High Heels & Bicycle Wheels

by Jane Linfoot

  ‘We haven’t even had breakfast yet, Dan.’ Jackson’s protest was loud and rueful as he ushered Dan into the room. ‘Coffee, Cherry?’

  ‘I’d prefer tea.’ She’d intended to help but no way was she venturing into the kitchen area in her knicker-free state now Dan was here. And no idea why her lifetime habit of strong coffee at breakfast had suddenly dematerialised. ‘Weak and milky please.’

  ‘So, there’s some great news I knew you’d want to hear.’ Dan dropped an armful of newspapers onto the long table. ‘I gave you guys some space yesterday but it’s back to work today, especially given what’s in here.’

  Jackson’s forehead wrinkled as he stood by the sink filling the kettle. ‘This had better be good.’

  ‘Believe me it is, and congratulations are in order. ’ Dan scooped up a tabloid, rustled through the pages and slammed it down triumphantly, open on the table. ‘Pictures from Friday evening on every gossip page, and everyone has you two nailed as an item.’

  Bryony’s stomach lurched.

  ‘And you call that good?’ Jackson’s astonished tone suggested that he was as shocked as her.

  Dan gave Jackson a stare that suggested he was gone out for missing the point. ‘Get real, Jackson. The papers acknowledging you have a steady date on your arm catapults your reputation skywards. A steady date, who – did you know they’re calling you single catch of the year –’ he bowled a beam in Bryony’s direction. ‘You’ve been high up on their list of eligible women refusing to be tied down. And frankly, Jackson hooking up with, and I’m quoting here, “Brando Marshall’s uber-respectable sister”, is pure gold. It’s the coup I’ve been working my butt off for all year, and more. Thanks to you, Bryony, Jackson’s been fast-forwarded from bad-boy extraordinaire to respectable citizen. I’d hoped for good things when I sent you two off together in the camper, but this is beyond my wildest dreams. Look, here’s a lovely picture of you both. You’re looking as if butter wouldn’t melt Jackson – “Smiling all the way to the Marshall dynasty”. Just more icing on that fabulous cake I was talking about a few weeks back.’

  ‘Holy crap, Dan.’ Jackson sent an apologetic grimace across to her. ‘Don’t take any notice of him Cherry, he’s just been working so hard to improve my public image and the fact he’s succeeded has gone to his head.’

  Bryony opened her mouth to reply, and shut it again when nothing came out. Being shouted about publicly as if she was in a relationship with Jackson was bad enough, when it so obviously wasn’t the case, but it was looking more and more as if Dan had a whole host of motives for sending her and Jackson away together. The way Brando’s name kept coming up was unsettling, but worse still, it sounded as if Jackson was in on it too. Her head throbbed as the cogs of her brain chewed through what she’d just heard, until she finally scraped a protest together.

  ‘You two talked about this before?’

  Dan and Jackson exchanged nervous grimaces, but it was Jackson who came clean with a desperate sigh.

  ‘Yes, we did. A while back Dan admitted to me he sent us away together because he thought we might…er…get on.’ Jackson screwed up his face and shook his head sadly. ‘He meant well, it was his idea of matchmaking, carried out with all the finesse of a lumberjack in size ten boots.’

  At least Jackson wasn’t trying to hide it.

  ‘You’ve got to admit my hunch was spot on – you did get on.’ Dan gave a guilty sniff.

  Jackson gave Dan a warning stare. ‘That’s enough, Dan…’

  ‘And the cake? What the hell did he mean about icing?’ Bryony spoke directly to Jackson, her mouth almost too dry to form words.

  Jackson’s nostrils flared, and his brow furrowed deeply. ‘I’m not making excuses, and I swear that what I’m about to say had nothing to do with anything that happened between us.’ He rolled his eyes, the resonance in his voice faltering slightly. ‘But from somewhere Dan had the misguided and ridiculous idea that if we got together, the link with Brando would be beneficial to me.’

  Bryony’s stomach turned to stone.

