by Daisy Tate
‘Alright if I come in?’
‘Sue! What are you doing here?’ Becky pushed herself up against the mountain of pillows and pointed at the small television screen opposite her bed. ‘I thought I just watched all of you head off down the road!’
‘I thought I’d take a little detour before setting off.’
‘Don’t you want to hit the finish line with the rest of the group?’
‘Oh, I’ll catch up.’ Sue dodged a lurching bouquet of heart-shaped balloons as she walked into the room. ‘Dean-O promised me there’d be an extra-long comfort break outside the museum at Wallsend for—’
‘Trevor,’ they both said and laughed together.
Sue looked round the room. ‘Gosh! It’s like a florist’s shop in here.’
Becky sunk back into her pillows with a smile. ‘Who knew it would take a quadruple heart bypass to feel like an Interflora van driver, eh?’
‘We’re all ever so happy you made it,’ Sue gave her hand a light squeeze, mindful of the drip taped into the back of her hand, the snaking of tubes and monitors attached to her chest. ‘Did they find your daughter? Ginny?’
Becky blinked at her and then, as if as a strong wind had been holding her features in place, the wind dropped away and her expression crumpled.
‘Oh! Becky, I’m so sorry. Did I say the wrong thing?’
‘No, no,’ said Becky. ‘I’m ever so grateful for everything you did. So very grateful, but …’
‘But, what? Were they not able to get in touch with her? I am more than happy to make some calls.’ Sue stopped talking when fat tears began to form then trickle down Becky’s lovely, kind, if not incredibly pale, face.
‘Ginny died, Sue.’
Sue gasped. ‘Oh, my god! Becky! Yesterday?’ She floundered and stuttered until Becky eventually took her hand in both of hers and gave it soft strokes as if soothing a puppy.
‘Ginny died about fifteen years ago. Fifteen years, two months and five days to be exact.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You always spoke about her as if—’
‘—as if she were alive, I know.’ Tears slid silently down Becky’s face as she explained. ‘She died in a car accident. A ridiculous one, really. Can you believe it? She was hit by lightning. It went straight through the windscreen and poof! My little girl was gone.’ She pinched her hands together then opened them up so that all that was between them was air. ‘I thought maybe yesterday it had finally come.’
‘What had come?’
‘My chance to be with her.’
A wave of nausea swept through Sue. Never, even when that dreadful red velvet curtain had closed as Gary’s casket slid back towards the bowels of the crematorium had she ever wished herself dead. ‘No. Becky. You don’t mean that. You are so kind and full of life and such a wonderful person. You couldn’t possibly want to be—’
‘—with my daughter?’ Becky finished for her. ‘Yes. Yes I could. Not that I was willing myself to have a heart attack and nearly take you lot with me, but … it’s all I’ve been doing these last fifteen years. Wishing I was with her. Trying to experience everything my Ginny couldn’t. Stupid, wasn’t it?’
Sue made a vague noise. She was beyond judgement when it came to grief.
‘Fifteen years,’ Becky sighed, grating her lips against her teeth, the blood returning ever so slowly as they plumped back out again. ‘Fifteen years of ruining my marriage, my friendships, everything really, all to try and live a life that was never mine to live.’
‘I wish I had something incredibly wise to say. Something that could help.’
‘You could tell me what I’m going to do now,’ Becky said, laughing the most forlorn, watery laugh Sue had ever heard.
Sue forced herself not to answer straight away. She, of all people, knew trotting out the standard there, there’s and it’ll be alrights and time heals all wounds placations were really ways of getting a grief-stricken person to stop talking because, the plain truth of the matter was, being around someone who was so very sad was unbelievably uncomfortable. People just wanted it to stop. People like her mother. Her sister-in-law. And, maybe, her Gary – who must’ve kept everything that had been troubling him from her because he had never been able to bear it when she cried. Even if it was at a Christmas advert. He used to flee the room, squealing – squealing! – no, Suey, no! Please. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Then he’d return and pour chocolates and tissues and takeaway menus – whatever he could gather into his arms to make her tears disappear because, Sue finally saw, bearing someone else’s pain on top of your own, could sometimes be too much to handle. So much so, that for some people, the only solution was to end it all.
She pulled a chair up to the side of Becky’s bed. ‘Why don’t you tell me about all of the things you’re interested in?’
Becky pulled a face. ‘Go on, Sue. You’ll be missing the rest of the ride.’ She glanced at the wall clock. ‘You don’t have time.’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Sue. ‘I have all the time in the world.’
Because some things simply had to be staged, the crew had stopped all of the cyclists, including Kath, at the newly redeveloped North Shield docks – a lovely area that had been completely transformed since Kath had left the area some forty years back. Whoever had waved their magic wand over the rundown fishing port had struck a perfect note between yesteryear charm and modern comforts. Like food. There were so many delicious restaurants to choose from serving oysters to fish and chips to sushi and back again. The air smelt of chips and spices and burnt sugar. Everything she’d been avoiding eating since she’d been about twelve years old.
