yes, I’ve gone through the paces. I know the drill. Hang on, darling. I’m just on the phone. Have some of your ice chips, yeah? Look. Sue, was it? I’ve been through this drill before, love. I’ve tried calling the GP. They’re closed. I’ve tried calling her useless father. He isn’t answering. I’ve tried calling the hospital. They suggested keeping Lily at home as they’ve got norovirus concerns. I’ve tried calling everyone apart from an ambulance which I’m fairly certain she doesn’t require, not yet anyway, which is why I’m on the phone with you, hoping you have a brain in your head and aren’t relying on that bloody script they supply you with because all I need is for you to send a doctor over, alright?
Call Handler: Right. Okay, well, if we could just run through—
Caller: Please let’s not go through this charade, Sue. I need you to send a doctor over.
Call Handler: Can you describe her symptoms please?
Caller: Coughing, congestion, fatigue, chills, fever, aches and pain.
Call Handler: Okay. Hang on just a minute while I—
Caller: Please just send the doctor. I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m not trying to ruin your day. I sound rude because I haven’t slept properly in over a week. Years really. I simply need a doctor to come to my house to take a look at my disabled child before I head off to work so that I’m not panicked she is going to die while I’m away trying to pay for the roof over our heads and the food on our table.
Call Handler: I’ll organise a doctor straight away.
Caller: Thank you.
Call Handler: Rebecca?
Caller: [Heavy sigh] Yes, love.
Call Handler: I hope she feels better soon.
Caller: Thank you, love. [Sobbing noise] Oh, god. Shit. Sorry. Thank you for listening. You don’t know how rare it is. You’ve actually made my day.
Call Handler: You’re welcome. Do call back if you need anything or her symptoms worsen.
Caller: I will, love. Believe me. I will.
Call Handler: Thank you for calling 111. [Sound of nose being blown] [Call ends] Rachel, sorry? Is it alright if I—? Yes, I’m fine. I’m fine. Something in my eye is all. I won’t be a min—
Chapter Thirty-One
Tactics. That’s what this situation required. Tactics.
Flo gave Stu’s shoulders a rub. ‘Alright, darling?’
He gave his hmmmnnn noise which meant he was properly engrossed in his puzzles.
Perfect.
‘So, I won’t be heading into work today.’
‘Oh?’
‘No. Not today.’
Hmmnnn.
‘I’m off shift for a while now.’
‘Very good. Good. Hmmnnn.’
There. That was done. Easy peasy.
Right.
Step two.
‘What do you think of this, Stu?’ Flo brandished her wrist in front of him with a flourish. It was weighted more heavily than it had been during her Fitbit days.
‘Oh! You’ve got yourself a watch, have you? Snazzy.’
Flo rolled her eyes in irritation. It mightn’t look like one of those great lunking things the lads who trained for triathlons and Iron Man contests wore, but it was, according to Cycling Magazine, the business. GPS, Wi-Fi, ANT+, whatever that was. It was a proper bells and whistles number. She’d ordered it from Amazon two days back after coming home from Sue and Raven’s. She’d been so happy that night. Helping the two of them get all set up in Sue’s cosy little home. So full of hope. Possibility. Oh, she knew everything wouldn’t be roses and rainbows, not with all of that baggage in tow, but Raven had looked less terrified than when Flo had first shooed her out of the car and Sue hadn’t collapsed into a sobbing ball of grief when they’d found that mountain of unpaid bills. Not that it would’ve been a bad thing (better out than in), it just may have made things a bit trickier for Raven.
Saying that, Raven had a few surprising tricks up her sleeve. Volun
teering, as she had, to help Sue with going through the papers. It might be easier that way. Having someone emotionally uninvolved work through what looked to be an Everest worth of discovery. Poor lass. In all fairness, if Stu were to drop dead on the back of plundering their life savings on, oh, a golf club pyramid scheme, say (he’d never do that, he was far too practical, but this was all hypothetical, so …), the last people on earth she’d want helping was family. All of that tutting and clucking her daughter was perfecting at far too young an age. So disapproving for someone with so much life ahead of her. Perhaps Jennifer might like to join her—No. She checked the thought. Jennifer’s life ran on year planners. Spontaneity didn’t factor in. It was one of their ‘issues’, according to Jennifer. A divergence of life approaches.
