Lee-sy Rider

'You'll go from here, down to the post office on Hester Street, over the bridge and through the park. You'll come out at Grater Road, where the temporary traffic lights are. Go round the edges of the town centre and through...'



Sharon kept going even though she knew nearly all of us weren't really listening any more. Darren was picking his teeth, Steve was busy humming a tune he couldn't remember the title of and the twins were playing paper, rock, scissors for money. I was listening though, I didn't want to get lost. Sharon didn't mind, she wasn't coming on this bike ride so she didn't care where we were going, she just had to read the directions out for health and safety.


'...and then you'll end up back here. Remember, it's for charity. So get your sponsors. The checkout girls are already collecting for you.'
'Why aren't they doing this bike ride?' Steve asked.
'Because, Steven, Sundays are our busiest day. Could you imagine going in to do your weeks shopping and finding twenty odd empty checkouts?'
'So, you're OK having empty trolley bays?'
'We'll send Steptoe out.'


Steptoe was Gareth, who works on the cigarettes counter. He doesn't know he's got that nickname, but everyone calls him that. Simply because he's got an odd limp, so when he walks, he's absolutely in-sync with the Steptoe & Son theme tune. Go on, sing it to yourself and think about how you would walk to it, that's Gareth's walk.

'So, there will be the five of you and Lee.'
'Oh, no, not Lee' Steve moaned.
'Who's Lee?' I asked.
'The new lad, taken Jim's hours out here. Started yesterday. Like getting blood out a stone.'
'Regardless, he's coming with you. Meet up here, tomorrow morning at ten.' Sharon said bluntly and marched away.


Saturday is the only day all the trolley pushers are on, besides this Lee lad. We spent the rest of the day talking about the next, our charity bike ride around town. I didn't mind signing up for it, I work Sundays anyway, so to get my old bicycle out for a days work was a no brainer. It seemed funny that I could have just given my days wage to charity rather than go on a bike ride, but, hey, I don't make the rules! It's odd how charity has evolved. Giving a few pence at your local church is sniffed at nowadays. Now, if you're not sat in a bath full of baked beans with a funny hat on, you're selfish.


Steve spent the whole day moaning about Lee. Steve was a good moaner. He was probably a better moaner than he was a bullshitter. Apparently this Lee wasn't much of a talker, he just did his job and went home. Or in Steve's words, 'a boring bastard.' I had no idea what him and Steve talked about yesterday, but according to Steve, Lee had no idea what Iron Maiden was, had been to no festivals or gigs and had no knowledge of Led Zeppelin's back catalogue. Steve was furious.


'I'm glad I'm only working one day with him, I just couldn't take it.'


I bet this Lee was thinking the same thing.


Sunday morning came around, I biked it up to the store on the first thing I could pull out of my shed. There were several bikes in there. If you can get past the lawn mower and the broken kitchen tiles, you'll find the old black one of my dads, a BMX of my brothers that he had before he left home, and my old one. A rusty bit of scaffolding with wheels on the end of it. We all met up around quarter to ten, Steve, Darren and the twins were already waiting, their bikes stacked up beside the trolleys. They'd all had to borrow the stores bikes, straight off the shop floor with the price labels ripped off.


'Morning Dylan' Darren said, holding a half eaten bacon sandwich.
'Morning.'
'Those look new.' Looking down at the bikes.
'They're from in there.' Nodding back into store.
'You not got a bike of your own?'


I knew the answer already. Of course he hadn't got one of his own. Steve was wearing tight light blue jeans, a black t-shirt with a dragon on it and a Motorhead cap. Not really biking attire, or fund raising attire for that matter. I can't see old ladies stopping us in the street giving us their loose change, when the guy at the front looks like a Metallica roadie.


'We all here then?' I asked, changing the subject.
'Aye, Lee's over there.'


Steve pointed towards the side of the store. There stood Lee, smoking a cigarette and doing various stretches. He looked about my age, but more rough cut. Like he'd had a bad paper round as a kid and never really got over it. Formally from down south, he'd come up here to live with his grandparents.


'He looks up for it.'
'Not said a word all morning. Boring bastard.' Steve shook his head.
'We've only been here ten minutes.' Darren said.
'Yeah, so?'
'I bet he's still pondering over what his favourite Zeppelin song is.' I smiled.
'Shut it, student.' That was my new nickname. I'd complain, but he calls other people worse.

