CHAPTER 17
I had already packed the necessaries for work the next day into my locker, so I was able to make do with just the Barley, the small saddle bag from Carradice that would give me enough space for what I needed for the night ride.

Ginny, being Ginny, was taking her full-sized bag on Ladyboy and humping enough spare calories to put all of my lost weight back on in one ride. She and Kate would meet me at Victoria and head up to Hyde Park Corner. I spent the morning before work looking at some music she had left me.

Just as I had expected, it was all tumpty-tumpty stuff, heavy on the rhythm, and just like Mozart, in the sense that he only ever wrote half of the piece that you played. Lots of double bar lines meant ‘do this bit over again’, so each minute written became two minutes played.

I sat Tabitha on a chair, in one of her new Summer dresses from Sally, and played for about an hour. The stuff was predictable as hell, although one book of tunes had some awkward intervals, but it was fun and passed an hour or so nicely before I tackled the salad left by Ginny for me. On with the lycra, load up the Barley with bananas and cereal bars, waterproof and map, and off to work.

Den was in at almost the same moment, and I met him in the locker room as he peeled off his own lycra. Don’t stare, Price, just us blokes here.

“Hi, butt, didn’t know you rode as well!”

“Yeah, got a Van Nick, one of the titanium ones”

“Don’t tell me…but which version of the joke are you using? Ginny calls hers Ladyboy”

Den laughed. “Ting-Tong, of course”

There is a comedy show called Little Britain, in which Matt Lucas plays a mail order Thai bride called Ting-Tong, who isn’t quite what it says on the packaging. For some reason, nearly everyone I knew who had a Ti bike made a reference to something like that. Why not tom yum, or pad thai, or any of the other food references? Even Ginny….Den spoke, the soft accent sweet.

“Ginny? Girlfriend?”

“Housemate at the moment, She and her girlfriend are doing a housewarming tomorrow morning. Speaking of which, where are you staying at the moment?”

“In a B and B till I can find a flat, out by Goff’s Manor. There’s a pub and a Mormon Tabernacle, so that’s me sorted for all eventualities”

“Bugger me, Den, you’re not….?”

“Na, I came down here for the Scientology”

All of that absolutely po-faced until he couldn’t hold it any more and burst into laughter.

“Adam, marra, I can’t do that, I corpse every time. Fucking mad buggers, all of them. Just leave me the pub and I’ll be happy, though the beer could be better”

“Don’t even think about an argument about southern beer, I’m Welsh!”

I kept my eyes away from him as I bustled to get my uniform on. I had the bag full of bananas and other stuff ready for the fridge, and Den raised an eyebrow.

“It’s for the housewarming. Their place is in Brighton, tonight’s the Friday Night Ride to the Coast and we’re doing that and then having a sort of sleepover”

My tongue took over as my mind screamed for it to show some common sense, but it was no use.

“You’ve got the bike, and you’re shadowing me according to Jim, so why not come along?”

Fuck, shit and bugger. Did I have a death wish or what? Before I could take it back, he was nodding.

“Aye, sounds like a good night out for me. I’d just be grabbing last orders and a kebab otherwise….if I pop out later, I can get some carbs.”

Trapped. Never mind, I would be in company. Keep it distant. I rang Ginny that afternoon and explained we might have an extra. He was a member of the Cyclists’ Touring Club already, so that covered the event insurance, but there was a limit on numbers and the organiser would have to agree.

“I’ll ring the great man, Price, and get back to you. What is it you aren’t telling me?”

“Oh, just that I had a go at your tunes this morning, piece of piss.”

“Yeah, right, and that was a pig on final approach to the fucking airport. I’ll call you back about the new bloke, OK? See you at Vic!”

Good to his word, Den had loaded up with a variety of foodstuffs for the ride, including something I remembered dimly from the days pre-Ginny: chocolate. I looked at it and my mouth flooded. No. Be good. I still looked like shit, but I was getting there, two stone gone now, and to fall back now into old habits would kill me, and disappoint Ginny. I realised that that consideration was now of paramount importance n my life. Ginny was in control, as she was with her clients, and I had surrendered. The days of plotting to ease her out of my life were receding, just like the urge to ease myself out. The healthier she got me, the more Sally lit up my dark corners, the easier each day became.

It turned out to be an uneventful shift, apart from some more flirting from Ruth, to which Dennis seemed to respond a little. Was he interested, or was he playing along with her to keep her happy without risking the sexual harassment charge that work carries today for those who get a little too playful. I teased him myself.

“She wants your body, Sergeant Armstrong”

“Under other circumstances I wouldn’t say no…she has a way about her”

“She just wants a way about you, Den! Our Ruth is a determined sort. You will be assimilated!”

He laughed. “So resistance is useless?”

“Yup. You could do a lot worse, if you survive the encounter”

“Drained of my precious bodily fluids, like?”

“Oh aye, butt, absolutely dry”

“Ah, I’ll wait until I’m sat at the table before I think of anything like that. Early days, new station”

“Makes sense…now, we’ll get shut up here, and off to the station, aye?”

Back to the locker room, strip and change, and look away. Food collected from the fridge (one banana missing, the thieving bastards) and the short ride to the station before we found our places on the train North. I tried to pump Den a little.

“What was it brought you down here, butt?”

“Ah, Adam, I had a little bother in the old place. Not really the time to talk through it, just like Ruth there, want to get my self settled first, find my feet, OK?”

Whatever it had been was not ‘nothing’. Den had his own tells, a tightening of the jaw when he thought about it. I wondered if it was something sexual, from the way he danced clear of Ruth, and then it struck me. I leant forward to keep it as quiet as I could.

“The Cuthberts?”

He looked at me sharply. “I suppose it should be obvious, really. Aye, those cunts.”

“Were you at all…sorry, Den, but I have to ask”

“No, Adam, I wasn’t involved, implicated, rotten, bent, on the take, I was the fucking whistleblower, OK? Drop the subject, please.”

He was looking out of the window as we flashed over the M25. It had been a nasty case, where a local crime family seemed to have been more involved in the take-home pay of a number of coppers than their actual employers. In fact, the Cuthberts in effect HAD been their employers. Three coppers in prison as a result, several sudden resignations and a couple of retirements on medical grounds. And the ranks would have closed, leaving the boy who shouted wolf outside in the cold. Poor bugger. I reached across and put my hand on his without thinking.

“Fucking well done, mate”

He left his hand there, and stared at me again. I didn’t mind looking at him, not at all, but he was just like Stewart and Sally. He was looking into me.

“And what happened to you, Adam?”

I took my hand back as casually as I could. “I was on traffic, bikes, for years. South Wales. I had, I was at, a few too many, you know….bags and shovels. Came over here, and then had a really, really nasty one and, well, I have a place and I fit there, and it saves losing my job.

“Station’s been good to me. My boss is ex-traffic, and I think he really, really understands it, what it does to you.”

I trailed off for a bit, then smiled.

“Funny thing is, I am seeing a great trick cyclist at the moment. That nasty one, that last one, was one of hers, and the poor girl was a mate of her husband’s. They’d served together n the Marines”

A little light went on behind his eyes. “Something Stevens. Sex change girl! I remember reading about it in the papers. What a bunch of cunts they were!”

Speeding cars, Darkness. Sobbing and retching. I felt myself start to shake, and Den suddenly announced “Clapham! Not far now. Where are we having the cake stop?”

Subject changed, neatly if abruptly. He did understand.