by Ashley Croft
Sarah “oohed” and “aahed” over the tiaras – all of which were decent first-time attempts – and answered an endless stream of questions about her craft. She signed up four of the six, including the mobile-glued teenager – to other classes and sold take-away kits to the other two students.
By the time she’d waved them off with a smile, all she wanted to do was lay her head on the worktop and fall asleep. Even though she’d enjoyed the distraction of the group, how was she going to get through the next six months if she felt this shattered by lunchtime?
She started to tidy away the bits of wire and broken seed beads. Even though she was knackered, she loved teaching and would have hated to be working at the bank. She tried not to dwell again on the bank’s maternity leave, and maternity pay, and the job to come back to at the end of it.
‘Shall I help you clear up?’ Liam’s voice came from the doorway.
‘Oh, I thought you’d gone.’
‘I left my car keys on the table.’
Sarah glanced at the keys. A Range Rover key ring … though he might not actually be driving one. ‘Yes, I can see them. But you don’t have to help. It’s all included in the fee.’
She handed him the keys.
Liam jingled them from hand to hand, hesitating. ‘Mind if I offer you a piece of advice from someone who hasn’t actually been pregnant but has started up a business? You’re trying to do both and if I were you, I’d take every offer of help I could get, particularly when it’s free.’ He said the words jokily enough but Sarah guessed he meant them.
‘In that case, would you like to collect up all the tools and put them in the top drawer of the unit, please?’
He put his keys in his jeans pocket. ‘Yes, Miss.’
Sarah had to laugh. It was funny to be called “miss” by an older guy and it was possibly a bit cheesy but she didn’t mind. Liam made her smile, although she was also worried she was going to cry – for no reason whatsoever other than he’d been nice to her. She’d felt the same when Molly’s boss, Ewan, had offered her a cup of tea after the Bike Incident. Was this her fate, now, to be cared for and pitied by kind men? They obviously didn’t feel in danger from her sexually – that was for sure – and she didn’t even look pregnant yet. God, when she started showing, she’d probably have old guys in mobility scooters offering her a lift.
‘Everything OK?’ Liam asked, popping the lid on a box of azure beads.
‘Yes. Why?’
‘You looked worried for a moment and then you started grinning.’
‘Hormones,’ said Sarah. ‘Pain in the bum. Actually, a literal pain in the bum. Sorry was that Too Much Information?’
‘I’ve heard a lot worse.’ Liam grinned. ‘I’ve brought up a teenage daughter on my own, remember?’
‘That must have been hard.’
‘At first after Kerren died, I was completely lost. There were so many things she did that I had no insight into: boys, clothes, crushes, emotional stuff in general. I had to learn how to be Hayley’s mum and dad, though I could never replace her mum. I had a lot of help from my in-laws and parents too, with babysitting and school runs but, in the evening, when it was just the two of us, we both really felt Kerren’s loss.’
‘You must have done a good job. Any dad who feels able to make a tiara for his daughter’s wedding can’t be all bad.’
‘I muddled through somehow and like I say, I had a lot of support.’
‘Did you ever think of getting married again?’ Sarah asked then wished the words back. ‘I’m sorry, that was nosy of me.’
‘Not at all. My own parents asked the same. Friends tried to fix me up numerous times and even Hayley attempted it with one of her mate’s divorced mums. I dated a couple of women but there was no one I really clicked with. Now the business takes up a lot of my time.’
‘I can’t imagine being with anyone else but Niall either,’ said Sarah, thinking that judging by the reaction from the ladies at her workshop, Liam wasn’t short of offers. ‘Not that I want him back,’ she added sharply.
‘No. I can see that. It’s early days for you and it’s raw since Niall’s still around. It’s different when you know someone’s never coming back.’
‘I’m sorry to moan. What happened to you with Kerren is far worse than Niall and I splitting up.’
‘Maybe … but it’s still hard for you. Be kind to yourself, Sarah, you need time to grieve. It hasn’t been that long since you lost your parents either. Believe me, you never really get over these things.’
