‘I’m on the ride because of my mum,’ Charlie volunteered.
‘Oh, I’m – sorry?’ It was difficult to know how to respond to a statement like that.
‘Not to worry. Chemical imbalances are what they are, but … she’s getting help now, that’s the main thing. For her bipolar,’ Charlie explained when Sue threw him a questioning look.
‘Gosh,’ said Sue. ‘That’s sounds complicated.’
Charlie nodded. ‘Can be. Especially when she stops taking her meds. There’re only so many times you can explain away picking up your mum from the police station for an ASBO.’ He laughed as if he’d just told Sue his mother was regularly being caught talking too loudly at the library. ‘But! Single working mum, good person at heart – these things happen. It’s my turn to look after her. Anyway, she seems to have resigned herself to the fact that if she wants to participate in so-called normal life, she’s going to have to take her meds.’
Sue nodded, feeling an unexpected prickling of tears. Maybe if Gaz had said something, to his doctor even, they might’ve given him happy pills to get through his rough patch.
‘But enough of my hard luck story,’ Charlie waved it away.
‘No,’ Sue cut in before he could ask her about her story again. ‘I’m interested. Please. Go on.’
Marijuana, booze and … Raven was no expert … but she was pretty sure this latest group of young men were smoking crack. Not that they were openly smoking it, but they definitely saw her coming and were definitely behaving strangely. Excellent life choices, peeps! Not.
It turned out that when they weren’t on country lanes the cycle route took them ‘off road’ onto some pretty amazing cycle/pedestrian routes, many of which were regularly used by dog walkers, joggers, walkers, all sorts. There were also a healthy array of benches with plaques on. To Doris. To Harold. For The Beckermet Birders Who First Spotted the Long-Billed Dowitcher. She couldn’t blame the folk who stopped and took a pew for a while. Some of the nature-y bits were lush. Happening upon the ultra-urban looking lads in a beautiful woodland was a bit weirdy, though. On a par with riding her bicycle along the coast, only to round a corner and see a vast nuclear power plant looming above reams of chain-linked fencing, coiled razor wire and machine-gun-wielding police officers. It was like happening upon a surreal, post-apocalypse film set. There were big signs everywhere warning about the danger of entering, no drones (as if she carried one of those around in her back pocket) and, amusingly, a sign recommending cycle path users give way to passing trains. Errr. Okay?
She looked away as she passed the bench full of men – they looked older up close – sitting, legs spread wide apart, staring out at the valley below as they were bathed in a burst of unexpected late-morning sunshine.
How depressing. She hoped brain annihilation wasn’t what she was doing by turning down her places at uni, moving out of her parents’, and ignoring their increasingly irate once-a-week messages about how disappointing a daughter she was (this week’s was a corker) all to pursue hopes and dreams even she couldn’t pin down.
All she knew was what she didn’t want. Which didn’t really seem a brilliant starting point. Then again, deduction narrowed the field of choices, so …
‘Hello, there!’
Much to her shock, Raven turned to see Kath Fuller ride up alongside her without, miracle of miracles, her ever-present camera crew in tow.
‘How’re you getting on?’ Kath asked as she easily met Raven’s pace.
‘Good. Yeah. Fine. Just …’ she shifted a bit on her cycling seat. ‘You know. Finding my groove.’
‘I saw your Insta post during tea break.’
‘Oh?’
Ruh-roh.
‘I love your honesty,’ Kath said.
Raven winced. She’d not really minced words when it came to her thoughts on celebrities participating in charity events to up their popularity. She hadn’t cited Kath by name, but it was pretty clear the post had been inspired by her. Raven had made the post after she saw Kath stopping to sign some autographs for a group of women outside a coffee shop just a few miles into the ride, camera crew in tow. It had seemed so self-serving, particularly as she’d been banging on about doing the ride for her brother. It hadn’t felt an entirely fair assessment seeing as she had yet to divulge why she was on the ride, but …
‘It made me think,’ Kath said, as if putting oneself under the spotlight was a good thing.
‘Oh?’
‘Absolutely. The last thing my brother would’ve cared about was a bunch of people in lycra riding across the country to raise money for a charity.’
‘What would he have wanted?’
‘To be listened to.’
Raven nodded. She got that. If her parents had ever, like, for one minute even, sat down and asked, what do you think/want/believe, she might not be here right now.
‘Did you see those lads back there?’ Kath asked.
‘Yeah.’ She did her utmost best to keep a neutral face because she wasn’t quite sure where Kath was going with this.
‘They remind me of my brother.’
‘Oh?’ Gosh.
‘Ex-military, if their tats are anything to go by.’
Raven made a yeah, yeah, obvs nod. What the hell? Kath Fuller, down with the ins and outs of military tats. Who knew?
All of a sudden Kath applied her brakes and threw her thumb over her shoulder. ‘Want to go back and have a chat with them with me?’
‘Ummm …’ Not really, they were drug addicts?
‘I promise you it’ll be interesting.’
Freaky was what it would be. Like Dorothy encountering a talking scarecrow or … She shrugged. Who was she kidding? It wouldn’t be any freakier than finding out Dylan was normal beneath all of his street talk and selfie obsessions or moving in with a woman whose husband decided to
