Drew Goes South Chapter 25 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

Drew heard voices in the hallway and moments later in walked Matt, “What have you been up to, young lady ?”

“I slipped and twisted my ankle,” said Drew, grimacing.

“These things happen,” said Matt, shrugging his shoulders, “How bad is it?”

“It’s a bit painful, but I’ll be okay,” Drew said bravely, although, in his heart, he wasn’t sure he believed what came out of his mouth.

Matt moved towards our hapless hero, and gently took the ice pack off Drew’s ankle. He carefully examined the joint , shaking his head he stood up, “There is no way you can race tomorrow, not on that ankle.”

“It’ll be alright if I strap it up.”

“Even if you do, it’s too swollen to get your shoes on. Remember cycle shoes are pretty tight.”

“After a night’s rest, it’ll feel much better.”

“Gaby, I can’t take the responsibility for making an injury worse. Sprains are ligamentous injuries, they take time to heal. Further injury to the ligaments could mean you end up with a chronic injury. They are non-elastic tissue, if they stretch, they don’t contract again, leaving you with a weak joint. Is that what you want for the sake of one race?”

“No of course not.”

“Well then, I’ll announce we’re scratching tomorrow through injury. You’re welcome to come and watch but not to ride.”

“People might think I did it deliberately.”

“That’s their problem.”

“I’m going to ride.”

“Not on my bike,” said Matt.

“Okay, I’ll use my own. It’s a Specialized too, so I can still wear the kit.”

“So you’re happy to possibly further injure yourself and because you won’t be riding to form or on the best bike, disappoint your sponsor too?”

“There will be lots of people waiting to see me ride. They were also hoping to see the bike, but that’s not possible. I won’t disappoint them and I’m still gonna beat Cheesecake. So there.” Drew sat with his arms folded in a defiant posture, he was trying to be brave but he was actually fighting back the tears.

Matt knew how he felt. In his fifteen years as a good amateur racer, he’d had to cry off more than once through injury. It always hurt as much as the injury, sometimes more.

“I can’t stop you from riding, but I am withdrawing my support. So if you ride, you have no backup. I think you are being very silly if you do ride.”

“I have to ride and I will ride,” said Gaby defiantly.

“Oh will you now?” said Carol. “I am responsible for you while you are here and if Matt says you shouldn’t ride, I’m inclined to agree with him.”

“Please don’t do this to me, Auntie Carol.”

“You leave me no choice, Gaby.”

“I will ride. So there,” he stood up and despite the pain in his ankle, Drew stormed out of the room, muttering obscenities and slamming the door behind him.

Carol said in a loud voice, “I will deal with you later, young lady,” she then went on to talk with Matt, assuming that the slammed door was that of Gaby’s bedroom. It wasn’t. Drew took the cycling kit, and his trainers and sneaked out the back door. He collected his own bike from the garage, and shoving his kit into a small backpack, rode off down the road. His ankle hurt, but not as much as he thought it would. He would cope with an hour of racing. He would race, now all he had to do was find somewhere to stay for the night.

As an angry adolescent, he hadn’t taken into account what would happen after he ran away. As a minor, he would be reported to the police, who would then begin to search for him, as his guardian, Carol would spend a period of intense worry and anger until he returned, safe. She would want him to come back safely so she could kill him, slowly, Maddy would also be worried.

He sent her a text message:
“Im ok. Gonna ride 2moro.CU there. Bring UR makeup kit.”

Maddy of course replied:

“Don’t B a wnkr! Cum home now! Police R after U.”

His response to that was:

“If I don’t ride, Im going bck 2 Warsop 2nite.”

At this point Maddy felt obliged to inform Carol. She felt a tugging from both of them, she loved both of them, her cousin and her mother, and she could see both points of view as well. It was a real dilemma.

“What?” screeched Carol, when she saw the text message. The police had not yet been called, but it was the next stage, thankfully, Maddy and she, were alone. “He can’t, can he?”

“You know Drew. He’d do it to prove the point and probably mess his ankle up for life,” Maddy wasn’t too sympathetic towards her mother.

“Alright, Miss Clever Clogs, how do we get him home?”

“Oh that’s easy,” Maddy said smugly.

“If it’s so easy, why don’t you try it?”

“I will if you want, but it means telling him he can race,” Maddy almost sniggered as she said this.

“Never,” snapped her mother.

“Have it your way. You can explain to his parents...”

Carol harrumphed, wrung her hands and said, “Wait a minute. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Gaby wants to race. She has run away because she feels it’s the only way she can race. If you tell her she can, she’ll come home. What happens tomorrow is another day,” said Maddy with an air of superiority her mother did not enjoy.

'Bloody teenagers!' she thought, but said, “Go on then, tell her she can race if she comes home now, but only if she comes home now.”