Grieve? Sarah shivered at the word. She didn’t want to grieve or have the word associated with losing Niall. Although she didn’t want to admit it, she had imagined what it would be like if he came grovelling back then dismissed it angrily. She swiftly changed the subject to work and Liam took the hint, telling her a little more about the property management business he ran.
‘This may not be what you want to hear right now and please don’t think I’m touting for business, but if you are looking for a new place to work, I may have a solution,’ he said.
‘A solution?’
He smiled. ‘It’s just an idea. My company has developed some craft units not too far away from the centre of the city. There’s a small one still available so if you’d like to take a look at it, I’d be happy to show you around it.’
‘Oh … I …’ Sarah didn’t know what to say. Even though she knew she might have to find a new home and place of work, she hadn’t wanted to face up to taking any practical steps to do it. Now here was Liam presenting her with a decision to make.
‘Don’t worry about offending me. You’ve got my number so please let me know if you’re interested in seeing it.’
‘Thank you. I will think about it. I just need to get my head around moving out of here full stop,’ she said, aware that he’d opened up another uncomfortable topic that she didn’t want to face yet.
To give herself breathing space, she made him another cup of tea and they chatted about his daughter and her role as a medic in Sierra Leone and how proud he was of her work, when he wasn’t terrified of something terrible happening to her. But she was due home in a few months and after her wedding to another officer, he hoped she and her husband would get a posting in the UK. He mentioned his late wife sometimes but in a matter-of-fact way that didn’t make Sarah feel sad or uncomfortable.
He put down his empty mug. ‘So, what do you really think of my tiara?’ he asked with a piercing look. ‘I want you to be honest.’
She took a deep breath, knowing that Liam wasn’t a man who’d want to be flattered and flannelled. ‘It’s not bad – really – for a first attempt, but it could be even more … glamorous,’ she said. ‘I could offer some design tips if you like and loan you some proper tools so you can work on it some more at home or even try a new one.’
‘Hmm. Or alternatively I could book into a couple of your advanced workshops.’
She smiled. ‘You could, but it will turn into a very expensive tiara.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You mean, by the time I’ve got a result that I’m happy with, I could have commissioned you to design it?’
She smiled. ‘Possibly but that’s not the point, is it? The important thing for you and your daughter is that you made it.’
‘True.’
‘Look, I promised you’d have a piece you were proud of and that your daughter will love, and I keep my promises. What about if I offer you a ten per cent discount on the advanced workshop?’
‘You drive a hard bargain, Sarah.’ With a glint in his eye, Liam held out his hand and shook her hand firmly. ‘It’s a deal. Done.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘Oh, my God. Is that it?’ she blurted out.
Molly couldn’t help her dismay when she saw the Thing Ewan had just wheeled out of his garage. She’d hoped that he wouldn’t have managed to get hold of a tandem at such short notice. Besides, it had snowed for a short while overnight and the roads were slushy and wet. She’d rather
have sat on the sofa, carb loading on toast and jam, hoping Ewan would call to say it was too dangerous to go out. No chance. He pushed the bike over, obviously pissed off at her lack of enthusiasm. ‘This is a vintage Peugeot tandem. It would have been state of the art when it was new.’
She curled her lip. She’d expected the tandem to be like two bikes stuck together but that wasn’t the case. The frame was short which made the saddles very close together, meaning the rear rider would have his or her head alarmingly close to the pilot’s bum.
‘Where did you get it? The Antiques Roadshow?’ she said, wondering if it would even take both their weights.
‘My friend from the rugby club bought it off eBay a few years ago but apparently, his girlfriend hated it. He let me have it for a pint,’ Ewan said.
‘You should have made him buy you a pint for taking it off his hands. It looks very … industrial.’
‘It’s pretty hefty, I’ll admit. These vintage models don’t have the lightweight frames of a modern bike but luckily the roads are flat around here so we won’t be pedalling it up any hills.’
