by Daisy Tate
‘You know what?’ Kath opened her eyes, looked into the camera, and for the first time ever felt as though she was genuinely speaking directly to her viewers, ‘I was supposed to cut to a lovely little feature we did about a brilliant retiree from Codley Gate who lives his day-to-day life like one of Hadrian’s legionaries. He is a legend. Painstakingly restores a portion of the wall he inherited as part of his father’s sheep farm. Hats off to him for showing such fortitude, but if it’s alright with you, we’ll save that for later.’ She could feel the cyclists behind her lean in as her voice grew less morning show host and a bit more … Oprah. ‘The truth is, I’m finding it difficult to carry on as if absolutely nothing happened yesterday.’
Her producer took a step towards her, clipboard in hand, head shaking back and forth in that no, no, no this isn’t happening way of his, but she put on the blinkers and carried on talking. The real Kath. The one with everyday aches and pains, sorrows and joys. A lapsed Catholic with thirty years of confession to beg forgiveness for. ‘I you all an apology. Well, Kev owes you an apology more than I owe you an apology, because what he said yesterday was one of the most reprehensible, insensitive, and cruel things a man could say. The last thing a person going through a tunnel of darkness needs is to be mocked, so for that, I hope he gets down on his knees and begs for your forgiveness. The reason I owe you an apology – is because over the years, I enabled him to think saying those sorts of things was okay. I let myself be the butt end of his jokes, the recipient of his cream pies, the silly goose to his clever alpha male when in actual fact, I’ve come to realise my husband is a weak, weak man. No better than a schoolyard bully. Power and prestige and money and fame doesn’t make him a better person. Kindness does. And he doesn’t seem to understand that. As such, I wanted you, our viewers and supporters to know I will be filing divorce papers. I don’t know what this means for the show, his future, or my future. But what I do know, is that when I get on my bicycle today, I will be able to look each and every one of these courageous, incredible riders in the eye and say thank you. Thank you for showing me your hearts – raw and tarnished and beautiful – because they have given me strength at this, my darkest hour.’ She popped on a smile. ‘Don’t forget, after the commercial break our mystery celebrity chef will be giving us a foolproof way to keep our pavlovas crunchy on the outside and gooey on the inside … a bit like I used to think our Kev was. Join us tomorrow as we reach Tynemouth and celebrate, what we hope, is Brand New Day’s first record-breaking fundraiser. From all of us here in Gilsland … we wish you an epic one until the next one … which we hope will be even better. See you again at six. Bye for now!’
Kath smiled brightly at her producer, her body feeling tingly and light, as if all that honesty had filled her with helium. ‘Well!’ she said when she’d closed the space between them. ‘I guess I’d better be looking for a new job then.’
‘There’s no need to ride with me,’ Flo griped.
‘We’re not leaving.’
‘Well, I wish you would,’ she said, lacking the emotional elasticity to stop being so bloody unpleasant. Most of the group was well on their way (including Trevor who’d apologised but said he really did want to push on so he could spend some quality time at the fortelets up by Vindolanda which Flo had been crushed to learn wasn’t a wine-tasting stop). Unable to convince them to press on as well, Sue and Raven were riding too close for comfort. For Flo’s comfort anyway. She was achy and grumpy, and, courtesy of the rain hammering down on the roof all night, exhausted from a poor night’s sleep. Their B&B hostess had been absolutely brilliant, deftly ignoring the fact that a seventy-odd-year-old woman had sulked throughout her elaborate breakfast. Alongside the full English and hot, buttery croissants, she’d made big bowls of the creamiest porridge Flo had ever had. One spoonful in and she had been reminded too much of Stu who also made a mean bowl of porridge. Thinking of Stu, made her miss Captain George which, of course, made her think of Jennifer and all of the well-aimed accusations her daughter had pelted her with all those weeks ago. It had felt like a lifetime and yet, the time and distance had provided no buffer from the plain fact that her daughter disliked her. And not just as a mother. As a person. If we’d met on the street, Jennifer had said on the car ride home from the vets, I don’t think we’d ever be friends.