  The fact that he’d come clean here and admitted it was small comfort. The one time she had the feeling she was doing something, finally for herself, and it was all just an illusion. Yet again, she’d ended up here because she was Brando’s sister, and not because of who she really was. In sheer hot, frustration, she dug her fingers into the cushions on the sofa. Across the room, the black slats of the window blinds began to wiggle, and she swallowed down a mouthful of sour saliva. As the room began to slip in and out of focus, and her head began to spin, she closed her fingers onto the sofa, clung on harder, in an effort to keep the room from turning. Then, as the knot in her gut erupted, she clamped her hand over her mouth and made a desperate dash for the bathroom.

  If Dan just lost a whole load of credibility points with his revelations, Jackson was desperately clawing his own way back into her good books with his quiet yet attentive reaction to her sudden throwing up. Or maybe he was just a good guy.

  ‘It’s nothing, honestly.’ She gave a shudder as Jackson tweaked the rug he’d insisted she put over her knees when she’d returned to the sofa and handed her a tray of tea and toast, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to smile.

  ‘My tummy’s been a bit weird ever since I took an accidental swig of Cressy’s vile energy drink the other day. I feel much better now.’ Just one more thing Cressy had to answer for, although thinking about it, that was a couple of weeks ago now.

  ‘That’s good to hear.’ Dan was still here, propped against the far wall with a large mug of coffee in his hand. ‘I’ve got some things lined up for Jackson for this afternoon, which are pretty non-negotiable.’

  Jackson dropped onto the sofa beside her, flopped a hand onto her leg and grimaced apologetically. ‘So long as it’s nothing too energetic then, Dan.’

  ‘I’ve already had a local guy getting some photographs together for a retrospective exhibition, an artistic look back at your career. I thought we could drop by and make some final selections, and we’ll use that as a platform to launch you into retirement.’

  Bryony clattered her cup down, and turned to Jackson. ‘What retirement? I thought you were flying back to Spain for training tomorrow?’ She tried to keep her voice steady, despite the tension rising in her chest.

  Jackson flying far away to his racing life after their weekend of debauchery, she could cope with. That was simple, easy, a neat and tidy end. Jackson at home, with a glaring big hole where his racing used to be was a whole lot different. She hadn’t signed up for that, she wasn’t prepared for that and Jackson happily waving at her out of her fantasy made it all the worse. She’d promised herself one last weekend of fun to burn out the heat, although if last night was anything to go by, that hadn’t worked at all either, because the heat was still like a furnace. But him being around didn’t figure anywhere in her plan, and for some reason, the thought that he might be around was making her feel like a vice was closing around her head.

  ‘I told Dan yesterday, but I didn’t want the news to dominate our evening.’ Jackson gave a sheepish shrug. ‘It’s been pretty impossible ever since I went back to Spain. The repairs to the knee I injured in the crash aren’t holding up. It was probably always hopeless, but I didn’t want to face up to it. It took me a while to come to terms with it. But I’m still flying back to Spain tomorrow to tie up the loose ends.’

  ‘Right. Fine. Fab to know you’ve decided at last.’ She tried to sound airy. No reason why he should have discussed it with her, even if he had made a total turn-around on the impression he’d given her yesterday in the café.

  ‘Great, good that one’s settled then.’ Dan swooped into the awkward space in the conversation, brow wrinkled into a frown, which was somewhat at odds with his upbeat delivery. ‘So after the gallery, we’ve got a quick piece to the news guys, to get some footage of you riding locally to send out with your retirement announcement. We’ll spin it that you’ll be spending time on charity work. All g
ood? I’m sorry if it seems like I’m putting a hatchet through what’s left of your weekend but time is of the essence here. And you guys have got forever, after all.’

  Forever? Bryony couldn’t explain why the word made her feel like bolting down the stairs.

  ‘Great.’ Jackson’s grim tone said otherwise, and he sent a Bryony another grimace.

  ‘I’ll leave you two to it then.’ Three strides, Dan had crossed the room, and was half way out of the door. ‘Enjoy your breakfast, I’ll pick you up at one.’

  So much for putting a hatchet through the rest of the weekend – Bryony felt like someone just dropped a hand-grenade on her secure, and perfectly ordered life.

