‘You two go on ahead.’
Flo wanted zero witnesses to her physical dilapidation. No one to bear witness to the emotional mangle she was being fed through at her own hand. Alone apart from Becky who would, annoyingly, be crawling along behind her in that ruddy van of hers.
‘We’re not leaving you on your own,’ Sue said.
‘Sorry,’ Raven confirmed. ‘The buddy system is a system for a reason.’
Flo glowered. ‘I can tell you right now, there will be walking.’
‘Then we’ll walk,’ said Sue, giving a little nudge to Raven who instantly said yes, yes, they both loved walking and were very happy to walk. All twenty-seven miles if necessary. In fact, did she know that it was possible to walk a marathon in around eight hours? You could do it in six, really, but she’d added in a couple of hours to account for the hills.
Raven, it came to pass, had had three carrot and ginger power shots in the course of receiving a sponsorship offer from the Toes Up Energy Drink company for her Instagram site. She’d told them she would think about it.
Ten minutes later, having arrived at the foot of their first hill, via a flooded cycle path that had the three of them plunging their pedals into ankle-deep water, they were walking.
Flo thought her misery had peaked yesterday, but it turned out she had been wrong. Quite wrong in fact.
Today’s fun little fact was that despite the ice packs, the Deep Heat, two knee supports and some rather peculiar tape Fola had put on her calves, her body wasn’t strong enough to get her to the end of this wretched trip. Wasn’t strong enough to get her home.
She was going to die out here.
Die in front of increasingly resilient Sue. Die in front of Raven who had seemed so fragile when she’d met her in the New Year, but, if Big Boned Goth Girl was anything to go by, would bounce back from this. Her death.
From where Flo was standing (pedalling), the only person who might really be upset at her demise was Flo.
She would never hold Captain George in her arms again but he’d be more than alright in Stu’s care. Never heat up a tin of soup for Stu again (neither tomato nor his beloved chicken noodle). She’d never get to tell her daughter what a fool she’d been or try and make up for the years of parenting that had driven her daughter to become a brittle, rule-loving, efficiency expert who barely noticed the daffodils. Or Jamie. She missed him, too, but under Cynthia’s care he’d very likely turn out fine either way, until, she supposed, Cynthia turned seventy and decided to do a cycle ride across the Australian Desert or climb Uluru in the dark or whatever it was Asian-Australians did to prove to themselves the hearts beating in their chest beat for more than just their own pleasure. He’d get a bit of breathing room then. A bit of time to reflect. Her sweet, dear boy. A bit of a pushover, but … the world couldn’t all be Stu’s.
She tipped her face up to the rain, letting the sensation of it wash through her because, after today, she’d never feel it again. What a waste, she thought, relieved, for the very first time, that her parents couldn’t see her now. What a waste.
‘Did you know,’ began Sue—
‘—I’m sorry, Sue,’ Flo interrupted, ‘… but if you’re going to tell me one more thing about bloody Hadrian’s bloody Wall I am going to stuff my head into this hedge until you stop.’
Sue, much to her surprise, did not feel hurt by this or any of the other little barbed snippets Flo had been sending out like poison darts all morning.
She knew it wasn’t personal. That Flo was going through what they all were: battling demons they’d not thought they’d encounter courtesy of all of this thinking time.
Shepherds, Sue thought, must be very, very peaceful people. Old ones anyway. The young ones probably listened to podcasts or Radio 2.
For some reason this struck her as incredibly funny and, as if cued by the heavens, a flock of sheep ran up to the low hedge to encourage her with their bleats and baas.
She smiled at them and gave them a courtly wave, feeling quite a different woman to the one she’d been yesterday.
It was as if the tears she had shed had cleared the way for someone new: the elusive New Sue who had flickered and flared quite a lot in the early days after Gary had—after Gary had killed himself. New Sue had all but disappeared as she stumbled through the aftermath of the trauma she never once imagined herself having to survive. But now it seemed she was back. And Sue kind of liked her.
So who was this woman?
The New Sue.
Someone who would no longer try and break awkward silences with the phrase ‘Did you know …’ That was for sure.
Which did lend itself to the question … what would the New Sue do? She’d already done crumpling to the ground to sob and sob in the pouring rain until eventually all of those tears had to turn to laughter, because, truth be told, she didn’t think she
