Free Hard Tail by JL Merrow Page A

to worry too hard. Maybe he’d just found someone else to bully into operating a tin opener for him. Maybe he’d even taken up hunting.
    Yeah, right. That was about as likely as me taking up pole dancing in a sparkly thong.
    I decided to ride first, eat later, so I wheeled my bike into the hallway—after all, it was brand new and clean as a whistle; Jay’s carpets had nothing to fear—and went to get changed. Seeing as I was still a bit short of clothes, I slung on a pair of jogging bottoms and a T-shirt I’d already worn once. They hummed a bit and were terminally crumpled from where I’d hung them on the floor last night. I grinned at my reflection in the mirror. Kate would have had conniptions.
    Then I ran downstairs to get out my new toy.
    I kept away from the main roads and the industrial bit, taking Eling Lane down to a sort of causeway across the river with a tiny toll booth, and stopped for a bit to admire the view. To one side was marshland; to the other, a sailing club, with a forest of white masts bobbing gently on the water. Beyond them lay warehouses, and in the distance, the edge of Southampton docks with a stack of brightly coloured containers like a child’s building bricks. People were out walking their dogs, and the occasional fellow cyclist whizzed by. Despite the evidence of busy commerce around me, it felt extraordinarily peaceful.
    I crossed the causeway and headed up Eling Hill, which was pretty steep but mercifully short. It wound up past the pretty stone church of St. Mary’s on the left, and some equally attractive cottages on the right. It was all very picturesque, but I couldn’t shake the feeling it wasn’t exactly what the Genesis had been designed for.
    As soon as I could, I decided, I was going to find out where the proper mountain bike trails were. Maybe Matt wouldn’t mind me tagging along on a Thursday night? I’d definitely have to get in a bit of practice first, though, so as not to look like a total wimp. Going uphill, I could already feel the unaccustomed exertion in my thighs and in my buttocks. Reluctantly, I turned the bike around and headed for home, not wanting to overdo it the first time out and end up walking funny next day. Yes. That was what I’d do: get in a week or two’s practice, and then ask Matt if I could go out with him.
    In a totally non-date fashion, obviously.
    When I got back, I wheeled the bike into Jay’s garage for safekeeping. Right next to Jay’s impressive tally of three mountain bikes, only one of which was in pieces. I had a bit of a “D’oh!” moment as it occurred to me I could have just borrowed one of them rather than blowing the redundancy money on a bike of my own.
    Nah. He’d never liked me playing with his toys. Besides, God alone knew how much he’d spent on these babies, even at trade prices. He wouldn’t be too happy if I went out and trashed a thousand-pound piece of precision engineering. Pleased with that little bit of self-justification, I headed into the house.
    Wolverine had finally turned up and was sitting in the middle of the hallway, where he could keep a beady eye on both the front door and the back—just in case I’d tried to sneak in and out without feeding him, I supposed. He miaowed impatiently at me. “All right, all right—hold your horses.” Relieved to see him safe and sound, I grabbed a can of tuna. He made a beeline for me as I crouched down to fork it into his bowl, sniffing at me and then recoiling hurriedly.
    A bit miffed, I gave my armpit a quick sniff and immediately wished I hadn’t. “Okay, you’re right,” I conceded. “I stink worse than that cat food.” Looked like my own dinner would have to wait—right now I was putting us both off our food.
    I headed upstairs to get cleaned up.
     
    After my shower, I checked my chest for grey hairs (none yet, but it was only a matter of time) and towelled my hair dry. Then I wrapped a towel round my waist and was about to go downstairs when it