A Bicycle Made For Two

by Mary Jayne Baker

‘If Tom comes in, tell him I’ve just bobbed over the road,’ I said to Jasmine.

  When I got to Stewart’s shop, the front door was open. I barged straight in and jogged up his stairs two at a time.

  I pounded at the door of his flat. ‘Stew! Guess who’s got news?’

  He answered a minute later, in his bathrobe again holding a tumbler of something that smelt sweet and alcoholic.

  ‘Is it… Lana Donati?’

  ‘Yep!’ I beamed at him. ‘I just spoke to Andy. You can’t tell anyone yet, but – ’ I stopped, detecting a distinctly feminine floral smell that couldn’t be his aftershave. ‘Oh, sorry. Did you have company?’

  ‘Who is it, Stewpot?’ a voice called from the living room.

  ‘It’s Lana,’ Stewart called back. ‘She’s got news, apparently.’

  My eyes saucered as Yolanda appeared behind him, clutching another tumbler. She was in the little kimono she’d worn to the calendar shoot, her pink hair turbaned in a towel.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ she said with a slightly smug smile. ‘We were just having a post-shower drinky-poo. Care to join us?’

  ‘Erm, no,’ I mumbled, backing away. ‘Sorry, didn’t realise you were – I just came to tell Stewart something.’

  ‘About the viaduct?’

  ‘Yes. The viaduct.’

  ‘Then come in and tell us both,’ she said, waving her tumbler in the direction of Stewart’s living room. ‘I’m sure we can rummage out a third glass, can’t we, Stewpot?’

  ‘Of course.’ His eyes looked searchingly into mine. ‘If you’d like to, Lana.’

  ‘No, I… you’re obviously busy. Anyway, I’ve got a shift in an hour. I’d better go.’

  ‘But what about the news?’ Stewart said.

  ‘Oh. The news.’ I shot a wary look at Yolanda. ‘Actually I got a bit over-excited. It’s sort of secret at the moment, I probably shouldn’t say anything.’

  ‘You can’t just leave it like that, darling,’ Yolanda said, laughing. ‘The suspense might kill us.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll find a way to console yourselves,’ I muttered as I headed back down the stairs.

  ***

  In the living room, Tom was back from seeing Cameron home, snuggled up with Flash watching TV.

  ‘Stew ok?’ he asked, switching the telly off.

  ‘He’s plenty ok.’

  ‘I read your letter. Hope you don’t mind but you left it open. It’s good, sis. That’ll tell Sienna Edge and her gang, eh?’

  ‘Yeah. Tell Sienna Gang and her hedge.’

  He frowned. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m… fine,’ I answered absently, sitting down next to him.

  He waved a hand in front of my eyes. ‘You want a cuppa then, zombieface?’

  I shook my head to free it of the cloying fog. ‘Coffee. Ta.’

  Tom dislodged Flash and went to make drinks, floating back what seemed like seconds later with a mug of something hot. I was still staring ahead, unblinking, as he put it in my hands and closed my fingers around it.

  ‘Tom?’ I said as he reclaimed his seat.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Think I just caught Stewart McLean and Yolanda Sommerville having a post-shag nightcap.’

  ‘What? Don’t be daft!’

  I jerked my head in the direction of Stewart’s shop. ‘She’s there now. Drinking something that smells suspiciously like elderflower gin.’

  ‘Doesn’t necessarily mean they’ve been at it, does it?’

  ‘She was in her kimono. With him in his bathrobe. And unless I’m sorely mistaken, not a right lot underneath.’

  Tom hesitated.

  ‘Ok, that does seem pretty damning,’ he said after a minute. ‘Yo-yo though! She’s twice his age. It’s not like Stew can go short of offers.’

  ‘But she’s very available,’ I said. ‘And much as I hate to admit it, Yo-yo’s an attractive woman. An experienced one, too. Maybe he’s got a Mrs Robinson complex.’

  ‘Yeah, but age gap aside, she’s so… well, full-on.’

  ‘Terrifying, you mean?’

  ‘That’s the word. She’ll eat him alive.’ Tom shook his head. ‘That elderflower gin must be stronger than I thought.’

  I scowled as the anger finally clawed through my daze and bit me in the spleen. ‘Stewart bloody McLean! Just when I’d started to think he might not be so bad, just when I was actually thinking about forgiving him, he’s off shagging Yolanda!’

