A Bicycle Built for Sue

by Daisy Tate

  ‘I dunno. I suppose if you wanted to look at things that way, you could.’

  Raven tapped the table and drew Alexandra’s eyeliner-rimmed eyes up to her own. ‘They’re probably a bit freaked.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘You know. They’ve been looking after you for eighteen years – like a job. And now all of a sudden – they don’t wield the power they used to. It must be freaky.’

  ‘Oh,’ Alexandra laughed a dry, angry laugh. ‘They’re not letting go of the reins that easily. Let me assure you.’

  Raven pushed a few crayons in Alexandra’s direction. This might take a few more sessions. Who knew? Maybe they’d meet all year. The student-to-student counselling sessions were cool like that. Flexible. A lot like Raven had become after her ride when everything changed all over again.

  She had moved back into her parents’ a couple of weeks after they’d got back from Northumberland and, much to her delight, so had Sue. Little, timorous, lovely Sue had put her house on the market and applied to Oxford-Brookes to retrain as a paramedic. Raven had somehow managed to convince Oxford University she really actually did want to go there, but she’d been taking some time out to ‘fine tune her academic wants and needs’ which, much to her surprise, took the form of training to become an art therapist. She was going to become a proper shrink so she could write prescriptions if necessary, but if her parents’ pharmacy was anything to go by, it was a path she would try and avoid. Why take drugs to mask what you were feeling if you didn’t have to? Yeah, facing some of life’s hurdles was painful, but … realising you could leap over them? Fucking epic.

  THREE YEARS AND ONE WEEK LATER

  ‘Well, would you look at that,’ Sue’s father cleared his throat and began a weird nodding thing that Sue expected was keeping some tears at bay. ‘It fits like a glove. Well. A hat glove. As if it was made for you, anyway.’

  ‘Do you think?’ Sue couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. Little Sue Green, wearing a mortar board and gown.

  ‘You look ever so clever, Suey.’ Bev genuinely did look proud. She threw a look back at Katie. ‘Doesn’t she look clever, Katie. Our Suey?’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Katie, still a bit miffed that Sue’s graduation had fallen in the midst of the children’s half term when she had been hoping to take them sand dune surfing in Germany. Flo had recommended it apparently. For core strengthening. But Dean had overruled her and insisted they stay here.

  ‘Here she is!!!!’ Flo bustled up to the group, Captain George walking alongside her without so much as a limp. ‘Stu! Stu get over here.’ She leant into Sue and said conspiratorially, ‘He keeps bossing me round, telling me how to train the new puppy, so I thought I’d give him a go and let him see what it was like handling a mad thing.’

  Sue thought Stuart had probably had more than enough experience with mad things, but was too happy to tease Flo about it. ‘Thanks so much for coming. I can’t believe you’re here after having just been in Australia.’

  ‘What? We wouldn’t have missed it for the world! Besides. What better way to knock the jet lag out of our system, eh? Bit of sunshine, an inspirational story. Hey. Do you think they’d let an oldie like me in the back of your ambo—’

  Flo laughed hysterically before Sue could find a kind way to say not really, no. ‘Only joshing you, love. I’m quite busy enough with the new pup and you’ll never guess. Stu’s teaching me how to golf! We’ll most likely need you to dog-sit again if you’re free in about four weeks’ time?’

  Sue laughed and smiled. She loved dog-sitting at the Wilsons. Especially in the autumn when Flo gave her free rein to fill up their freezer with all of the cakes she made alongside Bake Off.

  There was a call on the tannoy for all of the graduates to make their way to the front of the outdoor seating area.

  ‘Sue!’ Raven ran up, her parents in tow. ‘We made it!’

  Sue pulled them all into a huge hug. They’d been such a help over the past few years. She had lived with them right up until she’d got her place at Oxford-Brookes when she had decided perhaps a bit of time living on her own might be good for her. At forty-two years of age, she had never done it. She loved her little, sunny studio to this day. It looked out on some lovely fields and was just over a mile from campus. Instead of melting down her bicycle as promised, Flo had given it to Sue with a promise to keep her up to date on her studies in person or via email as she and Stu were doing a bit more travelling these days. A bit of a second honeymoon we’re having, she’d stage-whispered well aware Stuart could hear them perfectly well even though he was busy with his Sudoku.