‘You two go on ahead.’
Flo wanted zero witnesses to her physical dilapidation. No one to bear witness to the emotional mangle she was being fed through at her own hand. Alone apart from Becky who would, annoyingly, be crawling along behind her in that ruddy van of hers.
‘We’re not leaving you on your own,’ Sue said.
‘Sorry,’ Raven confirmed. ‘The buddy system is a system for a reason.’
Flo glowered. ‘I can tell you right now, there will be walking.’
‘Then we’ll walk,’ said Sue, giving a little nudge to Raven who instantly said yes, yes, they both loved walking and were very happy to walk. All twenty-seven miles if necessary. In fact, did she know that it was possible to walk a marathon in around eight hours? You could do it in six, really, but she’d added in a couple of hours to account for the hills.
Raven, it came to pass, had had three carrot and ginger power shots in the course of receiving a sponsorship offer from the Toes Up Energy Drink company for her Instagram site. She’d told them she would think about it.
Ten minutes later, having arrived at the foot of their first hill, via a flooded cycle path that had the three of them plunging their pedals into ankle-deep water, they were walking.
Flo thought her misery had peaked yesterday, but it turned out she had been wrong. Quite wrong in fact.
Today’s fun little fact was that despite the ice packs, the Deep Heat, two knee supports and some rather peculiar tape Fola had put on her calves, her body wasn’t strong enough to get her to the end of this wretched trip. Wasn’t strong enough to get her home.
She was going to die out here.
Die in front of increasingly resilient Sue. Die in front of Raven who had seemed so fragile when she’d met her in the New Year, but, if Big Boned Goth Girl was anything to go by, would bounce back from this. Her death.
From where Flo was standing (pedalling), the only person who might really be upset at her demise was Flo.
She would never hold Captain George in her arms again but he’d be more than alright in Stu’s care. Never heat up a tin of soup for Stu again (neither tomato nor his beloved chicken noodle). She’d never get to tell her daughter what a fool she’d been or try and make up for the years of parenting that had driven her daughter to become a brittle, rule-loving, efficiency expert who barely noticed the daffodils. Or Jamie. She missed him, too, but under Cynthia’s care he’d very likely turn out fine either way, until, she supposed, Cynthia turned seventy and decided to do a cycle ride across the Australian Desert or climb Uluru in the dark or whatever it was Asian-Australians did to prove to themselves the hearts beating in their chest beat for more than just their own pleasure. He’d get a bit of breathing room then. A bit of time to reflect. Her sweet, dear boy. A bit of a pushover, but … the world couldn’t all be Stu’s.
She tipped her face up to the rain, letting the sensation of it wash through her because, after today, she’d never feel it again. What a waste, she thought, relieved, for the very first time, that her parents couldn’t see her now. What a waste.
‘Did you know,’ began Sue—
‘—I’m sorry, Sue,’ Flo interrupted, ‘… but if you’re going to tell me one more thing about bloody Hadrian’s bloody Wall I am going to stuff my head into this hedge until you stop.’
Sue, much to her surprise, did not feel hurt by this or any of the other little barbed snippets Flo had been sending out like poison darts all morning.
She knew it wasn’t personal. That Flo was going through what they all were: battling demons they’d not thought they’d encounter courtesy of all of this thinking time.
Shepherds, Sue thought, must be very,
very peaceful people. Old ones anyway. The young ones probably listened to podcasts or Radio 2.
For some reason this struck her as incredibly funny and, as if cued by the heavens, a flock of sheep ran up to the low hedge to encourage her with their bleats and baas.
She smiled at them and gave them a courtly wave, feeling quite a different woman to the one she’d been yesterday.
It was as if the tears she had shed had cleared the way for someone new: the elusive New Sue who had flickered and flared quite a lot in the early days after Gary had—after Gary had killed himself. New Sue had all but disappeared as she stumbled through the aftermath of the trauma she never once imagined herself having to survive. But now it seemed she was back. And Sue kind of liked her.