She smiled at her watch, brushing her finger over the shiny white face, its features waiting to be taken advantage of. Each of them awash with possibility. Activity-tracking functions, three different satellites it read from, navigation capabilities. She could get dropped in Timbuktu and find her way home if she needed to. More so, she supposed, with all of this blasted time on her hands. She squinted at the watch, not entirely sure where to find the time. ‘Stu?’ She jiggled her wrist in front of him again.
‘It looks high-tech. And pricey.’ He put down his pen and pushed his puzzles back. ‘Is that for Jamie’s fortieth? I thought we were going to fly him and the girls over to Portugal.’
Why on earth would she have bought a fuchsia-coloured multi-activity tracking watch for their poor, hen-pecked son? ‘No, love. It’s for me.’
Stu’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh? Taking up a new hobby are we?’ His eyes abruptly brightened as he clapped his hands together and laughed. Delighted. ‘Florence Joanne Wilson.’ He always called her by her full name when he was tickled about something. ‘Does this mean you’re finally joining the Algarve Oldies? I thought you’d eventually join in. They really rack up the miles, those girls.’
Flo stopped her lip from curling, forcing it into a twitchy smile. The ‘girls’ Stu was speaking about were the wives of Stu’s golfing buddies down at their gated golf community. They were nice enough women, but astonishingly dull. More so, because they thought they were right fascinating. The lot of them – there were about half a dozen depending upon the time of year and, of course, health scares – considered themselves daring and interesting because sometimes, instead of circumnavigating the pristinely manicured golf course, they sometimes … and only sometimes … rode bicycles into town for a coffee instead of having it, as they usually did, at the club.
‘No, darlin’.’ She resisted going back to her post behind him to fake strangle him again. Much of her frustration wasn’t with him, it was with all this time she had.
Faced with a completely blank week, she’d spent Stu’s tee-time filling in every waking moment she could. She’d made an appointment at the gym, one with her GP and, of course, she needed to head into the cycle shop a bit later. The only bicycle they had that was vaguely serviceable was Jennifer’s old trail bike that she’d left behind when she’d headed for London. Rather than the Halfords down at the shopping centre where the assistants didn’t give two figs about properly fitting a bike to the person, she thought she’d check out the adorable little shop on Sheep Street. They used an old-fashioned font on their shopfront that appealed to her. Perhaps she’d get a basket, too.
Then, of course, she’d have to meet up with Sue and Raven. Talk logistics, fundraising, and, of course, if they’d be willing to share a tent with her.
Not that she was sure it was camping or that she’d actually heard from the girls yet. She’d left things with them to marinate, half hoping they’d call her straight after watching Brand New Day on the Friday morning. They hadn’t. She’d kept herself busy over the weekend (dog walks, googling Hadrian’s Wall and, of course, the charity that they would be fundraising for). Now that it was Monday, and she’d not heard a word, she was feeling a bit edgy.
Without work as a means of casually running into them, pressing for information and enthusing them was trickier. Particularly as she’d forgotten to get contact details for either one of them. She could always pop in of course, with a housewarming present or something, but people didn’t really pop in anymore unless they were neighbours and even then … She’d check Facebook later. Or Instagram. She’d not yet got into the swing of Twitter, but no doubt she’d find them on one thing or another. Surely Raven would be on all of them, being so young.
She removed the watch from her wrist and laid it on top of Stu’s Sudoku. ‘Take a look. I bet you could navigate a plane with all of the microtechnology in this one.’ Flo needed Stu to take an interest. Partly because she’d be tromping in and out of the house with padded bum shorts on over the coming weeks and partly because she hadn’t figured out how to work the bloody thing yet. She also had some uncomfortable news to pass on.
‘What’s this for then?’ Stu took on his grandfatherly tone, tipping his glasses down to the end of his nose as he inspected the watch.
