by Ashley Croft
She gritted her teeth, pushed harder on the pedals and forced her aching thighs to climb up a gentle hill that led into one of the villages. It might have been Fenland and, although they had trained for some inclines, the rain, the cold and the fatigue had combined to turn her legs to lead.
And there were still over thirty-five miles to go – they were only just over halfway. She slowed almost to a stop and the bike wobbled.
‘Come on, don’t give up!’ Ewan called from behind, obviously sensing her fatigue.
‘I’m. Huff. Not. Puff. Going. Huff. To,’ Molly croaked back, grinding the pedals round with all her might.
‘I think I saw Pete up ahead,’ Ewan shouted.
‘Liar!’ she called.
‘Yes, but we have to get to the end. I’ll buy you a massive roast dinner and a huge glass of wine when we do.’
Molly muttered something incomprehensible. She put her head down and tried to think of the steaming dinner, a hot shower, a great big slice of chocolate cake. And of Sarah. Sarah would be at the finish, surely, with Niall? Molly’s stomach turned over. She had to get to the end to speak to her and find out how she’d got on and what had happened.
She didn’t know how long it was before the rain stopped and the sun came out. Her sense of time, like her bum and legs, had gone completely numb, but she heard Ewan saying, ‘There’s the next drinks station coming up. I think we should stop and have a quick break.’
‘OK.’
Molly pedalled on, grateful for the gentle downhill slope and the sun on her back, drying out her clothes a little bit. There were daffodils in the hedgerows and, over the hedges, the great flat fields glistened with water in the spring sun. It looked beautiful – but even more beautiful was the glimpse of the rest station a hundred yards down the road at the edge of the village. Only fifteen miles to go – she could do it, even though they’d never been this far before. Even though they were in no man’s land …
‘Christ!’
She heard Ewan’s warning shout and the next thing she knew, she and the bike were sailing sideways. She landed with a splash and for a second or so, her head was underwater. She spluttered and coughed, flailing, and then heard people running towards her.
‘Molly!’
Molly heard Ewan’s shout and was vaguely aware of him slithering down the bank and into the ditch. His face was black with sludge. He pulled her out of the ditch and onto the grassy verge. Molly winced and rubbed muddy water out of her eyes. She felt giddy.
‘Whoa. Don’t get up yet.’
Ewan kneeled next to her, his arm around her back. ‘Jesus, are you OK?’
‘I th-think so. What happened?’
‘Black ice, I think. I think that downpour must have frozen on contact with the road.’
She started to shiver. ‘How … how’s the bike?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. I’m more concerned about you.’
‘You’re all muddy … You fell off too.’ She didn’t mind Ewan helping her to her feet.
‘Don’t worry about me – you kind of flew into the ditch.’
Two marshals in hi-vis vests ran up to them. ‘Are you OK, love? We saw what happened from the feed station.’
‘Have you got anyone who can check her over?’ Ewan asked.
‘I’m fine,’ said Molly, feeling decidedly wobbly but with no intention of letting them know it.
‘Let our first aiders take a look at you. To be on the safe side.’
‘No. I’m fine.’
‘Look at your elbow,’ said Ewan gently.
Molly glanced down. Her elbow was bleeding and throbbing like hell. ‘Now I can match you,’ she joked.
Ewan put his arm around her and held her firmly. ‘Come on.’
‘I’m not giving up,’ she declared. ‘All those people are depending on us to finish. I can’t let them down or we won’t get the money we’ve raised.’
‘I’m sure they’d pay up anyway.’
‘No, I want to complete the race. For charity – and we can’t let Pete beat us.’
He squeezed her shoulder. ‘I want to finish it too but I’m not sure you should carry on, Molly. You could have concussion.’
‘I don’t!’
‘Why don’t you let the first aid guys check you out and then, if you really feel fit enough to carry on, we will …’ He smiled. ‘But I’m afraid we might have to let Pete have this one.’