  When the head of her department handed her her diploma, Sue’s smile actually hit ear to ear. Gary would’ve absolutely loved this. Would’ve rented out the function room at the Royal Oak and this time … this time she would’ve filled it. She couldn’t believe how her life had changed. Would she have preferred Gary to be a part of it? Of course she would have. So she pictured him sometimes, standing at the far side of a restaurant or up at the pub bar, giving her one of his cheeky winks or one of those crooked smiles he’d once told her he reserved specifically for her, and then she made herself tune in, be present in whatever it was she was doing, and live her life, for that, after all, was what he had wished most for her. And now, thanks to having known and loved him, she knew the life she would lead from here on out would be so much the richer for having loved a man who had loved her every bit as much in return.

  ‘Suey!’ Dean clapped his hands together after they had finished the requisite family photos. ‘We were thinking we’d like to take you out tonight. Have a slap-up meal somewhere. What do you say? Indian? Pub grub? Something a bit more swish? Your call.’

  She gave him a hug (they hugged a lot more these days). ‘Thanks, big brother. I’m afraid I’m busy.’

  ‘Oh?’ His eyebrows did that ‘tell all’ thing they did whenever he was trying to live vicariously through her life (he had recently expanded the business, with Dylan’s help, into IT recruitment).

  ‘Would you take a rain check?’ It was something she never would’ve dared asked someone before, least of all Dean but, she was a different person now. She could deliver babies. Help burn victims. Stop heart attacks (with the proper equipment or without). A myriad of things to help take away the pain when people needed someone most.

  And, of course, tonight she would be doing more of the same. But not in her shiny new reflective gear. No. Tonight was something even more special than climbing out of an ambulance gurney and run bag at the ready. This was her gift to Gary. Her gift to life.

  Incident Number: 1309

  Call Handler: Sue Young

  TIME: 21:47

  Call Handler: Hello, you’ve reached LifeTime. My name is Sue. I’m a suicide widow, a paramedic and I’m here to help. What would you like to talk about today?

  Caller: How much time have you got?

  Call Handler: For you? All the time in the world.

  Author’s note

  In order to make this book as realistic as I could for the charity cycle ride, I decided I wanted to ride my bicycle along the same route Sue, Raven, Flo and Kath took. So I did. Were there flaws in my plan? Most assuredly. But was I pleased it went the way it did? Definitely.

  Let me caution you: Think twice before not riding your bicycle for two years then embarking on a 174-mile journey from Ravenglass to Tynemouth. In October. During a week where the wind and rain are relentless. And it’s cold. And you told your husband you didn’t want to be tempted by his warm, cosy car if he was riding along as a support driver. So he went to Scotland instead. Which, for three rainsoaked hours you can actually see, as you round the corner from Anthorn to Bowness-on-Solway. I’d thought it was Brigadoon until a septuagenarian travelling alongside me for half an hour on his electric bicycle set me right.

  Silver linings? I learnt a lot about what pushing yourself to the physical limit can do to your emotional state. It is long and hard and sometimes scary because much more
of the journey was on actual roads than I had thought. There were far more hills than I’d anticipated (my planning could’ve been a lot better). And riding at the tail end of ‘the season’ meant there was A LOT of time on my own. Without headphones or podcasts or anything apart from my thoughts to keep me busy. Most of which went like this: I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.

  Little nuggets that ended up in the book: Yes … my bum was sore. Insanely sore. Turns out it’s really, really hard to pull up not one, but three pairs of lycra shorts when they are saturated. It is also difficult to find a hedge to hide behind that isn’t knee deep in mud (that time of year) where the lorries can’t see you. No offence to the lovely Cumbrian town of Silloth, but for some strange reason, you smelt of tinned spaghetti to me. Which, frankly, had the chicken burger not been available, I would’ve gladly eaten a tin of. I ate sticky toffee pudding for dessert. Every night. I was in my bed and asleep by 8pm. Every night. I was also up at 6am and riding by 7am every morning. The longest day was the first, at fifty-four miles, and the shortest was the last but that was mostly because I can’t add. They all ended up being the same amount of hours long because someone didn’t inform Hadrian that putting a wall on a hill meant the ride wasn’t going to be carefree and whimsical.

  There were heaps of blackberries in the hedges so if I needed a bonus snack I had one. The folk who ran the B&Bs were insanely kind. A particular shout out to the Tourist Information Centre in Brampton which is staffed entirely by volunteers and run on £1000 per year (plus any donations from saturated passersby who are given a cup of tea!). They sheltered me from the rain, gave me a hot cup of tea and called a B&B, the Hollies on the Wall, and explained I had reached my physical limit for the day (I had. There were tears), and could they please come get me. Which they did. (I was three miles downhill from them and would’ve arrived under nightfall if I had continued.) Upon arrival, they stuffed my saturated cycle shoes with newspaper, let me play with their dog and gave me the best breakfast of the ride. (I hasten to add the breakfast at the Hallbank Guesthouse in Hexham was also tremendous and the hospitality was fabulous.)

