Page 25 of The Second Chance Supper Club

The following day, Cath was sat with a cup of coffee watching the rain drizzle down the window panes, wondering what to do next.

A wet (no doubt muddy) walk or tackle the ironing pile?

When had her life become so bloody boring?

She had two hours to fill before an online session on differentiation with an A Level student, and even that wasn’t filling her with much enthusiasm today.

Ping. A notification. She picked up her phone, happy for the diversion.

WhatsApp Group Supper Club popped up. Just seeing that made her smile.

Nikki had evidently created the new group, and oh, look, using an image of them all sat in the summerhouse shed from Cath’s first gathering as the profile picture.

A further ping . Nikki again: Have by some miracle got my Kev lined up to take them all overnight to his mum’s. Woo hoo! Any takers?! X

As Cath was typing up her answer, another ping. Nikki: Now don’t get too excited about the cooking side of things, but will try my best.

Cath responded straight away; a grin plastered over her face: I’m in! Either date is fine. x

Brilliant. It may not be gourmet but I promise we’ll have some fun.

Aw, this little foodie friendship group was firmly establishing itself, with the others seemingly wanting it to continue as much as she did.

Within a couple of hours, Will had answered with a ‘That sounds lovely, thanks.’ And Dan had come back on behalf of himself and Andreas with a big ‘YES! for the 20th...’ And a thumbs-up, followed by several food and drink emojis and a smiley face.

Cath felt delighted that she, with a little help from Andreas and Dan of course, had started this off.

The date was set: Thursday 20th June, 7 p.m. at Nikki’s house, No 10 Tilldale’s Main Street.

Life was looking up again, despite the rains. There wasn’t too long to wait either, as Supper Club Part 3 was all set for less than two weeks’ time.

Another message then pinged, directly to her, from Will.

Oh … It must be something to do with the supper event, she mused. Yet still, as she opened it, her pulse was beating a little faster.

Hi, Cath. Hope you’re fine? Do you fancy that bike ride? Weather looks better for Wednesday. Nothing too strenuous, I promise.

That was only two days’ time. Her pulse rate went up a further notch.

Did she fancy that bike ride? Did she, in fact, fancy the cyclist? Should she go? Would that give him the wrong impression? Was it just a friendly gesture? You couldn’t count a bike ride as some kind of date, surely? Could you … ?

Cath’s confident persona kicked in. Look, you’ve been sat here lonely and bored …

it might be just as friends, it might be more, but it’s just a bloody bike ride.

It’ll get you out of the house, and it might even be fun.

Go for it! Hah, weirdly she could now hear the voice of her big sister encouraging her.

And, go for it she did: Okay, yes, thanks. (No kiss, that was a step too far!)

Great! I’ll fetch you a bike over from the shop. We can set off from the village. 11 a.m. sound okay?

Perfect.

What had she done?

What on earth had she let herself in for?

The last time she’d got on a bike she was a teenager, cycling through the Derbyshire Dales with her friend, Tracey.

Even then, in their prime, they’d had to get off and walk up the hills.

The best bit was stopping for sweets and milkshakes, she remembered, the sugar hit much needed after all that hard-earned exercise.

And then, the next day, the sore bottom and stiff legs …

her mother joking about her looking like John Wayne just off his horse, and sister Susie in fits of laughter.

A stiff-legged cowboy with a sore bottom was not the impression she was hoping to give new friend Will, at all.

But she’d gone and bloody well said yes, hadn’t she?

(This was all Susie’s fault, her sister’s voice taking over her head and prompting her.) Well, here she was, walking up Tilldale’s Main Street towards his house, No 18, where they were to meet for a countryside cycle ride.

She’d warned him to be gentle with her, but she feared, as a cycling expert, his idea of gentle might be very different from hers.

He met her outside his front door, with a broad smile – hmm, looking rather handsome – and his and hers bicycles at the ready.

She’d cobbled together an outfit of some old gym gear; she didn’t possess any cycling seat-padded leggings, but was now wishing she’d gone ahead and bought some.

She’d decided to see how she got on today, before wasting money on any cycling gear.

But right now, after remembering her youthful experience, she wished she had.