“Okay.” quipped Maddy and sent the text:

“If U cum home now, U cn race 2moro. Hrry.”

Drew’s immediate thought was, “It’s a trap.” At the same time, he didn’t like to worry the others and certainly didn’t want to face the police again. Nevertheless, he needed Carol’s word. She was a person of some integrity, he knew that, he hoped it would last a couple more days.

He pressed speed dial on his mobile. Maddy’s phone began to squawk like a parrot. She thought it was a cool ring tone, Drew’s barked like a dog. But then he was barking.

“Hi,” said Maddy.

“Can I speak to Auntie Carol?”

“Mum, it’s Gaby.” Maddy handed the phone to Carol.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, I was very upset, myself,” said Drew, apologetically.

“Where are you now?”

“Nearby,” replied Drew, from the garage, he had sneaked back without being seen.

“Come home now and we’ll forget this happened,” said Carol, trying to retain some authority.

“Maddy’s message said, ‘I could race tomorrow’.”

“Did it?” said Carol.

“Please say I can, and I’ll come straight home.”

“Why should I?”

“Because it will save you having to explain to my mum that I ran away.” This was not the answer Carol was expecting, and she felt sick and angry at the same time. Smart-arsed kids!

“What if I don’t?” she felt a need to know his fallback position.

“I’ll see you at the race or start for Warsop. It’ll only take me two or three days.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, what about your ankle?”

“I’ll cope.”

“Gaby, you are thirteen years old, for God’s sake, come home and stop this brinkmanship. It might work in races, but not with me. I’m not in competition with you, you silly goose. Just come home.” Tears were beginning to well up in Carol’s eyes. She’d long since lost the encounter, but that was secondary to getting him home safe.

“So can I race?”

“If you come home now, you can decide that tomorrow, see how your ankle is.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Gaby, just get here now.”

“Please Auntie Carol, is it a promise that I can race tomorrow?”

“If that’s what it takes, yes, it’s a promise. Now, will you come home?”

“Of course, I will. I’m sorry I upset you.”

He waited a very tense ten minutes in the garage, before entering by the back door. Maddy saw him first, but he pressed a finger to his lips and she stifled what she was going to say.

Carol, who sat with her back to the door, looked up at Maddy, “Were you going to say something?”

Maddy shook her head. At this point Drew came through the door.

“Here I am. I am sorry Auntie Carol,” he looked at the floor.

“Before we go any further, this incident has to stay between we three and Matt. No one else is to ever learn of it. If they do, it will make all of us look pretty stupid. Do we all agree?”

Drew and Maddy nodded their agreement.

“Give me a hug then, your clever cousin had better have one too,” Carol and Drew embraced, “You silly child, don’t you ever do that again.”

“I won’t," sniffed Drew, the hug had liberated the tears which had been threatening to come since Matt had visited. Carol too was crying, inside she felt like jelly. She had lost to a thirteen-year-old, but to her winning wasn’t as important as keeping him safe. She had won that contest.

They hugged for a couple of minutes, neither saying anything. Then Drew broke away and went to Maddy. They hugged and hugged, then they cried together and hugged some more. “You dizzy blonde,” said Maddy, sniffing. She smiled, Drew smiled and Carol smiled watching them. No one is quite sure who started giggling first, but it quickly spread like an epidemic. In moments all three were giggling, helpless with laughter. Maddy wet herself and kept giggling. It was that sort of moment.

Finally, Carol regained some self-control and set about taking back the initiative. “Right, it’s getting late. Gaby, I want you to have a bath and then rest that leg. Maddy, I can see a wet patch on your shorts. I think you’d better have a quick shower and then Gaby can have her bath. Quickly, or it’ll be time to get up.”

This was what they did. Maddy flew through the shower like someone with hydrophobia. She was so quick, that her mother wondered if she’d even got wet. However, her hair needed drying so she must have done. Then Drew had his bath, soaking his foot and ankle for about quarter of an hour. It began to swell and he had it back in a cold pack shortly after.

The pain was subsiding a little, despite his little jaunt. He felt comfy in his silk nightie as he lay back on the bed. Maddy came in wearing hers and kissed him goodnight.

She stroked his ankle, “Do you really think you’ll be able to race tomorrow?”

“Yeah, why not?” he smiled back with more confidence than he really felt. The bruising was coming out at his toes, which were now a shade of yellow and green with blue blotches.

“You have more faith than I do. I think you’re mad.”

“No, me Tarzan, you Mad.”

“Gaby, you are completely off your trolley, do you know that I only love you because I know you wouldn’t survive on your own.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, like, with friends like you, who needs cheesecake?”

Maddy had to hear that statement again in her head before it made any sense. About the third time on action replay, the penny dropped. She smiled and after kissing him again, went off to her own room.