‘It’s for that charity ride I’ve been telling you I’ve signed up for. The one with Kath off the morning telly?’ She’d only registered on the weekend, but he didn’t need to know that. A bit presumptuous on her part seeing as she’d no clue if Raven and Sue were coming, but if it came to it, she supposed she’d be alright on her own. It wasn’t as if it would be just her and Kath, would it? That Idris Elba look-a-like’d be there. And, apparently, a bus driver would be bringing all of their luggage from site to site, so at least four of them would be involved. She handed Stu the instruction booklet for the watch. She never read the instructions on anything. That was Stu’s job. ‘Remember, love? The girls down at the call centre and I signed up for it together.’
Stu’s eyebrows dove together. ‘Hmm … remind me?’
‘The one along Hadrian’s Wall. For the charity?’ She left out mental health, as it was never a concept Stu could wrap his head round. Not in a mean way, he was just so ruddy logical, he didn’t understand how others could be pulled up short by life.
He began flicking through the booklet, pen making little marks at what he called Points of Interest. ‘Would you like me to do the settings for you?’
Flo smiled. This was more like it. Stu’s pen went down. Eyebrows furrowed.
Oh, dear.
‘Wait now. Hadrian’s Wall. Weather’s awful there this time of year. When exactly will you be away?’
Exactly when they were meant to be in Portugal for Stu’s annual golf tournament with his pilot pals. ‘May,’ she answered brightly tapping the instruction booklet in front of him. ‘Only a week. I’ll be back before you know it.’
‘But won’t we be—’
‘Course we’ll be going to Portugal, love. I just won’t be there during that first week in May is all.’
‘Oh, now, I’m not so sure that’ll work, darling. Will it? What about Mary and Ray?’
Captain George pawed at the back door.
‘What about them? I’m doing something for charity, darling.’ Flo crossed to let the dog out for a lollop in the garden.
‘But it’s their golden wedding anniversary. The table’s already booked at the club.’
Irritation cracked through her. For heaven’s sake! When had the man become such a slave to monotony! They’d been celebrating Mary and Ray’s anniversary since the beginning of time! Hadn’t she raised enough glasses to them? They could ring her on one of those video apps if necessary. Pre-record her. She already knew exactly what they’d be talking about anyway. The weather (too sunny or too windy). The golf (Flo never really tuned in to those bits). The tournament dinner (Harold Cookson always won). Stu never won, so it was an exercise in smiling, smiling, smiling until they got through the bland, roast supper, offering a few toasts, have a spin or two round the dance floor as everyone did an hour or so before last orders, then excused themselves to go back to their matching houses on the pristine green to go to sleep only to wake up and do it all over a
gain the next day (bar, of course, the tournament). It was like being a child again. All of this routine.
The dog pressed a muddy paw to the window, woofed, then bounded back down the garden. At least someone had a bit of Spring Fever in them.
‘I think Captain George is needing a proper walk, love. Shall we talk about this later?’
Stu gave his head a little disappointed shake. As if she’d told him she was foregoing the anniversary dinner with Mary and Ray to take up pole-dancing classes.
Unexpectedly, her husband smiled at her so lovingly she actually felt its warmth right there in the centre of her heart. He loved her so very much. So purely. Lately, all she felt she did was let him know how impatient she was with him. How frustrated. How could a man love a woman so much and not actually notice her? The real her?
Stu held up the instruction manual. ‘I’ll have your watch sorted for you by the time you get back, alright?’ He looked at her with such hope, such trust that she would, in the end, do the right thing. Take up her seat next to him at the club. Applaud for the chaps who’d, once again, wiped the floor with their opponents out on the green. Stuart never once doubted her. Never once believed she was anything other than perfectly content. To the point she could hardly bear it.
And in that instant, she was suddenly torn.
Incident No: 627428
Time of Call: 21:48
Call Handler: SUNITA ‘RAVEN’ CHAKRABARTI
Call Handler: You’re through to the NHS 111 service, my name’s Raven and I’m a health advisor. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?
Caller: I’m calling for a friend. Flatmate really, but … whatever.