‘You could never be nobody,’ I said with a warmth that surprised me. ‘Why didn’t you just call her and ask? That’s the part I don’t get.’
‘I told you. Ashamed,’ he said, dropping his gaze. ‘How do you ring someone after seven months and say “Hi, sorry about the delay, hurt my knee a bit. If you didn’t go and get married, how about that dinner?”’
‘If you’d just explained – ’
He shook his head. ‘You don’t know what it was like – what I was like. It was cycling that’d always given my life meaning. Without that I just felt so completely worthless, you know? Even after I finally started to come out of the worst of the depression, I didn’t dare believe someone like you could be interested in someone like me.’
‘You really think I would’ve cared you’d had to give up cycling?’
‘I don’t mean that, I mean me. The man I’d become,’ he said. ‘I was a state, Lana. Seriously, you didn’t want to know that self-pitying bastard. I certainly didn’t.’ He snorted. ‘I had a beard.’
I couldn’t help smiling. ‘I could fancy you with a beard.’
‘Not this beard. Put it this way: you ever wondered what Captain Birdseye would’ve looked liked if he’d fallen on hard times?’
‘What, selling sexual favours to get his golden breadcrumbs fix?’
He laughed. ‘Yeah. That was me.’
‘You could’ve talked to me when you moved here, instead of feeding me all that “let’s just be friends” bollocks,’ I said. ‘I honestly thought the whole thing had meant nothing to you. Do you know how much that hurt?’
‘I’m sorry, Lana. I wasn’t trying to be a dick. I was still in such a dark place, and you were dealing with losing your dad, I didn’t dare hope for anything more than friendship from you. Not then.’ He shook his head. ‘God, you must’ve thought I was pathetic.’
‘Now come on. You know I did no such thing. I hated you for a good while, but I never thought you were pathetic.’
‘You should’ve. I did.’
‘Don’t talk like that. Here.’ I put a finger under his chin to bring his eyes to mine. ‘You could’ve told me you’d won 50 Grand Tours the night we met and it wouldn’t have impressed me. You impressed me, Stewart. You made me laugh, and you made me feel safe and comfortable and happy, and you…’ I flushed. ‘You were different, I guess. Not because of your job, because of you. That’s why it hurt so much when you never called. I thought we had a connection, and then you disappeared, just like that. Whoosh.’
‘I missed you, Lana,’ he said softly, eyes shining with tears and drink. ‘The way you smile and scowl and joke. The way you randomly say “whoosh”. Even when I was at my lowest, I used to think about you.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. I was so excited, that night at the meeting when I saw you again. It was a real effort not to let it show.’
‘Is that why you got the shop? Because of me?’
‘Not exactly. I was looking for premises to start a business and suddenly there it was: shop and flat to let in Egglethwaite, available immediately. And when I discovered it was right across the road from you – seemed like fate or something.’
I shook my head. ‘You should have talked to me, Stew. I would’ve understood.’
‘Would you?’
‘Yeah. I know what it is to resent the future.’
‘You’re right, I should. I’m sorry.’ He summoned a slightly tipsy grin. ‘Mind you, you were kind of sexy when you were always telling me off. Like a scary but erotic medieval headmistress.’
‘Well, I’m sure I can still tell you off if you enjoy it so much,’ I said, smiling back.
‘Will you wear the corset?’
‘Don’t push it, McLean. The corset costs extra.’
‘So can I have a hug now then?’
‘Go on. Since you’re upset.’
I put both arms round him and pulled him close, feeling his damp cheek meet mine. He smelled so real as he sank into me: aftershave and sweat and wine, just as he’d smelled that night up at Pagans’ Rock.
‘You smell good, Lana. Like… kiwi fruit,’ I heard him whisper in the ear he was tickling with his hot breath. ‘Can I kiss you?’
I paused before answering.
‘No, lamb. Not just now. You get to bed and sober up, ok? I’ll see you soon, triple promise.’
‘If you definitely triple promise. Thanks for looking after me, kiddo.’
