A Bicycle Built for Sue Read online

  A BICYCLE BUILT FOR SUE

  Daisy Tate

  Copyright

  HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

  This e-book edition 2020

  Copyright © Daisy Tate 2020

  Cover design by Caroline Young © HarperCollinsPublishers

  Cover illustration © Lucy Davey / The Artworks

  Daisy Tate asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780008322755

  Ebook Edition © June 2020 ISBN: 9780008322762

  Version: 2020-06-08

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to all of the Mind,

  Samaritan and 111 call handlers. You save lives.

  Thank you for being there.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Author’s note

  Acknowledgements

  Keep Reading …

  About the Author

  Also by Daisy Tate

  About the Publisher

  Incident No – 38928901

  Time of Call: 11:43

  Call Handler: SUE YOUNG

  Call Handler: You’re through to the NHS 111 service, my name’s Sue and I’m a health advisor. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?

  Caller: Yeah, hi. Ouch. Ooo. Buggerbuggerbugger! [Groan of pain]

  Call Handler: Sorry, umm … sorry, hello? You’re through to the NHS 111 service. Are you calling for yourself?

  Caller: Yes. [Sharp inhalation]

  Call Handler: I’m Sue. May I have your name please?

  Caller: It’s Carol. [Muted swearing]

  Call Handler: Hello, Carol. How can I help?

  Caller: Not sure.

  Call Handler: Do you believe you need medical care? [No response] Carol? Can you hear me? Carol?

  Caller: I’m here. You alright?

  Call Handler: Oh, phew. I thought the line had gone. I’m well. Thank you for asking. Carol, can you tell me why you’re ringing today? Are you suffering with your breathing at all?

  Caller: No.

  Call Handler: Do you require a doctor?

  Caller: I might.

  Call Handler: Can you explain why you are ringing today?

  Caller: I’ve stubbed my toe.

  Call Handler: Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Have you stubbed it badly?

  Caller: No, but it’s sore.

  Call Handler: I’ll bet it is. Is there anyone there with you Carol?

  Caller: Yes.

  Call Handler: Good. Can they help you if you require any assistance?

  Caller: It’s my cat.

  Call Handler: Okay. Well … Carol, is there anything I can help you with now? [No response] Carol, perhaps it would be a good idea to make an appointment with your GP? Are you registered with someone locally?

  Caller: I just wanted someone to know I was in pain.

  Call Handler: I understand.

  Caller: Do you? Do you really? [Ends call]

  Call Handler: Carol? Oh. She’s hung up. Are we meant to ring them back if they hang up? What? A stubbed toe. Okay. I’ll leave it there then. What’s that? I’ve not ended the call? I thought I’d pressed the—Ah. This one? You’d think I’d’ve got the hang of it by now, thank you. Raven was it? Raven. Good. I’m Sue. Sorry? Yes. Of course. I’ll just push—

  Incident No – 5938272

  Time of Call: 17:23

  Call Handler: SUNITA ‘RAVEN’ CHAKRABARTI

  Call Handler: You’re through to the NHS 111 service, my name’s Raven and I’m a health advisor. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?

  Caller: Yes, hello. Umm … sorry … I’m calling about myself. I’ve just had my tea …

  Call Handler: Okay. Are you alright?

  Caller: [No response]

  Call Handler: Can you tell me your name please?

  Caller: It’s Reg.

  Call Handler: Alright, Reg. What can I help you with? [No response] Reg, do you require a doctor?

  Caller: I was hoping I might have a slice of cake.

  Call Handler: Sorry?

  Caller: Yeah, well … I’ve had my tea. Is it alright?

  Call Handler: Is what alright?

  Caller: I was wanting to have a slice of cake.

  Call Handler: I’m sorry, Reg. I’m not understanding what you’re asking. [No response] Reg? Is there a medical situation I can help you with? [No answer] Reg? I’m just going to put you on hold for a moment. [Muffled laughter]

  Caller: [Angry noises] I TOLD YOU! I WANT TO HAVE A SLICE OF CAKE!

  Call Handler: Alright, mate. Okay.

  Caller: I’m not your mate. I’m asking permission to have a slice of cake!

  Call Handler: Are you a diabetic?

  Caller: No.

  Call Handler: Is there any reason you shouldn’t have the cake?

  Caller: I ate my vegetables.

  Call Handler: Well done. What type of cake is it?

  Caller: Chocolate. With sprinkles on it.

  Call Handler: I’d say go for it, then.

  Caller: [Silence]


  Call Handler: Reg? Reg are you there?