So who was this woman?
The New Sue.
Someone who would no longer try and break awkward silences with the phrase ‘Did you know …’ That was for sure.
Which did lend itself to the question … what would the New Sue do? She’d already done crumpling to the ground to sob and sob in the pouring rain until eventually all of those tears had to turn to laughter, because, truth be told, she didn’t think she could face the future if it was going to be entirely miserable. Gary would’ve been pretty annoyed if she walked round with her ‘sad clown’ face as Raven called it.
She glanced across at Flo, whose eyes were glued to the road about a metre in front of her as instructed by Fola, who said there was no point in looking up ahead when what really mattered was the next step she took. And the next. She’d sent him on his way fairly sharpish after that, but it seemed some of what he said had stuck.
Sue tried to think of a joke, something, anything to lighten the mood hunkering around them like the misty cloudscape they were cycling towards. The only joke she could remember was one Dean had told her back when they were about six. It went something along the lines of what was black and white and red all over but she couldn’t remember if a newspaper or a frog in a blender was the answer, so …
‘And will you turn that bloody music off!’ Flo bellowed at Becky who had been trying and failing to hit just the right note with a Sia anthem that, Sue presumed, was meant to be inspiring.
They heard the van screech and then, rather terrifyingly, it surged towards them, sending the three of them flying into the streaming ditches to avoid getting hit by Becky, one of the most generous and kind women any of them had ever met who, it now seemed, was trying to kill them?
Sue pulled herself out of the ditch, wishing Flo’s mood hadn’t gone quite so dark. It was one thing to snipe at her, but at Becky? Really?
‘Everyone alright?’ Raven asked, taking special care to help Flo who was, unsurprisingly, furious.
Sue looked ahead to where the van had skidded to a halt at a cross angle in the small country lane. This was definitely not the way Becky parked, or drove for that matter.
She left her bike in the ditch and ran up to the van.
Becky was sat in the front seat, ashen faced, covered in sweat, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
‘Becky? Is everything—’
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry. My chest. It’s just. God. Sorry. My arm started hurting and then my other one and now I—’ she broke off, sweat pouring down from her temples. ‘I think I—oh, god, I think I’m going to be sick.’
She pushed the door open, sending Sue flying, but had forgotten to take her seat belt off so hung there, wretching onto the step that she had bounced on and off of throughout the journey, happy as a lark.
‘Is everything okay—’ Raven ran up to the van, quickly taking in the scene. ‘Becky!’ She unbuckled her and somehow managed to hoist/carry her out of the van onto the side of the road. ‘Do you have food poisoning? Did you drink something last night?’
‘No – I …’ Becky doubled over, wretching so hard her entire body shook.
When she’d recovered, she began to whimper in short, sharp breaths.
‘She’s having a heart attack.’
Sue and Raven turned to see Flo looking very much like old Flo. Efficient, capable, ready to tackle a challenge.
‘Sue, you ring 999. Raven, lay her out flat in the back of the van, find a blanket or something – we don’t want her out here in the wet.’ Flo pulled open the side door the van. ‘I’ll try to find some aspirin.’
Sue pulled off her backpack, dug into the zippy bag she’d stored her phone in then dialled 999. Nothing. She dialled it again. Nothing.
‘I can’t get any signal,’ Sue hit her phone against her leg as if that would suddenly cause all five bars to pop into life.
Nothing.
She glared at the phone. No. This was not going to happen. Not on her watch.
‘Where’s your phone, Raven?’
Raven pointed to the camelbak still on her back. Sue dug round until she found it. Same thing. No signal.
Flo came round the corner with a bottle of aspirin, tipping one into her hand and instructing Becky, ‘Here you are darling. You’ve got to chew it. It’ll be disgusting but you must do it. Raven, can you get a bottle of water for the lass, please?’
