The Accidental Cyclist (28 page)

The Grey Man takes the document
from The Leader and leafs through the pages. He stops at one and
bursts out laughing. “Is that really you?” he asks.

“It was eight years ago,” The
Leader says, defensively. “I was only nine at the time.”

The Grey Man keeps smiling.
“Thomas Partridge,” he says. “So that’s your real name.”

“What’s so funny about that?”
The Leader feels his hackles rising.

“Do you know of the myth of
Icarus?” asks the Grey Man.

“Yes,” says Icarus. “No,” says
The Leader.

The Grey Man briefly recaps the
story. “But I knew all that,” says Icarus.

“Yes,” says the Grey Man, “but
there is more to it. Dedalus had a nephew who was as clever, as
inventive as he was. He was jealous that the nephew would be more
successful than he was, so one day he pushed the nephew out of a
window of the high tower where they lived. The Greek gods took pity
on the boy, and before he was dashed on to the rocks below, they
turned him into a partridge, saving his life.”

The Grey Man and The Leader
laugh. “What’s so funny about that?” asks Icarus.

“Well, that’s me,” says The
Leader, hand outstretched towards Icarus. “The name’s Partridge.
Thomas Partridge.”

And so it is decided that The
Leader, aka Thomas Partridge, will travel to France with Icarus. It
is he, after all, who has planned the route to Mont Ventoux and
worked out every last detail of the itinerary. The Grey Man’s last
action, before embracing them both awkwardly, is to remove his
yellow cycling jersey, with its scallop embroidered by Mrs Smith,
and hand it to The Leader. “This should be yours,” he says.

The Leader pulls the jersey over
his head. There are tears in his eyes. “It’s a bit tight on me,” he
says, to deflect any comments.

“Don’t worry,” says the Grey
Man. “By the time you finish your long ride, I’m sure that it will
fit you perfectly.”

And with a smile and a wave, the
Grey Man pedals off to find the road to Deal.

Icarus and The Leader find
themselves alone on a cliff top overlooking Dover. The morning
mists are clearing to reveal a golden sea below them, inviting them
onwards. The Leader points across the water to a smudge on the
horizon. “That’s France,” he says.

Icarus squints into the sunlight
before he can make out the faint outline of land. The early morning
sun reflects across the shining water, forming a bridge of light
between them and the distant shore, a solid shaft that beckons them
to a golden future. Icarus looks at it, as if he can ride onto it,
cycle across the void. “Do you think,” he muses, “do you think that
if we came down the hill really fast, we could make it across to
the other side?”

The Leader considers this for a
moment, then shakes his head: “I saw them try something like that
in a movie once, in a car, but I don’t think it ended happily.”

Icarus smiles. “Okay, we’ll just
take the ferry then. Shall we go?”

“Whenever you want. After all,
you’re the leader.”

Icarus stops abruptly. “Me? The
leader?”

“Yes, of course. Why, who else
did you think was the leader here?”

“That’s funny, because I’ve
always thought of you as The Leader. It’s the only name I’ve had
for you, until now.”

“Why? I’ve never been the leader
of anyone or anything.”

“Well, maybe it just seemed that
way to me, from the day we first met in the park. To me you seemed
to be the leader of that group of boys.” And Icarus realises that
they, an unusual couple of disparate characters, might just be
becoming friends.

“I was never their leader, I was
just a bit bigger and louder than the rest of them. Anyhow, you’re
the leader now,” said his friend. “Where you go, I will follow.
I’ll be Sancho Panza to your Don Quixote.”

“You’ll be what to my what?”

“Haven’t you ever read any
proper books?” Icarus shakes his head. “Never mind,” says Thomas
Partridge, “I’ll explain it all to you one day, when I finish
reading the book. I haven’t got further than the first chapter
yet.”

And so we watch as Icarus Smith
and Thomas Partridge, our two intrepid travellers, our pedalling
pilgrims, our quixotic questers, mount their bicycles and freewheel
down the coastal path into Dover, to take the ferry to Calais,
where they will start their big adventure.

THE BEGINNING