Laurie and the other two assistants stood up from their desks and headed for the door, weaving their way past analysts who would be there for hours to come. She had successfully negotiated a day at work. So far so good. It had been the right idea to go into the office.
Spending the day at work was one thing; taking the Underground was another. Just thinking about it immediately reminded her of feeling helpless while the smiling man fell. Instead, Laurie returned to Euston on the bus and headed straight for the bike racks, determined to use the spanner set she had bought over lunch. Kneeling down beside her bike, she took off the lock and pondered the problem in front of her. Could Dad guide her through what to do on the phone? Perhaps she could YouTube it?
Laurie was just about to pull out her mobile when she became aware of a presence behind her. She looked over her shoulder. A dark figure was silhouetted against the still-blue sky. Her heart quickened with the shock, but before she had time to react any more than that, the man spoke in a Home Counties accent: ‘Can I give you a hand with that?’
Laurie stood up to see that this was another cyclist. Unlike her, however, this man clearly had not bothered with changing after work. Instead, bicycle clips at his ankles spoilt the line of a blue suit worn over a white open-necked shirt. The leanness of his neck suggested he must be fit, but his helmet made it hard to guess his age. Brown eyes looked into hers with friendly concern, holding her attention. Laurie registered elegant eyebrows and cheeks shadowed with a slight stubble before looking across to the bike he was holding: so shiny it might have been brand new, but just a Raleigh, nothing flash.
The cyclist smiled as he waited for Laurie’s reply; perhaps she’d been checking him out for longer than politeness required.
‘Thank you. That would be lovely.’
Propping his own bike against a pillar, the man retrieved a spanner from a little bag hanging behind its saddle and turned Laurie’s bike over so that it rested on its handlebars and saddle. In a matter of seconds, he had realigned the back wheel, checked that it spun freely without catching the brake pads and set the chain back on the cogs of the two gear mechanisms, first on the wheel, then by the pedals. A quick turn of the latter with his hand ensured that the chain was totally engaged, which allowed it to slip into its correct gear settings. Finally he flipped the bike back over and presented it to Laurie with just the slightest hint of a flourish, as of a waiter in a high-end restaurant serving the chef’s signature dish.
‘Oh, but you must have got oil on your hands. I’ve been scrubbing mine all day, and they’re still icky.’
The man held his hands in front of him and turned them over: muscular and elegant; a pianist would have hands like that. And yes, the two fingers that had grasped the chain were both slightly oily.
‘Here, let me.’ Laurie found herself saying. She retrieved a wet wipe from her pannier and, holding his hand, removed the worst of the oil. Tending to this stranger’s fingers, Laurie couldn’t help remembering that last unsatisfactory date, months ago, the attempt at a kiss that had got nowhere before she broke it off. This felt so much more intimate, despite the innocence of her actions.
He was speaking. ‘You’d better just try the bike. Make sure the gears change OK. I can always adjust them a bit more if not.’
Laurie hoped she didn’t look as flustered as she felt. She got on the bike and cycled to the steps and back, checking out the gears as she did so. Everything ran fine. In fact, there was a smoothness to the ride that she was sure had not been there before. When she returned, the man was holding her pannier. He hooked it on her bike in the usual place above the back wheel. Oh God! She’d left all her stuff with him. What had she been thinking? Laurie was itching to get off her bike and check nothing was missing. Only embarrassment at the possibility of appearing rude made her stop.
‘Looks like you’re all set then …’ The man hesitated. ‘I don’t suppose you’d fancy a drink.’
Laurie relaxed slightly. Surely he wouldn’t have made a suggestion like that if he really was about to run off with her purse? Nevertheless, her reply was automatic: ‘I’m sorry. I really am grateful, but I’ve got to get going. I’m already late as it is.’
‘Hot date?’
‘Well, something like that,’ Laurie replied, starting to regret her refusal. ‘It’s just, you know …’ She tailed off, not sure how to continue the conversation. What if she asked for his phone number?
‘OK. Well, safe cycling.’ The man held up his hand, almost as if he was issuing a benediction. Then pulled his bike from the pillar and wheeled it away.
Laurie stared after him, disappointed, although whether with him or herself, she wasn’t quite sure. She briefly considered cycling after him, but she really did have to get home. Quite apart from anything else, she had decided to cook, and that would mean buying some ingredients. A quick check in her pannier revealed that nothing was missing – the man had been as trustworthy as he looked – before she started wheeling her bike towards the road.
Laurie shouldered her way through the front door of the flat. Jess was on the phone in her bedroom, first giggling and then letting out a full-voiced, throaty laugh. Presumably she was talking to one of the Marks.
Going through to the kitchen, Laurie unloaded the shopping and started stripping an onion. Then she got out her mobile and put it on speaker while she chopped.
The phone rang twice at the other end before Dad picked up. She pictured him sitting there, waiting for her call, the crossword resting in his lap.
‘Hello darling. How are you feeling? What did the police say?’
‘Much better, thanks. They just took my address. I got the impression they weren’t interested, really. Anyway, I was glad I went into work. It took my mind off everything.’
As usual, Dad didn’t ask for specifics and Laurie knew better than to offer them.
‘Well done you. Have you thought any more about this weekend?’
Laurie swept the onion into the frying pan, sloshed in some oil, and turned on the heat. ‘Yeah. I promised to babysit Tessa on Friday. So I thought I’d probably get the lunchtime train down on Saturday, if you could pick me up at the station, the one that gets in at twenty to three.’
‘Sounds good. So you’re not going to bring your bike down? How is it, anyway?’
‘Fine, thanks. You were right about the back wheel. A nice man ended up fixing it for me. I’ve just ridden it back. And yes, I will ride in again tomorrow, but the weekend is something else.’
‘OK darling. Be careful, won’t you. And try not to fret about this morning. I’m afraid that sort of thing must happen all the time.’
‘Right. Love you Dad. Bye.’ Laurie put the phone down and concentrated on dicing the carrot she had been peeling.
‘What’s that about a nice man?’ Jess had come through from her bedroom and caught the tail end of the conversation.
‘Just a man at Euston station. He mended my bike for me.’
Jess raised her eyebrows and Laurie was surprised to find herself colouring in response. ‘If you must know, he asked me out for a drink as well, but of course I said no.’
‘Of course,’ Jess said, with a wry twist to her mouth that suggested she might have behaved differently. ‘Laurie, I’m not going to try telling you to get out more, because last time I did you thought I didn’t like you hanging around the flat, and that’s not what I mean at all. But you’ve got to take a few risks, you know. London’s a great place to be young. Just give it a chance.’
Laurie didn’t try protesting. She knew Jess was right. She’d known it even while she watched the man wheeling his bike away.
Jess smiled. ‘It’s all right. Lecture over. Who am I to talk, anyway? Here I am, over forty, no one special in my life, having to exploit young cousins to help pay the mortgage.’ She looked at the pan. ‘What brought this on?’
Laurie wondered what to say: that she’d been rescued from a moment of despair at Euston by the friendliness of a man who had immediately fallen under a train? That she had decided that a bit of cooking was the best way to take her mind off things?
‘I dunno really. Just felt like it. Plenty for you if you want some.’
‘Lovely. Here, have a glass of wine. Save me from being a solitary alcoholic.’