A Bicycle Built for Sue

by Daisy Tate

  Home.

  Raven pictured an amalgam of her room at Sue’s and her childhood room, not entirely sure where she fit anymore, but not in a bad way. More in a way that signaled another transition was on the horizon. Another change. But this time, a good one.

  As she was being shuttled off towards the High Street where her brother said he had spotted not one, but three restaurants that would fit their mother’s criteria, she caught eyes with Sue who was surrounded by her family and a whole lot of other people she hadn’t seen before.

  Dylan gave Dean a big old wave. ‘Alright, boss?’ Dean did one of the weird surfing hand things that Dylan regularly did in his selfies. Selfies he sent to his mum. Damn, that boy was cool. Talk about learning not to judge a book by its cover …

  She gave Sue a wave and then made an ‘I’ll call you’ gesture with her hand standing in for a phone. Sue nodded, her own expression looking every bit as dazed as hers no doubt was.

  Sue was shell-shocked.

  They were all here.

  Every last person she had expected at Gary’s wake.

  His football mates. His pub mates. His step-mum. Her entire family. Even Katie. Which was very peculiar, because they were all meant to be in the Canaries. When she had crested the hill and pulled into the square in front of the castle she had felt elation and relief at finally having finished the ride but also a strange sense of hollowness. As if a chapter had closed in her life and she’d not yet found a way to turn the page for the next one. She had a job to go back to, a house to go unlock the front door to, but … she didn’t think she wanted those things anymore. The ride, the talks with Kath, the terrifying incident with Becky, the talk she’d had this morning in hospital … they were all game changers. And why do something like this if she wasn’t going to finally start listening to what the universe was saying to her.

  Her eyes scanned all of the beaming faces, their voices and congratulations all blurring into one happy buzz.

  It’s your choice.

  It’s your future.

  As she was showered with flowers, and was instructed to read all of the banners and silly signs (We believe in U Sue! She’s a SUEnami! Watch out life! We’re going to SUE you!), Sue felt a strange sense of calm come over her. There was no need to feel uncomfortable or awkward or unworthy. She had earned this. Literally by the seat of her padded pants, she had earned this.

  Flo barged through the lot of them at one point, pulling her into a fierce hug, whispering promises to bring her bicycle to the nearest metal merchant so they could all watch it be crushed into nothing and to please never let her talk Sue into anything quite so ridiculous ever again. Sue gave her a kiss, unable to put into words how very grateful she was that Flo had talked her into it. This ride had changed her life. Her perspective on it anyway.

  Later, after her mother who had been none too subtly trying to wrangle an introduction to Kath, had met and lavished her with adoration, Sue caught eyes with Raven and Dylan – both of whom gave her big old fat waves, their faces happy as could be.

  ‘He’s a good lad.’

  Sue turned to see Dean also returning a wave.

  ‘Is he still at the agency?’

  ‘Absolutely. He’s a bright young man. Works hard. I’ve offered him a full-time job.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Would’ve been a fool not to. He knows things about computers I could only dream about knowing. Thanks for the intro, Suey.’ Dean’s face went a bit funny and he scrubbed his jaw and pushed his lips out as if he were trying to hold in something he wasn’t entirely comfortable saying and then, finally, as if someone had turned a key in his back, he said, ‘Sue, I owe you an apology.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  He glanced at Katie, who was squeezing Bev for the entirety of her conversation with Kath, then steered Sue away from the crowd to a bench. ‘Gary came to me.’

  Sue’s heart went still – suspended in the centre of her chest as Dean continued.

  ‘He came to me a few times after his dad died, asking for help.’

  ‘What kind of help?’

  ‘With the accounts.’

  Her heart lurched up into her throat but she still managed to ask, ‘And did you? Did you help him?’

  Dean pushed his chin out and looked away, a gesture which told her all she needed to know.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Suey. I hadn’t realised it was that bad.’

  ‘How do you mean? How do you even know it was bad?’

  ‘Dylan told me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t be mad. Raven told him about you and the boxes and all of Gary’s invoices and he suggested that – whilst you were away – he bring the ones you hadn’t been through into the office so we could have a look.’

