A Bicycle Made For Two: Badly behaved, bawdy romance in the Yorkshire Dales (Love in the Dales Book 1)

by Mary Jayne Baker

  ‘Clearly. I don’t want to talk about it, ok? I’m going to get changed.’ And she stomped off to the Ladies.

  I sighed and headed upstairs, where I found Tom on the sofa. He looked a bit down.

  ‘Look, there’s no point worrying about the story now,’ I said, plonking myself next to him. ‘I’ll give Andy a ring tomorrow and try to smooth things over. Let’s just hope the council see the funny side.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ he said, sighing. ‘Man trouble.’

  ‘God, tell me about it.’

  He shot me a look. ‘You and Stew looked like you were getting cosy downstairs.’

  ‘Till he ruined it with his stupid bums.’

  ‘You were being a bit unfair then, you know.’

  ‘He needs to think before he does stuff, that’s all. We’re supposed to be a team, not The Stewart McLean Show.’

  ‘This isn’t really about those bike racks, is it?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Maybe not. Dunno.’

  ‘Think you’ll ever forgive him?’

  ‘I’d like to.’ I swallowed, feeling the rise of a sob. ‘I just don’t know if I can trust him. It… hurt, Tommy.’

  ‘I know it did,’ Tom said gently. He slung an arm round me. ‘We have no luck, do we?’

  ‘Come on then, tell us your man trouble.’

  ‘Cam’s mad at me.’

  ‘What’s up, did you have a row?’

  ‘Not exactly. He wants me to meet his parents,’ he said with a low groan. ‘I said it was too soon for that so he’s sulking. Says he’s not but I can tell.’

  ‘Is it too soon or are you just hiding in your comfort zone?’

  ‘All right, the second one,’ he admitted. ‘I just need to psych myself up a bit first. It’s a big thing, isn’t it? I want them to like me.’

  ‘Have you told Cam that?’

  ‘Sort of. I tried to, but… well, you know what I’m like. Words hate me. I probably made it worse.’

  I managed a smile. ‘You’re a bit keen on this one, aren’t you, bruv?’

  He dropped his gaze. ‘I am. More than keen.’

  ‘I know.’ I patted his knee. ‘Want me to talk to him for you?’

  ‘No,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I’m a big lad, I have to fix these things myself. I’ll ask him over while you’re at the dentist’s on Wednesday, have another go at talking it out.’

  I winced. With everything that’d been going on, I’d forgotten I was booked in to have my wisdom teeth removed.

  ‘God, that’s all I need after the last few days, a nice dose of painful dentistry,’ I said. ‘Will you be able to pick me up? The nurse said I could be a bit out of it from the anaesthetic.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t forget.’ He squeezed my shoulders. ‘We’ll get you home no matter how high you are.’

  Chapter 29

  ‘She’ll need to stay in for at least the next 12 hours, Mr Donati,’ the snowman behind the reception desk said to Tom. He was a very serious snowman. All his mouth currants were in a straight line.

  I giggled. ‘Snowman.’

  The snowman shot me a cold look. Well, technically all his looks were cold, being made of frozen water, but this one was particularly chilling.

  ‘How long till the drugs wear off?’ Tom asked. His voice sounded weird and bubbly, like he was underwater.

  ‘An hour or so, but she could be quite groggy for a while afterwards. Make sure there are no hazards around her, and it goes without saying she mustn’t drive or operate machinery.’

  ‘Hey. He said that without moving his currants,’ I whispered super-duper quietly to Tom.

  He winced. ‘All right, druggie, no need to shout.’

  Everyone in reception had turned to look at me. I gave them a friendly wave. One of them looked just like Flash.

  ‘Hiya, Flash!’ I shouted. I thought of Cameron and giggled. ‘Ah-ahh! Good doggy.’

  ‘Oh God. This is going to be a rough trip,’ Tom groaned.

  I leaned heavily against him as he guided me to his car. The world seemed to have gone a bit spinny.

  ‘Like them Teacups in Morecambe,’ I told Tom. ‘You were sick on Dad. Ha! Loser.’

  Back at home, he put me to bed. The ceiling was spinning and I could see right through to the stars, just like a whirlpool. All the constellations, and the moon and the aurora borealis, twisting and whirling kaleidoscope-like… I gazed up at it, hypnotised.