‘Well, someone has to,’ I said as I drew back from the hug.
‘And I’m forgiven?’
‘Yes, Stew. This time you’re really forgiven.’ I planted a little kiss on top of his curls. ‘Night night, my love. Take care of yourself.’
Chapter 40
I gave Stewart a day’s grace to struggle through his hangover, but the Sunday following his little meltdown I was on his doorstep.
The shop was closed so I rang the bell. After a couple of seconds I rang it again. I needed to get off the street, asap.
‘Hi, Lana,’ Stewart said when he answered. ‘What’s with the long mac, have you joined the French resistance?’
‘I’m going to show you something in a minute, Stewart McLean, and if you dare laugh you can stick Herbert the bike where the sun doesn’t shine.’
‘What, Barnsley?’
‘Very funny. Let me in, can you?’
He held open the door and I sidled past him into the shop.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘You’re about to see something pretty wobbly and if you so much as titter—’
‘—I can try wedging a bike handlebar-first right up the Barnsley. Got it.’ His eyes widened. ‘You’re not naked under there, are you?’
‘Worse.’ I scrunched my eyes closed and yanked the mac open like a comedy seventies flasher. ‘It’s lycra.’
After a second, I risked opening one eye. Stewart wasn’t laughing, but he was certainly having a good stare. It’d been a long time since I’d donned cycling shorts for a session on the gym exercise bike, but I had tried to tuck away the most stareworthy of my jiggly parts before going over.
‘What?’ I said, looking down at my lycra-hugged body.
‘Nothing.’ He shook his head. ‘God, never knew that stuff could bear the strain.’
I rubbed my palm along the thigh of my shorts. It wasn’t that bad, was it?
Stewart grinned when he clocked my offended expression. ‘Not the bottom half, love.’
‘Oh,’ I said, glancing at the bosom stretching my top alarmingly. ‘All right, it is on the tight side. Still, I think it’ll survive the afternoon.’ I nodded to the stairs. ‘Off you go then.’
‘Right.’ He frowned. ‘Um, where am I going? Is this some kinky role play thing I agreed to when I was drunk the other night? Because if so, brilliant, obviously, but you might have to fill me in on any pre-designated safety words.’
‘You wish. Nope, we’re going cycling up Cockcroft Hill. I can’t have you here moping when you could be out on a bike. I want to see you lycra-clad in ten minutes with a couple of helmets and whatever hire stock you think can cope with us. On the double, McLean.’
‘What? But Lana, it’s been ages since – ’
I raised an imperious finger. ‘I believe I said on the double, young man. I’m not used to repeating myself.’
‘God. Did I ever mention you scare the bejesus out of me?’
‘Then you’d better obey me, hadn’t you?’
‘All right. But you really shouldn’t turn me on when I’m about to get into lycra.’
‘Pfft, pfft!’ I made an impatient motion towards the stairs, and he shot me a last grin as he took them two at a time.
***
‘Here you go. Picked you out a nice lady bike,’ Stewart said through the door of the shop, beckoning to me.
I went to exam
ine the bike he was holding, trying hard not to let my gaze linger on his lycra-clad body. The cycling gear clung to every muscle and sinew like a second skin. It was very distracting.
I ran my hand along the sleek metal frame. ‘Why do they make girls’ bikes with diagonal crossbars, Stew? I’ve always wondered.’
‘In the olden days it was to stop your petticoats riding up. God forbid we shock the neighbourhood with a flash of your bloomers.’
I laughed. ‘At least the Egglethwaite knicker thief would get a kick out of it. Come on, let’s go. And no taking the piss if I have to get off and push.’
It wasn’t long into our ride before that joke came back to bite me on the arse. I think my record for staying on the bloody thing was about half a mile.
‘Who… designed… this bastard county?’ I panted as I made a valiant effort to get up Cockcroft Hill.
Stew chucked me a smile over his shoulder. ‘What, you’re not having fun?’
‘I think my legs dropped off half an hour ago. Also at least one of my buttocks.’
