Whatever Next? Chapter 22 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

The two teens leant their bikes against a fence post and settled down to wait for the race. They were early and although there were one or two people about, it looked as if they weren’t going to be too bothered by crowds.

Harry had never watched a pro bike race before so the razzmatazz that can surround it was going to be a novelty for him. Gaby—on the other hand—had watched her mother ride and win races of all sorts, so she knew what it would be like and that it still wouldn’t match the carnival that is the Tour de France, not by a long chalk.

“D’ya think we’ll ever get ready for this Bryanston thing?” asked Harry, mindful that the time was passing too quickly to get the team fit.

“You tell me; you and I will be okay, Maddy might if she does some proper training, and William could be if he pulled his finger out. As to the rest of them, I doubt it. Bryanston will stuff us, I expect.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, I mean, they like wouldn’t invite us if they thought we’d like beat ‘em, would they?”

“I dunno, probably not.”

“Still, you could win the girls’ race, that would shut a few silver plated gobs, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah sure, except it’s a team race.”

“I thought Matt said there was a prize for the top boy and girl as well as the winning team.”

“Maybe, look, I’d really like to see us work as a team and win.”

“Oh look, there’s a flying pig,” said Harry pointing up into the sky.

“Ha ha, not, it’s a helicopter,” said Gaby, scratching where her bra strap was rubbing her shoulder.

“Yeah, but it’s the copper chopper, so I’m right, it’s a flying pig.” He laughed and she chuckled too.

“If they’re out surveying the traffic, the race has started,” Gaby observed.

Over the next half an hour, the crowd began to grow as people found places on the grass verges trying to get a good view. The major problem was that as soon as they got a view of where the race was going to come, someone would stand in the way.

“That’s a steep old hill,” said Harry.

“Which is why we’re standing near the top of it, unless you want to be somewhere flat and they’ll pass through at twenty miles an hour.”

“No, this is fine,” he said putting his arm around her waist. He was surprised she allowed him to keep it there for a couple of minutes. The sun was high and the day was warming up.

“Have you got any more sun cream?” she asked him.

“Yeah, sure, where d’ya want it?”

“The backs of my legs are burning.”

“Leave it to me,” he squirted a bit onto his hands and began massaging the backs of her legs, taking a bit longer than was absolutely necessary which made a woman who was standing beside them ask, if he was offering the service generally?

Blushing, he stood up and dropped the tube of cream in his bag, just as a convoy of police cars and motorcyclists appeared, sealing off a side road just up from them.

“Not long now,” said Gaby.

A car came past slowly giving a commentary of what was happening, then the commissaire’s car came past, and more motorbike and police cars. Then the cheering started and a group of cyclists could be seen.

Harry and Gaby cheered and clapped, hoping to help on the aching legs after what was a vicious hill climb. The peloton was still much together with no clear leaders, everyone seemed to be watching each other.

Through went the main body of the race, then a couple of minutes later came some stragglers, already the hills were splitting the field, sorting out the weaker riders.

People dispersed, and Gaby and Harry sat down to have another sandwich. “The broom wagon hasn’t come through yet,” she remarked.

“The what?”

“Well, we’ve had the racers, the officials, the cops and the television crew, but right at the back is the broom wagon, it picks up anyone who can’t go on or has big problems.”

“What, sweeps them up—like the one that does the gutters around Dorchester?”

“Oh yeah, minced cyclist; I suppose it would reduce the pension costs. No, you silly boy, they pick up the bikes and their riders.” He gave her a silly grin and she slapped his arm.

They were about to tuck into another of Gaby’s seemingly unending supply of sandwiches, when some more cyclists came up the hill. Gaby jumped to her feet and began cheering and clapping, exhorting Harry to do the same.

“Who were they?” asked Harry as they rode past.

“The no hopers, they’re nearly fifteen minutes behind the others. Ah, there’s the broom van.” A large van followed by yet another police car went past: it had a notice on the back stating it was the last vehicle of a bike race, and thanked drivers for their patience.

“But, we’ve had like normal traffic for ten minutes?”

“Yes, I know, Harry, but they have some killer hills as you’ll find out later. Remember the course was supposed to enable Nicole to shine, except she buggered up her knee, didn’t she?”

“So if she’d been racing, d’ya reckon we’d have had more crowds?”

“I tell you what, if she’d been racing you’d have heard the noise a mile away.”

“She that popular, then?”

“She’s Welsh, you moron,” Gaby shook her head in astonishment.

“Well, I’m not into the cycling scene as much as you, am I?”

“Harry, she’s an international figure, an outstanding athlete, like my mum, only younger.”

“Yeah, but they don’t recognise your mum, do they?”

“They do on the Continent, but not here.” Gaby sighed and they sat down and ate their sandwiches. “Every time I’ve been over there with her, she’s had swarms of fans taking her photo or asking for autographs.”

“Really? So how long before they come through again?”

“It’s a twenty mile course and they’re averaging about twenty, so about an hour. Why?”

“If you stay here and keep our places, I’ll nip down to that shop and get some drinks.”

