Flo tensed as the pair of them rode up alongside her and Sue, their expressions alight with interest as they pointed out flowers on the bankside, cumulonimbus clouds scudding along the horizon (now that the rain had moved East) and the call of a female blackbird. They looked as though they were on holiday rather than an arduous cycle ride raising money for a mental health charity. Didn’t look as though they had a care in the world.
‘Blustery today,’ said one as if they’d all just won the lottery.
‘Interesting how strong the wind is,’ said the other, ‘Particularly if you take into account what Trevor said, about the Helm Wind.’
Sue, bless her, made the mistake of asking, ‘what’s a helm wind?’
The meerkats launched into an astonished retelling of Trevor’s ‘did you know’ all of which, Flo was gratified to note, slowed them down as they reached the hill’s ascent so that she could keep up. For some reason, having to get off of her bike and push in front of these two would’ve been an ego blow she wasn’t ready for. Not on Day One, anyway.
‘It’s Flo, isn’t it?’ asked Meerkat Two.
Like a few of the other riders – not all – Sue, Raven and Flo had gained a bit of notoriety from their bit on the telly. She tapped her helmet and said, ‘I’m surprised you recognised me with this on.’
‘Oh, no. It wasn’t that, it was more …’ Meerkat Two put her fingerless gloved hand to her dried apple face and laughed, ‘You look a bit different in real life is all.’
Old, thought Flo, grimly. She was going to say old.
‘Well! Lovely to meet you. See you at the first biscuit stop.’
Meerkat One, mercifully, took that as her cue to push on ahead to see if she and Meerkat Two couldn’t buy a little time to bird watch when the route hit the beach again.
Flo, aching from trying to keep up with the lot of them, changed gear.
A stubbly chinned thirty-something man rode up alongside Sue just as the narrow country lane opened, rather miraculously, straight out onto the seafront. He was wearing the ‘full kit and caboodle’ as Flo liked to say. He had on the yellow shirt, of course, but underneath it was some sort of ‘second skin’ type top that seemed quite popular amongst the impressively large turn out of middle-aged men. Cycling shorts, clip-on shoes, reflective, polarised glasses, helmet complete with blinking light on the back and his water bottle was filled with a coloured energy drink. ‘Nice day for it,’ said the man.
Sue heaved a sigh of relief. At last. Someone to talk with. She’d lost Flo somewhere along the way. A ‘comfort stop’ that Flo hadn’t wanted her to stick around for. She hadn’t spotted Raven for a while either. Early on in the ride, it became apparent that Raven’s riding pattern was … erratic. Powering up a hill one moment, stopping to talk to her phone the next, coasting down a hill sticking her feet out and squealing wheeeeee! the next. Not at all the girl who had quietly and diligently helped Sue sort through hundreds of invoices, knocked on dozens of doors and, at the end of each evening, made hot chocolate for the pair of them before slipping off for ‘an early night and a read.’ It was like meeting an entirely different person. The mirror image, she supposed, of discovering her cheery, contented husband was actually spiraling ever downwards into the depths of despair.
Raven, it appeared, had a fun side.
Being an up and coming Instagram star ‘on her terms and her terms only’ had lit something up in her. She’d never have painted flames onto her eyes before now. It was as if she’d found some spark of joy either from the ride or Instagram or that quirky lad Dylan that she’d not managed to find living with a forty-two-year-old, recently widowed, 111 call handler who didn’t quite know what to do with herself beyond tidying their perfectly clean house and watching re-runs of Bake Off. She certainly seemed to have more on her mind than ‘just pedalling.’ A remit Sue had taken to heart until she realised ‘just pedalling’ left her with quite the surplus of thinking time.
‘We’re lucky the rain cleared up,’ said Sue, happy to escape the rabbit hole of too much personal reflection.
The man laughed, Sue’s reflection catching in the polarised lenses of his glasses. ‘It’ll be back soon enough.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’m from Newcastle, like Kath,’ he said as an explanation for his authority on the matter. ‘The weather goes through all four seasons at least once an hour here Ooop North.’
‘Good thing I hadn’t planned on coming back with a tan,’ Sue quipped from an arsenal of chit chat she didn’t realise she had.
‘Charlie,’ he said with a little wave.
‘Sue,’ she said, swerving to avoid a puddle.
‘First charity ride?’
‘Does it show?’
‘No,’ he said, amiably. ‘Not in the least. This is my third,’ he volunteered.
‘Oh?’ That seemed … committed.
‘What made you choose this particular ride?’ Charlie asked, pulling his reflective sunglasses off to reveal a pair of warm brown eyes.
‘Oh …’ Sue had really rather hoped everyone had seen her piece on the show and that she’d never have to talk about it again. Kath had been the one to
