A Bicycle Made For Two

by Mary Jayne Baker

  ‘Come on,’ I called to Tom. ‘You know, you used to be able to do this faster before the three-times-a-week chip habit.’

  ‘It’s… twice a week,’ he panted. ‘I don’t love him that much.’

  ‘Three times last week.’

  ‘All right, I do love him that much. Hey, he’s started giving me free teacakes. You reckon that means something?’

  ‘Yeah, it means you’re his best customer.’

  I pulled myself over the top of Pagans’ Rock, earning a patronising well-done bark from Flash.

  ‘Ok, cheeky pup,’ I said. ‘Some of us have only got the two legs.’

  Tom finally caught me up and leaned against my shoulder while he got his breath.

  ‘Best view in the area… it may be, but it’ll be the death of some poor bastard one day,’ he panted. ‘And that poor bastard may well be one Tom Donati, RIP.’

  ‘Worth it though,’ I said quietly, gazing down at the toylike viaduct.

  Given why we were there, I felt a sober gladness to find it looking its best. Even with the sunshine making only the briefest of appearances through the cloud, it was a magnificent spectacle. Delicate pastel pinks and blues melted together on the peaceful waters of the reservoir, sliced into segments by the reflected arches.

  Let the other villages keep their steam railways and their canals. Dad was right: I wouldn’t swap the view from Pagans’ Rock for all of them.

  ‘Erm, sis. Why is Flash’s tongue that colour?’ Tom said, pulling me out of my thoughts. The fluffy little sheepdog was panting in the heat, black-purple tongue dangling out of his mouth.

  ‘Oh God. He’s been at the bilberries.’ I guided him away from the bush he’d discovered. ‘Better get his lead on before he makes himself sick.’

  ‘Oooh! Bilberries.’ Tom kneeled down to gather some and started popping them into his mouth with relish. ‘I’ll tell Deano, he was on about it being nearly pie season. Me and him can come up for some before the village gets wise and clears out the bushes.’

  I squinted at him. ‘Are you taking Deano on a bilberrying man-date?’

  He sighed, popping another plump purple berry in his mouth. ‘Closest I’m likely to get to a real date unless I can work up the nerve to ask Cameron out. Actually, me and Deano have got a pact. We made it on KP duty last week.’

  ‘What pact?’

  ‘To get married if I’m still single at 40. Always handy to have a backup plan, eh? At least I’ll be well-fed.’

  ‘The bigamist git! He made that pact with me as well.’ I patted Tom’s elbow. ‘Go on then, I’ll let you have him.’

  ‘Wow. Thanks.’

  We were interrupted by the sound of muttered curses, and a second later Sue’s peroxide perm appeared over the top of the rock.

  ‘Get a shift on, old man!’ she called down to Gerry.

  ‘All right, keep your knickers on, love. I’m 53, you know.’

  ‘So am I, you don’t hear me whingeing.’ She looked over at me and Tom. ‘I swear this walk gets harder every year.’

  ‘Still, you do all right for a big girl,’ Gerry panted as he pulled himself up and went to give her bum a squeeze.

  ‘You want a slap?’

  Gerry shook his head at us. ‘Can you believe it? Our time of life and the randy old cow’s after getting me into the kinky stuff.’

  Tom snorted. ‘And the safety word is “Oh God, my hip!”.’

  ‘All right, old people, enough manky S&M jokes,’ I said. ‘Come on, Gerry.’

  Gerry threw off his rucksack and took out the small urn containing Dad’s ashes. Sue came over to me and Tom and put an arm around each of us.

  ‘Who wants to do it?’ she asked.

  Tom looked at me. ‘Don’t think I can. Lana?’

  ‘You do it,’ I said to Gerry. ‘You were his best friend.’

  ‘If that’s what you kids want.’

  Gerry opened the urn and scattered the contents into the air. I followed the grey powder as it spiralled on the wind, over the edge of the rock and away towards the viaduct.

  ‘Well, my loves, he’s free now,’ Sue said softly. ‘No more pain. Just this.’

  ‘Yes. No more pain.’ I snuggled into the warmth of her shoulder, squeezing a tear into her fleece.

  ‘Should we say something?’ Gerry said.

  ‘I don’t want anything scripted. Let’s just remember him.’

