"Regrets, I've had a few, but then again too few to mention." 'My Way'.

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad & E. Merckx
part 46.

The sleep I had was heavy, doubtless helped by the exhaustion and the alcohol. I awoke from a dream in which I was flashing my boobs at my father and telling him that he'd 'never get to touch them now'. I had no idea what it meant and because my mouth felt so dry, I didn't linger on its meaning.

I could hear noises from around the house and saw from the clock it was after ten. I jumped out of bed expecting my head to pound and my stomach to churn; neither did, but my bladder needed some relief which I set about organising.

From the bathroom window I could see the sun was shining and I wanted to get home and then try out the titanium bike. My priority would be to get one of the siblings to take me, once I'd had some tea or coffee to slake my thirst.

"Kettle's on girl," was called from downstairs and I could smell toast cooking. Food had not been on my agenda until I could smell the bread toasting, then my stomach rumbled and I knew I was hungry.

I went downstairs in the nightdress, and Stella was making toast while Simon took bites out of piece and poured hot water on a jug of fresh ground coffee. Everything was momentarily forgotten as I inhaled the aromas of food and drink and gave way to my stomach's desires.

Some twenty minutes later and feeling replete, I was invited to shower and Stella left out some knickers for me to borrow. It turned out she had bought me some. This was getting embarrassing, as I gave little or nothing in return. I dressed in the same clothes I had worn the day before and as I donned them, some of the sadness returned. It was no bad dream, my mother had died and I had told my father where to get off. I had also been extremely rude to some clergyman who wanted to sell me some religion. I regretted what I had said to him and how I said it, simply because it was rude and it wasn't my normal behaviour. I allowed myself some leeway because I was upset and under lots of emotional stress.

So feeling all this turmoil returning I went downstairs and asked if one of them would take me home. "Why don't you stay here for a few days?" asked Simon. Stella nodded furiously in agreement.

"I have things to do, not the least of which, a dissertation to finish," and I needed to speak to Student Health, though I kept that to myself.

"You could finish it here, I'll take you to get your notes and whatever else you need and..." said Simon enthusiastically until I interrupted.

"I also have some thinking to do, stuff to get my head around. Sometimes I do that on a bike, if nothing else a quick ride would clear my head a bit."

"We could bring your bike back here as well."

"Simon, you are so amazingly kind to me that I have no idea how I shall ever be able to repay you."

"Come to the dance with me on Saturday," he said smiling, "and I'll write off all your debts."

"I don't know, given what's happened yesterday, I don't feel too much like dancing."

"I suppose not," he said his face slipping from a smile to a frown. "Can I call you?" He paused as if waiting my permission, "Nearer the day?"

"Yes," I nodded unable to stop his little boy enthusiasm getting through my defences, "but I'm not promising anything," I added trying to keep my options open.

"Of course," he said, his eyes sparkling again.

"Your stuff is still in my car, so I'll run you home," offered Stella. I would have preferred Simon to drive, but I suspected that she wanted to talk a little. I accepted her offer.

A close shave with a tractor nearly made me regret my decision and wondered if my dad could get a cheap rate on funerals for multi purchases. I thought about my mother. I hadn't really said goodbye at all and that felt heavy. Stella noticed my withdrawal and drew me back into talking about my feelings.

"Some people say that if you write something on paper and burn it, the person to whom it's addressed gets the message."

"What even dead people?" I asked incredulously.

"So they say. I mean I can't actually guarantee it works, but it may help you to express the things you need to say."

"I don't know, I don't even know if I believe in life after death stuff. My parents do, did," I corrected myself, "I suppose Dad still does, but I'm not sure writing a letter to my mother is going to help anything."

"It would help you to focus on what you wanted to say and in burning it, no one else would be able to read it."

"Including my mother," I added feeling another pang of grief, she really was dead and it was beginning to seep through my numbness.

"No, I meant ordinary people, in case you said something you didn't want anyone to know.You know, personal things. I mean, she sort of met Cathy so I'm sure as Cathy, you have things to say to her, don't you?"

I felt the tears run down my face as I nodded my reply, I couldn't speak. I wanted to tell her I loved her and forgave her and hoped that she could forgive me. I was ashamed of how I'd spoken to my father, I should have known better and been more tolerant. I had failed her.

"Maybe you'll give it a try then?" she asked and I nodded again. I would write to my mother and hope she could receive it, although I was still very skeptical.

Being locked in my thoughts did have the advantage of not being aware of Stella's driving, although I'm not sure which would be worse on a pain or stress scale.

She dropped me off and collected my purchases from the boot of her car, it was as much as I could carry, but I didn't want company for a while. I somehow managed to get through the door and into the hallway when I noticed a small parcel with my name on it. Intrigued I rushed upstairs dropped my bags on the bed and popped down for the package. I wasn't expecting anything.

Back in my room, I tore open the mysterious package and discovered it was set of racing skins in the Saunier Duval, Prodir colours. It had to be Stella and Simon again, I burst into tears and it was several minutes before I could stop crying. Why were they so kind to me? I didn't know.

I checked the size and of course it was identical to the other, then I spotted something else in the large Jiffybag, a sports bra, again in my size. Now I knew who sent it and that I wouldn't need to hide my breasts in future.

I stripped off my clothing, adjusted the bra to fit comfortably and donned the yellow racing strip, it felt good. Next I picked up the phone and called the cottage.

"Oh hello Cathy, are you feeling any better?" asked Simon.

"I'm going out for a little ride, is Stella there?"

"Just coming in, here she is," he said handing her the phone.

"Hi Cathy, is there a problem?"

"Only that of not being aware you'd sent for some racing skins."

"Aren't they the right ones? Oh hell, I thought I'd got the right ones. I'm sorry, it was meant to be a surprise."

"They are the right ones and they fit fine. Thank you so much and also for the bra."

"Well if you're going to be riding that bike you'll need the proper kit."

"Yes, indeed. I'm absolutely knocked out by your generosity."

"Simon actually paid for it, but he doesn't know that yet." I could hear her laughing down the phone.

"Doesn't know what yet?" I heard him ask, then a bit of mumbling before he said, "Oh that's alright, enjoy using them Cathy."

"See, he's as good as gold. Dunno what I'll do if any girl is daft enough to marry him, unless it's you of course?"

"What!" I choked back to her, "I think it exceedingly unlikely."

"Oh I don't know." Came back her response.

"You're forgetting one fundamental reason," I said reminding her of my shortcomings.

"It's nothing that can't be sorted."

"Stella!" I said in exasperation.

"Leave it with me."

"Stella," I called loudly, but she had rung off. Just what did she mean?

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Author's note: There won't be an installment tomorrow as I'm away. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.