Freya North 3-Book Collection: Cat, Fen, Pip. Freya North

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      Interesting, but I was referring to the ‘wives and girlfriends’ bit. Do you only live for your job? Who is Ben when he isn’t assessing tendons or administering balancing doses of B12 and electrolytes?

      I don’t understand the question. This is my life.

      It’s your job.

       Exactly.

      Exactly. Who are you when you’re off duty?

       What the fuck does that mean?

      I said ‘off duty’, not off your guard. Ben York, you’re a doctor, but you’re also thirty, brawny, caring (and don’t just say that’s your job) and something of a catch yourself. It is an undisputed fact that doctors are fantasy men for many women. Especially one with an English accent out in America. That you should also be aesthetically charming on the eye – by that I mean six foot, fit and handsome – well, you’re the cake, the icing and the cherry on top that most women would want to consume in its entirety.

       Most women are too calorie conscious.

      Oh, very droll. Come on, Ben, post-Amelia details?

       In the States they call it dating. If dating goes well, one proceeds to going steady.

      How’s the dating going?

       Fine.

      That sounds final.

       I date. But then I steady up.

      Why?

       As I say to my riders when they ask, sex is very good for mind and body.

      And love nourishes the soul.

       And can be utterly exhausting. These chaps need to be focused to race.

      I wasn’t referring to your riders.

      Ben York isn’t the only one in Team Megapac whose accent gains him much attention. Luca Jones was born to an Italian mother and English father and his resultant Anglo-Italianisms are inimitable and do strange things to women. He lives partly in Italy, partly in America. Currently, he is in Colorado, at the team headquarters. They leave for France tomorrow. As is Luca’s wont, he met a pretty girl in a bar last night, stayed up far too late, went way too far and is now not only tired but also late for a physical with Ben.

      ‘I’m later than late, bugger damn.’

      Luca hurries himself into a tracksuit, winces at the bags under his eyes, slaps his cheeks to shift the pallid evidence of the previous night’s over-exertion, and darts out of the apartment to cycle the short distance to Ben’s surgery.

      ‘Have you seen it?’ Ben laughed, holding aloft the beautifully bound press information booklet the Megapac PR department had produced for the Tour. ‘It’s a fucking novel! A cheesy, toe-curling, piss-takable collectors’ item.’ He took Luca’s blood pressure, unwrapped the band from the rider’s arm and then took a sample of blood from the crook of his elbow with no more ado.

      Luca flipped through the booklet. ‘The media are going to love this,’ he said. ‘Have you seen the pamphlet Zucca MV produce? I thought the team looked ridiculous posing amongst the brick and cement of the sponsor’s factory. But at least their riders are wearing their kit and have their bikes. This bloody photographer took hours. They put make-up on me, goddamn!’

      Ben took the booklet from him and found Luca’s page. The photograph flattered a face that needed no flattering. Underneath it was Luca’s ‘mission statement’. Under that, his biographical and career details. Ben skimmed through it and laughed.

       I love riding a bike – the thrill of racing, the dream and possibility of winning. Being part of a team is like being part of a family. Racing for Megapac has been, well, MEGA! For our sponsors and our supporters, thank you – I’ll race hard for you.

       Luca Jones

      ‘Did you write that all by yourself?’ Ben asked jovially, fond of Luca, six years his junior, looking on him as a kid brother.

      Luca punched him lightly. ‘Some woman phoned me and we talked about bikes for an hour. Somehow, she got it all into four sentences. I was so impressed – and she had a very nice voice – that I asked her out for a drink.’

      ‘Unbelievable,’ Ben shook his head.

      ‘As old as my Mama!’ Luca rued. He took the pamphlet from Ben. ‘Ben York, a brilliant young British doctor,’ Luca read very theatrically, ‘whose wisdom we admire, whose care we are so grateful for, whose advice we trust, whose friendship we cherish.’ Luca regarded Ben, clicked his heels and saluted the doctor. ‘Hail, Mighty Medicine Man, my Lord, my Keeper, Great and Godly Giver of Vitamin B12 and Creatine.’

      ‘You know they’ve printed over 3,000,’ Ben informed him, taking the pamphlet from Luca to fan himself.

      Luca nodded. ‘And have you seen the baseball caps and T-shirts? The journalists are getting them too.’

      ‘Not to mention the cereal bars,’ Ben elaborated. ‘You know they’re emblazoned with the logo and the words “as depended on by our brave team”?’

      Luca’s jaw dropped. ‘I never bloody ate one in my life!’

      Ben manipulated Luca’s ankles. ‘If you riders don’t impress the media, this treatise and accompanying branded freebies certainly will.’

      ‘We’re a friggin’ wildcard team,’ Luca exclaimed. ‘It was only confirmed we’d be racing the Tour a month ago.’

      ‘Megapac are a wildcard team only because they’re not ranked in the UCI top sixteen,’ Ben said, almost sternly. ‘It has nothing to do with the quality of the riders – merely that you’re a relatively new team and therefore have amassed no track record.’

      ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Luca said, leaning forward so Ben could listen to his chest.

      ‘Don’t rush your career,’ Ben mused. ‘If you went to Mercatone Uno or Saeco, you’d be a much smaller fish. You can really shine at Megapac – you already have. A Stage win in your first Giro – bloody marvellous. Now, let me listen to your heart,’ Ben said, stethoscope at the ready.

      ‘My heart,’ Luca proclaimed, with his right hand clasped at it for emphasis, ‘belongs to Megapac. God Bless America.’

      Ben and he laughed heartily and then fell silent while Luca’s impressive organ was analysed.

      ‘Good,’ said Ben, ‘you’re really in good nick. Just take care, young man. Recuperation is the key to success.’

      Luca sat up on the side of the examination table and took a couple of deep breaths. ‘Drink tonight?’

      ‘You can have a beer,’ Ben cautions, ‘and no women. Or vice versa.’

      ‘Yeah,’ Luca laughed, ‘something like that.’ He sprang down from the bench, slipped СКАЧАТЬ