Shivering in her Lycra leggings and jersey, Molly clapped her gloved hands together to try to keep warm. ‘I don’t think we should be pedalling it at all and especially not on these roads.’ She gestured to the slushy streaks in the tarmac outside Ewan’s Victorian semi. ‘It’s bound to be icy out of the city. What if we came off and ended up in Addenbrooke’s with broken bones? You might have to take weeks off work and that would delay the project.’
‘Nice try,’ said Ewan, ‘but the main roads and cycle ways will all be clear by now. Besides, it’s a lovely morning and don’t forget, you could be riding behind Pete.’
‘What makes you think I’d be riding behind him?’
Ewan shrugged. ‘I’d assumed you’d want to be the stoker.’
‘The stoker?’
‘The rider on the back who puts down the power, but you can be the pilot if you want to. I really don’t mind,’ he said huffily.
Molly checked out the saddles again, realising that Ewan would have his face almost in her arse if she took the front seat. Whereas she’d have a close-up of his Lycra-clad glutes if she opted for the rear. ‘Are you sure it’s safe to ride?’
‘I am,’ said Ewan firmly. ‘Now, don’t be a wuss. Why don’t you put your helmet on and we’ll give it a whirl?’
A whirl? Whirl conjured up images of Waltzers, Highland flings and possibly chocolate cones with whipped-cream toppings. Getting on the back of the tandem conjured up feelings of terror, exhaustion and nausea, and having her face inches from Ewan’s bum wasn’t compensating.
After several abortive attempts to get moving at all, they’d wobbled the length of Ewan’s street and onto a cycle way that led past the laboratories and out into the country lanes to the west of the city. Initially, several toddlers in trail bikes and a hundred-year-old man on a tricycle easily outstripped them, and Molly had lost count of the number of smart-arsed blokes who’d shouted, ‘She’s not pedalling, mate,’ or some other crap.
As they left the city behind, they managed to get into some kind of rhythm. Molly’s curse was snatched away by the wind when Ewan’s muscular bum cheeks and thighs set a punishing pace and the novelty of having an excuse to analyse them close up rapidly wore off. They were also now going much faster than she ever did on her road bike. Hedges whizzed by and she had started to puff.
‘Can you please try to keep up?’ Ewan shouted.
‘No, you should slow down!’
‘OK, but whatever we do, we need to move in synch, as one. That’s the key to mastering this thing.’
She tried to match his rhythm and speed and not to lean the wrong way or tense up at every bend in the road, but she hated being out of control, and having to trust Ewan’s frankly suicidal approach to cornering. She also couldn’t see ahead and had begun, bizarrely, to feel travel sick.
Outside in the country, snow covered the fields and lay in drifts in the ditches. A cutting wind howled across the fens, and tiny icy shards blew from the tops of the hedges and battered Molly’s face. In spite of her cycling gloves, her fingers were numb from gripping the handlebars too tightly.
‘This is much better. I’m actually enjoying it now,’ Ewan shouted, his glutes working even more enthusiastically.
Molly gritted her teeth and tucked her head behind his back, pedalling harder, determined to keep up with him.
‘This is a lot more fun that I thought and you can go really fast!’ he shouted.
Molly glanced up. A “Z” sign loomed ahead and a hedge raced towards them.
‘Oh, shit!’
Ewan’s shout was cut short by the screeching of brakes.
‘Arghh!’
‘Christ!’
One moment Molly was gripping the handlebars for grim death, the next she was screaming as she fell off the bike and landed with a soft thump in a snowdrift. There was a loud crash next to her and a series of ‘fucks’ and a low groan.
Molly lay on her back, the cold wet snow seeping through her cycle tights. For a few seconds, she couldn’t breathe but then she lifted up her head. Ewan was a few feet away, sprawled in the slush in the lay-by they’d ended up in. He wasn’t moving but he was swearing.
The tandem lay in the middle of the road, the rear wheel spinning.
Molly scrabbled to her feet and limped over to retrieve the tandem before a car ran over it. She was breathing heavily and feeling shaky but she managed to lug it into the lay-by while Ewan sat up groggily.
