While the World Is Still Asleep (The Century Trilogy Book 1) (37 page)

“He can denounce women’s cycling to hell and back, but that’s no reason to hit you,” replied Adrian angrily. “Clara, you can’t just accept your husband’s forbidding your friendship with Jo. She’s your friend; you’ve known each other since you could walk. Besides, however much a couple may disagree, it is beneath the dignity of a gentleman to attack someone weaker. You can tell him that from me.”

“Who says I’m weaker?” Clara shot back, and Adrian saw a spark of anger flash in her normally docile eyes.

But instead of responding, Adrian had an idea forming in his head. What would happen if . . .

He took a deep breath and asked, “When did they leave? Did Josephine tell you anything about their plans for the next few days? The race isn’t going to start tomorrow morning, is it?”

Clara said they were going to have two days to acclimatize in Copenhagen first. Then the race would start on May 4.

It was May 1. Adrian did some quick calculations in his mind. Then he smiled.

“That throws all my plans out the window, but what the hell! I’d probably regret it forever if I didn’t go.”

“You want . . . to go to Copenhagen? But you just got home! I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Isabelle . . .”

Adrian held up one hand. “I’m not interested in Isabelle,” he said. “It’s Josephine I’ll be there to support.”

Clara’s eyes widened. “You and Josephine?” She laughed softly. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? At some level, I’ve suspected it for a long time.”

“Because you’re a true friend.” Adrian took Clara’s hand in his. “Why don’t you come along? I’ll pay for the trip. If you like, I’ll try to talk your husband into giving you his blessing.”

But Clara shook her head. Then she stood up and smoothed her skirt. With a steady voice and a steadier gaze, she said, “My place is here, with my son, just as you belong with Josephine. But I’ll promise you this: when Josephine and the rest of you get back to Berlin, I’ll be standing at the station to welcome you!”

Chapter Thirty-One

“The most important thing is remembering to drink! You should be refilling your flasks with fresh water at least every two hours.” Charles Hansen scanned the assembled group intently. “Every farmstead you pass has a well. The water is of a good quality across Denmark. We’ve informed every farmer along the route about the race, and you should meet friendly, helpful people wherever you go. If anyone offers you fresh milk, drink it! And if they offer you the schnapps bottle instead, a nip of that won’t do you any harm, either.”

The men and women all laughed.

All the participants had come together that first evening in the hotel dining room and gotten to know each other over a traditional, solid Danish meal. Susanne Lindberg placed great store in harmony and amity. “What counts here is not a competitive mindset, but the will to finish the race,” she had said more than once. The evening might never have come to an end if Charles Hansen had not prompted them to go to bed. Getting enough sleep was an absolute must before such a race!

The next morning, Charles Hansen handed out the small booklets that they needed to have stamped at each checkpoint. The first checkpoint was in a village called Kalundborg, about sixty miles outside Copenhagen. The next was fifty miles ahead, and so on.

Kalundborg, Slagelse, Næstved, Vordingborg—Josephine was having trouble just pronouncing the names of the Danish towns, and she had no idea what to expect once she reached them. Her anxiety was growing by the hour. She could hardly wait to finally get going.

After receiving the booklets, the entire squad went out cycling together. It was a leisurely ride, so that everyone could get used to pedaling again after the long train journey. Susanne and Charles set the pace, and most of the riders found it far too slow.

Charles Hansen continued his explanations during their third meeting.

“As you well know, the race is to take place over four days. That’s ninety-six hours. How many of those hours you choose to sleep is up to you. We recommend, however, that you take a break after ten or twelve hours of riding. It will do no one any good if you are exhausted and have an accident. Whether you choose to lie down in the grass or ask a farmer to sleep in his shed for the night, or happen to find a small pensione—all of that is entirely up to you.”

Ten or twelve hours in the saddle followed by a short break lying on the grass? Josephine and Isabelle turned and looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

“Don’t go getting scared now,” Isabelle whispered, and Jo nodded vigorously. Both giggled excitedly.

“Ninety-six hours for six hundred miles—that’s half an eternity,” said Leon with some contempt. “Do you seriously expect us men to ride at such a snail’s pace?”

The women grumbled. None of them was planning to ride at a snail’s pace!

“Each of you will choose your own tempo,” said Charles Hansen, once he had managed to restore order. “That applies to the women as well as the men.”

Leon grinned. “What happens if I ride away from our dear Susanne here and steal the show from her at the end? Would that be all right? I mean, you’re calling this event a women’s race, right?”

Now it was Susanne’s turn to answer. “I would be more than happy to have somebody set the pace for the entire route. If you think you’re up to it, then by all means go ahead.”