We set off, there was a light breeze and the sky looked like the sky you see in The Simpsons. Bright and blue with a few fluffy white clouds scattered around it. A perfect day for a bike ride. We rode down to the post office at a leisurely pace, over the bridge and through the park, just like Sharon said. Then we split into two's, the twins at the front, then Steve and Darren, riding side by side chatting about the latest Saw film, leaving me and Lee at the back. He hadn't spoke a word. With one hand on the wheel, another hand nursing a roll up. When he wasn't smoking he was chewing violently, all in black with a chunky gold chain around his neck. I did that thing you do during awkward silences, whistling a tuneless tune and making odd noises with my lips.


'So, you like it at work, then?' I tried.
'S'all right.' He shrugged.


I nodded. Quite a lot, actually. Too much, thinking about it. A few seconds into the nod he glared at me. I was nodding like he'd just told me something interesting, and he knew it wasn't interesting. I knew it wasn't interesting. It's pretty safe to say that this lad had never been interesting. I watched his eyebrows fall, then he raced off towards the others. Unbelievable, he looks like the one who's been on Crime Watch reconstructions, and I look like the weird one. I shouldn't have felt like that during charity work. I should have been smiling in photo's with one of those oversized cheques.


Half way through the ride we passed a pub, so we stopped and went in. This was great, drinking in a pub on a Sunday afternoon. I felt just like my Dad. Even though I'd only had a half pint of coke it felt good. It was only when ordering our second round we realised we were one man missing.


'Where's Lee?' Duncan slurred. He'd only had one pint.
'Boring bastard.' Steve said automatically, before taking a shot of his and Darren's game of pool.
'I don't know. He didn't come in with us.' Alex said.
'You were with him, Dylan. He was your responsibility!' Steve said.
'He's not eight!' I proclaimed.
'He is the new lad. He was our responsibility.'
'He rode off after I tried to speak to him.'
'Boring bastard.'
'Steve, shut up.'
'Well where can he be?'
'Probably gone back to the store.'
'You reckon?'
'Naa, he's probably gone home, the boring b...'
'Steve, if you say that again one more time!'


During the next ten minutes our panic grew. We all came to the conclusion that Lee was new to this area and probably lost. And it was all our fault. This is what happens when you try and do something good for charity. It's no wonder people do the obvious stuff like wear funny hats. There's no danger in funny hats. Now we where in the middle of the town, one man down. We can't go back to the store one man down, can we? Maybe Sharon won't realise. Steve said he was boring. If we all got rid of all the boring people in our lives, life would be great. Think of that, raising money for charity and getting rid of boring people. We could get a medal, or at least our name in the paper. During our second round we calmed down and all agreed Lee had probably gone back to the store. If not, we all agreed to say the same thing.


'Remember' Steve said. 'He rode off when we were in the park.'


We all nodded in agreement and trotted outside, the sky was still blue and Simpsons-like. It was 2.30pm and after a few drinks we all felt relaxed. We wondered around the corner of the pub whilst chit chatting, I felt I'd grown a little closer to the lads so far today. We felt happy in each others company. The sun was shining and the thought that we were getting paid for this day was a pleasant one. After all, we were doing something for a good cause, together, in the sun. That happiness was cut short when we looked at the bike rack. Five bike locks cut into several pieces, and no bikes in sight.


Lee.


'Oh, shit. Shitty shit shitter!' Duncan shouted.
'What the hells gone on here?' Steve said, taking off is Motorhead cap.
'What does it look like, Steve? Are you thick?'
'All right, calm down.'
'Shit. Shitting shitter!!'



We caught the bus back to the store and walked in sheepishly. We explained what happened to Sharon and spent the last hour cleaning up the car park with Steptoe. Lee never came back to work, of course. That moment he rode off in the park was the last time I saw him. Maybe he went back down south. The next day a large flyer was stuck up in the canteen, which read.


DEAR COLLEAGUES,


DUE TO OUR RECENT INNCIDENT INVOLVING OUR PORTERS AND THE CHARITY BIKE RIDE, ALL THE MONEY RAISED BY SEVERAL MEMBERS OF OUR CHECKOUT TEAM WILL GO TO PURCHASING NEW BICYCLES AND NOT OUR SELECTED CHARITY.




SHARON


Next year I'm sticking to wearing a funny hat.