Molly crouched down beside him. ‘Are you OK?’
Grimacing, he rolled his shoulders. Molly heard bones crack but Ewan managed a grim smile. ‘Seems like it. Are you?’
‘A bit shaken up but fortunately the snow broke my fall.’
‘Sorry. I think I took the bend slightly too fast and we skidded on some ice.’
Now Molly knew he was going to be OK, the anger and shock hit her. ‘Slightly too fast? I did tell you. This isn’t a race, it’s a ride. We don’t have to try to be Bradley bloody Wiggins!’
‘I’m not trying to be Bradley Wiggins.’
‘You could have fooled me! Jesus, look at your leg.’
Ewan glanced at the ripped Lycra over his left knee and at the raw skin underneath. It looked very sore and there was blood oozing down his shin.
‘It’s only a graze. I’ll live. Are you sure you’re OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ said Molly, torn between concern for Ewan and annoyance at his reckless riding. This was definitely turning into a disaster. It was as far from romantic as it was possible to get and also, if she and Ewan couldn’t get along on a tandem ride, how would they ever manage a relationship? Having the hots for him was all very well but she wasn’t sure she could cope with his moods.
She waited as he got to his feet, shivering in her wet kit. The seat of his tights was also shredded where he’d scraped along the ground and his boxer shorts were soaked through.
‘What’s up?’ Ewan asked, catching her staring at him.
‘You have a very wet bum.’
Even though she was cold, wet and pissed off, Molly had to try not to laugh as Ewan inspected his impressive rear.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘That makes two of us.’
Molly suppressed any urge to smile or be turned on. ‘Look, how are we going to get home? I don’t fancy getting back on the bike after that crash.’
‘It’s either ride or walk and as the bike looks in one piece, I suggest we give it a try.’
‘How far have we come?’
Ewan checked the GPS on his wrist. ‘About eight miles.’
‘Shit. OK, let’s give the bike another go but I’m going to be pilot this time. I hate being on the back. I can’t see ahead of me and I feel a bit sick. You can be the stoker.’
‘Fine by me.’
Molly knew Ewan would be inches from her bottom all the way and she didn’t relish handling the tandem but there was no choice. Gingerly, she eased h
er herself onto the front saddle while Ewan climbed onto the rear.
Somehow, they made it back to Ewan’s house. Steering was trickier than she’d expected but being able to see the road ahead was much better than relying on someone else, especially a speed merchant like Ewan. Despite her wet clothes and her bumps and bruises from the fall, she preferred being in control of the speed and direction of the tandem and was almost enjoying herself by the end of the ride.
‘There, we made it,’ said Molly, relieved to have made it onto Ewan’s driveway without further mishap.
Gingerly, he slid off the bike. ‘Eventually.’
‘And in one piece,’ she darted back. ‘Well, one of us is.’
She winced at the sight of his knee, which was swollen and crusted in blood.
‘You’d better get your knee cleaned up before it gets infected. I hope it isn’t dislocated.’
‘I’ve had a lot worse at rugby,’ he said. ‘I’ll lock the bike up first. It doesn’t seem to have suffered too much but I think I’ll take it to the service centre and get them to check it over anyway.’ He tutted at Molly, shivering on the driveway. ‘Have you got any dry clothes?’
‘Yeah. I bought some in my rucksack.’
‘OK, why don’t you use the bathroom while I sort my leg out and then I’ll make us both a drink?’
Limping slightly, Ewan showed Molly into the downstairs shower room of his house. It was a modest Victorian semi in a pleasant part of town, which in Cambridge meant it was probably worth upwards of half a million. She reckoned he must have bought it after he’d moved to the lab following his split with his wife.
She realised that she’d never been in the place before in all the time she’d worked with him. He certainly never held lab social events at the house although she didn’t blame him for that. The potential for total wreckage was too great but also, she knew he would never invite work into so intimate a space. She was surprised that he’d asked her in now, although he may have felt obliged to after their “accident”.