  Sue tried to swallow and couldn’t.

  ‘He’s owed a lot of money, Suey. He owes some, too, but …’ Dean finally met her eyes again. ‘I fucked up. I’ve got four of my best freelancers on it but I’m overseeing it all. We’re putting a proper set of accounts together. Sending out invoices. Talking to all of the vendors. We’re getting it sorted, alright? You’re not to worry about money, little sister. You’re going to be okay.’

  A week ago, Sue would never have believed him. A week ago she would’ve wondered what he wanted. More babysitting. A cake to be made for his staff. A run round the lounge with the hoover before Katie got back. But there was something about the way Dean looked at her now – as if she were an actual, real person – that made her believe him. And whilst, yes, more than anything in the world she would’ve preferred to be up to her neck in debt and have her Gary by her side, that wasn’t the case. It never would be the case.

  Dean pulled an envelope out of the inside of his jacket pocket (a jacket Katie must’ve made him wear because it was royal blue and she knew for a fact Dean couldn’t bear royal blue, but people did things for the people they loved even if they didn’t always make sense, didn’t they? Though she’d never once admitted it, Sue couldn’t bear toad-in-the-hole. But she made it, because the way her Gary’s eyes lit up …

  ‘I found this in one of the boxes.’

  ‘What is it?’

  He glanced over her shoulder to where her family were all standing in a group, their faces lit with expectant smiles. ‘I’ll get them to a restaurant. You stay here. Have a read. Join us after.’

  She took the pale pink envelope in her hand, surprised not to see the telltale shake.

  And then, once Dean had left, she opened it and pulled out a huge, over-the-top Valentine’s Day card featuring an enormous unicorn dressed like Cupid.

  She ignored the tears falling down her face and made herself open it.

  Dear Suey –

  Happy Valentine’s Day, love! Happy Valentine’s Day for this and all of Valentines yet to come because if you’ve found this card, then you know I’m not here anymore. I’m so sorry, but I just can’t anymore. I’m too close to dragging you down the rabbit hole with me. If there is one thing I meant from the bottom of my heart it was my marriage vow to you to always, always protect and care for you. This is the best way, love. I know it might not seem like it now, but I promise you, it’s the best way.

  Things took a different turn than I thought they would with the business. With Dad gone … oh, Sue. I’m not good with numbers. Bills. All of that stuff I was desperate to be a part of. Dad was right. I was wrong. Cancer took him too soon and now that I’ve cocked just about everything up beyond repair, I’ve decided it’s best to take myself out of the equation. Know this – I love you. Always have. With all of my heart, Suey, I love you.

  And I’m sorry. I’m so incredibly sorry I have chosen to do what I am about to do, but for me it will be a release. I hope, one day, you will see it that way, too. None of this is your fault. Quite the opposite. Besides my dad, you were the only one who ever believed in me. That makes you the strongest woman I’ve ever known. You stood up to everyone when you married me. You stood up in front of the world and said, I beli
eve in this man even though he is pants at Maths, and Biology, and all of those other subjects I should’ve done at school that you were brilliant at. You changed your life to be with me. I may not have told you, but I thanked Heaven every single day that I had such a brilliant, loving girl by my side. Now I will be free and I hope you grow to feel the same way. You can do anything you want to. Put the unicorns in the bin and live the life you want to.

  Love, your Gary

  TWO YEARS LATER

  ‘Fifteen seconds to air, Kath.’

  Kath gave her spine a little wriggle. Two years it had taken to get to this point. Two years of staring every single one of her life’s failures in the face, hugging them, thanking them for making her the person she was today, then bidding them farewell.

  Bidding farewell to Kev had, surprise surprise, been relatively easy. Why would she want to spend the rest of her life with someone who treated her as though she was inferior to him? Worthy of ridicule? There had been some hellos as well. Things with her children were good. Really good. They’d rekindled their relationship as adults and it was a comfort knowing they’d always pick up the phone to her now when she rang. The run on Strictly had been brilliant as well. She’d not won, but the public had really been behind her and Claudia Winkleman was a friend now, as was Bruno. The love. Him and his saucy Cha cha cha.

