Page 45 of Head Over Wheels

‘I’m not going to talk at you too long because some of you know this route verrrry well.’ Alan gave me a wink. ‘Today’s rain is going to make the course entirely unpredictable tomorrow, so we’re making a two-pronged attack. Two leaders, two primary domestiques, three floating support riders. We make a break with three guys early on – chanceit and see what happens. The second leader and whoever’s left stays in the peloton and makes a break at Pont-Thibault, just before the pavé. We want to be ready before the Carrefour de l’Arbre.’

Even hearing those place names made me shudder. How many times had I come off on that single stretch of cobbled road? The surface was torture on a road bike. Not waterboarding or the rack or the iron chair, butbone-shaking. I’d finished the race with bleeding hands more than once. Only the French could beproudof the terrible state of their roads. Our Belgian cobbles were more civilised.

Lori was speeding in that direction right now.

‘… and Frankie!’ Alan said with a flourish, making me sit up straight so quickly I nearly came out of my chair.

‘What?’

‘He’ll miss me, DS,’ Colin drawled. ‘He’s used to cleaning up after me in his apron with a broom.’

The DS eyeballed me with a twinkle I hadn’t seen before. ‘It’s your chance, Frankie. Show us what you’re made of.’

‘Eh—’ I was pretty sure my brain was made of biscuits and goat’s cheese as my thoughts struggled to catch up.

‘You lead tomorrow and next year it could be a few stages of the Tour.’

Next year?!

I must have looked as stunned as I felt, because the room erupted into laughter.

‘Pull yourself together, boy,’ Alan said, his grizzled hands on his hips. ‘We’re taking a chance on you. You go out earlytomorrow. If you only break up the peloton and then run out of steam, then fine, but you need to be ready for anything – you need to be ready to win.’

Thatmightbe a problem, but I wasn’t going to put my hand up and say so.

Stumbling out of the room, shell-shocked, I nearly fell when Colin thumped me on the back and said, ‘Weren’t expecting that, were you?’

I didn’t answer him. ‘What’s happening with Lori?’ I asked, not even bothering to conceal my interest.

‘Nothing from Dad. Let’s keep watching upstairs.’

It was an odd sort of daytime sleepover, sitting on our beds with Colin’s laptop on the desk, showing the women’s race. I perched at the foot of the bed cross-legged, dragging my hands through my hair as we waited for the first glimpse of her.

‘Why do you care so much?’ Colin asked, his tone deceptively light. ‘You barely know my sister.’

The camera panned along the peloton and I strained my eyes to find her, looking for that pink helmet over the orange jersey. ‘I’ve known her longer than you realise. We trained together on Zpeed when she was injured.’

Colin turned to me and laughed, full and deep. ‘You’re shitting me.You’rethe guy who watchedMiss Congenialitywith her? Makes sense.’

‘She told you about that?’ I asked.

‘No, but the walls are thin and I was home. Does Dad know?’

I shook my head, still scanning the footage. ‘There she is! Phew! On the edge, getting ready for the pavé right? What’s the plan, do you know? Break on the cobbles? She might be better at a bottleneck.’

The side-eye Colin gave me then was subtly different from the sort I’d got used to since training camp. ‘You’re her coach now?’

‘No, I—’

‘There she goes!’ Colin called out suddenly.

I hopped up on my knees, peering at the screen like a meerkat. She’d made a break, head down, arse up, her plait over her shoulder – and a glint of gold swinging against her chest. My throat closed and my heart clobbered my ribs.

The necklace. She was wearing my necklace. No, she’d lose, but… holy hell, she liked it. Maybe she likedme. I couldn’t cope.

She attacked with the grace and ferocity of Joan of Arc as the commentators got excited too and I couldn’t have torn my eyes off the screen for anything. Mud spattered her face, but she swiped a hand over her mouth and kept pushing.

There were other riders up ahead, but they had to be growing fatigued. Light rain started up and the cameras caught her again, droplets cutting through the dirt on her cheeks to drip onto her wet jersey, plastered to her chest.

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