by Daisy Tate
Fola shook his head, disappointed that was the first place she went. ‘No, because you do it knowing you’ll look foolish but do it anyway because it makes other people happy.’ Fola gave a few rich chortles as he pictured her with cream pie on her face, then waved his hands between them as if erasing the cream and returning her to her normal face. He took her hands in his. ‘You are a very kind woman, Katherine Fuller. You change lives.’
She pulled her hands out of his because it felt too nice, too intimate, and laughed her own, more cynical laugh. ‘That’s very sweet of you, Fola, but now I think you’re stretching it a bit.’
‘You changed my life.’
She smirked. ‘I doubt that, somehow.’
‘You were the first person who hired me to be their personal trainer.’
‘No, that’s not true.’ She thought back to the list of references she’d had for him and came up blank. ‘I had – someone must’ve—’
Fola threw her the first sheepish look she’d ever seen from him. ‘I made up all of the names of all of the clients I had.’
‘What? No. You were—
‘—desperate.’ He filled in for her. ‘No one would hire me.’
‘So you fibbed?’
His grin turned apologetic. ‘I thought that was how it worked in the magical world of showbiz.’ He did some jazz hands. ‘And I definitely didn’t think you’d hire me if I didn’t have some famous names on my roster.’
Kath thought for a minute and then burst out laughing. Hilarious. Absolutely completely hilarious. ‘So you never made Cheryl’s bum—’ she made a gesture that she hoped signified absolutely perfect.
‘Never met her in my life.’
She laughed some more, throwing out more names she vaguely remembered from the list, each and every single one getting a ‘no, not them either’ shrug from Fola.
When she’d calmed down and had assured him it was in absolutely no way a problem that he’d faked it till he made it, they walked back to the hotel in a companionable silence. In the large lounge where many of the cyclists had gathered, Raven was drawing on the back of a t-shirt, a queue of people behind her.
‘What’s this?’ Kath asked as she took in the large flower Raven was drawing on the back of her shirt.
‘An aster,’ she said then pointed towards an older woman – ah it was Flo! – who seemed intent on attracting Fola’s attention. ‘Flo’s had a hard day,’ Raven said in a way that made it perfectly plausible that an aster was the only solution for it.
‘That’s kind. Any particular reason you chose the aster,’ asked Kath.
‘It means patience and a love of variety,’ smiled Raven. Her brightly coloured flame eyes had, from sweat most likely, faded and pooled in tear drop splodges of colour along her jawline.
‘I’m going for the daisy,’ volunteered a dark, curly haired woman watching Raven with hawklike intensity. Rachel? Rachel who, if Kath wasn’t mistaken, had suffered from severe post-partum depression a few years back. She’d made a life-changing phone call to LifeTime when her mother-in-law came to visit her and her colicky baby twins. She’d let herself in, then run up the stairs when she’d realised the house was quiet. Too quiet. It had been. Rachel had been holding a pillow over their faces for just a moment’s peace. The twins were eight now and the loves of her life. ‘It stands for family,’ she said proudly, then teared up, which the chap next to her saw and pulled her into a hug with a ‘there, there, we’re all in this together, aren’t we, love?’ And just like that, Kath knew she was in the right place, at the right time and her life, whichever way it was meant to go, should be guided by exactly this.
Sue took a sip of her soda water, wincing as she discovered stretching her legs out was much more difficult than it had been a couple of hours earlier when they’d sat down for supper. Maybe she should’ve followed Flo’s lead and been ‘ex-Fola-ated’ – a Flo-term which Sue was pretty sure meant get a massage or kneaded or cracked or whatever it was physios did to make people like Kath so fit and full of beans and people like Flo walk with more comfort. The poor woman. She’d never seen such a production getting out of an armchair. Flo had laughed it off, of course, but … Flo laughed about most things. Didn’t mean there wasn’t something buried beneath that smile of hers. Not in a million years would Sue forget the kindness with which she’d handled her telephone call all of those weeks ago. But it was difficult to burrow beneath all of that … efficiency.
‘Well, hello there. I wondered where you’d got to.’
Sue looked up and saw Charlie standing there, a half-drunk pint in his hand.
‘I was just watching the artist at work,’ she said.