  ‘Ten seconds.’

  She gave her audience the thumbs up. Women mostly, but there were some men out there, too. Ever since the cycle ride, they’d begun popping up on her Twitter following as well. In all honestly, she could hardly believe they’d filled the two-hundred seat auditorium. And the buzz! The energy crackling through the place made it feel as though she was about to open the Strictly season.

  She glanced at the side stage where her ‘secret’ guest gave her a here we go smile.

  ‘And we’re live in five, four, three …’ Kath’s eyes slid to the producer’s fingers, just below the studio camera, then up to the lens as …

  ‘Hello and good afternoon Britain! I’m Kath Fuller. I hope you’ve all got a nice warm drink and are sitting comfortably, because we have got an incredible woman here to talk to us today on this – my brand new show – I’m Listening.’

  Kath walked to the front of the small stage in the regional television studio wondering whether anyone beyond the people in this room would see the show. She stared at the camera and saw the autocue roll into place.

  She was meant to launch into a deep and meaningful, but artfully crafted, monologue about the ethos of the show, how it had been born from a void she’d felt not only in herself, but in society. How her entire life had changed when, amongst other things, her marriage fell apart on live television. Her weaknesses had been made public. But, despite all of the shame and embarrassment and pain that had followed she had risen, like the Phoenix from the flame, to host her own television show again.

  But she didn’t want to. The monologue was too … it was too beige for what had actually happened. The truth was, even with the incredible amount of support she’d received from the public, she’d lost her job and no one else had swooped in to capitalize on her time in the limelight. She’d felt ugly and old and unwanted. Particularly when Kev had been offered a job before she had. It’d fallen through in the end, but he was hosting some sort of radio show in the Midlands these days and had, by all accounts, a very loyal following. She wanted to tell them how soul destroying it had been when she’d gone to see her children. Their first response to her tearful pleas for forgiveness were to shake their heads and say, no Mum. It’s too late for anything like that. She’d considered turning to drink, before remembering all of the wheels that had been set in motion had been for a dead alcoholic so she took a long hard look in the mirror, stripped everything back to the ‘essential Kath’ and began to volunteer at LifeTime.

  The calls she’d taken had yanked her out of her one-woman pity party. Particularly the overnight shifts. The number of men she’d spoken to who reminded her of her brother had been staggering. She wanted to tell them all of this and how it had led her to take an eye-opening pilgrimage across America to be an audience member in chat show after chat show until, at long last, she’d reached California, where baring one’s soul seemed to be an entry requirement. All of which had led her back here to Newcastle, to this stage, in front of this audience who were waiting for her to say something. Anything really.

  So she did the only thing she felt they deserved: stepped to the side, held her hand out to the side of the stage and said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud and humbled to introduce to you my mentor and, I can’t believe I’m saying this – my friend, Oprah Winfrey! Let’s show her what a Newcastle welcome is all about!!!!!’

  It was less than a five-minute spot, of course. And they’d only managed to make that happen because Oprah was already over in the UK doing one of her SuperSoul roadshows. But she’d come to Kath’s out-of-the-way studio in Newcastle. She’d sat down and listened to Kath’s story, along with the audience. Nodded and absorbed just how low Kath had had to go before she realised that she had a chance to make a difference, a real difference in people’s lives and that the only way to do that was to own everything she was which was why, when Oprah had come out on stage, she’d been carrying a birthday cake with sixty candles on it. All of which Kath blew out in a oner. And now that Oprah was gone and the cake had been shared amongst the audience and the crew she had just a bit more unfinished business to see to.

  ‘That’s ten seconds to final commercial, Kath,’ said the voice in her ear.

  ‘… that’s all we have time for today from Newcastle, but I want you to know that when you tune in tomorrow – and I really hope you will – I’ll be here … and I’ll be listening.’

  TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER

  ‘It’s hill climb time!’