  Chapter 42

  As Jackson pushed through the monumental glass doors into the photographer’s gallery later that afternoon, Cherry brushed past him with a scowl that unequivocally froze him out. He just wished that instead of stone-walling him she’d tell him which part of this morning’s undeniable catalogue of disasters was bothering her most. Cherry shouting he could cope with, Cherry ordering him around was no problem, but a silent, uncommunicative, evasive Cherry was impossible.

  Since Dan arrived with his publicity bombshell this morning her walls had gone up, and she’d morphed into Ms Strong and Silent. They’d had separate showers, then she’d spent an inordinate amount of time fiddling with her hair straighteners even for her, then she’d sat in the back of the car in silence as Dan drove them to the gallery. True, it was hard to get a word in edgeways when Dan was in full flow, but she’d simply stared out of the window in the opposite direction, as if she wasn’t listening at all. Not that he could blame her for being upset, but he still hadn’t worked out if her dashing off to be ill was due to the shock of Dan’s gossip pages or her dicky stomach. And her mumbled excuses of hangover slash high energy drink she drank last week somehow didn’t ring true, given she’d hardly drunk anything the previous evening. And he couldn’t get away from the feeling that she hated the whole idea of being linked to him in any way at all, which pretty much rubbished his rose-tinted mental picture of spending his retirement with her. The way she’d backed off suggested the whole idea of them as an item left her completely cold. Whatever, he had had a hell of a lot of catching up to do simply to stay standing still.

  ‘I’m sorry we can’t fit in our wander round the retro shops, but I promise I won’t let Dan ruin our dinner plans.’ He attempted to make up ground as they followed Dan towards the stairwell. ‘So long as you’re up to it, I’ve booked us a surprise table in town tonight and Phoebe’s friend with the boutique is dropping off a whole lot of dresses for you to choose from.’

  ‘Fine. Great. Brilliant.’

  Great. The same snippy reply she always used when things were anything but. She still didn’t meet his eye as they set off together between the faux rusted balustrades. He threw out a line in a desperate attempt to reach more neutral ground.

  ‘How is your bedroom makeover going, anyway?’ He caught himself hoping her new bed was king-sized, with some sort of slatted bed head, and gave himself a sharp mental kick. The way things were going he’d be lucky if he even got to see it again.

  ‘Fine. Great…’ She registered his eye-roll expression, and broke off with a sigh. ‘It’s not going that well as it happens but it’s always interesting to browse round shops in a different area. I’m always looking out for something quirky and original.’

  Sensing he’d caught her interest, given that she’d momentarily suspended the sub-zero treatment, he moved to capitalise on his gain.

  ‘Why not hang some retro bikes on the wall?’ A wild line, thrown out in desperation. Interiors were a long way out of his comfort zone.

  ‘You would say that, wouldn’t you?’ She gave a half shrug. ‘Not sure bikes would work for me though.’

  He racked his brains to keep this going, and remembered a wooden couch at a team doctor’s house in Switzerland. ‘What about a period doctor’s couch to play on the clinical theme?’

  ‘I’ve actually been looking for a vintage dentist’s chair to use as a clothes-dump for ages.’ She flicked her hair behind her ear, but still didn’t smile as they reached the first floor and her heels clicked across the industrial metal landing in front of them.

  One vertigo-inducing view down to the foyer and another set of huge glass doors and they arrived in the studio.

  ‘Come on in and meet Phil.’ Dan led them across a cavernous space towards a small guy in denim, who came towards them holding out a broad hand. ‘Bryony, Jackson, meet Phil, photographer and resident exhibition wizard.’

  ‘Hi Phil.’ As Jackson’s hand met Phil’s he felt his jaw gape as he stared around the high, white-walled space, and took in the images of himself on every surface. ‘Quite a collection you have here.’

  ‘Great to meet you properly on this side of the camera, Jackson, I feel like I already know you well, given this lot, and how often I’ve pointed a camera at you.’ Phil nodded towards the photographs, and shook Jackson’s hand vigorously. ‘So, you’ve decided to hang up your racing bike and go on to better things then?’

  Jackson wavered, took a deep breath. What the heck, he was going to have to get used to this question.