  ‘Why did he love this view so much?’ Sue asked.

  ‘Something about the isolation of it, I think,’ Tom said. ‘Always feels like a lost world up here, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Plus he was a bit of a trainspotter,’ I said with a smile. ‘You should have heard him go on about that viaduct.’ My eyes sparkled. ‘God, just imagine if we can get it open for the Tour. Wouldn’t he just’ve loved it?’

  Tom shook his head at Sue. ‘I don’t know where the cycling fever has come from suddenly. She never gave a toss about any sport until a few weeks ago.’

  ‘It’s the young man,’ Gerry said. ‘That McLean. I wouldn’t bother trying to impress him, petal. He already broke your heart once.’

  I snorted. ‘It bloody isn’t the young man. The young man can take a flying jump. And he didn’t break my heart, ta very much, Gerry, so I’ll thank you not to start putting it about that he did.’

  ‘All right, that’s me told,’ he muttered. ‘So what is it then?’

  ‘It’s… well, it’s Dad, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘This could be a real memorial to him, a zillion times better than any bench. Something that’ll showcase the village he loved in its best light, in the eyes of the whole world.’

  ‘You know we’ll do all we can, chicken,’ Sue said, but she had her worried mum voice on. ‘Let’s see how we go though, eh?’

  See how we go. Don’t get your hopes up. Why were people always saying that stuff to me?

  ‘Yeah, ok,’ I mumbled. ‘Just want to give it my best shot, that’s all.’

  ‘Are we going down then?’ Gerry asked. ‘Roast’s in, you two. The missus did your favourite for today, rosemary-roasted lamb.’

  Tom glanced at me. ‘You go down, guys. We’ll meet you at the farm in half an hour.’

  ‘Of course. Take as long as you need.’ Sue gave our shoulders a last squeeze and the two of them disappeared over the bank.

  When they were gone we were silent a moment, arms round each other’s shoulders.

  ‘Well, he’s out there now,’ I said at last. ‘Part of nature.’

  ‘Part of everything.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Another silence. I leaned my head against Tom’s shoulder. It was a sober moment, but there was a finality in it, a joy even, that we both needed.

  ‘Always looks best in summer,’ Tom said quietly, following my gaze to the viaduct.

  ‘Mmm.’ I shot it a resentful glare. ‘Hope those bloody bats are enjoying it. Upside-down little hairy nocturnal bastards, with their fucking… sonar.’

  He laughed. ‘Don’t be mean. They can’t help being rare.’

  ‘They could if they tried. They’re not breeding hard enough. Lazy, I call it. If I was a rare bat I’d be doing it five times a night, minimum.’

  Tom grimaced. ‘Nice image. Thanks.’

  My Adele ringtone went off and I yanked out my phone.

  ‘Oh God, it’s him,’ I said in a hushed voice. ‘Andy Chen, the bloke from the council.’

  ‘Well, answer it then.’

  I swiped at the screen. ‘Andy. Hiya.’

  ‘Hi, Lana. We just got out of the council meeting.’

  ‘Shit, was it today? What’s the verdict?’

  ‘Depends if you want the good news or the bad.’

  ‘There’s bad?’

  ‘Afraid so,’ Andy said. ‘It’s the bats. I invited a representative from
the local branch of the Bat Protection League and she wasn’t a fan of getting them moved. I mean she really wasn’t a fan. Not sure I’ve got the hearing back in my left ear yet.’

  ‘Oh no, really?’

  ‘Yep. She made it abundantly clear her group were ready to fight tooth and claw any attempt to have the bats relocated from their chosen habitat, even when I said we’d guarantee minimal loss of life.’

  ‘That’s terrible! Can the council overrule them?’

  ‘Yes, but they wouldn’t. Bad publicity. We have to try and talk them round.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound easy.’

  ‘It won’t be. But you haven’t heard the good news yet,’ he said, and I could tell he was smiling. ‘The council loved your viaduct idea. When I told them we had a whole group of villagers ready to work for it, they were right behind you.’

  ‘Really? That’s wonderful!’

  He laughed. ‘Changeable, aren’t you?’

  ‘So is there funding?’

  ‘Up to 25 grand if you meet the historic structures criteria, which I’m certain you do. If your committee thinks it can match that through fundraising and we can find a way out of this bat problem, we could be looking at a runner.’

