Page 89 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
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Stephen’s journey home took much longer than Laura’s. Although he too had anger to fire his pace, he was considerably further from home than she was, and his bike might as well be left to rust in the hedgerow for all the use it was now. Walking was not the simple option it first appeared to be either, given that the only footwear he had with him were his cycling shoes complete with cleats.
When she had first stomped off, Stephen had watched Laura’s retreating back with a mixture of desire, shock, amusement and burning anger. He was reeling himself with the force at which he had been thrown from his bike, but whichever way he looked at it, he didn’t think his responses to her had warranted the bitter words she had flung at him. His shoulder was aching badly, but as he watched her stalk away, getting smaller and smaller, he felt an odd emotion he hadn’t experienced for quite some time: compassion. He would have run after her were it not for his shoes, and even though he knew he would probably be attacked for his audacity; he had an overwhelming desire to explain, to soothe, to heal whatever had caused her to behave the way she had, and that wasn’t like him at all.
He pulled his mobile from his pocket and peered at it closely; thankfully it seemed no worse for having had his bodily weight thrown upon it. He dialled his brother’s number and waited for Sam to pick up. It rang for a while before it was answered.
‘Hi Stephen.’ Freya sounded breathless. ‘Were you after Sam, only he’s a bit busy right now?’
Freya sounded like she was standing in the middle of football stadium. ‘What on earth is all that noise?’ asked Stephen.
He could hear Freya smile. ‘Thirty-two school children, all getting high on apple juice,’ she replied.
‘What?’ Stephen shouted.
‘Miss Kennedy’s class from the primary school,’ she explained. ‘Year six have been tending the school garden this term, so they get to come and press the apples from their tree. You would never believe how exciting it is…I’d forgotten what it’s like to be ten!’
Stephen groaned inwardly. He’d been banking on Sam effecting a swift rescue mission, but it sounded like they were up to their ears. He quickly explained his predicament.
‘Stephen, that’s awful! Did you see the car?’
‘Not clearly. A dark blue four-by-four I think, which could fit the description of any number of cars around here. I was too busy trying not to get killed to take any more notice than that. And the driver was lucky he didn’t end up wrapped around a tree, to be honest.’
‘But it sounds as if you might have been. Are you sure you’re okay?’
Stephen grimaced. ‘I’ll live,’ he replied, circling his shoulder experimentally. ‘Bit sore in places but nothing serious. Sadly, the same can’t be said for my bike. I think the best course of action might be to put it out of its misery rather than let it suffer.’
Freya laughed. ‘Well, at least you can still smile about it. Look if you can give me twenty minutes, I’ll be there. Where exactly are you?’
* * *
Sitting on the verge to wait for Freya had been a serious mistake. Stephen was now so stiff he wasn’t sure he could actually get up, and his shoulder throbbed painfully. He gave his bike a dirty look. This cycling lark was supposed to be a way of getting fit, not ending up feeling like he was a hundred and two. Perhaps some rigorous walking might suit him better, or even, if his knees could stand the strain, some gentle jogging. God forbid he should have to resort to sucking in his stomach in some fancy gym.
Stephen was still pondering the state of his girth, when Freya drew up. He levered himself off the ground through gritted teeth and hobbled over to join her.
‘Do you want to chuck the bike in the back?’ she called.
Stephen looked back. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Can’t we just leave it there?’
Freya stepped down from the pickup. ‘No, we can’t,’ she said. ‘Go on, jump in, I’ll sort it out. You might feel differently in the morning.’ She gave him a big smile, but not before Stephen had seen her trying to stifle a giggle at the sight of him in Lycra. She didn’t know quite where to look.
‘So what exactly happened?’ she asked, once the bike was stowed and they were on their way.
Stephen recounted the afternoon’s events. ‘I couldn’t help it, Freya. She was standing right at the edge of the road, but I didn’t spot her until I nearly mowed her down, she was almost completely hidden by the canopy of trees. What’s worse is that I dread to think what might have happened if I hadn’t shoved her out of the way. The car was travelling so fast, and fishtailing around the road, he could easily have taken her out, no problem at all.’
‘And she was deaf, you said?’
Stephen nodded. ‘Hmm, and beautiful.’ He sighed. ‘Possibly the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, but as first meetings go, it wasn’t what you’d call auspicious. She let me know in no uncertain terms what she thought of me.’
‘I bet she did,’ said Freya, prodding hard at Stephen’s arm with her free hand.
‘Ow!’ he protested. ‘What was that for?’
‘Just checking,’ she replied. ‘It would appear that you do have a soft spot after all.’
Stephen glared at her. ‘Very funny,’ he huffed. ‘She could have been seriously hurt.’
Freya was instantly contrite. ‘I know. I’m sorry, Stephen. I shouldn’t take the mickey. You should probably go to the police you know.’