  ‘Someone told me the Pacific Rim’s worth a visit, add in the promise of bucket-loads of ice-cream, and it was a no-brainer.’ He looked deliberately at Cherry but she was fiddling with her cuff. Catching Dan’s non-plussed expression he grasped for a better soundbite. ‘The biggest lure is the freedom.’

  The sound of his own hollow laugh echoing off the ceiling was joined by a mobile ring tone, and Cherry dived into her bag.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you all, I should have put my phone off.’

  Jackson watched her as she tapped the keys frantically. ‘Everything okay there, Cherry?’

  ‘It will be, in a bit.’ She pursed her lips, doubtfully. ‘It’s only Brando, going postal about the reports in the papers.’

  Brando on the war path was all Jackson needed. ‘He’s not coming on another flying visit is he?’

  ‘Who knows…’ Cherry gave a past caring shrug, but didn’t look up from her phone.

  Still giving him the North Face of the Eiger treatment, dammit.

  ‘Brando’s coming?’ Dan sidled over.

  ‘Of course Brando won’t come.’ Cherry took the words right out of Jackson’s mouth, and dismissed Dan with one snap.

  Jackson kicked himself for not getting in first. There were times when he could have cheerfully strangled Dan.

  ‘So, we’re here to look at the pictures.’ Jackson was aware of the weariness in his own voice. He needed to move this on, firmly, and fast. ‘What do you want us to do?’

  ‘We’ve hung our initial choices here.’ Phil gave a rueful grin. ‘If you could confirm that you’re in agreement that would be good. I’ve got some other pictures in the back and on the laptop, so you can look through those too and add any more you’d like. I’ve put them in chronological order. They start over here, if you’d like to come this way, Bryony.’

  Jackson felt his jaw sag as short, balding Phil honed in on Cherry, with open arms and a five hundred watt beam. In seconds he’d waltzed her to the other end of the gallery. Jackson tried to ignore the immediate impulse to wring Phil’s neck.

  Dan raised his eyebrows at Jackson and blew. ‘Sounds like she’s got it in for me, big-time.’

  ‘We’re both in the firing line.’ Jackson couldn’t believe Dan sounded surprised. ‘None of us like being set up, Dan.’ He hoped he made it clear to Dan from his pointed glare that he included himself in this statement.

  ‘When she sees the pictures of you as a boy she’ll soften.’ Dan gave Jackson a pat on the back.

  ‘Somehow I doubt it.’ Jackson swallowed back a mouthful of bitter saliva, and ground his teeth as he watched Cherry and Phil chatting, working their way around the gallery. How the hell could they find so much to talk about?

  Jackson looked at his watch, then at Dan, still nex
t to him, rolling on his heels. ‘How the hell has it taken them forty five minutes?’

  ‘I’d think of it as useful cooling off time.’ Dan took his hands out of his pockets and flashed him a grin. ‘They’re almost done now.’

  The scent of Cherry’s perfume pulled Jackson’s senses into focus.

  ‘Totally amazing.’ Cherry had come to a halt a couple of yards away, and was quietly gazing at a four-feet high blow-up of Jackson’s face. ‘Well, they’re all amazing, but there’s something extraordinary about this last one. Don’t you think, Jackson?’

  Jackson lurched, taken aback by her first direct question since breakfast. At least she was speaking to him again, even if she still was looking at him stonily.

  ‘That one’s at the world championships. My last win.’ Jackson’s footsteps echoed over his mutter, as he crossed the wooden floor, arrived at her elbow. ‘And?’

  When she turned her gaze onto him it was sharp and clear. Piercing even. ‘Well, don’t you see it?’

  ‘Sorry, but to me it’s the same as all the others.’ He gave a grimace. ‘So many pictures, all of me, to be honest I try not to look too closely.’ And more honest still, he was relieved to have her attention again.

  She shook her head, and sighed. ‘Okay, Jackson, let me explain – it’s as if the whole of your personality is encapsulated here in this one picture. Your fearsome determination is there, and your deep reliability, yet there’s a sense of your lilting sense of humour too. But most of all I can feel your vulnerability.’