CHAPTER 15
We slipped out of the tent a couple of hours later as Jude continued to mumble away next to us, avoiding disturbing her by taking our breakfast in the food tent rather than rattling pans in the porch. It was a beautiful morning, various other rallygoers sitting half out of their tents with mugs or bowls as they had their own breakfasts, one, as predicted, eating leftover kebab meat out of a cardboard tray. I averted my eyes after a quick nod of recognition from me, and confusion from him. He’d only met Harry, I remembered, almost too late.

There was a small huddle of forum shirts inside the food tent, so we joined them once we had full plates and mugs: take your own up to the counter and get a nicer drink, is my method. I looked round the odd mix of friends and semi-acquaintances.

“Morning all! What plans do people have?”

Cilla looked up from inspecting a sausage’s entrails.

“Judy get here okay?”

“We left her snoring. Softly, but it’s still snoring”

“Don’t know how she does it”

“Just keeps pedalling, I would guess”

“No; not the riding, the sleeping. I did back-up for her on the LEL, and she used the dorms. No way could I sleep in one of those. Anyway, she’ll be gone in two hours. Doesn’t really seem worth it. And I have CAIK for tonight as well”

“Where are we going tonight?”

“Oh, just an out and back. Elder cub has a bit of a leg strain”

“Planets, then?”

“Yeah. Family ride is only round to Riccall by way of the Fisher Bridge, and back past the air museum for anyone who fancies that. This Mary?”

“Sorry! Too used to everyone knowing me and vice vera. Mary, Mama Bear Cilla and her cubs. Cilla does CAIK”

“Is it a rule that you pronounce it like that?”

“Like what?”

“As if you’re announcing some tremendous event”

“CAIK, as Cilla makes it, IS a tremendous event”

Others round the table voiced their agreement, and my Mary actually giggled.

“You’re all barking!”

Karen turned to add, “Some more than others, but mostly in a nice way”

Tea was drunk, bacon, beans, eggs, fried slice and sausages demolished, or eggs and cereal in the case of Karen’s tall Brighton friend, and then we collected our bikes for the ride, which was an absolutely typical York family affair. There were solos, of all sorts, tandems, some with multiple child seats, others with child backs with a raised set of cranks for short legs, two tandems with tagalong child bikes attached, and one trandem. There were also several recumbents, including a stunning tadpole tandem trike that must have cost the price of the deposit on our house.

Not now, Ms Ellison. I could still dream, though.

We had the usual swing around the back of the racecourse stand before the car park, then the smooth cycle lane around to the sharp turn into the skate park under the road bridge, where some of the riders did, of course, go a little silly. I pointed out the Sun to Mary, followed almost immediately by the four inner planets, Mary snapping a pic of each as we went. Through a housing estate, back onto the path by way of Jupiter, and off near Saturn.

From then on, we needed a lot more ride discipline, as we were back on roads and sharing them with drivers whose attention and consideration both tended to a minimum, even around a tandem with two child seats and a tagalong in the brightest of colours. I heard Mary mutter after one particularly impatient driver squeezed past, only to almost immediately stop and wait for a chance to turn right.

“MGIF syndrome, love”

“Eh?”

“Must Get In Front”

“Right. That bridge—what the hell was that thing?”

“The Fisher of Dreams, love. Or did you mean his dog?”

She giggled once again.

“Did someone really shell out public money for that?”

The Fisher of Dreams is a large wire-frame statue of a seated person dangling a fishing line over the bridge parapet. At the end of the line is a railway loco, and behind them is a bicycle on its side. An added feature is a smaller wire sculpture, which is of a small dog taking a leak against the bike.

“You liked that?”

“I may have sniggered a little”

“Can you answer one question, love?”

“Depends. What question?”

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

She looked at me, then at the stream of other riders around us.

“Full answer later, but, well, yes”

I left that one to sit, and we were soon at Riccall, where the former Methodist church was doing duty as a feed stop and watering hole. We had a sandwich, a cuppa and a piece of Victoria sponge each before we both joined the queue for the toilets. Mary didn’t say anything till we were outside again.