They both looked over and watched as Raven put the finishing touches on what appeared to be a sunflower.
‘Feeling alright? It wasn’t too bad today,’ said Charlie. ‘Long, but …’
‘No, absolutely. I’m good. Well … a bit crickly.’
‘Is that a technical term?’ Charlie laughed. ‘Crickly?’
‘Yes. I learned it from Fola.’ She hadn’t. She’d just made it up, but the joke obviously didn’t have wings.
‘Oh,’ Charlie blew out a solitary, low-toned whistle, pointing at the empty chair beside her before sitting down. ‘Been seen by the big man, have you?’
‘No.’ She nodded towards the lobby where Flo had disappeared right after supper with two plastic bags of ice she’d bewitched from the bartender. ‘He saw my friend, Flo? Her knees are giving her gyp.’ Sue said the last part in a low voice even though Flo was two entire floors away in their room lying on the first of three single beds the hotel had somehow levered into the room. They had to walk sideways between them! Anyway. It was for charity.
‘Flo?’
‘She’s umm …’ Sue tapped her chin. She never really liked describing people. It felt … well in Flo’s case it felt unfair because she was the oldest one on the tour bar – she was the oldest one on the tour, possibly bar the two women she’d taken to calling ‘the meerkats’ and Sue was pretty sure the last way Flo would’ve liked to be described was ‘old.’
‘She’s a bit more mature than me? She’s the one who convinced Raven and me to join her, actually. Great laugh, tall-ish? She’s a really kind woman.’
Charlie did one of those circular nods. The type that said he really didn’t have a clue who she was talking about.
‘Come across anything interesting today?’ he asked after taking a sip of his pint.
‘I petted a cow,’ Sue said, brightening at the memory. It had been early on in the ride when most of the middle-aged men had hacked off at a competitive pace and slowly, but surely, everyone had spread out until they all realised it genuinely wasn’t a competition and there would be tea and biscuits for everyone no matter what time you arrived at the comfort break tent.
‘A cow,’ nodded Charlie. ‘Impressive.’
She’d thought so. It was one of many firsts she’d experienced today. Walking past a nuclear power plant. Pushing her bike up a hill. Braking down a hill. Talking to people who openly admitted to being depressed or anxious or, in one case, a terrible mother. It might not sound like much to someone who was more worldly, like Charlie seemed to be, but for her? It had been a difficult, exhilarating, scary and eye-opening day.
‘You know what struck me the most?’ she asked Charlie.
‘Tell me,’ Charlie leant in.
‘All of the people.’
Charlie’s brow furrowed. ‘Sorry, I—’
‘I know, I know – it sounds ridiculous, but … I just couldn’t get over the fact that there were all of these people everywhere. Going to the shops, driving their cars, heading to and from work, sitting on benches, walking their dogs. They’re everywhere!’
‘People …’ Charlie’s laugh was kind, but it was clear he wasn’t understanding her. ‘I guess they all can’t be in London.’
Urgh. That wasn’t what she meant. In fairness to Charlie, she didn’t know what she meant, but what she’d thou
ght as she’d ridden her bicycle past all of those lives – lives in full flow – was … I hope they all have someone to love them.
Across the large hotel lounge, she could hear Raven ‘closing up shop’ amidst a sea of protests.
‘Honestly,’ Sue said to Charlie. ‘She’s been at it for ages. They’ve barely left her alone during teatime.’ Raven’s chicken Kiev had gone cold as people kept pushing phones in her face and asking for this flower or that to be drawn onto their shirts. She supposed she could blame Kath, who’d magicked up a brand new set of Sharpies when Raven’s own pen set had died.
The woman who’d just had hers done started singing, ‘Lucky me! Lucky me! Now I’ve got the lucky Chakrabarti Charm!’ The riders had all cheered and applauded as she grandly made her way to the lift wearing her newly decorated t-shirt as a cape.
Raven caught Sue’s eye, rolled her own then crossed over to her table with a decidedly jauntier gait than she’d ever shown. In public, anyway. ‘Here you are, Sue.’