  ‘Arghh! That’s brill, Andy! In time for the Tour, do you think?’

  He hesitated. ‘The councillors were keen for our area to be showcased, but…’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Well, you’d need the money in the bank by New Year to even have a shot at getting the work done. Plus the removal of the bats if we can talk round the wildlife people. And we’d have to do a safety survey, that might throw up some hitches.’

  ‘But it’s not impossible?’

  ‘It’s not as unlikely as I thought it would be,’ he said cautiously. ‘It’ll be bloody difficult though.’

  ‘All I wanted to hear. Thanks, Andy, you’re amazing.’

  He laughed. ‘Sweet talk will get you everywhere. Anything else you want to know, Lana?’

  I hesitated. I did like Andy. He was cute and smiley and not far off my age. He wasn’t already in a committed relationship with a frying pan, and he didn’t seem like the kind of bloke who’d disappear if you turned him down for sex on a first date. Plus I could swear he was flirting with me. Should I ask if he was single?

  ‘No, I think that’s everything,’ I said after a pause. ‘Thanks again.’

  ‘Well?’ Tom said as soon as I’d hung up.

  I beamed at him. ‘Andy reckons we can get 25 grand.’

  ‘Really? That’s brilliant!’

  ‘Well, not all good news.’ I glanced at the viaduct. ‘The bats are still a problem, little buggers. Wildlife groups don’t like the idea of us relocating them.’

  ‘So what do we do?’

  I shrugged. ‘I think for now we just crack on with making money and hope we can talk them round. Maybe I could invite the chair of the Bat Preservation Society or whatever it was called to one of our meetings.’

  ‘What’s our next move then?’

  ‘Basically a bucketload of fundraising. We need to match that 25 grand and we need to do it in the next five months to have any chance of getting the thing opened before the Tour, so get your ideas head on. I’m going to text the others.’

  ‘Got one,’ Tom said promptly as soon as I’d finished tapping out a message.

  ‘Bloody hell, that was quick. Go on then.’

  ‘Nude calendar.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Typical. Cameron joins the committee and within weeks you’ve found an excuse to get his kit off.’

  ‘Come on, it’ll be great. People love that stuff. Plus when they make our film, Helen Mirren can be in it. She’s a hottie.’

  ‘Since when is Mirren your type?’ I said, laughing.

  He shrugged. ‘I’m gay, love, not dead.’

  ‘Well, you can forget it,’ I said. ‘I’m not baring my bits for the village, good cause be damned. Much as he loved the viaduct, I hardly think Dad’d approve of pictures of my tits hanging up over the counter at the bakery.’

  ‘No one’ll see them. We’ll get you a pair of cherry bakewells to hold up.’

  I glanced down at my F-cups, jutting intrusively into my eyeline as usual. ‘Couple of Sara Lee gateaux maybe. No, Tom, I’m too squishy.’

  I jumped as my phone buzzed again.

  It was a text from Stewart in reply to the round robin about the council meeting.

  Some good news from me, too. Route’s still being decided, I’ve arranged for committee to visit in September. Cross everything, Lana: this could be it.

  Chapter 15

  ‘So. First on the agenda,’ said Sue, we were all seated behind a drink at the Sooty Fox. As bossiest person in the cycling group, she’d elected herself de facto chair. ‘Stewart’s announcement.’

  ‘Thanks, Sue,’ Stewart said. ‘Ok, so as you know I got in touch with an old friend who knows someone on the inside and he was able to get us the dirt. The route’s still very much under discussion, and although the focus is the Yorkshire Dales National Park, his contact told him they’re amenable to bringing Stage 2 through our little bit of Airedale. Based on that I gave the decision-makers a ring, sold us pretty heavily, and they’re coming to visit the first Thursday in September.’

  ‘When the heather’s in bloom,’ I murmured. ‘Good call.’

  Stewart smiled at me. ‘Yeah, that was my thinking. We want the old place dressed in its best, don’t we?’

  ‘Are they coming all the way from France?’ Cameron asked.

  ‘No, London. VisitBritain have appointed a group to make recommendations for the UK stages.’