  ‘Does he know you like him?’ Tom asked.

  ‘I don’t like him. I hate him. I really, really hate that guy.’ I put my coffee down. ‘Right. Where’s my phone?’

  ‘Erm, sis. What’re you up to?’ Tom said, sounding worried. ‘You’re not ringing him, are you? At least wait till you’re calmer.’

  ‘Nope. I’m ringing Andy Chen. Got some revenge dating to do.’

  ‘Don’t, Lana. It’s not nice. You won’t enjoy it.’

  ‘Who says I won’t? Andy’s a lovely guy. And he’s been flirting with me, I’m sure.’

  ‘Yeah, but you like Stew.’

  ‘I don’t.’ As if to prove the point, I yanked my phone out and dialled Andy’s number.

  ‘Hello?’ a feminine voice said.

  ‘Oh. Hi. I was after Andy.’

  ‘He’s just in the bath. This is Melanie, his fiancée. Can I take a message?’

  Well, that answered one question.

  ‘It’s Lana from the cycling group,’ I said. ‘I was… speaking to him about something earlier, but it’s not important. No need to ring me back.’

  ‘Girlfriend?’ Tom said when I’d ended the call.

  ‘Fiancée.’

  ‘Good. That’ll stop you making that daft mistake then.’

  ‘Hmm.’ I paused to consider an idea I’d just had. ‘Tommy, I’m about to do something you’ll find hard to understand. Just remember I’m your sister and I love you, ok?’

  ‘Oh God. What?’

  ‘Pass me Harper Brady’s business card.’

  Chapter 23

  I arranged to meet Harper in the restaurant on Wednesday, which – by complete coincidence – was also the night Stewart had started coming in regularly for his tea. Also by coincidence, I accidentally reserved us the window table looking out to McLean’s Machines.

  Whoops.

  Harper had suggested some fancy bistro in York, but there didn’t seem much point in a revenge date if the person you were getting revenge on couldn’t see you. I’d told him I’d rather stay close to home, which to my surprise he’d agreed to instantly. I’d been expecting a mini tantrum at least.

  I was in my best bootcut jeans and a green silk blouse, all but the top button fastened. The last thing I wanted was my date salivating into my décolletage all night.

  When Harper arrived, I’d already grabbed us a bottle of pinot and taken my seat. At least, I assumed it was Harper. It was hard to tell with what he was wearing.

  I snorted when he came to join me.

  ‘Who’re you, the Man from Del Monte?’

  He tipped his Panama hat further down his face. ‘I’m incognito. You might remember last time I came to this bloody village, some twat snapped a picture of me dressed as a clown and flogged it to the nationals. I don’t fancy them following it up with a photo of me on a date with a waitress.’

  I shook my head. ‘You’re all charm, aren’t you?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be offended,’ he said, sitting down opposite. ‘I just meant it’d be news. It’s not that I’m ashamed to be seen with you or anything.’

  ‘Gee, thanks.’

  ‘Cheers for asking me out anyway.’ He grinned. ‘Knew you’d come round.’

  ‘Er, yeah. Well, you were right, because… here I am. On a date. A real one.’ I glanced at the front desk. No sig
n of Stewart yet.

  He patted the side of his seat. ‘How about you pull your chair over and make this a bit cosier, babe?’

  ‘How about you take that daft hat off?’

  He smiled. ‘Go on, tell me off, I love it. Hardly anyone insults me but you.’

  His eyes were already fixed on my chest, which meant he couldn’t see the way my lip was curling.

  Just then I noticed Tom’s voice at the front desk.

  ‘No, she’s not working tonight,’ he was saying. ‘Usual table?’

  ‘Isn’t she?’ Stewart sounded surprised. ‘How come?’

  ‘She’s got a date,’ Tom said. ‘She’s over there with your cousin.’

  I froze, then fixed on a seductive simper for Harper.

  ‘So tell me about a typical day in the life of a megastar,’ I purred, trying not to focus on the Stewart-shaped blur heading our way.

  ‘Oh, same old.’ Harper gave a dismissive flick of his wrist. ‘Filming for this drama about saving the elephants or some shit. The director’s been up my arse all day about – oh. Hi, Stew. What’re you doing here?’

  Stewart rolled his eyes. ‘And it’s this again. I live across the road, mate.’