Sue’s heart felt fit to burst as Raven unfurled a t-shirt now emblazoned with a coral rose on the back and handed it to her. ‘Oh, Raven. That’s lovely. Thank you.’ She admired it a bit more, then carefully folded the t-shirt in her lap before remembering they weren’t alone. ‘Have you met Charlie?’
Raven gave a waist-height wave. ‘Hey. I’m Raven.’
‘Charlie. Bipolar mother.’
Raven frowned.
‘Sorry,’ Charlie, laughed. ‘Being here feels a bit like being in Alcoholics Anonymous, you know?’
Sue looked to Raven. No. She hadn’t made that link either.
‘Apologies,’ Charlie held up his hands. ‘It’s my way of coping. TMI at the best of times. I just figure, if everyone knows I’m Charlie “Bipolar Mum” Stanton, then we get to avoid a whole lot of awkward questions. It’s just out there.’
‘I see,’ said Sue, not at all ready to introduce herself as Sue, Wife of Gary who committed – Nope. No. She wasn’t ready. Not without an avalanche of terrifying feelings following in its wake. ‘You know?’ she began, instead of saying what she should have which was, I am so sorry you’re going through what you’re going through and I hope participating in this ride brings you some peace. ‘I think I need to turn in.’
In the lift (Charlie had joined another group), Raven asked, ‘Are you alright?’
‘Yes, absolutely. You?’
‘Yeah, I just thought you might’ve been a bit freaked with …’ she tipped her head down to indicate the lounge.
‘With what?’
‘With that guy flirting with you.’
Sue’s eyes popped open wide. ‘He wasn’t flirting.’
‘Okay,’ Raven said, which made Sue think, was he? And then, as she did with all things she couldn’t cope with thinking about, she shut the idea down. As soon as they got to the room, she curled up in her bed and, just as she did every night since he’d gone, she pretended Gary’s arms were around her and everything was exactly as it had always been, apart from today, she had petted a cow.
Chapter Forty-Seven
10 SECOND INTERSTITIAL: BRAND NEW DAY
VISUAL: Florence Wilson in cycling gear about to start off for DAY TWO of Hadrian’s Wall ride
AUDIO TRANSCRIPT:
FLORENCE: Although LifeTime doesn’t directly provide them, I’m sure they would agree with me in saying that a therapy dog really can change a life.
Off-camera question: Do you have one?
FLORENCE: I believe all dogs are therapy dogs, in their own way. Captain George, my Irish wolfhound is … excuse me … ooo … apologies … Yes, thank you, love. Silly me, forgetting to pack tissues. Anyway, what I meant to say … it’s difficult being away from him.
Off-camera question: And your husband? You must be missing him as well. Is he proud?
FLORENCE: My husband? Yes. He, umm … Stu is definitely … well look at this watch for example. He can track all of my journey on it. So, yes. Proud. That’s my Stuart. Proud and very, very good at making things work.
Off-camera question: Is there anything you’d like to say to him before you set off today?’
FLORENCE: Yes, of course. Remember darling, the vet said to make sure you change the dressing twice a day and I put Captain George’s medicine in with a bit of tuna. Second cupboard to the right of the fridge, top shelf. And, Stu, I … I – oh dear, could you … yes thank you, love. Just one of those two-tissue days I guess. Anyway, Stu, just a quick byline to say I’m not actually working at 111 anymore and please make sure everyone down at the club donates because my bum is bloody sore. You were right about the padded shorts. You were right about a lot of things.
GRAPHIC: BRAND NEW DAY: Bringing out the Best in Britons Everywhere
‘… and surprise, surprise! They trounced me,’ Kev beamed, his face a darker shade of shoe leather than the ‘fawn’ it had been before he’d left. Looks like someone ignored the beauty therapist about using the factor 50, then.
Kath smiled at the camera.
‘Sounds like an incredible time, Kev. And those meerkats? Adorable! You watch yourself tomorrow. A wine and segway tour? Sounds dangerous! Now, as Kev had such an exciting report – I’ve not got much time, but I know our riders will be wanting to hit the road for Brampton via Carlisle. First things first? I want to send a really loud shout out to the lads from the Sixth Armoured Division. One of our young riders and I – the self-titled @BigBonedGothGirl if you follow Instagram – met and chatted with former servicemen yesterday. They’re a pretty amazing trio who put their lives on the line in Afghanistan, Iraq and Syria to keep us safe. I hope any of you in the Maryport area who have jobs going will consider them. I know finding a job was one of my brother’s biggest struggles and … oh, jeezypeeps. This is harder than I thought. Apologies, ladies and gentlemen. I just—have you ever felt like you let someone down?’