  ‘You ok, Lana?’ Tom asked softly when he’d tucked me in. ‘How’re your teeth, do they hurt?’

  ‘Stars.’ I pointed to the ceiling.

  He sighed. ‘Course they don’t hurt, do they? You’ve got more drugs in you than Keith Richards.’

  ‘See all the colours? Beautiful.’

  ‘Um, yeah. Pretty stars.’ He patted my head. ‘Get some sleep, crazy girl. I’ve taken everything out you could hurt yourself on. As soon as Jaz gets here I’ll come sit with you.’

  ‘Will you read to me like you do to Dad?’ I asked sleepily.

  He smiled. ‘If you want.’

  ‘He’s… gone, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, sis,’ Tom said gently. ‘He’s gone now.’

  ‘But you’re not?’

  ‘No. I’ll try to always be right where you need me. Rest now, eh?’

  ‘’K. Thanks, Tommy. Love… you.’

  The stars went dark. When I opened my eyes Tom was gone and there was a fuzzy black budgie sitting on top of the telescope Dad had given me for my eighteenth.

  I glared at it. ‘Oi. No birds in my room. Go ’way.’

  It didn’t move. I examined it more closely.

  ‘Oooh. You’re not a budgie, are you? You’re a Barbie doll.’ I jabbed a finger in its direction. ‘Don’t you be going back to the viaduct, batface. S’mine. You and your mates find somewhere else to live.’

  The little bat fluttered to the door. Sienna thingy was right, it was sort of cute. I didn’t like the expression on its face though. Looked like a trouble-maker.

  ‘Hey! Where you going?’ I called after it. ‘Are you going to my viaduct, you bat?’

  With an effort, I swung my legs over the bed and followed it unsteadily through the door.

  I tiptoed barefoot down the stairs, feeling my way along the banister. I could see Tom in the restaurant, taking an order from one of Yolanda’s calendar flamingoes.

  ‘Shh!’ I put a finger to my lips. ‘Don’t you go making any noise, Mr Bat, or he’ll send us to bed.’

  I opened the front door and tiptoed ever so sneakily after the bat as it fluttered across to Stewart’s shop.

  Stewart was with another giant flamingo that’d escaped from the calendar. He was showing it a Harley Davidson with big feathery wings, hovering just off the floor.

  ‘…yeah, new in,’ I heard him say as I pushed open the door. My little bat flapped forward and landed on his head, but he didn’t seem to notice. ‘Very lightweight, ideal for road cycling and it’ll take some off-roading if it’s nothing too heavy. What is it you’re wanting it for?’

  ‘Wahhh-wah,’ the flamingo said. ‘Wah-wah-wah.’

  ‘Oh right, well if it’s just for band practice it’ll manage the cobbles – ’

  ‘Setts.’

  Stewart turned when he heard me speak. ‘Lana, Jesus! Why the hell are you in your pyjamas? Where’re your shoes?’

  I giggled. ‘There’s a bat on you.’

  He frowned. ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘Bat. On your head. Looks well funny.’

  ‘Are you drunk?’

  The bat jiggled its wings as if it was laughing. As I watched, all the colour drained out of its body until it was albino-white. Then it fluttered up and disappeared through the ceiling.

  ‘S’a ghost now,’ I told Stew matter-of-factly.

&nb
sp; ‘Oh God.’ He came over to slip an arm around me and I leaned affably against him. ‘Today was your wisdom teeth op, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yep.’ I opened my mouth wide so he could see. ‘Ahhh!’

  ‘So sorry about this, Rodge,’ he said to the flamingo as he guided me out. ‘They must’ve given her something pretty potent. Can you mind the shop for ten minutes while I get her home?’

  ‘Wah-waaah,’ the flamingo said with a bob of its beak.

  ‘Hey, you should totally take the Harley,’ I called back to it. ‘It flies and everything. That is some kind of awesome, Pinky.’

  ‘Bloody hell, what did they give you, LSD?’ Stewart panted as he struggled across the road with me.

  ‘Dunno. Ask the snowman.’

  ‘The snowman. Right.’

  ‘Hey.’ I wiggled free of his grip and tottered backwards. ‘Why’re you holding me? Not ok. Don’t listen to what Deano said before, that’s trollops.’