Carol, who had fortified herself with two quick glasses of wine while the teens were getting ready for bed, looked in on Drew.

“How’s the ankle?”

“Improving, it’ll be okay tomorrow.”

“You must think I came down in the last fall of snow, Gaby Bond, I know what a sprained ankle feels like. I think you are very silly if you ride tomorrow, you could do yourself more permanent damage, you know this.”

“I know that I am going to ride, and I am going to beat Cheeseman.”

“But at what cost to yourself?”

“It’ll heal.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do, I always do. It’ll be alright Auntie Carol, you just wait and see.”

That night, Drew tossed and turned. He prayed his ankle would be well enough to race. He drifted in and out of sleep. He had strange dreams, from which he would awake to feel anxious or confused. He could hear Carol snoring in the room next to him, sleeping off the effects of her wine.

Maddy too, was having difficulty sleeping. She was worried about the race tomorrow. She almost felt like volunteering to go in Drew’s place, but she was nowhere near as good as him. She would have finished somewhere about halfway down the field, whereas Drew had a chance to come in the first half a dozen.

She almost wanted to go in and see him, but she hoped he was asleep. She felt the silk of the nightdress and felt fondly for him. In lots of ways she was so lucky, she had a kind and loyal boyfriend and girlfriend all rolled into one. Who else would have given her this nightdress, simply because he had one and knew she envied it? It was an act much more like a girl than a boy.

Boys buy girls clothes they want to see them wear, often with disastrous results. Drew had bought the nightie under Gaby’s influence. It was more of a present from her than him. Maddy did love them both. Then that fazed her a little.

She began to wonder how normal she was. Oh it was a laugh to get a boy into girl’s stuff on a one-off, but to seem to have him in them nearly as much as he wore school uniform, was a bit unusual, especially, as he didn’t encourage it directly, so he wasn’t really one of those transwotsit people, at the same time he didn’t seem to discourage it as much as most boys would, wasn’t that strange?

Gaby was developing into a real person, she wasn’t just Drew in a skirt. She seemed to think differently to Drew, at least at times she did. It was true he was more considerate than most boys, and avoided fights and things yet he wasn’t a sissy. He didn’t play rugby, but if the local team asked him, he’d give it a go.

She smiled at the thought of him playing rugby against boys twice his size, then saw him injured and the smile turned to silent tears. She’d seen him play football. He wasn’t much good, but he’d done his best and was pretty nippy. He’d done quite well at athletics, being a useful middle distance runner – but cycling was his sport. Well, that and cheerleading, he seemed to be a natural at it, too.

He was, once he forgot his hang-ups and got into the moves. He moved gracefully and lithely, he really was quite supple for a boy, and a cyclist at that. She had read in one of his many cycling books, that many amateurs don’t do enough stretching and risk pulling muscles and tendons, also they become overdeveloped in some muscle groups compared to others. Drew had avoided this because his mother knew what she was doing and trained him properly.

He was useful on a badminton court, being fast and supple just like his sister who was a county-level player. Yeah, he was good at badminton … then she remembered the previous afternoon … and his injured ankle. The silent tears continued. Sometimes life was so unfair...

While Maddy sobbed silently, Drew was thinking his own thoughts. He’d just had a nasty dream, he’d been racing as Gaby, he was part of the Specialized Ladies Team, and they had been doing well in a road race.

He was their main hope, and his teammates had been doing their bit of supporting, blocking, chasing breakaways down and the usual protection job. Drew like his mother, was seen as a useful sprint finisher but could also lead from the front for much of a race à la Lance Armstrong. In fact, he was becoming quite a well-rounded rider.

The race had about a kilometre to go, his team placed him beautifully, blocking two challenges and he went for it. He dropped a cog and accelerated to twenty-five miles an hour. There were just two in front of him and he was on them before they could sense him.

The German girl, Katarina dropped a gear too, and began to come back at him. The other, an Australian riding for an Italian team, re-gathered her wits and started storming after them. It was going to be close.

Less than half a K to go, and they were all giving it their best. Drew had slowed slightly, then was out of the saddle, head down and in full sprint mode. He was clocking over thirty miles an hour, practically unheard of in most women’s races and more importantly was streaking away. All he had to do was stay on his bike to win. The line was in sight ... then, the nightmare began. His ankle gave way and he crashed, unable to unlock his shoes, he fell heavily with the bike on top of him, he could feel the gravel through the thin clothing he wore, as it shredded against the rough surface. He didn’t see but rather sensed his opponents pass him … he felt awful.

He awoke in a sweat, his ankle throbbed and he guessed he’d moved it awkwardly. He could almost feel the gravel burns from the road surface in his dream, he cursed his luck, he should have won that race, his mother would have done. He and his team had set up the finish to perfection, he shot out like a rocket from the pack. It would have made him a contender for the British Ladies team, they couldn’t keep ignoring him because of his age now. He felt indignation growing inside him, he’d show ‘em.