‘Who wants an ice cream,’ she asked the small group of men who had regularly led the charge throughout the week. ‘I’m paying.’ Much to her delight – they all did. As each cyclist pulled up, their faces lit at the sight of all of the double and triple scooped cones being handed out to everyone in a bright yellow t-shirt.
About an hour later, the last of the riders pulled up to the group. First Flo, then Raven and finally, Sue. Kath didn’t know why, but the three women’s arrival seemed to bring with it a lovely sensation of quiet, but utterly beautiful achievement to the group. A calm she’d not felt before.
Her producer came up and touched her elbow. ‘Ready?’
‘Absolutely.’ And she was. After a few quick instructions about riding the additional mile along the beachfront and then – yes, she was very sorry – up one last hill to the Tynemouth castle, there would be refreshments and medals and an announcement about the fundraising and, with any luck, a bit of a crowd to cheer them in, but! as much as she would’ve loved it to be the whole of Britain cheering them in, it was best to remember it was Friday lunchtime. Not everyone who was a morning telly fan would be able to get out of work and join them, but as she knew everyone would be heading off to be with their loved ones after the ride – she hoped the ice cream cones and medals would serve as the heartfelt thanks she owed each and every one of them for putting LifeTime on Britain’s headlines, and raising so much money because, as they all knew, every little bit did actually help.
Then she got on her bicycle, and began to ride. Yes, to the castle, but after that? Not a single solitary clue what her future held in store and for the first time in her life … the possibilities felt exhilarating.
‘Well, would you look at that, Flo! Your Kath got it wrong, didn’t she?’
Flo couldn’t stop grinning. Riding up that bloody great hill to the castle had been a doddle with the electric bike. Even with Captain George on the back. And to see not only that had Kath been wrong about the crowd, but that she had been wildly wrong, made all of the aches and pains she thought she’d never forget just … disappear.
Together she and Stu collected her medal which, of course, was immediately given to George to wear and he looked very proud indeed, nose poking out of his covered tent, happily receiving all of the pets and cuddles just some of the actual thousands of people who had turned out to che
er them in were doling out like lollies.
‘Ah! There they are,’ Stu said. Most unexpectedly seeing as Flo hadn’t expected to see Stu, let alone anyone else she knew today. She scanned the crowd, a jumble of cyclists and families and banners and mobile food trucks dotted about the place, handing out free snacks and LifeTime stickers. There was even a massage tent which Flo would’ve imagined herself plopping down in and never leaving until her eyes lit on the one person she never in a million years would’ve imagined being here.
Jennifer. Jennifer and her husband, Andrew, and their two gorgeous little children all waving LifeTime flags with her name on one, Mum on another and Nanna Flo on the other two.
‘Oh, my darlings!’ Flo ran over and pulled them all into her arms laughing and crying the happiest of tears wondering how on earth she’d been so blessed as to have such a loving, forgiving family.
‘I think I owe you an apology,’ she whispered into her daughter’s ear.
The expression on Jennifer’s face was hard to read.
‘More than one?’
Jennifer tipped her head back and forth clearly weighing up just how many apologies Flo owed her, then tipped her thinky frown into a smile. ‘Probably about as many thank yous as I owe you.’
‘Thank yous? Whatever for?’
‘For making life interesting,’ Jennifer said, hooking her arm in Flo’s as they followed behind Andrew who was walking behind Stu who had one grandchild on the back of the tandem and one in with Captain George, all of them gabbling about which fish and chip shop would be the best one to have their first ever seaside fish and chips from.
Once they’d eaten and Flo had somehow, miraculously, found Raven and Sue to hug goodbye and promise to see again soon but perhaps in a coffee shop this time, Stu set about securing the tandem to the top of the Discovery (along with the hazard flags) and tucking George (with some help from Jennifer and Andrew) into the backseat (with a special doggy sling to keep him safe). Though it took ages and at least three consultations with the instructions, Stu’s thinning hair and intense focus on exactly what he was doing didn’t seem quite so troublesome as it once had and Flo didn’t feel the slightest urge to strangle him. Not even when they climbed in the car only to have to climb out again so he could check the oil, the windscreen washing fluid levels, and full beam lights. Twice. When Stuart finally climbed back up into the car he turned to Flo with a bright smile. ‘Where to, Madame? With the weather forecast looking so nice, I thought perhaps we could head up to Scotland! Have a ride round the lochs. Or perhaps head down into the Yorkshire moors. I understand the wildflowers are rather extraordinary this time of year. Of course, if Yorkshire isn’t your cup of tea—’
‘Stu?’
‘Wales? The Johnsons showed me a clip of some lovely waterfalls and with all of the rain we’ve been having, they might be really splendid.’
‘Stuart, darling—’
‘We could head south. The Cornish coast is meant to be quite spectacular—’
‘Stuart, love!’ Flo pressed her fingertips to his dear, sweet mouth. ‘Could we please just go home?’