  ‘Hey, that’s right, I forgot.’ He nodded to me. ‘Do you know Lana?’

  ‘You know I know her. We were all at the calendar shoot, remember?’

  ‘So we were,’ he said, staring at my chest as if it brought back memories. ‘Yeah. That was your thing, wasn’t it?’

  ‘For God’s sake,’ Stewart groaned. ‘I know we all look like ants from your lofty position in the stars, Harper, but try to keep a loose grip on the world outside your ego, eh?’

  Harper grinned at me. ‘See? He insults me too. I let you do it because it turns me on and I let him because he’s family.’

  Stewart finally turned to me, looking embarrassed. ‘Hi, Lana,’ he said. ‘Um… so. You’re on a date. With Harper. Who’s wearing a weird hat, for some reason.’

  ‘He’s incognito.’ I shot Stewart my best ice-cold glare. ‘How’s Yolanda?’

  He blinked. ‘Er, ok, I guess.’

  ‘Sorry, who the hell’s Yolanda?’ Harper said.

  ‘She’s the one whose kimono you borrowed.’

  Harper’s eyes went wide. ‘Oh God, that one. She’s not here, is she?’

  Stewart grinned. ‘No, you’re safe.’ He turned back to me. ‘Right, I’ll get off then. I actually just popped in to let you know I wouldn’t be eating tonight. Yo-yo offered to cook for me.’

  ‘I bet she did,’ I muttered.

  ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘And you,’ Stewart said to Harper with a stern jab between the shoulder blades. ‘Try to be a gentleman. This one’s not like the usual girls you go out with.’

  ‘I know she isn’t. She’s meaner.’ Harper sent what he probably thought was a winning smile in my direction. ‘That’s why I asked her out.’

  ‘Are you going to want somewhere to crash when you’re leathered later? I can make up the spare room for you.’

  ‘No thanks. I’ll be staying with Lana.’

  ‘What?’ I exploded.

  Harper shrugged. ‘That is why you wanted to eat here, right? I know when I’m on a promise, love.’

  ‘You bloody well are not – ’ I stopped, glancing up at Stewart. So he was getting his tea cooked by Yolanda, was he? Viagra-laced oysters and champagne, no doubt.

  I fixed my face into a provocative smile for Harper. ‘I mean, we’ll see how it goes, ok… er, honey pie?’ I wasn’t good with impromptu endearments.

  ‘Ah.’ Harper winked. ‘Don’t want me to think you’re easy. No worries. We’ll just “see how it goes” then.’ He actually did the air quotes, too. The man could redefine obtuse.

  ‘Right. I didn’t realise you’d made… arrangements,’ Stewart said. ‘Well, night then, guys. Oh, Lana: your blouse is undone, by the way.’

  I glanced down and hurriedly fastened the button that had popped open to expose the broadest part of my cleavage.

  ‘You could’ve bloody said something!’ I hissed to Harper when Stewart had gone.

  He grinned. ‘What, and ruin the view?’

  ***

  ‘… so Bernice, my agent, thinks I’ve got a shot at a BAFTA nomination for Soar. I mean, it’s always rigged, that’s why I’ve been overlooked so far – old school-tie network, right?’ Harper paused for an acknowledgement.

  ‘Mmm,’ I said, chin propped on my fist. If I’d learnt one thing over the past hour of listening to Harper talk about himself, it was that an ‘mmm’ was all the acknowledgement his ego needed.

  ‘But yeah, feeling next year’s my year. Bernice is going to buy a few drinks, hump a few legs, see what she can – ’ He broke off when Tom approached. ‘Another bottle of wine here, mate.’

  ‘Actually, I need to talk to your date.’

  Harper frowned. I think he’d managed to forget this was mine and Tom’s restaurant and thought he had an uppity waiter on his hands.

  ‘My brother.’ I turned to Tom. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘It’s Jaz, I can’t find her anywhere,’ he said. ‘She went to the loo and just vanished. Deb checked the Ladies, she’s not in there. Sorry, sis, I know it’s your night off, but we’re seriously short without her. Can you lend a hand?’

  ‘Oh God, yes,’ I said with a sigh of relief. ‘Er, I mean, if it’s an emergency.’ I turned to Harper. ‘You mind if we postpone this conversation? Missing waitress crisis.’

  ‘Will you come back after?’ he asked, shooting a resentful look at Tom. ‘I can wait at the bar.’