He laughed. ‘We can stop for dinner in the White Cross when we get to the top. I need to rest my knee up a bit anyway.’
Knee injury or not, he didn’t seem to be having any trouble. I shot him an envious glance as I finally gave in and clambered off to push. Stew made getting up the hill look like the easiest thing in the world: those fluid movements, perfect unity of man and machine. He even had enough spare breath to whistle.
I sniggered.
‘What?’ he said, looking round.
‘You’re like a bike centaur.’
‘Bike centaur. Right,’ he said, laughing. ‘Hey, reckon you can manage this last bit? You’ll appreciate your pub lunch more.’
‘Ugh. Ok.’ I threw my leg over the saddle with a groan.
Seeing him on a bike, I could understand why Stew loved all this. He was a natural. No wonder finding out he had to give up had broken him.
Plus he looked really good in lycra. I mean, really good. The way the firm, silken muscles in his buttocks shifted as he pedalled was so hypnotic I kept swerving my bike. It’d be pretty ironic if I got hit by a tractor on my first proper cycling outing, cause of death: sexy bumcheeks.
It was a relief to finally reach the pub.
‘What’re you doing?’ Stew asked when we’d chained up our bikes.
I rummaged in the little rucksack I’d brought. ‘Putting my mac on. I can’t go in like this.’
He nodded soberly. ‘Good point. You might give some poor old feller a heart attack.’ He came up behind me and squeezed my hips. ‘You look lovely. Come on, kid.’
I flushed at his touch. I hadn’t really thought about it when I’d gone round, I’d just wanted to cheer him up, but… did Stew think this was a date?
Maybe it was. There’d certainly been plenty of flirting.
After we’d had a drink and a sandwich, Stew leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh.
‘Thanks for bringing me out, Lana.’
‘Enjoying it?’
‘I am. Didn’t realise how much I’d missed it, cycling with no pressure to win.’ He grinned. ‘Still beat you though.’
‘Wouldn’t be too proud of that one,’ I said, smiling. ‘Hey, you ever think of getting back into it as a coach or something? Me and Tom were reading about this youth cycling programme over in Mirfield. I don’t see why we couldn’t start something like that here.’
‘Not stopping until Egglethwaite’s the cycling hub of the western world, are you?’
‘Nope,’ I said, draining the last of my wine. ‘I’m serious though, Stew, you’d be great. Think about it.’
‘Maybe I will,’ he said. ‘So how about you, enjoying yourself?’
‘Yeah, it’s been fun – despite the, you know, excruciating pain through my whole body. How’s your knee?’
‘Fine now I’ve had a rest. Ready to go again when you are.’
I reached into my rucksack for my purse, but Stew shook his head. ‘Nope. Dinner’s on me. Least I can do after you dragged me out of my misery pit.’
‘Oh no, I couldn’t let you – ’
‘It wasn’t a suggestion.’ He smiled at the look on my face. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t offend your feminist sensibilities. You can pick up the bill next time.’
Next time? Ok, tally two for this being a date…
‘So now it’s time for the best bit,’ he said after he’d paid.
‘Is it?’
‘Let’s just say it wasn’t uphill climbs that made me fall in love with cycling. Come on.’
***
I gaped at the view in front of me. If Cockcroft Hill had seemed steep on the way up, that was nothing to how it looked from the top. It reminded me of the first time I’d been tall enough to ride the rollercoaster at Blackpool Pleasure Beach. Top of the biggest ascent, the other kids screaming happily and waving their arms, and little me gripping the rail in white-knuckled terror.
‘You don’t really expect me to ride down there?’ I said to Stew. He was mounted next to me, eyes sparkling like this was the treat of his life.
‘No, I expect you to coast down there,’ he said. ‘If you want to love cycling, you have to love it like a kid does. Like nothing can hold you back.’
‘But what if I go into the wall?’
‘You won’t if you keep the handlebars steady. Come on, live a little.’ And he pushed with his feet to go sailing down the hill.
I took a deep breath, kicked the bike forward and felt myself lose control as it propelled me rocket-like down the hill.