Twenty minutes later, Molly had a ridiculously large patch on her elbow and they both had dry clothes from the support van. While she was getting the once-over from the first aid team, Ewan and Barry had checked out the tandem, and while a little scuffed, it seemed safe to ride. The first aiders weren’t happy about Molly carrying on but she’d been adamant. She’d thought of phoning Sarah while she was in the van but hadn’t dared ask what she wanted to with the first aiders and Ewan around. Besides the signal varied between one bar and no bar. They’d been out in the middle of nowhere for hours so it wasn’t surprising Sarah hadn’t called, even if she’d wanted to.
‘You don’t have to do this, Molly,’ Ewan said as he wheeled the bike back to her. ‘You’ve had quite a knock.’
She folded her arms and winced. ‘I’ll finish this if it’s the last thing I do.’
‘That’s what I’m worried about.’
‘I’m touched.’
‘Do you want me to pilot?’
‘No way. If you do, we’ll definitely never make it.’
She sounded sarcastic but it was all bravado. Her stomach was doing all sorts of funny things. She blamed it on the shock and not the rare experience of him being nice to her. His hair was damp and his face was blotched in mud and there was a graze down his cheek. He looked as sexy as hell. She would have shagged him if she ever had the energy again. Then she remembered Sarah and Niall and came to her senses. She couldn’t think of anything like that until she knew what had happened. But there was still another fifteen miles to go. Her elbow throbbed at the thought of continuing but she ignored the pain.
Ewan climbed over the bike. ‘Come on then, Victoria, let’s go.’
‘Victoria?’
‘Pendleton.’
‘Wow. A hot brunette …’ Molly teased as she lifted her leg over the frame.
Ewan either didn’t hear or chose to ignore her allusion to the Valentine’s card. ‘Let’s hope you can ride like her,’ he said.
Was it possible to ride a bike while you were delirious? Molly wondered, as she pushed down on the pedals. She had no idea of how long it had been since the accident. Occasionally she registered a cheering group of volunteers or bemused locals shouting encouragement. Once or twice they stopped briefly and Ewan offered her a drink and told her there was only ten miles to go or five. Molly tried to shut her ears and wrap herself in a bubble. She ached inside and out but the pain in her elbow, strangely, had eased. That would be the endorphins, she reasoned, and woe betide her when the race was done.
Some of the support vehicles whooshed by them, the less considerate spattering them with water.
‘Want to stop again?’ Ewan shouted.
‘No!’
She knew she would never get going again if she stopped.
‘Not far now. A couple of miles tops,’ Ewan called.
Molly bent her head down and willed her jelly like legs to work. The bike seemed to get heavier and she noticed they were climbing a long, shallow hill.
‘Don’t give up. Keep going. After this it’s all downhill!’
She gritted her teeth and pushed her feet down. Her thighs burned as the hill grew steeper. East Anglia was supposed to be flat, damn it.
‘You’re doing really well, Molly. Not far now.’
She forced the pedals round; by now her legs felt as if they were welded to the tandem. Possibly they might have to be disconnected with a crowbar. She could hear cheering and clapping and whistling.
‘Let’s finish this in style,’ Ewan called, and Molly felt him put in a final burst of power. The g
roup of riders and supporters was coming up fast. She thought she heard Pete shouting and they sailed under the Finish line banner.
‘Whoa!’
She braked a bit too sharply and they almost fell off the bike. People were cheering and volunteers ran up to take the bike and drape silver foil blankets around them. Someone handed her a plastic medal on a ribbon.
‘Are you OK?’ said Barry smacking her on the back. ‘Well done! You did so well to finish after a tumble like that. I’ll look after the bike now. You guys get some hydration and food.’
‘Thanks.’
Dazed but elated, she looked around for Ewan.
Suddenly he was behind her, turning her around and pulling her into his arms. He hugged her so tightly, he almost stole breath away and then he kissed her. It was a big, wet, warm, muddy sweaty kiss that lifted her onto the toes of her cycle shoes. It went on and on and someone, possibly her, only stopped it when she couldn’t breathe any longer.