Kath’s producer’s voice came through her earpiece. ‘Where exactly is this going, Kath?’
Any bloody direction I want it to, Kath thought.
She took a step closer to the camera as the producer tightly announced one minute left before they cut to commercial. She was supposed to have had a three-minute segment but Kev, his beach volleyballers and his meerkats had run over.
‘The truth is, I let my brother down. He came to me for help and all I gave him was money. Money helped, a bit. To buy alcohol. What I should’ve given him was my time. My contacts. My ear. He needed a job. He needed his sense of pride back. He needed someone to listen to him because the world he left when he joined the army as a sixteen-year-old Newkie lad was not the world he came back to as a forty-year-old ex-soldier. All of which is to say … viewers, maybe it’s time we all started listening a bit more. To the brothers of the Sixth and all the rest of you serving and retired army, navy, air force heroes? Even a few minutes of being heard could make such a diff—’
‘That’s thirty seconds, Kath.’
‘Right …’ she pulled out a cheat sheet and cleared her throat, ‘Time for a few shout outs to our riders from their loved ones.’
‘Jason and Jeff Woodland want their mummy to know they think she is extra special and that they are riding their bikes round the park today as a show of support.’
A teary Rachel blew the camera a kiss and said, ‘I love you, babies.’
Kath zipped through a few more, each one touching the heart of the recipient, all of which made her own heart stretch and ache and squeeze tight. They interacted with their viewers via Twitter all of the time but this? This was different. More powerful, because the viewers could actually see the impact of people taking time out to say, I see you, I hear you, I want to help.
‘Time for sign off,’ the studio producer announced. ‘Kev? Three seconds to you before we cut away from Cape Town and wrap with Kath.’
‘That’s it from me here on the Gold Coast. You enjoy making all of those new friends up there, Kath.’
A glimmer of possibility that Kev finally got why she was doing t
his lit within her. ‘I will,’ she enthused as the producer told Kev he was a wrap. ‘It astonishes me how resilient everyone here is. Depression, anxiety, PTSD, suicide – these are just a few of the issues everyone here is riding for. With any luck, we can pass our goal of five hundred thousand pounds and really make a difference.’
‘Struth! I’d give you the difference right now to get you to talk about something a bit cheerier. Makes me want to kill myself just listening—’ The monitor went blank, then fuzzed with static, then an apology message about the signal came up for a moment before cutting to a commercial. Kath’s skin went prickly. Kev had said that on air. He’d thought his mic was off and … oh, boy. Some several hundred miles away, Kath could already hear the complaint lines begin to ring.
Raven stared into the phone lens desperately trying to think of something beyond the fact that she was completely and utterly miserable. As big a draw as her so-called ‘authentic angst’ seemed to have been … self-imposed alone time had found her swan diving into the darker realms of her psyche. Realms she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted the Insta-sphere to have access to.
She’d long since told Sue, who was impressively fit, to ride ahead. Flo had insisted upon staying close to Becky because ‘she was worried about her being all alone back there’ even though Becky’s job was to ride at the back, but, whatever. Raven had been sending out her ‘I’m quite happy riding alone thank you very much’ vibes and, as such had spent rather a lengthy spell of alone time.
Alone with her Insta fanbase, which had increased by fifty per cent overnight. Apparently the world liked self-deprecating, overweight, Indian goth girls openly sharing their misery with a japey flair. Or maybe it was all the tags for ‘Chakrabarti Flower Power’ Kath had sent out. Kath was far more popular than Raven had thought. Stupid, she knew, considering Kath had been on television for like, a hundred years, but it would never once have occurred to her to join Kath’s FOUR MILLION-plus followers. Then again, now that she’d met her, she could see the draw. She was super nice. It was good to support super nice people. Especially when they were married to a major dick. And now, thanks to her largesse, Raven had heaps more followers.