‘Flo, we need your phone.’
Flo dipped into the pocket of her waterproof jacket and pulled it out. The front glass was fogged and the touch screen refused to respond. They all looked at one another in despair. ‘It must’ve got soaked when I went into the ditch.’ Her voice held no accusations. It was just a fact. Becky had begun to have a heart attack and they’d all fallen in the ditch and now they were out here in the middle of a deserted country lane on a miserable Sunday morning with absolutely no one about and no phone signal and a woman’s life entirely dependent upon them.
‘Oh, shit.’ Raven sagged as Becky went limp. ‘She passed out.’
They all shifted her into place in the back of the van. Flo clamboured in and shook Becky by her shoulders, then rubbed her knuckles hard against her chest.
‘Stop! Don’t, please,’ cried Sue. ‘You’ll hurt her.’
‘It’s a sternum rub,’ Flo said matter of factly. ‘Painful stimuli determines whether or not she’s fainted or is unconscious.’
Becky didn’t respond at all which meant ‘…CPR’ they all said.
Sue shook her shoulders and bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. If anyone was well equipped to save a woman from a heart attack it was three 111 call operators, one of whom had also been a flight attendant.
‘Start the van,’ Raven said to Stu. ‘Find her iPod and put on “Staying Alive”.’
Flo gave a quick nod of approval but Sue remained motionless. ‘This is hardly the time to listen to music.’
‘It’s the beat at which you’re meant to do the compressions,’ Raven reminded her.
‘Shouldn’t we be trying to bring her to hospital?’ Sue asked, her voice growing more and more high pitched as Flo began ripping open the many layers of Becky’s earth mother ensemble.
Flo stared at her for a moment and then solidly said, ‘Yes. Head to Hexham, follow the signs. There are plenty of them. If you see a village hall or an old phone box with an AED on it – stop there first. Raven and I will switch off doing compression.’
Sue, an uncertain driver at the best of times, climbed over the vomit and into the driver’s seat and turned on the van. She gave Raven the iPod as, from the rearview mirror, Sue could see Flo begin to give compressions.
After a couple of false starts and horrified apologies they were on their way. Sue’s mind reeled with ways to get Becky the help she needed as fast as possible. She would sound the horn if another car came by. She put on the flashing lights. She drove in the middle of the small country lane until she pictured getting hit by an oncoming car so lurched the van to the side and drove so close to the hedge Raven instructed her to drive in the middle of the road again. Raven, in times of stress, had an incredibly solid, commanding voice. Sue drove up and down and up and down until she rammed on the brakes, the road in front of them completely flooded. It was possible to pass on
a nearby footbridge if you were, say, on a bicycle … but in a van? No chance. If they’d bothered bringing their bicycles with them they could’ve … what? Propped Becky between them on the central support bar and pedalled her to Hexham?
Sue clenched her jaw, stared into the rearview mirror, trying to keep her mother’s leering, jeering voice out of her head, but all she could hear was, ‘It’ll all end in tears, Suey. It’ll all end in tears.’
Not today it wouldn’t.
Sue jammed the van’s long gear shaft into reverse. There was simply no chance she was going to let her mother be right. Not about this, anyway.
She drove, in reverse, forcing herself to tune into Raven and Flo who were timing how long they’d been doing compressions.
‘What are you doing?’ Flo asked when she noticed they were going in reverse.
‘The road is flooded. We can’t get through. I’m going to see if there are any turn offs.’
Flo started tapping at her watch, swiping and pinching and flicking her fingers along the screen. ‘There aren’t any. Not that lead to Hexham anyway.’
‘What about Gilsland? Is there a hospital there?’
‘No.’ Maybe Brampton but that’ll take at least twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour and—’
They all stared at one another as the bleak reality of their situation sunk in. Unless they found a way to make an AED out of the jumper cables … Becky might die.
‘Don’t stop!’ Sue shouted, realising Raven had fallen into the same motionless stupor she had.