“We’ve got like forty minutes, we could go together,” said Gaby not entirely wanting to sit by herself. “Besides, a quick hill climb might help use up one the sandwiches we’ve been eating.”

They packed up and rode off down the hill to the main A48. Almost directly opposite was a small newsagents and general store, where Harry bought them each a drink and an ice cream. Gaby added another bottle of water and gave him the money.

“You think we need more fluid?”

“It’s quite a hot day, and we’ll get a bit dry later if we ride the course.”

“Okay, let’s grab a couple of bottles.”

“One’ll do me,” Gaby grabbed the half litre bottle and placed it in her back pack. She did have a bottle of water on her bike as did Harry.

“You sure?”

“Yes, remember, I have to get rid of it too, it’s alright for you, jump behind a hedge and spray a few bushes.” She blushed, she could do the same, but not as far as Harry was concerned.

“Well you can go hide behind a bush too, I’ll keep a lookout for you.”

“We’ll see. The race ends at the hotel, so we may be able to use their toilets. There’ll be loads of people there, so they should have some sort of facility.”

They ate their ice creams and rode back up the hill, in a leisurely way, no point in pulling muscles for the sake of it. Then they sat down where they’d been before and chatted.

“Enjoying it?” she asked him.

“It’s okay, a bit boring in between laps—or it would be if you weren’t here.”

“That’s road racing; you miss out on much of the action unless it’s televised, the fun is in the doing rather than the watching, but it’s nice to see the top riders in action.”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding anything but convinced. “So who’s gonna win it then?”

“How do I know,” she shrugged, “Wood or Arndt? Both are in form.” She went on to explain who they were, an Aussie and a German rider.

“How do you know all this?”

“It’s in Cycling Weekly and other mags, plus on the net. I’m no genius, I just read what it says.”

“But you know who’s who, and I’ll bet you’ve met some of them.”

“Yeah, okay, through Mum, I’ve met the odd one.”

“So, do you know Nicole, then?”

“Not actually met her, and she hasn’t raced against Mum yet—they keep missing each other. It’ll be a good race when they do, she’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, but your mum’s better isn’t she?”

“On the day, it can vary, I mean, obviously if Mum’s racing I want her to win, but Nicole’s the national champion; Mum was abroad at the time, so she’ll have to watch out.”

“Pity neither of them are here, it would have been good to see them race.”

“Here we go again,” the helicopter was getting nearer, and as the crowds built up again, they got to their feet and waited. In about ten minutes the noise of cheering down the hill assailed them and up came the police cars and motor bikes. Then the official cars including the commentary, a couple of breaks had been tried but the peloton brought them back together. It was anyone’s race.

The girls came through and everyone cheered and clapped, in minutes they were past and the crowd dispersed again. They finished their staggered lunch. “Just how many sandwiches did you make, Gabs?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t counting.”

“Cor, I feel full and you’re still eating,” said Harry taking a swig of his drink.

“Well, I’m a growing girl and I’m going to burn it off in an hour or two. Wanna go to the finish line and get a place.”

“Yeah, okay.”

They cycled into the hotel, down the drive which in an hour’s time would be part of the course leading to the finish. They chained their bikes under a tree and walked down to the crowds who were watching some kids competition and then the awarding of prizes. Giant were giving away bikes to the winners.

“There’s Nicole Cooke,” pointed Gaby.

“Where?”

“Over there talking to that woman from the BBC, the tall blonde haired one.” She pointed and Harry finally spotted her.

“Oh, that’s what she looks like.”

“Duh! Don’t you read any of the CWs I give you? She’s in it every other issue.”

“Yeah, but she looks different.”

“You mean you only read the blokes bit, don’t you?”

He blushed, “Well mainly, see what Lance is up to, and Valverde and Basso. See I do know some of them.”

“Yeah, but not the girls?”

“Um, I have a quick look see if someone’s mum is in it.”

“Do you know they only get a fraction of what the boys earn.”

“Well the men ride longer and faster.”

“But…” Gaby was speechless. She was defending her ‘honorary’ position as a girl cyclist, not to mention her mother’s achievements.

“I mean if you put this lot up against the men, not many of them would come in the top ten, would they?”

“She might, when she’s fit,” Gaby nodded at Nicole Cooke, who was putting on a brave face as she was pestered by fans and the press.

“Okay, that’s one or two, that’s why they don’t earn as much.”

Gaby felt that while Harry had a reasonable argument it didn’t seem fair to her. Women deserved as much recognition as men. It was supposed to be an equal society in which they lived, but it was anything but. Even her mum as a current world champion was only earning a fraction of what Tom Boonen got. He was a good rider, and deserved his money but so did Jenny Bond and the other top women riders.

Underneath, she felt a bit angry and hurt that Harry was sexist, but then he was a boy. She decided not to pursue the discussion, she’d continue it later when they rode the course.

They stayed together but Harry could detect a coolness in his friend; he went to put his arm around her and she stepped away. He knew then he was in the doghouse and his lack of experience wasn’t sure how to get out of it.

