Chapter Eight
Four hours later Nick was on the road, cycling out of the city. The sun had just risen, and the streets were empty. The weather forecast had suggested perfect cycling conditions and as Nick had woken up from a fitful sleep, she decided not to waste any time and had headed off. It felt liberating, just her and her bike tearing up the tarmac. Mile after mile her body eased back into the old familiar exercise. As her limbs stretched out Nick began to stop thinking about her business and global economies, instead she simply watched the traffic and the countryside. A few hours later she stopped to discover that she had pretty much zoned everything out and had got into the fugue state she loved on long-distance rides. It was only when she saw the signpost for Cambridge that she realised how far she had come.
It was lunch time and she had already travelled eighty miles. She could either turn round now and head back to the empty flat, with the hired furnishing and the silence, or she could ride on to Norfolk and Ari. Smiling ruefully she realised that whatever else happened she was going to have to find somewhere else to live; the apartment didn’t feel like home, it hadn’t when she had moved in and she hadn’t managed to do anything to make it feel welcoming. It was just an impressive shell which she rattled around inside.
Swinging her leg up over her bike she headed towards Hiverton. The roads were wonderfully flat, and Nick knew she was making great time, but she was a little concerned that her saddle was becoming sore, and she was worried about developing a blister. She checked her phone and saw she had another thirty miles to go so decided to see if she could have a lift. Wanting to surprise Ari, she rang Seb and explained where she was.
‘You loon. You’ve honestly cycled all that way?’
‘It’s only just over a hundred miles. And I did set off at five this morning.’
‘Only a hundred miles, she says. You’re a machine! Stay where you are. I’ll be with you shortly. Ari is going to be so excited.’
Hanging up, Nick smiled to herself. ‘Loon’ – that’s what families were for. Who else got to call Nick Byrne a loon?
She rode another two miles to the pub that they had agreed to meet at and ordered an orange juice and lemonade. She had to admit her legs were quite wobbly, adrenaline only got you so far. She’d have to catch the train home.
Families were enjoying the midday sunshine and children were running around the beer garden as their parents warned them to stay away from the river’s bank. Others were paddling in the gentle flow of water, giggling and splashing each other. Nick stretched her limbs and sat gently on the bench. She closed her eyes and let the warmth of the sunshine dapple across her eyelids as the happy sounds drifted around her.