He looked at her a moment, startled, then took her hand in his and gave her knuckles a kiss. ‘Of course, darling. Anything you like.’ He began driving in his slow steady way down the high street, past the cyclists and their families, stopping for a mother manhandling a pram across the road where she shouldn’t be, ignoring the impatient pips of the driver behind him, taking the moment to pop on Radio 3 with a ‘I hear they’re going to play Barber’s Adagio later this afternoon.’ And then, ‘Why don’t you sit back, relax and think about something new for this summer, shall we? Perhaps give Portugal a miss?’
And that, of course, was when Flo understood that Stu had been with her on every journey, every adventure, every flight of fancy all along. The love of her life who knew her so much better than she had ever known him.
Raven wasn’t entirely sure how, maybe it was Trevor shouting do it, do it, do it as she pedalled about as slowly as any human could without falling off up the final, excruciatingly steep hill up to the castle, but she did it. And when she got there it was like arriving at a party she’d never known she wanted to go to. A party where she wouldn’t have to press herself against the wall and pretend that’s where she liked standing. A party where she tried to start up conversations with some of the cool kids only to realise the only reason they were talking to her was to wait for a gap in a much cooler kid’s conversation. Not that she was a party expert or anything.
‘Raven! Raven over here!’ She looked up and saw someone waving a huge sign emblazoned with the Big Boned Goth Girl logo she’d posted a few days back. Wait. There were four more signs being jigged around behind Dylan’s. Sweet mother of Holy Ganges rivers. Was that her – ‘Mum? Dad?’
Shyly beaming, Dylan ushered her parents towards her, cemented as she was to the spot, her bicycle serving as a security blanket (something she’d never had in real life because, derrr … Gandhiji wouldn’t have wandered round with a stinking blankie and his thumb in his mouth, would he?). And then her sister appeared, not so much as a single thread of a power suit in sight. Then her brother, a child hanging onto each leg as he Frankenstein Daddy stepped towards her. And then all of a sudden they were all talking and laughing and yes, blubbering a little bit because it was like, totally emotional.
‘We’re so proud of you, Sunita. Raven,’ her mother corrected herself. ‘We can’t believe what a beacon of hope you’ve become to young people.’
‘Sorry. What?’
Her sister gave her a smirk. ‘We’ve all been following your Insta feed.’
‘How did you know about that?’
Every member of her family began looking round until their eyes landed on Dylan who was standing by a petite woman with mousy hair and a slightly timorous, but distinctly happy smile. Dylan gave her a thumbs up and said, ‘Peace out, Raves. Soz, but I had to let your fam-damily know you were like, a total star.’
‘But how did you even know who they were?’
He looked at her like she was an idiot. ‘I get my mum’s stuff from your parents, innit?’
A whole series of little lightbulbs went off. Yes, she’d seen him at school, but only because she’d seen him a whole lot more at her parents’ pharmacy.
Citalopram had been the first prescription. Then Prozac. That hadn’t worked. It had given her headaches. Then Paxil, Tritellix, Viibryd, then Lexapro.
She looked at Dylan’s mum. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what, love?’
‘Raising such a brilliant son.’
She flushed and went a bit glossy eyed as Dylan tucked her under his teenaged arm with a ‘who’s the best mum in the world, eh?’ He flicked an apologetic look at Raven’s mum. ‘Present company accepted, Prof.’
Prof? He called her mum Prof?
Dylan nodded at her mum and then her dad. ‘They saved my mum’s life.’
Her dad began to do that little wobbly head shake of his that suggested the details weren’t exactly right. ‘We just noticed some discrepancies was all.’
‘Yeah, but – she could have died, innit? You saved her life.’ Dylan was refusing to let whatever this was slide. He turned to Raven and began to explain in a way that suggested Raven would see sense. Raven would be the one who understood and it made her want to hug Dylan so hard but that would be interrupting and if she’d learnt anything over the course of this trip was listening, really listening to someone was one of the finest forms of friendship.
‘Her doctor, right?’ Dylan was saying. ‘Her doctor went on holiday and my mum went for a check-up with a locum and that doctor wasn’t paying attention to what my mum was telling him and he gave her a new prescription to take with her old one and the two together?’ He made a kaboom noise.
‘Maybe not quite so bad as that, but …’ Her father’s head tipped from one shoulder to the other and then said, ‘We’re just pleased we could help.’
‘Sunita,’ her mother
began in an all-too-familiar voice. ‘I think you’re looking a bit peaky. When’s the last time you ate. Stick out your tongue. Ohmygod, Sunil! Would you look at your daughter’s tongue? She’s dehydrated. Come, come. There’s a drinks stand somewhere. Vineeta? You push your sister’s bicycle, she must be exhausted. Sanjay, take your jacket off and give it to her. We can’t have her catching a chill? Not after riding all that way.’
Raven, for the first time in her life, happily complied as layers were tugged off, the state of her body was discussed in great detail, where they would eat, what they eat, why they shouldn’t have fish and chips like all of these other people because a fatty diet after such strenuous exercise would make her feel bloated and who wanted to feel bloated when they had such a long journey home?
