*
In the timber yard near Box, Mark Tyson blushed when I turned up to ask him for a lift back to granddad’s house. He had not been expecting me. His work mates teased him as he squirmed and stammered. The catcalls brought the foreman out of his office to see what had brought the timber mill to a standstill. I gave him my best “little girl lost look” and apologised profusely. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to cause any trouble I was just hoping Mark could give me a lift home later, when he’s finished work.’
The foreman looked at Mark’s bright red face and grinned. ‘I think he had better take you now. If he gets any hotter under the collar he’ll set fire to the yard. I can’t risk losing all my stock.’ He stepped towards Mark and gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. ‘There’s only an hour to go before knocking off time. You can make it up to me later. Go on, take the lady home, Casanova.’
Mark almost dived headfirst into his crash helmet and scrambled into his leathers. I climbed on to the Triumph feeling relieved to be going back to granddad’s.
I tried talking to Mark on the journey, but it was almost impossible.