She had a bottle of water, and her sunglasses at the ready, and had already put some sun lotion on.

Will had sorted a helmet for her to borrow from the shop, and a bike. A second-hand road model apparently – was he hoping for a sale, thereafter? She still wasn’t quite sure of his – or her – motivations.

‘Ready to roll?’ He grinned, lifting her bike from its leaning position against the wall, and moving it towards her.

‘Ah, I think so. Where are we going? And more to the point, how far?’ She was feeling a sense of trepidation as she gripped the handles, ready to mount.

‘Just a twenty miler. Ten firstly, and then a stop halfway.’

Twenty miles. That sounded a long way to a beginner. ‘O-kay.’

‘Yeah, thought we might stop for a half pint at The Black Bull in Lowick.’

‘Right-io.’ She’d need a drink by then, for sure.

‘You can pop your water bottle there.’ He pointed to a clip holder on the bar of the bike.

‘O-kay.’ She found fear was freezing her tongue.

‘Great weather for it today. We’re lucky,’ Will continued. ‘Yep.’ Let’s just get on with it.

Will then mounted, and they were off, heading down the village street and towards the shop. Cath made a wobbly start, filing in behind Will. She hoped to goodness the supper club lads weren’t about to witness her looking like a toddler. Hah, perhaps stabilisers might be a good idea at this point.

Once they were out of the village, a huge tractor pulled in behind them and then began to pass.

Cath felt a blast of air and found herself wobbling again.

She stopped, and waited at the roadside.

She didn’t fancy getting too near – or under – those massive tyres.

Her heart was racing. She set off again, and Will had slowed to let her catch up.

‘All right?’

‘Yeah, thought it was better to stop.’

‘No worries. That’s always a wise move on these lanes if there’s anything you’re unsure of. You’re just getting the hang of it again, after all.’ Will sounded patient, which was reassuring.

The road stayed quiet for a while, and she coped with the backdraft from a passing car or two.

The stunning vista began opening out before them: fields filled with bold yellow rapeseed, and grassy meadows dotted with cattle and sheep.

Gradually, other than the slight burn of her thigh muscles, she began to relax into it.

And hey, downhill was fun, exhilarating in fact.

There was birdsong, and sunshine, and Will pedalling away in front of her.

Watching his sleek muscles work, his tight buttocks on the seat ahead, well that was not a bad view at all.

After pausing at some crossroads for a quick swig of water and a check that she was doing fine, they soon turned on to the road for Lowick.

The small village was getting nearer, and the prospect of a cooling glass of lager pushed them on.

They parked up the bikes, and feeling slightly sore on the rear end, but still generally okay, Cath found a wooden picnic bench to rest on in the pub’s garden, whilst Will went in to get the drinks.

Once he’d returned with the best-ever chilled lager, they sat, enjoying the countryside pub and the chance to chat.

Will seemed easy-going and was good to talk to, mentioning his previous job as a fireman and telling her about the time they had to rescue a horse stuck in deep mud up on the fells.

They got the poor thing out in the end, with several ropes and pulleys.

Amazingly, after being checked over by the local vet, and having a good wash-down, it was declared fine.

It was so lovely chatting away like this, having company … his company.

That then opened up the conversation enough for her to speak about her role as a teacher. ‘Yeah, I’ve been teaching in secondary schools, all the while. And I was also a deputy head more recently.’

‘Good for you. Must have been quite demanding, especially with that age group. And Maths,’ he pulled a slight grimace, ‘it’s not exactly everyone’s favourite subject, is it?’

‘It has been demanding, yeah, but you know, I’ve really loved it over the years.

And Maths is fine. Mind you, I’ll let you in on a secret here, you absolutely never ever let a sum add up to sixty-nine, or you’ve lost the damn lot of them.

Honestly, it’d descend into chaos, the whole bloody class.

That’s all the lads are thinking about most of the time, anyhow, at that age …

sex. Yep, up and down the country, you will never find a sum or equation in a classroom that equals sixty-nine.

’ She shook her head, whilst still smiling.

‘Life as a teacher, hey, who’d have thought …’ Will raised his eyebrows, looking distinctly sexy.

