Chapter 13
Well, we made a plan. Which was why I found myself outside McLean’s Machines a fortnight later, a document wallet under my arm and bitterness in my heart.
‘You ready?’ I asked when Stewart answered my knock.
‘I was born ready.’
‘Remind me again why you have to come with me.’
He shrugged. ‘The others thought it might help if the council saw we had someone from the sporting world on board. And because you love me, obviously.’
I groaned. ‘Please stop, I’ve just eaten.’
‘Oh, come on, Lana, lighten up a bit,’ he said, grinning. ‘Only trying to make you smile. I know you can, I’ve seen you do it when you think I’m not looking.’
‘Let’s just get it over with. I might smile then.’
He leaned round to examine my face. ‘Why so nervous, love?’ he asked, dropping the teasing tone.
‘I’ve got a lot invested in this, that’s all.’
‘I know you have.’ He gave my shoulders a squeeze. I winced at the touch, and he hastily pulled his arm away. ‘Try to relax. It won’t help if you’re on edge.’
‘If there’s funding up for grabs we need to make a good impression.’ I gestured to him. ‘Hence you. So behave, all right?’
‘Don’t I always?’
‘No.’ I unlocked the car and nodded to the passenger side. ‘In you get.’
***
All I knew about the man we were meeting was his name, Andy Chen, and that he was something called a communities liaison officer. I’d been expecting someone middle-aged, but the lad who took a seat opposite us in the town hall caf only looked early thirties. He was good-looking too, in a geeky, tousle-haired sort of way.
‘Thanks for seeing us,’ I said.
‘Well, that’s my job,’ Andy said with a friendly smile. ‘So I understand you’re looking at getting the Egglethwaite Viaduct opened up?’
‘That’s the idea.’
‘You’re Phil Donati’s daughter, aren’t you? We were very sorry to hear about his passing on the council.’
I blinked in surprise. ‘That’s right. Did you know him?’
‘My predecessor did, very well. Phil did a lot for Egglethwaite. He’ll be missed.’
‘He will,’ I said, flushing. ‘Oh.’ I nodded to Stewart. ‘This is Mr McLean. He’s new to the village.’
‘But he’s very keen to help,’ Stewart said, holding out his hand. ‘Stewart.’
Andy shook the hand heartily. ‘No introductions needed. I know who you are.’
‘You follow cycling?’
‘Of course.’
Stewart smiled. ‘Pleased to hear it.’
Ugh. Cycling fanboy. I knew there’d be something wrong with him. Well, at least Stewart’s ego was having a nice day out.
‘So what’s next from you?’ Andy asked, his eyes shining. ‘Are you in training for the Tour?’
I saw Stewart wince. ‘No. No, I’m not competing now.’
‘You’re kidding! Why not? I would’ve put money on you being the next Bradley Wiggins this time last year.’
‘Knee injury,’ Stewart said, staring down at the table.
‘Oh. Actually, yes, I remember reading about it,’ Andy said. ‘How long until you’re back in the saddle then? Bet you can’t wait to be on the road again.’
‘It’s… not the sort of injury you ever fully recover from. There’s permanent cartilage damage that means I can’t cycle for extended periods without pain.’ Stewart nodded at my paperwork on the table between us. ‘So shall we talk about the viaduct?’
Andy looked surprised at the abrupt change of subject.
‘If you like. Sorry, hope I didn’t cause offence.’
‘Not at all,’ Stewart said, summoning a smile. ‘Tough subject, that’s all.’
‘So is there any possibility of getting the viaduct opened up?’ I asked, as much to rescue Stewart as anything. Even through the burning resentment I still harboured, I felt a twinge of sympathy. It must be tough, giving up something you loved that much.
‘My dad started looking into it a few years ago,’ I continued. ‘Seems like there’s nothing wrong with the structure.’
‘Yes, I did some research,’ Andy said. ‘We have had interest in opening it up before, it seems: not just from Phil. There was a charity who made enquiries, but when they found out the problem they dropped the idea.’
‘I thought there weren’t any structural problems,’ Stewart said.
‘The problem isn’t structural, it’s organic. Bats.’
‘Right. Bats.’ I frowned. ‘Sorry – bats?’
‘That’s right. Barbastelle, the breed’s called: very rare. A colony were found roosting in one of the crevices. As soon as the charity found out they’d have wildlife protection groups up in arms, they decided it wasn’t worth the effort.’
‘Are you saying we can’t do this?’
‘No, it could be achievable,’ he said cautiously. ‘The bats could be relocated. But it’d need careful timing to fit round their hibernation cycle.’
‘Could we do it in a year? Plus all the work?’
His eyes widened. ‘In a year? Sorry, Lana, that’d be practically impossible.’
‘Practically impossible means possible though, doesn’t it?’ Stewart said. ‘Isn’t there a hope?’
‘But why the big hurry?’
‘We were thinking if the viaduct was accessible to cyclists, the Grand Départ might consider running through Egglethwaite,’ Stewart said. ‘It’d certainly be a feature few other places could offer. Great TV, and great for our area’s profile.’
Andy was silent a moment.
‘I have to admire your determination,’ he said at last.
‘So are we wasting our time here, Andy?’
‘The thing is it’s the money, too. If Egglethwaite was part of the national park it’d perhaps be a different story, but out here in no-man’s land things’re tight.’
‘My dad costed it at 50 grand,’ I said. ‘Surely it’s worth it?’
‘When we’ve just halved our budget for community youth clubs thanks to government cuts? How would we explain to parents and kids that we’ll be spending 50 grand on one little village’s viaduct?’
‘That’s not how funding pots work, is it?’
‘No. But it’s how the public think they work. There’d be a lot of angry people once it got out.’
I looked at Stewart. ‘Then it’s hopeless.’
‘Look, Andy. Couldn’t you help us out?’ Stewart said with one of his most winning smiles. ‘This meant a lot to Lana’s dad. We really want to try for it, in his memory.’
‘It wouldn’t have to be entirely council-funded,’ I said. ‘We could fundraise.’
Andy hesitated. ‘I’ll put it to the council for you, give it my best sell,’ he said at last. ‘But don’t get your hopes up, guys.’
I flung him a grateful smile. ‘Thanks, Andy. You’ve been brilliant.’
***
‘That seemed to go well,’ Stewart said as we drove home.
‘As well as it could. Let’s just hope he can help.’
‘Keen, wasn’t he?’
‘Yeah, he was nice.’
I could see Stewart shooting me an appraising look in the rearview mirror. ‘You liked him. Didn’t you?’
‘None of your business.’
‘Come on, Lana, don’t prickle. I behaved, didn’t I?’
I softened a little, remembering how helpful he’d been in the meeting and the pang of sympathy I’d felt when he’d talked about giving up cycling.
‘Yes. You behaved.’
‘So, did you?’
‘He was all right,’ I said at last.
‘Why don’t you ask him out?’
‘All right, Stewart, that’s enough. There’s a line.’
‘Sorry. Thought we were doing the friend bonding thing.’
‘Well we weren’t.’
‘Ok. Line well and truly noted.’
In the mirror, I met his grey eyes briefly.
‘Look, thanks for today,’ I said eventually. ‘And thanks… for what you said about my dad. I didn’t mean to snap.’
And so in the silence of a shaky alliance, we made our way back home.