Eventually, the race came back and a small group of riders had made a sustained break, then according to the commentary, Judith Arndt had made the break from the lead group with about a kilometre to go. The cheering announced the arrival of the racers, preceded as usual by the motorbikes and TV crews.

They both cheered as Arndt took the race by several seconds, a clear winner. Then there was the sprinting for the remaining points, it being a world cup race as the lesser riders came over the line.

About half an hour later, the awards had been made and winner’s jersey presented, including the white one for the leading rider of the series and the crowds dispersed. Gaby found a ladies loo and they collected their bikes.

“Still want to do this ride?” she asked Harry.

“Yeah, do you?”

“Yeah, it’s cool with me.” She showed him the route, it was fairly straightforward circuit, “We go out down the main road, cross under the motorway and head towards Chepstow, then we turn left at Penhow, up the hill by the reservoir, down the other side head for Caerleon and then up the hill where we were watching.”

“Looks okay to me.”

“We’ll take it easy until we get past the motorway.”

“Fine, I’ll follow you.”

Gaby knew she could destroy him on the two big climbs; for a lightweight, she packed a lot of power against Harry’s much heavier body, coming out on top of the power:weight ratio. Harry was probably a stone—if not more—heavier and that would tell as they progressed, and which, added to Gaby’s greater experience and superior fitness, meant he was always likely to be slower.

Of course, Gaby was only an honorary girl, not a biological one—as far as she knew—although looking at her body, none of which was padded, except the seat of her shorts, she certainly looked as if something wasn’t right with her hormones if she was a boy. All this aside, she was intent on making Harry eat his words about the equality of the sexes and male dominance.

Once past the motorway and the traffic lights around its junction, they negotiated their way along the A48 through Langstone heading east towards Chepstow. They were doing a steady fifteen to twenty miles an hour, the afternoon sun cooling slightly.

They’d left their bags at the little shop where the shop keeper remembered them and agreed to hold them for an hour or so, it was going to be a tough ride, but had removed all their valuables and taken drinks with them as well.

The traffic was a pain, but that’s road riding in the UK; you have to cope with it. Thankfully, there were no abusive drivers around and most gave them a reasonably wide berth. They took it turn about to lead, the lead rider always has a harder ride because of wind resistance and they were practicing their signals to each other, it could help with the Bryanston race.

Then they turned left off the main road and it got tough quickly, a series of sharp climbs which became more and more joined together. Harry began to lag a bit now, Gaby, her legs burning a bit with the effort, tried not to slow her cadence and using the gears, she continued climbing at a sustained speed.

A mile of climbing and Harry was two or even three hundred yards behind. She was puffing like a train, it was hard work especially on a hot day, but she kept going. Harry was struggling.

Two miles and nearing the top of the climb, she relaxed to take a pull on her water bottle, she was wringing wet with the effort, Harry was nowhere to be seen. A pang of guilt went through her—what if he’d had a problem or given up? She stopped and waited, drinking slowly from her bottle and chewing on a rather manky energy bar she’d had in her jersey pocket for the last four hours.

She was washing down the last of the bar when Harry hove into view, he was as red as a tomato and struggling. She waited until he got up to her. He nearly fell of his bike he was so tired. He gulped down his water in between gasping for breath.

“Shit, that was hard work,” he puffed.

“Not male dominance then, I thought you were going to show me how superior boys were.” If he blushed it didn’t show, he was so red-faced anyway. He said nothing simply shrugging his shoulders. “Oh well, you can show me on the next hill, ready?”

She clipped in and coasted down the far side of the hill, with him in hot—very hot—pursuit. The road was quite tortuous which kept their speed down, but even so they were doing over thirty, which can be a problem if you need to stop quickly. Harry nearly lost it on some gravel which had collected from car usage, and his back wheel slipped. He managed to hold his balance and his position about fifty yards behind his love—his rather, tetchy, cool love.

He was very pleased to get off the hill, it had been hairy and even Gaby had come close to coming off when a car challenged her for position on a bend. She held her nerve and the car backed down, braking then rushing past her on a straighter part, beeping as it went. He probably didn’t see the middle finger she waved at it.

After six or seven miles of undulating and winding country lanes, they came into Caerleon, an ancient walled town and followed the one way system around it and over the equally ancient and narrow bridge. After that, they turned left again and she began to accelerate. Harry had recovered a little but knew there was a hill coming soon. He let her go.

Lungs and legs burning and straining Gaby attacked the hill, unaware of where Harry was, he wouldn’t pass her anyway, and this was about survival. The hill was a pig and climbed steeply and bore round to the left—“Whose idea was this,” she muttered to herself as she dug in and dropped to her bottom gear. Nothing except walking gear left, which was what Harry was using. His legs had gone and before he fell off, he got off and pushed his bike.

Gaby got to the top and was sick, bringing up various sandwiches and drinks. She’d eaten a little too much. Fortunately, she’d got off her bike and was hurling over a hedge. She drank and cleaned herself up before Harry staggered into view.

“Geez, Gabs, I surrender. Girls are equal, sometimes better.”

“Yeah, remember they did it three times and were racing.”

Harry propped up his bike and sat down on the verge. “Geez, I’m knackered,” he said.