He rubbed his ankle, feeling the false breasts get in his way through the silk nightdress. Then he remembered, he was a boy or used to be one, he felt himself blush, too many of these dreams saw him racing as a girl. Okay, so he was racing later but this would be the last time, leastways as a girl. So long as he beat Cheeseface, it didn’t matter where he came in the finish.

He reasoned that spending a couple of weeks as a girl had addled his brain, hence the strange dreams. Perhaps it was something in the adhesive on his breasts? Just another day or so, and then they could go home. He’d sleep better in his own bed and without the appendages stuck on his chest.

He was sure that the falsies were causing his own breasts to grow slightly. He reasoned that the weight of them was pulling on his skin and stretching it, causing his nipples and pecs to appear a bit girlish. It was a bit like the fact that sitting on a bike for a long time made your bum get bigger. It was probably just muscle. Okay, so it wobbled a bit, he was still young so it would firm up as he got older, course it would. One day his voice would break and he’d probably have zits, like all the other boys and some of the girls, then he’d get hair on his face and chest, his leg hair would coarsen up and he’d be just a normal guy.

Why was it taking so long? How come his muscle definition was poor compared to Jules’ boyfriend? Although, Gareth, or whatever his name was, was probably more ape than human. He’d need to be to go out with his sister. Mind you, Gareth was a bit older and significantly larger than Drew so had had more time to get muscles. Then there was the advantage of being almost in disguise. If you look like a wimp, people treat you as such. If they do so in a bike race, it’s at their own peril.

Drew looked down at his legs, they were quite attractive legs. Shapely, tanned, smooth and hairless without great nobbles on the knees, they were quite pretty legs … for a girl.

He felt some self-doubt start to filter in, 'Geez, I seem to have girly legs, a squeaky voice, no body hair to speak of, big arse and my tits seem to be growing, I bet this didn’t happen to Lancie boy' The thought of someone as rugged-looking as Lance Armstrong, growing boobs, made him smile.

'Sometimes, I begin to think there’s something wrong with me like I’m turning into Gaby for real, I’m just hypersensitive ‘cos I’m small, if I really was, Maddy or Jules would have said something and Mum or Dad would have had me up the doc, as quick as lightning. Nah, I’m okay,' he said quietly to himself, drifting back off to sleep, safe in his self-denial.

Later that night, or early morning, he dreamt again. He was talking to Mr Bower from Specialized, 'But Mr Bower, I tell you I’m a boy, that’s why I can’t sign up with you.'

'Gaby, if you don’t wanna sign, don’t sign, but don’t gimme that crap about being a boy. I know a boy when I see one, I was one myself fer Godsakes, ‘n’ you ain’t. Now, ya gonna tell me the real reason why you ain’t gonna sign? Not enough money...wrong bikes? C’mon girl, we ain’t got all day!'

Drew woke up, shaking his head, tears rolling down his cheeks, “Why can’t you believe me?” he was sobbing at the American businessman.

“ ‘Cos ya telling me lies….”

“Gabs, you alright?” Maddy was comforting him as he came back to wakefulness, she was holding his hand and rubbing it.

“Wassat?” he blinked and looked at the familiar face before him. “Mad, what you doin’ here?”

“I’m, like, living here too,” she smiled at him.

He sat up with a start, “Where’s Bower gone?”

“Where’s what?” she shook her head, “Gabs, you’ve been dreamin’.”

“What?” then he looked at himself in bed, at his nightdress and Maddy clinging on to him, dressed in hers, “It was a dream?”

“Sure was,” smiled Maddy, she felt his brow, but it was cool, “Brr,” she said, “move over,” and with that climbed into bed with him, they cuddled down together.

Drew told her about his dream, “It was awful. He, like, wouldn’t believe me, that I’m a boy.”

“Don’t worry, girl, I’ll believe you,” said Maddy, chuckling.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied missing the joke completely.

“How’s the broken leg?” she asked.

“I tuned into a spider in the night, it fell off and I grew another one.”

“Won’t that be a problem?” asked Maddy, pretending to be serious.

“What?”

“Riding a bike with six legs?” she said and then giggled.

“Eight,” he said very seriously.

“Ate what?” she said, wiping her eyes.

“Eight legs you dummy, spiders have, like, eight legs.”

“I thought all creepy crawlies have six.”

“What about millipedes?”

“What about millipedes?” Maddy repeated.

“They’ve got millions of legs, well thousands anyway.”

“How do you know?”

“Harry was showing us those boring pix yesterday, he told us about all this stuff.”

“Have you ever counted them?”

“Counted what?”

“A millipedes whatevers?”

“Don’t be stupid, here, what goes ninety-nine bump?”