  Caller: [Sound of china and cutlery]

  Call Handler: Buh-bye, then. Welcome to 111, may I take your order please? Would you like me to super size that, sir? Oh, shit. I thought I’d – Cheers. Normally I press the mute button before I –

  Incident No – 5278374

  Time of Call: 19:11

  Call Handler: FLORENCE WILSON

  Call Handler: You’re through to the NHS 111 service, my name’s Flo and I’m a health advisor. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?

  Caller: Yes, sorry. This isn’t technically an emergency, but I think I might need an ambulance.

  Call Handler: Those are usually 999 calls, love, but let’s see if I can help. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?

  Caller: It’s for my husband.

  Call Handler: Is he breathing?

  Caller: No.

  Call Handler: Is he conscious?

  Caller: No. As I said, it’s not urgent. But it’s quite … umm … I am pretty certain I will need an ambulance.

  Call Handler: I’m going to transfer you to one of our on-site clinicians who will talk you through giving CPR. What’s your name, love?

  Caller: Sue. Sue Young.

  Call Handler: Sue? Blonde hair, lovely jumper with the spangledy heart on it? It’s me, Flo.

  Caller: Sorry, I—

  Call Handler: It’s Flo Wilson, sweetheart. I took over your desk at shift change.

  Caller: Oh, sorry. Yes hello. The turnover there is so fast, I—Did I leave everything alright? The headset was acting up a bit earlier—

  Call Handler: Sue, love. It sounds like you should’ve dialled 999. I think you might be suffering from a bit of shock. Was it a familiar voice you were after, Sue? [No response] Sue? Sue, do you know how to give CPR?

  Caller: Yes.

  Call Handler: Are you giving compressions now?

  Caller: I – no – I [Rapid breathing]

  Call Handler: Sue, darlin’. Stay calm. We need to focus on resuscitation. If you can, start giving him compressions. Do you remember the video we saw? [Sings] Staying alive … staying alive … I’m waving like a mad woman at the clinician. He’s just wrapping up another call and can see I need him urgently. [Strange noise from caller] Oh, struth. It sounds like you’re having a bit of a panic, there, love. Take a deep breath. We’ll do one together. That’s right. Keep taking those slow deep breaths while we wait for him to jog over. Why not think of that lovely coffee cake you brought in earlier? So beautiful, all of those delicate little flowers you made. I’m all store bought, me. Not a talented cooking bone in my body. That’s right. Deep breaths. Here we go, duck. He’s heading this way now. While he gets his headset on, why don’t you tell me what’s going on so we can get you some proper help right away?

  Caller: It’s Gaz. My Gary, he –

  Call Handler: Are you giving him compressions, Sue?

  Caller: No.

  Call Handler: Is there someone there who can?

  Caller: No. It’s just the two of us. Always has been.

  Call Handler: Is there any reason why you’re not giving him compressions, darlin’?

  Caller: Well … He’s dead.

  Chapter One

  ‘Let’s wrap these up, shall we? You might want them for your tea.’

  Sue’s mother nodded in that perfunctory, no-nonsense manner she had perfected through the years. A quick nod, a press of the lips and a follow-up nod that settled the matter.

  For the first time in her life, Sue wanted to slap the look right off of her mother’s face. A bit of a shocker considering she generally preferred it when decision making was taken out of her hands, as it had been for most of her life. Not those curtains, Sue, they’ll show the dust. A call centre? Oh Suey, you wouldn’t want to work there, what would people think? Marry that Young lad? Honestly. You’d best be shot of him. He’ll bring nothing but sorrow, Suey. Nothing but pain.

  For the past three weeks her mother had been hard at it. Making decisions for her. Apparently that’s what happened when planning your husband’s funeral suddenly seemed too much and you moved back into your parents’ and had always been the lesser of two children, her older brother Dean having taken the role of favoured child quite some time ago.

  You’ll sleep in Dean’s old room, but try not to change things about will you? I’ve turned yours into my sewing room because of the light. If the little ones are needing it for a sleepover, we might shift you to the pull out in the lounge.

  You won’t want to watch that programme, duck, it’ll depress you.

  You’ll not want too fancy a coffin seeing as it’ll be burnt straight away.

  Yes, sometimes her mother’s bossiness was useful. Today it filled her with rage. She’d just been widowed. She didn’t want limp, pub wake sandwiches to take home for a midnight snack. She wanted her husband back.

  Just as quickly as the instinct to lash out flared, it sputtered and disappeared. Who was she to make grand pronouncements on how someone should and shouldn’t behave? Her mother’s fussing always escalated when she was uncomfortable and having a son-in-law who’d ended his life was certainly pushing a lot of buttons. Sue, like her father, became more still, as if the prospect of having to select one solitary choice out of the thousands of options available rendered her inert. Like choosing what clothing Gary would like to wear in perpetuity. She’d let her mother pick in the end.

