PUTTING THINGS RIGHT

Val’s grandson was in tears. ‘Mum’ll kill me,’ he said.

Val jerked her head up.

‘ Well, as good as. I only left it for a moment to go in the shop for some crisps. I could see it all the time but this bloke in an orange hoodie rode off on it and I couldn’t catch him.’ Sam’s voice cracked and he rubbed his eyebrow.

Sam had arrived at Val’s house fifteen minutes earlier, gasping for breath and clutching a stitch in his side. She had sat him down with a glass of water, but he’d paced the kitchen, desperate for her to listen.

The bike had been a Christmas present from his Mum and Dad. Val knew it had cost a fair amount and they would be furious it had been stolen. They would blame Sam for not taking care of it.

‘ What do I do, Nan?’ Sam asked, eyes wide and set on Val.

She wished she were Supernan and could fix this as easily as she used to put right a bloodied knee or a bruised ego. She was flattered Sam had come to her, but was overwhelmed with the responsibility of helping. She knew nothing about the world of bike theft.

‘ We should go to the police,’ she said finally.

Sam nodded, but his shoulders sagged. He obviously didn’t have much faith in the constabulary.

Val put his glass in the sink, checked the back door was locked – there were thieves around – and they went out.

Sam was silent as they

She wished she were Supernan and could fix this easily

walked along the road to the police station.

At the desk, Val explained what had happened. The policeman filled in a form. He gave them a reference number and not much hope.

‘Happens all the time,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Opportunistic crime.’

Val glared at him. He was not helping.

He backtracked a little. ‘Sometimes,’ he said, ‘we find a lock-up or garage full of bikes. If we’ve got the details we can trace the owners. It’s good to register the loss.’

‘But it doesn’t happen often?’ Val asked.

He shook his head.

Sam was despondent as they walked back, dragging his feet, as if putting off the moment he’d have to go home.

Val made a pot of tea. ‘Tea or squash?’ she asked, putting a packet of chocolate biscuits on the table.

‘Um?’ Sam had his phone out and was swiping through screens at an alarming rate.

‘Tea or squash, Sam?’ Val asked again.

‘Nan!’ He jumped up. ‘It’s my bike! Someone has just put it up for sale.’ He waved the phone at her.

‘Hold on. Let me get my glasses.’

She found them in her handbag and took the phone. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘Yes, look.’ Sam enlarged the photo and pointed to stickers on the bike. ‘Those are the stickers I got from surfing in Cornwall last year. It’s my bike.

I know it’s mine.’ He hugged his hands to his chest.

‘But what do we do?’ Val asked.

‘Can’t we go to the police and tell them?’ Sam asked.

‘ We could,’ Val said slowly. ‘But it might have been sold by then.’ Her brain was fizzing and whirring. Surely they could sort this out.

‘I have an idea,’ she said. Sam looked dubious.

‘Let me ring the guy. I’ll tell him I’m looking for a bike for my grandson and will be round right away.’

‘But, Nan, you’re not going to pay two hundred quid to get my bike back, are you?’

‘No,’ Val said firmly. ‘I’m not.

Let me have the number.’

The phone was picked up straight away.

‘I’m looking for a bike for my grandson,’ Val said. ‘I can come straight away and look. What’s the address?’

The man suggested Tesco car park.

‘Twenty minutes,’ Val said. ‘My name is Beryl.’

‘You name’s not Beryl!’ Sam said.

‘Trust me,’ Val told him. ‘Now, go to the shed and get me a couple of old door keys from the biscuit tin on the shelf. Preferably shiny ones.’

While Sam went to the shed, Val hurried upstairs and changed into a tracksuit. For good measure she fluffed a bit of talcum powder into her hair so it looked greyer.

Then she rummaged in a drawer and found an Eiffel Tower key ring, a souvenir of a past holiday, and an old purse she no longer used. She stuffed the purse with tissues and put the keys that Sam had found on the key ring.

‘You wait here. I won’t be long,’ Val told Sam.

‘But Nan!’ Sam’s voice whined. ‘No, I mean it. He might be dangerous. I don’t want you anywhere near. One way or another I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.’ Val gave him a stern look.

She walked down the road to the superstore, her palms sweaty and her heart thumping.

At the far side of the car park was a man in an orange hoodie with a bike.

Val pressed her lips together and marched over.

He looked up from his phone.

‘Hello?’ Val said sweetly. ‘I’m Beryl. I’ve come about the bike.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ the man said. A waft of sweat and stale tobacco came from him. ‘It’s here.’

He shoved the bike towards her. Val rubbed her hands down her trousers. The bike looked exactly like Sam’s.

‘ What are these stickers?’ Val asked, peering closer.

‘Oh, you know. My bro put them there.’ The man shrugged. ‘Some surfboarding thing.’

‘Shame,’ Val said. ‘Look, do you want it or not? I’ve got other people—’ The man waved his phone. Val noticed him jigging from foot to foot and looking around.

More like a guilty conscience, Val thought.

‘It looks good,’ Val said, giving the man her best smile. ‘Could I just try it?’

She waved a hand at the empty car park.

The man looked doubtfully at her, wondering, perhaps, if he’d have to call an ambulance, but he pushed the bike towards her.

Val took it with one hand and looked helplessly at the Eiffel Tower key ring and the old purse she had in her other hand.

‘Perhaps you could hold these?’ she said, giving them to him.

The man looked surprised but then grinned wolfishly.

Val put a foot on the pedal and pushed off. The seat was a little high and the bike gave a convincing wobble. Then she got into a rhythm and did a big loop in front of him.

He smirked and looked down at his phone. Val went a bit further, glanced back at the man who wasn’t watching, and pedalled for all she was worth past the superstore and out of the gate.

‘Hey! My bike!’

Val didn’t look back. She leaned over the handlebars and cycled furiously towards her house.

Sam’s pale face was looking out of the front window and he rushed to open the door. Val dragged the bike inside and leaned against the wall gasping for breath.

‘Nan! That’s brill!’ Sam exclaimed, his eyes glistening. Val smiled.

‘ Well, justice has been done,’ she said. ‘But now, we’re off to buy you a bike lock…’