“A centipede with a wooden leg,” she sat up and blew a raspberry at him, “I fell out of my pram listening to that one.”

“Land on your ‘ead, did you?”

“Gaby Bond, I’ll … I’ll ….” they mock fought in the bed, and she bumped his leg.

“Ouch, geez, that hurt,” he suddenly squealed as she bumped him.

“Oh sorry, Gabs, was that your bad one?”

“Course not,” he laughed, tickled her and limped out of the bedroom as a pillow came flying at him.

He went into the bathroom, his ankle was stiff but not too swollen, the Arnica, Carol had given him to rub in, must have helped more than he thought. It was tender rather than sore. He finished weeing, and quickly washed himself, threw the nightdress back on and slipped downstairs to get the ankle support Matt had left him. It was a real struggle to get on, and it hurt. Once on, however, it helped support the ankle and while it was still tender, he could cope with that for an hour or two. “I’m going to race,” he said with glee, then shouted it to Maddy, she laughed by reply.

It was seven o clock, he phoned Matt, “Matt, you’ll never believe it, but my ankle is okay.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“It’s, like, a bit tender, but I got your support thing on and I can stand or walk or ride on it, no bother.”

“So?”

“Can I still ride the bike?”

“I don’t know, Gaby, I can’t take responsibility for you injuring yourself.”

“Please Matt, you know how important this is to me.”

“I don’t know Gaby.”

“Look come down to the pavilion with the bike and I’ll give it a test run, if it hurts I’ll stop and we’ll scratch.”

“Gaby, once you get on that bloody bike, you won’t get off until you’ve finished the race, I know you too well.”

“I will Matt, I promise, if it hurts, I’ll get off and we stop.”

“I wish I could believe you,” said Matt sadly.

“You sound just like Mr Bower,” pouted Drew.

“When did you speak to him?” the tone in Matt’s voice changed.

Suddenly Drew realised his error, he could tell lies and probably be found out, he could tell the truth and be found out, or he could sort of tell the truth. He chose the last option. “I haven’t, I was thinking about the meal we had with him. He didn’t believe I was only thirteen.”

Drew was partly making it up, but Matt seemed to be accepting it. No need to mention the dream. “I think I recall him saying something about your age, but that was last week. Maybe I was in the loo or something,” said Matt desperately trying to recall what was said, he had had a couple of drinks.

“Yeah, maybe you were in the toilet.”

“So, are you going to sign up with him?”

“Dunno, seeing as I haven’t tested his bike properly, I can’t really can I?”

“Gaby Bond, if you race like you talk, you’ll win this blessed thing. Okay, I’ll bring the bike. I’ll watch you ride, but ... and it’s a big but ... If I decide you aren’t fit, we scratch. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” said Drew.

“See you there,” Matt put the phone down; the kid was certainly a trier.

“Yes,” shrieked Drew, punching the air.

“Whatever is the matter?” called Carol, down the stairs.

“I’m gonna race. Matt says I can race.”

“Oh, how do you know?”

“I just phoned him, he’s bringing the bike.”

“Hadn’t you better sit down and rest that ankle? but put the kettle on first, my mouth’s a little dry.”

They all breakfasted and drank tea, Carol having an extra cup for her dry mouth. Drew nearly commented on her snoring as a likely cause, but thought better of it. At this time, he needed friends not enemies.

He had stuffed down the calories, and when he went to put his skins on, his tummy was bulging a little. He was irritated that the outline of his bra and pants showed through the thin material of the racing outfit. “God, I keep thinking like a girl, who cares if they’re visible?” then he paused, “I do, even if that makes me a girl,” he laughed to himself, “Well I am for another day or so.”

Maddy came to ask him how his ankle was, and they discussed the visible underwear. But the consensus was, there wasn’t much that could be done about it. She encouraged him to do his makeup and nails, helping him with his hair, “You need to look extra girly today. They’ll all be watching you, plus if you beat Cheeseman, it will rub it in,” she chuckled as she said it.

“What d’ya mean, if I beat him? I’m gonna beat him if it kills me,” said Drew with a firmness that belied his feminine appearance.

Going downstairs he tried on the cycle shoes, and his foot and ankle were okay. He breathed a silent sigh of relief, at least, he would be able to get on the bike.

Finally, they were ready, Drew wore a light jacket and jeans over his skins, carrying his helmet, sunglasses, shoes and mitts in a bag. Carol drove them to the Pavilion where assorted groups of people and bicycles were already assembling. Looking around, he saw Cheeseman checking out his Cannondale. “Nice bike, pity about the shit riding it,” muttered Drew under his breath.

They spotted Matt’s van and walked over to it, “Hi Matt,” called Maddy.

“Hello girls,” he chirped back. “Right Gaby, let’s get this over and done.” He pointed at Drew and then at the bike.