  ‘Because if I don’t you’ll fall down.’ He put a hand out just in time to stop me staggering over. ‘What’s trollops, Lana?’

  ‘You are. I don’t even love you one bit.’

  ‘Er, ok,’ he panted as he manoeuvred me through the door of the restaurant. ‘Tom! You’ve lost something.’

  ‘Oh my God! How did she get out?’ Tom said, darting from behind the bar.

  ‘No idea, she just turned up in the shop talking gibberish. I don’t know what they gave her at the dentist’s but it must have some impressive street value.’

  ‘Laughing gas, among other things. She got so anxious over the operation, they really dosed her up.’

  I giggled. ‘Laughing gas. It’s called that coz it’s funny.’

  ‘Can’t you keep an eye on her?’ Stewart asked. ‘She’s not safe like this.’

  ‘I safety-proofed her room and waited till she fell asleep,’ Tom said. ‘Thought that was her done for the night to be honest, the state she was in. Can you get her upstairs and sit with her till Jaz gets here? She’s due any minute.’

  Stewart looked hesitant. ‘Bit awkward. I left Roger looking after the shop.’

  ‘He won’t mind,’ Tom said. ‘Please, Stew, it won’t be for long. I can’t leave the restaurant, there’s a stag do in. We opened early for them.’ He nodded to a table of mead-supping alsatians in rugby shirts.

  ‘Well… all right. Text Rodge for me, will you? Tell him I’ll be back soon as I can.’

  ‘Ta, mate. Up the stairs, first on the right.’

  The alsatians let out a barky cheer as Stewart guided me past, and I gave them a friendly wave.

  ‘I like dogs. Do you like dogs?’ I asked Stewart as he almost carried me up the stairs. ‘Oi, are you coming to my room?’

  ‘Yes, I like dogs. And yes, just for a bit.’

  ‘Boys aren’t allowed in my bedroom ’less I say.’ I wagged a finger at him. ‘No funny business, you.’

  ‘I’ll try to restrain myself,’ he panted. ‘Come on, Trippy the Bush Kangaroo.’

  In my room, he helped me back into bed. I frowned at the ceiling.

  ‘Stars’ve gone. Where’d you put them?’

  ‘Maybe they went to sleep. Or maybe your drugs are wearing off.’ He sank wearily into the chair by my bed. ‘Well that’s my exercise for the day. Bloody hell, girl.’

  ‘Am I heavy?’

  ‘When you’re a dead weight you are. My arm’s gone numb.’

  I looked at his arms. They looked like bags of… sexy walnuts. Or something.

  ‘You’ve got all them muscles though,’ I said. ‘Hey, can I have a stroke of them?’

  ‘Sorry, no energy left for foreplay.’ He squinted at my jaw. ‘Looks pretty swollen,’ he said in a softer voice. ‘Is it hurting you, kid?’

  ‘Don’t feel a thing.’ I blinked sleepily. ‘Why’re you here, Stewpot?’

  ‘Because I’m looking after you till your brother gets off work.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  ‘Nopey.’

  He sighed. ‘Well, I might as well talk to you while you’re too out of it to get all pissed off at me. I bet you think I’m a cartoon platypus or something.’

  I giggled. ‘Silly.’

  ‘Oh God, Lana,’ he said, squeezing his eyes closed. ‘I made a right mess of things, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I jabbed a finger at him from under the covers. ‘You said you’d call me. And I waited and waited and waited and waited and… and you didn’t.’ I frowned. ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘If you’d seen me then, you’d get it.’ He let out a sound that was half sigh, half groan. ‘I know it was only the one date, Lana, but I could tell there was something special about you. Then I moved here, got to know you better, and I knew I’d been right. That just made it so much worse, knowing I’d blown my shot.’

  I blinked hard. Stewart was getting blurry, but I fought back. He was saying stuff. Stuff I had to remember.

  ‘Then you should’ve rung me like what you said,’ I managed to slur.

  ‘I couldn’t,’ he said, going red. ‘After the crash, I – it was the week after. Everything seemed so bleak, so hopeless… I couldn’t face it. I couldn’t face anything.’

  ‘Pffft,’ I snorted. ‘Couldn’t face it. S’only a phone.’