A sudden vision of having sex with Will, flashed up in her mind. Uh-oh, the whole ‘sixty-nine’ thing. Why mention that?! And … she certainly hadn’t done that for years and years.

Cath found herself feeling hot, flustered and blushing. Of all the stories from her time at school, why did she have to go and tell him that one?

Will gave a small cough, quickly finished his beer, and stood up. ‘Right, time to get going again. Before we stiffen up.’

The words weren’t lost on her but she didn’t dare grin.

‘Yes, absolutely.’ A good get-out clause, at least, despite its double entendre, and thank God for that.

‘Think I’ll just nip to the ladies,’ she added, making her escape.

In the bathroom, she cooled her face down with splashes of cold water; it wasn’t just the fresh air and sunshine that were making her glow.

They set off again, and the trip back started well.

Cath was just getting into her pedalling stride, the miles rolling pleasantly by, the countryside looking gorgeous with the rolling hills in a patchwork of earthy colours, when disaster struck.

She hit a pothole. The country lanes were worse for wear after a hard winter, and Cath hadn’t spotted the ragged hole missing big chunks of tarmac.

Bumph , she was off in a flash, and was flung into the verge.

Landing with a thud and tumble on mud, grass, her head ended up in a scratchy thicket of brambles. Shit .

Will stopped immediately, hopping off his bike to get to her. ‘You okay, Cath? Are you hurt?’

She groaned, already feeling as if she’d been kicked by a horse, but then, slowly moving, tentatively trying out her arms and legs. It seemed nothing was broken, at least.

‘I don’t think so,’ she managed. ‘Well, only my pride.’ She tried to give a smile, but her eyes felt all watery.

‘Bloody potholes. I’ll be reporting that one to the council.

You could have been badly injured. You sure you’re okay?’

Cath was trying to drag herself up to her feet, but felt a little giddy. ‘I think so. Just a bit of a shock.’ She pulled a bramble away from her face, spotting a smear of blood on her hand. Of all the ditches to fall into, she had to find a thorny one.

‘Here, let me help you.’ Will was calm, but compassionate.

She felt a strong arm lifting her torso, supporting her around her back and under her armpit.

‘You took a bit of a fall there.’ ‘Hmm.’ She just nodded, trying to get the wind back in her sails.

He was being so kind, but she felt such a bloody idiot.

Why didn’t she see the damned hole, and avoid it?

Scratched and inelegant, images of her landing in that hedge, tangled in brambles, kept filling her mind on her now wobbly way back.

Her confidence had vanished. She must look a right bloody state – pulled through a hedge backwards was about it.

This was so not the impression she wanted to leave Will with.

Hah, this was even a step up from John Wayne. Mortified.

Will took it steady thereafter, slowing the pace, and looking over his shoulder every now and again to ask if she still felt okay. Back at her cottage, he offered to accompany her inside, and check over her wounds. But all she wanted was some quiet time, on her own, with no fuss.

‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine now.’

‘All right, if you’re sure you’re okay? I’ll walk your bike back up the village then.’

‘Sorry, it’s probably all dented now.’

‘Hey, it’s no problem. The main thing is you’re okay.’

Those gorgeous dark eyes were on hers, and she felt such a clumsy idiot.

‘Yes, I’ll be fine, thank you.’

They both had a feeling she wouldn’t be asking to use the bicycle again. That was the start and end of it.

‘Bye, then.’

‘Bye, thanks …’ her voice drifted weakly.

In the cottage kitchen soon afterwards, with some antiseptic cream to rub into her grazes and a now banging head, she cursed herself.

This was so damn typical of her. It had been a good day really …

up until then. Will seemed a real nice guy.

The friendly chat between them, the relaxed drink at the pub, the stunning countryside.

Why did she have to spoil things, starting off with the ‘sixty-nine’ story – mortifying in retrospect – and then the grand finale of falling off her bike and being such a clumsy oaf?

She sighed, she was being harsh on herself she knew, but embarrassment was biting at her.

Perhaps her thoughts, however brief, of having some kind of special friendship, were pie in the sky. She was running ahead of herself. Those giddy emotions were unsettling, best keep them in check. And the chance of another bike ride together after that, well that was zero.