  Flo stood up on her stationary bicycle, loving the expressions on everyone’s faces as her students tried and largely failed to heave themselves up to standing on their pedals. It was the trying that mattered. The journey.

  ‘Remember! No matter what you achieve – you’ve achieved a personal best! Because by walking through that door – by choosing Golden Soul Cycle – you have made a decision to love yourself! Can I have a yes, Flo!’

  She’d stolen this end bit from MasterChef. She’d actually stolen quite a few of her inspirational lines from MasterChef, but so long as it worked, she figured a bit of verbal plagiarism wasn’t going to land her in the clink. After all, who would want to arrest a poor, grey-haired old dear from Portugal’s finest golf and retirement community?

  The motley, mis-matched crew of geriatrics pedalled and sang and ‘Yes Flo’d’ every Tuesday and Thursday when she and Stu were down here in the Algarve. This time they’d be staying a bit longer so she could train one of the younger girls who ran the pilates class. The leisure centre wanted to run it full time now that it had proved such a hit. The class was completely full today. Full of oldies. Some with dyed hair, some with gunmetal grey, or, like her now that she’d grown it out, shock white. Right in the centre of them all, her Stu was pedalling away, singing rock and pop songs she never knew he knew the lyrics to (he had helped with the playlist), and, of course, cheering the other riders on.

  After the students had sweated and groaned and begged Flo to give them all a break, she turned off the disco ball, leaving the room in a soft, restorative light and pressed the song on her playlist they all knew signaled cool down. ‘Everyone get your lighters ready!’

  There was all sorts of fiddling with phones (Stu had helped everyone download the app because real lighters were forbidden … health and safety), and then, as the flickering artificial lights began to fill the dark room, that same rush of joy she’d felt all of those years ago in a stadium filled with crazed fans rose within her.

  ‘Time to dial back the resistance,’ she said. ‘Put a towel round your neck. That’s right. Beatrice, take a drink of water, you look a bit flushed. That’s right, everybody. Slow your
tempo down … nice and easy.’ And then, just as she did every single time the lyrics began to wrap round her, reminding her just how close she’d come to throwing it all away, she looked her husband in the eye and began to sing along with Freddie, ‘Love of my life.’

  THREE YEARS LATER

  Raven watched as the eighteen-year-old in front of her shifted and, as she had done so many times when she had been asked to talk to someone about what was troubling her, avoided eye contact.

  She pushed the box of felt and scissors and glue towards her. She’d just shown her how to make emoji-shaped elbow patches. If she wanted to do it, great. If she didn’t? Not a problem. Crafting or drawing or etching out squares and triangles were all ways of letting the brain process whatever it was they really wanted to say.

  ‘It’s like getting into Oxford wasn’t enough, you know?’ Alexandra’s voice was filled with an all-too-familiar fury. ‘It’s like, whatever I do, it won’t be enough unless it is exactly what they’d planned for me.’

  Raven nodded. Even though she’d been taught not to nod at the training sessions, she’d learnt from experience that if you were really listening to someone, you couldn’t help but nod. It was a biochemical reaction or something. She’d have to check on that. She was only three years into her psychiatry degree so she still had quite a way to go before she understood all of the why and wherefores, but she was pretty comfortable when it came to this terrain. The ‘please your parents’ turf. She asked, ‘What do you think it is they want you to do?’

  ‘Oh, you know,’ huffed Alexandra, ‘Graduate with honours, then get a masters or a PhD and make loads of money so that they can brag to everyone about what brilliant parents they are.’

  ‘I know this might sound weird, but do you think it’s their way of keeping you safe?’ Raven began to doodle, a crayoned flower appearing amidst the spirals and swirls and other shapes that covered the piece of paper she probably should’ve been taking notes on, but had decided her ‘counselees’ should see. Feeling as if you were being inspected, when what you really wanted was to be heard, was annoying. So, she listened. Listened and doodled and pushed bits of felt and coloured pens around and, sometimes when she had a bit of extra money because her mum had filled her freezer with loads of homemade food, glitter. She had a weakness for glitter.