“I suppose it’s where you’ll be going now, so… Just welcome to the joy of queuing for a pee”

“Did you see the men’s queue? Only one loo for them as well, so just as long a wait. Anyway, that question?”

“Oh, yes… Yes, love. Yes: I am enjoying myself. I wasn’t sure at first, but, well, you have some solid friends there. I got grilled by a couple of them when you were talking crank lengths or whatever with the Terry”

“Grilled how?”

“Like a tag-team is how. Karen and that Ginny. Did you know they have another friend who is like you?”

“I gather they have more than one, love”

“No. As in in a, well, straight relationship. With a straight woman. And then, you know. How to cope. That Ginny…”

“She’s definitely not sane”

“She’s very, very deep love. She was talking about another friend, no names, how she was simply drinking herself out of life, and then she came out with a really sharp line. Next thing is, she says something rude, and admits she stole the clever line”

“Which was?”

“Still the same person, just better explained. That’s what I’m seeing here, Ellie. This is a side of you---no, not a secret life, just a side of you I never got involved in. I see you with your friends, and it’s suddenly clearer, and… I think, what it is, is that when we met, I saw you in him, even if I didn’t realise it. We could always talk”

“Until we couldn’t”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly a run of the mill difference, was it? Anyway, as I said, seeing you at the airport, seeing YOU, and I think, subconsciously, I’ve always seen her, you”

“Very deep thoughts, love”

“Yeah, well, triggered a bit by this morning and our guest. Strange woman turns up out of the dark, literally climbs into bed with us, and all it is is a warm place to get a kip. No agenda, beyond sleep. And I realise you’ve done that for years, and that brings me right round to you being mine”

“That is something I thought, love, or hoped, at the airport. That you were still mine, and I was yours”

She kissed me, as was appropriate, then rested her cheek on my breasts.

“Plan now?”

“Ride back to the site with this lot, some of whom will peel off for the air museum, do the rounds of the stalls, feed, and then get a little rest before the night ride”

“Okay. Can I make a request?”

“Go on”

“It’s not cold, but maybe Sandy has the right idea”

“Raw animal…?”

“But quietly, love”

We didn’t do the museum; following the advice on the ride leaflet, we worked through a maze of little lanes to Fulford and the Millennium Bridge, cutting back to the racecourse by way of a Co-op where we purchased a few offerings for the overnighter.

The trade stands were the usual mix of handy, confused and weird, with a lot of titanium bikes being pushed hard among the mix, and my target, the sales marquee. Everything cycle-related at a discount (sometimes). I split my purchases between two of the independent clothing retailers and the bargain bucket place, emerging with two complete new cranksets, multiple inner tubes and a new multitool. My most expensive purchase was a decent jacket for Mary, as hers was a walking waterproof and rode up on her wrists.

“Is everything cheaper here?”

“Sometimes. It’s best to know your prices beforehand, though. You know my little toolkit?”

“Not so little, Ellie”

“Yeah, well, compared to some it is. I picked that up at Lidl, thirteen quid. Came here, and one of the indy clothes places has them on sale for forty-five”

“Bit of a rip off!”

“Not the way you think. Seems some sharp lads did the rounds of as many shops as they could buying the things, then punted them on with a hefty mark-up. Saved them from being the ones asked why a thirteen pound kit is going for more than three times the original price”

I had another chuckle.

2Got caught once myself, love, first time I ever came here. Bought some tops, and the idiot who sold them had left security tags on. I had to get really creative with mole grips to get them off”

Back to the tent, and our evening meal taken early on the grass as shouts came faintly from the ‘arena’, where whatever was this year’s attempt at reinventing cycle polo or football was taking place. Judy was long gone, of course, ‘her’ sleeping bag laid neatly over ours and, well, at first, we were too hot for the bag, but later pulled it over our sweaty nakedness and settled down for what rest we could, my wife’s hand back in its usual place.