He kept hold of her. ‘You do know you’re a completely barking mad, reckless nutter?’
Molly laughed, still gasping for breath. ‘I love you too.’
He leaned back and looked at her intensely. She held her breath. ‘Do you?’ he said.
‘Well done, mate!’ Pete bounded over and slapped Ewan hard on the back before he could reply. He’d let go of her but Molly’s head was still spinning. She didn’t quite feel part of this earth. ‘Molly. I heard what happened. You did well to carry on after that.’
‘Thanks,’ said Molly.
‘You too, mate,’ he told Ewan. ‘Especially on that piece of crap.’
Ewan smiled. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. How did you and Devi get on?’
‘We came second. Not bad considering our training didn’t go exactly to my schedule. I’m sure we can win next year.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Ewan, shaking Pete’s hand while Molly sipped an energy drink, trying to calm down. Her elbow had started to pulse again and around them, marshals were scooping up empty cups and wrappers, and torn race numbers into black plastic sacks. Some of the tandem trailers had already started to pull out of the car park.
Pete spoke to her. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Good job you’ve got a driver to take you home, eh?’
Ewan muttered something then Pete jogged back to his partner. She and Ewan were left alone, with stray cups rolling around their feet in the wind. Ewan couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. The way he looked at her made her stomach swirl in a not-unpleasant way. It was probably the adrenaline and the shock because her legs were still wobbly.
Molly’s phone buzzed. ‘I have to get this! It might be Sarah.’
Ewan stood by as she checked the message. Please please let everything be fine.
Sorry can’t make race. Hope all goes well. Don’t worry about me.
Molly let out a huge sigh of relief then checked the time of the message. It had only just come through to her phone but had been sent a couple of hours before. The guilt of what she’d done came rushing back.
She texted back.
Are you *sure*? Are you OK? We made it!
Within thirty seconds, a reply pinged back.
Well done. I’m fine. Enjoy yourself.
Fine? Was that all Sarah was going to say?
Ewan was watching her.
Molly held up her phone. ‘Just making sure Sarah’s OK. It’s been a difficult time.’
He smiled and nodded.
A marshal handed her a plastic bag of something or other. Molly didn’t care. She was shaky and shivery and didn’t want to take her eyes off Ewan. He was muddy and sweaty and magnificent and strange. Like a different Ewan. Shit, maybe she really did have concussion …
‘Do you want someone to take a look at the arm?’ she heard the marshal asking.
‘No. It’s fine,’ she said.
‘OK. If I were you, I’d get changed into some dry clothes, and have a sit-down. You look pale and you’ve had a hell of a shock,’ said the marshal.
‘I’ll take care of her,’ said Ewan.
‘I don’t need taking care of,’ said Molly indignantly.
Ewan smiled and took her arm. ‘I don’t give a toss.’
Barry arrived. ‘I’ve loaded the bike. Are you two ready to go back to Cambridge or do you want to get changed first?’
Ewan cut in. ‘You can take the tandem, thanks, but Molly and I have other plans.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Molly followed Ewan into the reception area at The Feathers, a coaching inn situated on the cobbled town square. Even the inn sign creaked in the wind.
‘But how will we get home tomorrow?’ she asked as they waited at the reception desk after it became clear what his plans were. She could hardly believe what was happening. Ewan was booking a room – for them both – in the hotel.
‘Train, bus, walk. I don’t care. We’ll worry about that tomorrow,’ he said.
The only room left was a suite and Molly winced at the price but Ewan didn’t bat an eyelid. He filled in the check-in card at the hotel.
‘Do you have a car with you, sir?’
‘Does it look like it?’
The receptionist tittered. ‘Now you come to mention it. No. You’ve been doing the tandem challenge, have you?’
‘Yes, and we won’t need a space for the tandem. It’s gone back to Cambridge.’
The receptionist smirked. ‘Here’s your key. Do you want your bags sent up?’
‘No, we can manage, thanks, but we’d like some room service. You do do room service?’ he added imperiously.