  ‘I’ll be too tired for nightcaps after work, Harper. Or for… anything else. Maybe another time.’

  ‘Right,’ Harper said, getting to his feet. But he didn’t leave. ‘I’ll call you, babe, ok?’

  I winced. ‘Please don’t call me that. I sound like a talking pig.’

  He laughed. ‘You’re funny, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m a riot.’

  ‘Well, thanks for tonight, Lana. It’s been laughs.’ Before I knew what was going on, he’d leaned across the table and planted a wet kiss right on my lips.

  I pushed him away. ‘Jesus, Harper! Bit of warning might be nice.’

  He clicked his tongue. ‘You’re a lucky lady. You know how many women dream of that every night?’

  ‘Amazingly, no.’

  ‘Well, it’s lots. Bernice tallies up the fan letters that mention sexual fantasies for me.’

  ‘Oh God,’ I groaned. ‘I bet that’s not even a joke, is it?’

  ‘Might be, might not,’ he said, winking. ‘Toodles, babe – er, honey. Speak soon.’

  He blew me a last kiss over his shoulder as he sauntered to the exit, daft Panama hat still perched on the back of his head.

  When he’d gone I turned, wide-eyed, to Tom.

  ‘Harper Brady just tried to slip me the tongue.’

  ‘Yeah, I saw. Well, congratulations, sis.’ He grabbed my hand and gave it a shake. ‘You are now officially one of the most envied women in the country. How’s it feel?’

  ‘I can tell you how it tastes. Fried fish and garlic. He had the herb-crusted trout.’ I knocked back the last of my wine to get the Harper Brady flavour out of my mouth. ‘Right, I’d better get into my costume.’

  ‘No need. Jaz was on kitchen duty all night. Just stick a pinny on.’

  I frowned. ‘So she was in with Deano, was she?’

  ‘Yeah, why?’

  ‘Did you text her? It’s not like her to take off without letting one of us know.’

  ‘I tried ringing. No answer.’

  ‘Hmm. Ok, let me try. You go back to the front desk, there are customers waiting.’

  I pulled up Jasmine’s number as I headed towa
rds the kitchen. Three rings, four… no answer.

  Just as I passed the toilets, I paused. There was a very faint sound, like a tinny… was it One Direction?

  Jasmine’s ringtone. But Tom said Debbie had checked the loos.

  My eyes lighted on the little cleaner’s cupboard. So that was it. Quietly, I opened the door and slid myself inside.

  I fumbled for the light switch. Jasmine was sitting under a shelf laden with bleach and antibacterial spray, hugging her knees and sobbing.

  ‘How’d you find me, boss?’

  ‘First rule of hide and seek, Jaz: always put your phone on silent. Tough one for a teenage girl, I know.’ I sat down and put an arm round her. ‘Want to talk about it, love?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Fibber.’

  She buried her head in my shoulder while she squeezed out a few more tears.

  ‘Did Deano say something to you?’ I said gently.

  ‘Yes. He said don’t overcook the mutton, kid. He said check there’re no lumps in the mashed turnip, kid. He said make sure your hands are cold before you make the pastry, kid. That’s all he ever says. And I say yes Chef, no Chef, three bags full Chef like a pathetic bleating sheep.’ She stifled another sob. ‘No wonder he only ever notices you.’

  ‘Come on, that’s not true. He’s very fond of you.’

  ‘Yeah, like a pet hamster or something. It’s you he fancies.’

  I shook my head. ‘It isn’t like that.’

  ‘And I know why,’ she said, ignoring me. ‘Because you’re all relaxed and jokey with him, like I wish I could be. When I’m with a boy I like, I say so many stupid things I want the ground to eat me.’

  ‘So do I,’ I said. ‘Tom’s worse, and he’s 28. Everyone feels like that: it’s part of getting to know someone.’

  ‘You’re not like that with Deano,’ she said, blowing her nose quietly on the tissue I handed her.

  ‘No. Know why? Because I don’t fancy Deano. And he doesn’t fancy me. We’re friends, that’s all.’

  ‘You’re always flirting though.’

  I shrugged. ‘Oh, that’s just mucking about. Friends do that.’

  ‘He never mucks about like that with me.’

  ‘You’re… younger,’ I said diplomatically. ‘He probably thinks it’s not appropriate.’