Drew sat on the floor and swapped his trainers for cycle shoes. His heart was beating nineteen to the dozen as he walked to the bike, which Tim was holding. Never had his shoes clip-clopped so loudly, his mouth felt dry.

“You’re walking alright, how is the ankle?” asked Tim quietly.

“It’s okay,” said Drew, throwing his leg over the saddle and crossbar. He stood upright, astride his ‘steed’, feeling more nervous than he’d felt the first time he rode the bike.

“Let’s see you do a quick circuit of the car park, and watch out for cars, so keep it easy,” called Matt, looking anxious. He wanted the kid to ride and win, he knew how she felt, and he admired her gutsy courage.

Drew clipped on the shoes, locking his feet to the pedals, his ankle felt tender and stiff. He clicked down a few gears, and then up again, he was happy with the bike, the Campag gears, clicking comfortingly as he changed gears. The tribars were comfortable too. Given the chance, he was going to ride this like a time trial once he got clear of the bunch. He felt good, and his nerves began to ease. By his second lap, he was riding smoothly and felt confident his ankle would be okay, he pulled back into the space by the van.

“Well?” said Matt, looking poker-faced.

“She goes very well,” said Drew.

“I know the bike goes okay, that wasn’t what I was asking.”

“Oh, the ankle, yeah, I’d nearly forgotten about that. It’s fine, like, it’s gonna be okay,” said Drew with a smile which hid the uncertainty he felt inside.

“What d’you think Tim? shall we let her borrow the bike?” said Matt to his partner.

“Dunno Matt, ankle injuries are pretty nasty,” he replied, winking to his friend as he watched Drew’s face drop.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, better put it back in the van then.”

“No, you can’t do this to me. Please, I’ve got to race this bike,” pleaded Drew almost in tears.

“I don’t know, Gaby, but there is one way I might be able to let you borrow it.”

“Anything, please just tell me.”

“I’ll need a rental deposit.”

“What? How much?” Drew was still on the verge of tears.

“We normally ask for a fifty pound deposit and a rental fee of a tenner a day.”

“Auntie Carol, have we got sixty pounds?”

“Gaby, that is based upon our usual rental bikes, which aren’t very valuable. This one is priceless.”

“Well, how much do you want?”

“We’d need the equivalent of a mortgage.”

“What do you mean?”

“This bike cost a hundred grand, plus the value of the wheels and gears. I’d need to ask about fifty thousand.”

“How much?”

“Fifty grand, sorry.”

“But I need to ride that bike.”

“I know kid, I know.”

“But yesterday, you were going to lend it to me for nothing.”

“Yesterday, before you injured yourself, you were a smaller liability.”

“This isn’t fair,” said Drew with the tears welling up in his eyes.

“You agree the bike is priceless?”

“Of course I do.”

“So we need a priceless deposit.”

“But I can’t afford it.”

“Maybe we could compromise.”

“Like how?”

“What d’you think Tim?” said Matt winking at his friend.

“Yeah, just this once though,” his mate replied, his eyes creasing slightly as he held back a smile.

“Okay missy, here’s what we’ll do,” Drew stood nodding, his eyes pleading to ride the bike, as he gave his complete attention to every word Matt said. “I’ll need your promise to look after this valuable piece of equipment.”

“Yes, I promise,” said Drew emphatically.

“And …” Matt winked again at Tim and Carol, “… and a kiss to seal the deal.”

Drew flung himself at Matt and kissed him on the cheek, then he did the same to Tim. Both men and Carol were laughing. “If you could have seen your face Gaby,” said Carol.

“But I needed the bike,” said Drew, wiping tears of relief from his face.

“The bike was never in doubt, young lady, these two were just having a tease.”

“I think you are rotten Matt, but I need the bike,” said Drew, taking a firm hold of the Specialized.

“Sorry Gaby, I couldn’t resist it.”

“You wouldn’t have done that if I was a boy,” said Drew, looking quickly at Maddy, who suppressed a smirk.

“No, I guess we wouldn’t,” said Matt, blushingly slightly as the feminist card was played, “but then you’re not, are you?”

“Just for that, I’m going to try and win this stupid race, just to show you girls are as good as boys.”

Matt glanced quickly at Tim, thinking, 'Nothing like a wind-up to get the adrenalin going.' What he said was, “Actions speak louder than words, Gaby, You show us what you can do. Tell you what, you win this race and you can keep the wheelset.”

“What? A Campag, like, wheelset, ace.”

“If you win, we’ll fit ‘em to the other bike.”

“Kewel,” said Drew, almost squeaking with joy. If there had ever been any doubt about his commitment, it was over now. He was going to do his damnedest to win this race, if it killed him.

The registrations were completed, bikes were checked and eventually the riders were called to the start point. The Mayor of Weymouth and Portland waved them off amidst lots of clicking cameras, and a local TV news crew.