  It was really hard and it was also unbelievably satisfying to achieve. In a weird way, I was grateful for all of the bonus ‘hardships’ I had to manoeuvre as it helped compound processing all of the emotional turmoil each of my characters was going through. Pushing your bicycle through shin-deep water for healthy chunks of the ride bring out the philosopher in a person. And the calf muscles!

  I did some fundraising for the charity Mind and a lot of people donated. It was truly humbling. If you fancy leaving a donation for them or Samaritans (or volunteering to help), here’s how you do it:

  https://www.mind.org.uk

  https://www.samaritans.org

  If you know someone you are frightened for, you can also ring the charities and they will advise you on ways to help. Well done, you. xx

  Acknowledgements

  Big thanks to Chacha for answering a thousand million questions about 111. Gratitude to the wonderfully generous Debbie Macomber for her endless supply of valuable advice and introducing me to chocolate-covered bacon. RIDICULOUS. And lovely. To Jackie for reading and reading and reading. Jackie (still you) and Pam and Christine for reading in that final week when I thought I wouldn’t finish. Your cheerleading ensured that I did. Janet, Alison, Kate, Ruth, Jeev & Immi for being a wonderfully supportive trampoline of friendship and suppliers of hilarious gifs.

  Big juicy love to my spectacular husband for offering to drive alongside me during the cycle ride and not taking it too badly when I said no, but being proud of me when I finished and taking me out for sticky toffee pudding before I set off. For everyone who cheered me on during that ride. It was bloody difficult, so thank you for being there. To all of the amazing people who ran the B&Bs where I stayed because you were so nice. I was filthy, and bedraggled and not entirely charming upon my arrivals, but you always made sure my tum tum was full and I had a smile on my face when I set off in the pouring rain each day. To Pedal Power cycle holidays for supplying me with a bicycle and picking me up at the end (and letting me use your name in the book). Hearing your story made me even more determined to write mine.

  Thanks to my agent, Jo, for being fabulous and introducing me to Go Away Doctor juice. That is some magic carrot and ginger potion. Ditto on the thanks (mental and health) to Sophia Bartleet (friend extraordinaire), Natasha Hogben (snap), and Chantal Prince, friend and all-important osteopath, for making sure my shoulder and arm remained in working order and that my knees weren’t paralysed after riding along Hadrian’s Wall. Deep, happy belly thanks to Matt, Mich, JP and Andy for all of the Friday night suppers. Yum. Your friendship means the world to me. To Sue and Stu for your fabulous positivity (and unbelievably enviable allotment plot). Amazing.

  Heartfelt thanks to my editor Kate for trusting me to take Sue on the right journey and shepherding me back in when I went off on whatever is smaller than a B road.

  I do, or, sadly, have known, several people who have ended their lives. The holes left in their wake … all I can say is, if you think you’ve had enough, please, please, think again. There is someone, someone you might not even know yet, who can help.

  If you enjoyed A Bicycle Made for Sue, discover The Happy Glampers, Daisy Tate’s uplifting tale of tents, tantrums and the enduring power of friendship.

  Click here to order now

  About the Author

  Daisy Tate loves telling stories. Telling them in books is even better. When not writing, she raises stripey, Scottish cows, performs in amateur dramatics, pretends her life is a musical and bakes cakes that will never win her a place on a television baking show. She was born in the USA but has never met Bruce Springsteen. She now calls East Sussex home.

  daisy.tate92167

  @DaisyTatetastic

  www.daisytatewrites.com

  Also by Daisy Tate

  The Happy Glampers

  About the Publisher

  Australia

  HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.

  Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street

  Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia

  www.harpercollins.com.au

  Canada

  HarperCollins Canada

  Bay Adelaide Centre, East Tower

  22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor

  Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada

  www.harpercollins.ca

  India

  HarperCollins India

  A 75, Sector 57

  Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201 301, India

  www.harpercollins.co.in

  New Zealand

  HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand

  Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive

  Rosedale 0632

  Auckland, New Zealand

  www.harpercollins.co.nz

  United Kingdom

  HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF, UK

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  United States

  HarperCollins Publishers Inc.

  195 Broadway

  New York, NY 10007

  www.harpercollins.com