‘I’m sure we can arrange something, sir.’
‘Good. I’ll call you when we’re ready.’
‘I have to let Sarah know we’re staying over. She’ll be worried.’ Molly debated whether to call her, but seeing Ewan standing by their rucksacks decided her. Sarah would have called if she’d wanted to speak to her. Things must be going well with Niall – or perhaps he’d already left the house. Sarah must have decided not to give him the Love Bug and surely, she would forgive Molly taking this chance – possibly her only chance – with Ewan.
Molly texted.
Staying over with Ewan. In *one* room. o) Call me if you need me. Love you, sis. xx
She pressed send.
‘Ready?’ he asked, an edge of desperation creeping into his voice.
Ewan picked up his and Molly’s rucksacks and headed for the oak staircase leading up to the guest rooms. ‘Come on,’ he said with a grin. ‘Just one more climb to go.’
Those stairs ought to have been agony but with the prospect of getting naked with Ewan and room service afterwards, Molly found a new reserve of energy. Her memory of the moments after the race – in fact, everything after they’d ended up in a ditch – was hazy, but one thing kept coming back to her. Her words and Ewan’s flashed on and off like a retro neon sign.
‘I love you too.’ ‘Do you?’ ‘I love you too.’ ‘Do you?’ ‘I love you …’ ‘Do you?’
‘Do you?’
Ewan dumped the rucksacks on the bed. ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
He put his arms around her. Wow. Just the feel of his fingertips against her back, the lightest pressure on her sweater was making her giddy. Just the awkward, slightly shambolic presence of him.
He pulled her closer and kissed her. A little hesitant at first but growing stronger very quickly. She pressed against him. He pressed against her. He needed a shave, she needed a shower but, man, it was amazing. The smoky tang of his damp cycle top, the itchy scrape of his stubble, the hot strength of his tongue exploring her mouth. The peppery tingle that fizzed from her toes to her scalp, and lit up every nerve ending like a pinball table.
Was this what being in love was like? Could it really be this good yet this weird? So heart popping, yet so scary, like holding a giant rainbow-coloured bubble on your palm, afraid it would burst if you so much as breathed.
Ewan stopped kissing her but kept holding her.
Molly rested her head on his chest. ‘Wow …’
‘Yes.’ The word resonated against her cheek.
‘We mustn’t tell anyone about this at work.’
Ewan leaned back and looked down at her. ‘Shouldn’t it be me saying that?’
‘No … I just can’t cope with the whole thing – the drama – played out in public. I know how you felt about your wife. This is private and personal for me too and I don’t want people like Pete Garrick and the others teasing us and saying … well, you know.’
‘What kind of “you know”?’
‘Stuff about us shagging.’
‘We haven’t shagged yet, Molly, and if they say anything, I’ll thump them.’
‘You can’t, you’re the boss. You have to be professional and we have rules and boundaries.’
‘Absolutely. I agree.’
‘Rule 1. No kissing, no sneaky looks at each other, no innuendos. No anything while we’re in the lab.’
‘Agreed.’ He smiled. ‘But we’re not at work, now, are we, and we also haven’t given them anything to talk about. I think we should put that right.’
‘Hmm. I concur, Professor Baxter.’ She squeezed his bum through the Lycra. Did he have any idea how long she’d wanted to do that?
He raised his eyebrows. ‘So … shall we have a shower before …?’
‘Or we could kill two birds with one stone.’
Moll’s phone beeped. Ewan groaned then said, ‘Go on, put us both out of our misery.’
One quick glance was all it took for Molly to heave a huge sigh of relief.
Wow. Go for it. Love you too.
‘Permission to proceed?’ asked Ewan.
‘You bet,’ said Molly.
The Feathers was old, all wonky floors and sloping ceilings but the bathroom, thank God, was pure twenty-first century. It had one of those double showers with the tiny shimmering mosaics and the acres of glass walls and the waterfall showerheads.
And her sore elbow really stung when Ewan soaped her back and the foam ran into the grazes.