This race was better organised than the charity one had been. There was a police car leading the riders, with a motorcycle outrider. Drew was very impressed, it was like riding in a professional race. The problem was, it attracted over a hundred riders, and brought out the crowds.

Crowds and bicycles are not a good combination, pedestrians are stupider than drivers, and tend to stand or wander in front of a peloton. The consequences are unfortunate to say the least, and it so happened before the riders had even cleared the Esplanade.

An old lady, who seemed unable to understand the crowds lining the sea front, stepped through them and straight in front of a rider, who swerved and altogether about twenty riders, went down like dominoes. Amazingly, none of them hit the old lady, but a member of the crowd grabbed her and screamed at her, causing her to collapse with a heart attack.

Thankfully, Drew missed this incident. He had managed to find Cheeseman, who’d got a stronger start, and was tracking him. Apart from his enemy, he noticed there were some clubs racing together, so he’d need to watch for blockers and catchers, especially if he made a break for it.

They proceeded along in an easterly direction, coming eventually to a long climb from Preston up towards Osmington. This was the first real test, and a few minutes into the hill, gears were being clicked down and riders were out of saddles. To Drew, it was very helpful.

What counts on hills is weight. Being about the youngest, smallest and lightest, with a very lightweight cycle, Drew was simply cruising up the hill. He followed the leaders of the peloton, who were now starting to break away from the rest of the struggling field.

Cheeseman was a strong rider. Drew respected this, and wanted to stay just behind him, keeping his options open. He followed Cheeseman, who was out of his saddle, squeezing between riders, occasionally, putting on a spurt to mark his man. Drew was in his element, loving every minute of it.

By the time, they reached Poxwell (pronounced Pokeswell), there was a leading group of some twenty riders, with clear daylight between them and the rest of the field. They turned towards Dorchester, going through Broadmayne. “I know where I am now,” said Drew to himself, as they sped down the hill at speeds in excess of fifty miles an hour. A long pull up the other side of the ridge and a couple of ups and downs, before cresting into Dorchester.

Here, they were led down the bypass. The road surface is quite rough, and Drew felt the vibrations through his arms despite the phatt tape on the handlebars. Round the roundabout on the main Dorchester – Weymouth road, and up the bypass towards Monkey’s Jump.

The road began to climb towards the next roundabout, and its attendant burger bar and several riders attempted a breakaway, Cheeseman went with them, followed by his shadow, but, at the roundabout, they were caught by the rest of the group, and the politics of the peloton resumed.

As they rode along the A35 towards Winterbourne Abbas, a road which Drew had ridden, he knew it was another long pull, with some steep undulations on a bend. Drew, considered it was a good attacking place, especially as it rises steeply before it goes down again into the village. At this point, he was simply staying with Cheeseman. It was too soon to try anything himself.

His prediction was correct, three riders did try to break off, but were caught and brought back by the rest. Drew was impressed by the way the group protected itself, this was going to be a sprint finish and he doubted he’d beat many of this lot, they were too good.

Despite the hills, they were averaging over the even twenty. Past Winterbourne, they made a left up a narrower road towards Portesham. Once again Drew knew where he was, and the steep hill down into the village after the long climb up. It’s a dangerous hill with a road junction beyond it, and the coast road between Weymouth and Bridport.

His caution paid off, at an alarming speed of descent, two riders collided and were thrown off their bikes, bouncing and rolling down the road. Drew just managed to miss clipping one of the fallen cycles, and then its rider was bleeding from several wounds.

Two others were less lucky, and joined the injured as they crashed into bikes or prostrate riders. No one had been killed, but several broken bones had been sustained.

The leaders now a group of fifteen, another having dropped out with a puncture, zoomed down the through the village, and left onto the coast road.
Knowing the road ahead, Drew decided he would take Cheeseman on the climb back towards Weymouth, near the turn off for Langton Herring. Until then it was simply a case of staying with him, and the rest of the group.

As the sun rose, so it got warmer and the effort was beginning to tell on some of the riders. Cheeseman and Drew moved up through the field. They were now seventh and eighth, respectively.

The speed picked up as they moved down the hill towards the switchback near Langton Herring. Drew bided his time. From here it was mostly downhill to the Pavilion, just a bit of a rise by Chickerell, otherwise, downhill. He knew this road, he also knew Cheeseman would, too.

They approached the make-or-break point for Drew. Cheeseman began clicking down a gear as they started to climb. Drew attacked. Out of the saddle and sprinting up the hill, Drew broke out of the pack and continued to pull away.

“Puff … puff, did you see that? A turbocharged Barbie doll” said one rider to his companion.

“Oh,” said the other, “I thought I was seeing things.”