  ‘I’ll put the white bread ones aside for you, shall I?’ Bev was already plucking out the white triangles from amongst the brown triangles. ‘Your father doesn’t have the stomach for it. Dean never was one for sandwiches and Katie won’t let the children touch white of course, so …’

  ‘Oh, I—’ Sue stared at the triangles of leftover sandwiches her mother was already piling onto the fullest aluminium tray.

  There were so many of them. Barely touched, really.

  Sue looked at her mother.

  Bev.

  Neat, shock-white hair, tidy lipstick, bright blue eyes, not at all red-rimmed as hers were. She looked well in fact. Her skin was still tanned from the trip to Florida where she’d taken to her role as ‘nanny granny’ with Dean, Katie and the children like a milkmaid to a butter churn. Hardly a surprise. In fact, many folk were surprised to hear Dean had a sister at all. Once Sue had married Gary, Bev had lost hope that her daughter might, one day, blossom into something wonderful and promising, ultimately giving into the poorly disguised fact that Dean was and always would be her favourite, along with his ‘catch of a wife’ and their two children.

  Today, Bev wore a simple black dress from Wallis that she’d bought when Sue’s Uncle Jake had passed about ten years back. It still fit. Mostly. In fact, very little had changed about Bev through the years, save the colour of her hair. Suffice it to say, she’d not taken the journey from chestnut to white gracefully.

  Sue’s eyes skidded off of her mother’s impatient expression and landed on her Uncle Steve. He was whistling in admiration at something on her brother’s phone who, when he noticed Sue looking, shot her a guilty look and pocketed the phone. Gary would’ve laughed and shouted across the room, What’s the score then, Dean-O?

  Gary would’ve handled a lot of things better about today if it hadn’t been his funeral.

  Sue tugged at a hangnail she hadn’t remembered having. ‘Perhaps we should leave the sandwiches out a bit longer. In case anyone who missed the service shows up.’

  ‘Sue, love.’ Her mother’s expression left little to the imagination. There’d be no one else showing up. ‘The agricultural show committee have the room booked from three-thirty and after that it’s Silver Surfers Book Club, so …’ Her mother was a member of the Silver Surfers and hadn’t enjoyed the latest book. Something depressing about a girl in a religious cult in America, she’d said in the car on the way here. One of those ‘worthy’ reads Carly Beacon always insisted everyone read when it was her turn to choose. Between that and her ‘endless quiches�
�� despite the decision to fine tune the meal to the book’s overriding theme or location, Carly Beacon was frequently the recipient of the sharper end of Bev’s tongue. Bev nodded at a smaller pyramid of sandwiches she’d briskly constructed. ‘These will make a nice meal later on. Filler anyway. Two meals even now that … well …’

  Now that Gary was gone.

  No one had quite managed to say it yet. Then again. He’d only died three weeks ago. It had passed in the blink of an eye. What with the shock and the paperwork and the scrambling to book the Royal Oak’s function room at such late notice, no one had had much time to wrap their heads round the fact Gary was dead, let alone absorb the surprise that he knew how to tie a noose.

  If his father had been alive, Sue supposed he might’ve helped with the arrangements. Managed to find a way to contact Gary’s step-mum, who was off working on the cruise ships now, completely unaware he was gone. Perhaps if his father had been alive, this might not have happened at all.

  Why were there so many leftover sandwiches?

  She would’ve expected it at her own funeral. A small crowd. Fickle appetites. No shows. Oh, she had friends and such, this wasn’t a pity fest. There would’ve been some people. But she’d never had a large crowd she went around with. Not ones who’d fall apart at the seams if she died, anyway. When it came down to it, she and Gary had been a perfectly self-contained unit and that had always been enough. Perhaps they’d been a bit too self-contained. Outside of Gary’s football mates, they’d never really needed a ‘squad’ like Dean and Katie had. Ones they invited round for spontaneous barbecues and such. And anyway, Sue’d always thought they’d die at the same time. Of old age. Hand in hand. Not a care in the world about how many people did or didn’t show up at the crematorium and then, after, at the function room down the pub.

  Sue scanned the faux ‘olde worlde’ oak-beamed room. It was the same place they’d had Gary’s fortieth. There’d been silly balloons and jolly handmade posters and shouting. All sorts of shouting. Jokes mostly, about the plumbing trade and Zimmer frames. They’d had hot food then. Mini fish and chips rolled up in newspaper cones and chicken wings with a guacamole type dip that had had a bit of a zip to it. There’d been quite a turn out for the birthday. More than had turned up today after the service, anyway. Cake and ice cream, she supposed, were a far better lure than hushed, awkward conversations over triangles of egg and cress.