Page 32 of The Second Chance Supper Club

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.

Nikki: Right guys, the next supper club is at mine! Can either do 20th or 27th June. x

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.