At the top of the hill, Drew, himself panting deeply, tucked down on the tribars and flew along down through Knights in the Bottom (yes, there is such a place). In hot pursuit, running on pure hatred was Cheeseman, he could not believe he’d been ‘Gaby-ed’ again.

Downhill, his weight would help him, just as it had hindered his climbing, and despite Drew clocking well over thirty miles an hour as he came along the level, Cheeseman was catching him.

Sporadic cheers were heard as they passed onlookers, but Drew was only hearing his own inner voice telling him to “keep going, whatever happens.”

As he crested the rise near Chickerell, at the roundabout by the famous Moonfleet Manor Hotel, Cheeseman was only yards behind him. Both were tiring but determined to beat the other. Drew held the lead, just, as they powered along Chickerell road, and down into Abbotsbury road. As they flew down the junction by Radipole and along King street, there was little between them.

The crowd was screaming in excitement, roars of, “Come on, Gaby,” and, ”Go for it Ronnie,” assailed both riders ears, but neither really heard it.

Back on to the Esplanade and the final half kilometre. Could Drew hang on? He knew Cheeseman was right on his tail, he waited another fifty yards, and went for broke. He cranked down a gear and began to sprint. Cheeseman responded. Neither saw the 4x4 parked on the road across from them. Neither saw the driver gun the motor at them, clipping Drew’s rear and Cheeseman’s front wheel, before it screamed around and headed off eastwards.

Drew felt the sickening crunch, and the sensation of flying, then the awful shock of hitting the ground and his body rolling on the sand of the beach. Cheeseman felt nothing, his head hit the car on collision and it was his unconscious body which bounced and rolled along the road with splinters of his bike.

Drew was conscious and trying to stand as onlookers rushed to help, “You alright love?” asked one of them.

“Where’s my bike. Matt will kill me,” was all he could say in his shocked state. The frame was broken clean in half. He stooped and picked up both parts. He walked up the slope from the beach. An ambulance crew was attending to the fallen Cheeseman.

“How is he?” asked Drew pushing through the crowd.

An ambulance man looked up at him and shook his head. Drew walked on in a daze towards the finishing line. The accident had closed the road to all traffic, including the riders.

Matt and Tim were running towards him, as he limped along with the broken cycle. He walked past them, he was going to finish if it killed him. Two minutes of pain later, he crossed the line and collapsed into Matt's arms, muttering apologies for breaking his bike.

He came around with a start in the back of an ambulance, his head throbbed, but he could still feel his arms and legs, so he would be okay, he saw Carol and Matt standing behind the paramedic, and burst into tears.

“It’s the shock,” said the paramedic quietly.

“Matt, I am so sorry, I broke your bike,” Carol went to console him and hugged him.

“It’s okay Gaby, it’s only a bike,” said Matt, “It can be replaced, unlike its rider. Girl, that was some race, and you were the only finisher.”

“How is Cheeseman?” asked Drew, looking over Carol’s shoulder.

“He didn’t make it,” said Matt, staring at the ground.

“Did I win?” asked the tearful Drew.

“Yes, Gabs, you won.”

“It wasn’t worth it, was it?”

“Yes and no.” answered Matt.

“That was Meadows, wasn’t it?”

“That’s for the police to decide.”

“It was cold-blooded murder, and I was the target.” Drew began to shake as he realised this fact. “Where’s Maddy? Is she alright?”

“She’s fine, she’s with Tim.”

“I want to see her.”

“You need to go to hospital for a check-up.”

“I need to see Mad.” Drew with surprising strength, pushed past the others in the ambulance and walked out into the pavilion forecourt. He was greeted by a huge roar.

“Are you alright young lady?” asked an official, “We’re not sure what’s happening about a prize, as you were the only finisher, we had to stop the race after the accident.”

“That was no accident,” said Drew, “Mad, where are you?”

“I’m here, Gabs,” said Maddy rushing to engulf him in one of her huge hugs. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Cheeseman’s dead.”

“I know Mad, I know, that bastard Meadows did it. I’m sure it was the same car that ran me into the lake.”

“Gaby, are you alright?” the voice belonged to Harry, who ran up to hug Drew, followed by William, “Tell me you’re okay. I was so worried.”

“I’m okay,” said Drew as Harry, nearly crushed him to death with a hug, and then held on to him.

“I was so frightened I’d never see you again,” spluttered the boy, crying with joy that the object of his affections, had survived.

Cameras clicked, recording the emergence from the ambulance of the heroine of the race. It was a good story by any account, a young girl winning against the odds, riding a super bike. Add a tragic end, plus a heinous crime and Fleet Street will be begging for copy.

Gaby was now a national heroine, captured by the local tv crew and flashed across the world on news bulletins. Gaby was now an international figure. Drew had no idea, how a little race in a small seaside town, could have such earth-shattering consequences, but he would ….

The End ... of Book One.