  ‘You have to understand. After the accident, I wasn’t the guy you met that night in the restaurant. Not for a long time.’

  ‘Because your knee hurt?’

  ‘Because I had to quit. I was depressed for the longest time when they told me I wouldn’t compete again. I didn’t leave the house for four months.’

  I blinked the blurry Stewart back into focus, or as close as I could manage.

  ‘Why’d you join my cycling committee, Stewart McLean?’

  ‘Because I thought I could help. I was still coming out of it then, it seemed like just what I needed. And maybe…’ He flushed. ‘Maybe I thought if we were working together you might stop being pissed off at me and like me again. One day.’ He dipped his head to look into my barely open eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Lana. I hurt you and I hate myself for it. I don’t deserve to have someone like you look twice at me, and I’m a selfish bastard to still be trying to get you to. And yet… I can’t help it.’

  ‘Why can’t you?’

  ‘Because of how I feel about you,’ he said softly. He pulled his chair closer to the bed and leaned down to kiss my hair, brushing his lips lightly against the point where it parted. ‘Because there’s no one like you, not to me. You know what I’m trying to tell you here, right?’

  ‘That felt nice,’ I said, letting my eyes fall closed. ‘Do it again, Stew.’

  ‘Ok. But no funny business, remember?’ He kissed my hair again, then started stroking it softly with his fingertips. It felt so comforting, I didn’t want him to ever go away.

  ‘You can get in bed if you want,’ I mumbled. ‘Cuddles are nice.’

  ‘I think your brother might have something to say about that when he gets here.’

  ‘Been a long time since a boy was in my bed.’ I waved my hand. ‘Yeeeeears.’

  He smiled. ‘I’d better forget you told me that. You’ll be swallowing your fist about it tomorrow.’

  ‘There was never anyone I wanted to… never time…’ I whispered as the black closed in.

  ‘I know, kid,’ he said gently, his fingers still playing in my hair.

  I yawned heavily. ‘Stew?’

  ‘That’s me.’

  ‘I like you really, you know.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘’S,’ I managed with the last of my speech. ‘Lots. But shush, secret.’

  ‘I like you too, Lana. More than…’ were the final words I heard as the last of my consciousness drifted away.

  Chapter 30

  The f
irst thing I felt when I woke was pain, searing through my jaw and into my brain. My head was aching like I’d downed ten pints and gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson in his prime.

  I checked my phone and groaned. 12.30pm. I’d slept half the day away.

  There were strange images floating around my brain. Memories… dreams? The only things I could see clearly were a bat and a pissed-off snowman.

  That and Stewart. Had he been in my room? Or was that a dream, too?

  I swung myself out of bed, massaging my swollen jaw with one hand, and staggered through the door.

  There was a man’s coat hanging in the hallway when I passed. Cameron must’ve stayed over.

  ‘Morning,’ I said to Tom, who was watching football in the living room. I yawned, then clutched my jaw. ‘Fuckcakes, that hurts!’

  ‘If you’re inventing new ways to swear then I’m guessing your drugs have worn off.’

  ‘Feel like I’ve been kicked in the head by a pre-menstrual rhino. What happened yesterday?’

  ‘Don’t you remember?’

  ‘I remember… a talking snowman.’

  He grinned. ‘Yeah, you spent the afternoon tripping off your tits.’

  ‘Didn’t do anything embarrassing, did I?’

  ‘God, yes,’ he said. ‘It was comedy gold. Next time you have dental surgery it’s going straight on YouTube.’

  ‘If it does you’re dead. Where’s Cam, still in bed?’

  ‘No, he’s at work.’

  ‘Oh. Yeah, forgot it was afternoon. Does he know he left his coat?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘Not his.’

  ‘Whose is it then?’

  ‘Mine,’ Stewart said, poking his head round the door of the kitchenette. ‘Afternoon, drugface. You want coffee? Kettle’s just boiled.’

  I glared at him. ‘What’re you doing here?’

  ‘Thought I’d use my lunch break to pop over and see how you were feeling,’ he said, coming into the living room.

  ‘We’ve been watching the footie while we waited for you to wake up,’ Tom told me with guilty smile.

  I shook my head. ‘If you two’re boy-bonding I’m doomed. What do you want, Stew?’