‘Let go of the brakes!’ Stew shouted back.
‘I can’t!’
‘Come on, you’re missing out if you don’t! You trust me, don’t you?’
Sucking in another mouthful of rushing air, I let my fingers ease off the brakes and felt a sudden jolt as the bike picked up speed.
It was incredible: like sitting on the nose of a fighter jet. My hair flew out behind me, eyes stinging, as the frost-crusted fields blurred into a haze of green and silver.
‘Arghhhhh!’
‘Good, yeah?’ Stewart yelled back.
‘It’s amazing! Oh God, Stew, I think I might be sick…’
At the bottom, I braked and dismounted breathlessly.
‘So?’ Stew panted. His cheeks were pink, eyes shining with exhilaration. ‘Tell me you didn’t love it. Bet you a million pounds you can’t.’
I laughed. ‘If you were Harper, I’d be worried that wasn’t a figure of speech.’
‘Did you though?’
‘Yes,’ I said, smiling at the boyish excitement he seemed so desperate for me to share in. ‘It was an incredible feeling.’
When we’d cycled home, I got off my bike and leaned it against the wall of McLean’s Machines.
‘I’ll take this one out of the hire stock,’ Stew said. ‘It’s yours now. It can live in the back for whenever you want it.’
I pinkened. ‘Oh. Thanks, that’s thoughtful.’
‘Well, cheers for today, Lana. Let me know when you want to do it again.’
I shook my head. ‘Nope. Your turn to ask me out to play next time.’
‘Ok. I’ll look forward to it.’
He moved closer, and his eyes had that searching expression in them… I felt a sudden panic as I realised a kiss was heading my way. A proper one, with tongues and arms and everything that followed. I definitely needed more thinking time before we got into kissing territory. The one he’d given me at Halloween had thrown me totally off balance, and there’d been a table between us then.
I turned my face to one side so his lips landed on my hot cheek instead.
‘Right,’ he said, looking bashful as he drew back. ‘I’ll see you later then. Thanks again.’
***
There wasn’t
much time for thinking about Stew-related issues at the restaurant. We had another afternoon function, a Dungeons and Dragons group’s Christmas party, and I only had half an hour to get ready before relieving Jasmine in the kitchen.
‘Liver casserole out in five,’ Deano was saying when I pushed open the door.
‘All right, Granny Shagger, keep your apron on,’ Jasmine said, rolling her eyes.
Deano turned to face me. ‘When is she going?’ he demanded. ‘She’s got a proper gob on her lately.’
‘Well, about time she got her own back after all the years you’ve been picking on her.’ I nodded to the door. ‘Go on, Jaz. I’ll take over, you can get off home.’
‘Ok. Thanks, Lana.’
‘I take it the constant abuse means she’s cured,’ Deano said when she’d gone.
‘Yep. Somehow you’re less alluring as a teen idol when you’re having it off with someone nearly the same age as her nan.’
‘Haha. All part of my plan.’
I frowned. ‘Really? You shagged Yo-yo to help Jaz get over her crush?’
‘No, I shagged Yo-yo because I was randy and she was up for it. But that’s a convenient side-effect.’
I shook my head. ‘Can’t believe you’re sleeping with her. You know, when you’re 40, she’ll be…’ I did a quick calculation. ‘… old. Like, bus-pass old.’
‘Yeah. We weren’t thinking of anything that long-term, to be honest.’
‘It’s still going on then?’
‘When the mood takes us.’ He leaned down to peer in at his casserole. ‘Which in her case is most nights and a fair few mornings. Surprised I can still walk.’
I curled my lip. ‘Thanks for that.’
‘And what about your love life?’ he asked.
I blushed. ‘It’s… dunno. Might be progressing.’
‘You and Stew sorted things out?’
‘We’re kind of just good friends at the moment. Still need time to think.’
‘Oh, get on with it, you daft cow,’ he said, straightening up again. ‘You haven’t had sex for, like, three years.’
A Bicycle Made For Two Page 30