  ‘Good job,’ Sue said with an approving nod. ‘So what we need to decide is, how’re we going to impress them? We’ve got a lot to prove.’

  ‘We should have a welcoming committee, shouldn’t we?’ Cameron said. ‘A couple of us to show them round.’

  ‘It’ll be a working day for most of us though,’ Stewart said.

  Sue turned to me and Tom. ‘You two can do it, can’t you? It’s your show really.’

  ‘S’pose,’ I said. ‘I’d be worried about cocking it up though.’

  ‘Well, me and Gerry can come to support you.’

  ‘How do we get them up to Pagans’ Rock?’ Tom asked. ‘They’ll only have little southern legs.’

  ‘Good point,’ Cameron said. ‘Can’t let them go without seeing that.’

  Gerry shrugged. ‘We’ve got my Land Rover. Off-road it up.’

  ‘Ok, that’ll do. What else?’ I said. ‘Some sort of buffet in here?’

  ‘Why not bring them to Flagons?’ Stewart said.

  I frowned. ‘Why, you think they’ll be into harpsichord music?’

  ‘Bit of quirk, isn’t it? All the villages they view’ll have a pub or two but I bet none have got a medieval tavern.’

  ‘Hmm. We’d have to close to the public.’

  ‘Thursdays are quiet though,’ Tom said. ‘It’s only one night, sis. And Stewart’s right, it’d be something they’d remember.’

  ‘Well… ok. I’ll ask Deano if he’d be up for cooking.’

  ‘So that’s decided,’ Yolanda said. ‘Tour of the village, view from the rock, tea at the restaurant. The ladies and I can whizz out a few cakes for the buffet.’

  ‘I’m doing scones,’ Sue said quickly.

  Yolanda waved a hand. ‘Fine. You do the scones, I’ll bring the indigestion salts.’

  ‘So what’s next on the agenda?’ Cameron said, wisely changing the subject before Sconegate erupted again.

  ‘Bats,’ I said. ‘Those bloody bats.’

  ‘Do we have a plan for the bats?’ Gerry asked.

  ‘I thought we could invite the chair of the Bat Salvation Church to our next meeting, see if we can find a compromise.’

&
nbsp; Cameron frowned. ‘Sorry, what did you say the group was called?’

  ‘Well it’s something like that.’

  ‘Ok, Lana, we’ll leave it with you.’ Sue glanced at the beer mat she’d used to scribble out an agenda. ‘And then the most important item: fundraising. Lana’s filled out the paperwork for the council grant, but we still need to make 25 grand fast. Ideas?’

  ‘I had one,’ I said.

  ‘Ok, honey, amaze us,’ Yolanda said. I tried to ignore the obvious sarcasm.

  ‘Yarnbombing.’ I beamed round at them.

  ‘Whatting?’ Gerry said.

  ‘You know, yarnbombing. It’s like urban graffiti with wool. Very trendy.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I’ve heard of it,’ Stewart said. ‘Knitting scarves for lampposts, that type of thing. How would that work as a fundraiser?’

  ‘It’d be more raising awareness really,’ I said. ‘Then we follow up with some sort of event.’

  ‘But none of us knit, do we?’ Sue said.

  ‘I do.’

  All eyes turned to Stewart, who shrugged. ‘What, I can’t have layers? It’s therapeutic. Gave me something to do while I was recuperating from the knee injury.’

  ‘Well aren’t you just full of surprises?’ Yolanda said, pawing nauseatingly at his upper arm. ‘I do love a New Man.’

  ‘One every bloody week,’ Sue muttered.

  I ignored them and carried on pitching my idea. ‘So we get a load of knackered bikes, Stewart knits cosies for them, then we plant them around the village overnight and everyone wakes up to find the yarn bikes have taken over. I mean, photo op of the year, people! I bet we’d get a load of press coverage. We’d be…’ I paused, trying to remember the line I’d jotted down when I’d had the idea. ‘…combining the historic local industries of sheep farming and textile manufacture with a cycling theme, that’s it.’

  ‘Hmm. Not sure I can knit that fast,’ Stewart said.

  ‘Ladies Who Lunch must have a few knitters. Reckon you could pull us in some recruits, Yo-yo?’

  ‘I don’t know, darling,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I could, but it seems rather – well, naff, no offence. And I really think we should be making money.’