Worksop Digital (aka Bike) Part 613 by Angharad

I said goodbye to PC Bond, he however, gave me a caution; “Look, Cathy, until we get to the bottom of this, be extra careful, especially with the children.”

“What do you think happened? Surely it was an accident?”

“I don’t know, but just in case, be careful. Evenin’ all.”

“It’s the middle of the morning, Andy.”

“That was my George Dixon impression.”

“Who?” I asked.

“George Dixon, á  la Dixon of Dock Green.”

“Who?”

“Gordon Bennett, have you never heard of Dixon of Dock Green?”

“Was he in it too?”

“Was who in it?”

“George Bennett.”

“Who the hell is George Bennett? I said Gordon Bennett.”

“Gordon’s brother?” I suggested, completely lost.

“I ken weel whit ye mean, George Dixon and Andy Crawford, aye, they were the days. None o’ yer smut and violence.” Tom walked past singing some vaguely familiar tune to himself.

“That’s the one, professor,” called Andy enthusiastically.

“I still have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“It was a regular Saturday evening show about the patch of London called Dock Green, with a copper called George Dixon. It was made in the fifties and sixties, I saw repeats because my mother liked it. The prof probably saw the originals, it was all in black and white.”

“Thanks, Andy, for the warning, I mean.”

“Well as soon as we have more info, I’ll be in touch.”

I determined to do some more exercise, especially my kick boxing, it was a good work out and may prove useful now my shoulder felt easier.

Andy was just leaving when a van pulled into the drive. A man walked up to me as I stood at the open front door. “Gor, finding this place was a bit of trek.”

“Was it?” I replied, I’d never heard that before.

“Yeah, I got a package for Tricia Watts?”

“My daughter.”

“Oh good, right place then.” He walked back to his van and dragged out a large box from the back. As soon as I saw him struggle with the box, I knew what was in it. I also knew what I’d be doing later on.

“Can you sign, ’ere.” He shoved one of those electronic pads under my nose.

“Does it say who sent it?”

“Sorry, luv, no idea–I just delivers ’em.”

I dragged the box into the hallway and the courier went on his way. There was no way, Trish would be able to get the contents out, and I had no way of telling if this was from Simon or Henry or even both.

“Trish, darling, come and see what’s arrived for you.” She came flying out into the hallway and when she saw the size of the box her eyes nearly came out on stalks.

“Evans Cycles,” she read. “Has Daddy sent me a bike, Mummy?”

“It rather looks that way, kiddo.”

“Oh wow, I always wanted a bike. Can we open it?”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please, Mummy. Please, Mummy, may we open the box and get my bike out?”

“Of course.”

“Yipppeeee,” she shouted which brought Mima out to see what was happening.

“That’s a big box,” said Mima, stating the obvious.

“It’s a bike box, Meems. Either, Simon or Grampa Henry, has sent this. Sadly we don’t know which.”

“I hope Daddy can come home today.”

“So do I, Trish, so do I.” I went off and got a screwdriver to break open the cardboard box. It was stapled and taped shut. I broke the seals on it and with both girls hanging on to the box, I was able to lift the contents clear. It was a pink girls’ Trek bicycle, with white tyres and tassles for the handlebars. I’d have loved this at Trish’s age.

I had to fix the pedals and tighten up the handlebars, but that didn’t take long. Then I fitted the saddle and we adjusted for size. Trish was so pleased, the smile on her face was priceless. Now all we had to do was find out if she could ride it, or I’d be running up and down the drive for a few days.

“Have you ridden a bike before?” I asked her.

“A bit, Mummy, at the home–I used to borrow Tina’s, and they called me names ’cos it was a girl’s bike.”

“Well, they won’t call you names now, sweetheart, will they. Come on, put your jacket on and let’s see you ride it.”

I’d graduated to two-wheelers when I was about her age, so I knew it was possible for her to be able to ride or to learn. I ran up and down the drive a few times and was pretty sure she could actually ride it. It didn’t have gears, and there were stabiliser wheels with it plus a little basket to go on the front–very little girl. I’d have killed for one like that when I was five, instead I had a boys bike which my father used to make me go on long rides with him. Thankfully, I got to enjoy them otherwise I wouldn’t have gone near a bike as an adult.

She was delighted with her newest possession, and when I saw Mima looking very jealous, I suggested we could have a little ride after lunch and she could sit on the trailer bike Simon had bought her for Christmas. She seemed happier with that idea.

I made us microwaved jacket potatoes with cheese and a side salad. A condition of going out for a ride was that they ate all their lunch. They did.

I went and changed into jeans and old bike shoes, then got my old mountain bike out of the garage. I pumped up the tyres and was ashamed to think, I hadn’t used it for over a year. Then I checked the tyre on the trailer and put some air in it too. I fixed it to the mountain bike and popped the helmet on Mima’s head that Simon had bought with the bike. We needed to get Trish one, so I left mine off as well.

We put our coats on, and I made the girls wear gloves, too. The sun was shining but the wind was cool and hands get cold very quickly on bikes.
I put my back pack bag on and off we went, Trish rode on the pavement alongside me. Meems squealed with excitement as we rode along, exhorting me to go faster. I didn’t of course, Trish wouldn’t have kept up with me.

Of course, Trish wanted special pedals like my SPDs, because they clicked when I clipped my foot into them. Thankfully, they don’t make them for kiddibikes, or if they do, I haven’t seen them.

We went for about a mile, then crossed over and turned back the other way. As we got near Tom’s farmhouse, Trish recognising where she was put on a spurt of speed and shot past me. Shouting to Meems to hold tight, I chased after her. Then as we drew level, I became aware of a fast accelerating car hammering up behind us.

I mounted the pavement and pulled across in front of Trish who crashed into me, and my bike fell on top of her–simultaneously, the car also mounted the kerb and missed us by inches, screaming off down the road. If we hadn’t fallen off, we’d all be dead or injured.

None of us were hurt, although we were all shaken up and crying. It took me a couple of moments to extricate us from the pile of fallen metal. Trish had made a hole in her tights, and Meems had a dirty mark on her elbow. I had jerked my damaged collar bone and felt very shaky.