Charles Hansen and the Danish women laughed.

But Leon frowned and said nothing. He was supposed to be the pacemaker for another rider? Was Suzanne trying to pull his leg? It appeared they had no idea what an outstanding cyclist he was.

Charles Hansen cleared his throat. “Let’s return to the logistics. Each day, we will set up
one
food station for you. After eating, you will have the opportunity to make sandwiches to take with you before you get going again. Dried fruit and nuts will also be provided. However, we advise you in the strongest terms to eat something warm when you reach each food station!”

Josephine nodded. Susanne and her fiancé seemed really to have thought of everything. Oh, if only they could get going . . .

Isabelle rocked restlessly in her chair and rubbed her hands together nervously. She had been feeling an uncomfortable tingling in the hands and feet all day. Could it be from the kola syrup Leon had bought for her at a local pharmacy? They hadn’t brought any pep pills or kola with them from Berlin because Leon had claimed they would be available everywhere—apparently Ekarius’s wonder drugs had been a favorite among Danish cyclists for ages.

But he had been wrong! They had been unable to find anything of the sort in Copenhagen, and the stuff he’d brought back the previous evening had nearly driven her up the wall. Whether or not it would help her on the long tour remained to be seen.

Charles Hansen was just launching into an explanation of where they could find shelter for the night when there was a knock at the door. Everyone turned around.

It took a moment for Isabelle to realize who it was standing there with a broad grin on his face. That . . . that was impossible!

“Adrian!” Irene’s voice nearly choked in disbelief.

“Adrian! I don’t believe it!” shouted Veit Merz. “A remarkable fellow,” Veit said to Leon, who was sitting beside him.

Josephine rose to her feet as if in a trance. But Isabelle was faster. She shot up from her stool and practically launched herself at her former fiancé. She planted herself in front of him with her arms folded across her chest. “What do you think you’re doing, showing up here? You’ve got no business coming back into my life. You come barging in right in the middle of our meeting, inconsiderate—”

“Hello, Isabelle. Nice to see you.” With a tolerant smile, Adrian pushed her gently out of the way. “Please let me by.” He shook Charles Hansen’s hand. “I’ll be leaving again in a moment, then you can carry on with your meeting. I’m sure we’ll find time to talk later,” he said to Hansen, and also to Irene, who was pushing her way through to him. Adrian looked straight ahead as he limped through the room.

“Your leg!” Irene cried. “What . . .”

Isabelle watched in shock as Adrian walked down the aisle. What was wrong with his leg? And why was Josephine suddenly looking so oddly transfigured? Why was she going up to him?

“Josephine . . .”

“You came . . .”

“I . . . couldn’t . . . Your adventure . . . alone.”

“I . . . missed you so much . . .”

“And I . . .”

What was all that whispering? That sounded like two lovers purring away! Isabelle gave a hysterical laugh. No, she must be mistaken. Her ears and eyes were playing tricks on her . . . That horrible kola syrup, the tension before the race, her frayed nerves . . .

“Adrian, what’s this all about?” asked Irene, her voice frosty.

“I don’t believe it!” Veit repeated himself. “Our Jill-of-all-trades and you? I need a schnapps for that. Oh, to hell with it, schnapps for everyone! Waiter!”

Isabelle could only look on in shock as Adrian and Josephine lost themselves in an embrace, utterly forgetting the world around them.

This is impossible. Not those two. This—is—not—possible!

Charles Hansen cleared his throat. “Well, by the looks of it, we can welcome another true cycling great to our meeting. What an honor! No doubt Adrian will tell us all about his trip to America later. But for now I’d like to suggest that we get back to our agenda and—”

“You two are together?” shrieked Isabelle, recovering from her initial shock. “You got involved behind my back?” She knocked Adrian’s arm off Josephine.

“Isabelle . . . What is it? Come on, sit down.” Leon tried to pull her away, but she shook him off like an annoying insect.

“Let me go! This is my battle.” Her glare bored into Josephine’s flushed face. “How long has this been going on? How long have you been lying to me,
dear friend
? Have you been laughing yourself sick behind my back?” Her voice sounded shrill in her own ears, but she couldn’t help herself. The sense of betrayal washed over her like an enormous wave, and she gasped for air, trying to keep her head above water.

“Isabelle, calm down, please,” said Adrian. “You just said yourself that you and I have nothing more to do with each other. Why are you so upset?” He placed one hand on her arm in an attempt to placate her, but that only made Isabelle more furious.

“How can anyone stoop so low?” She curled her fingers into fists. Just a nudge, and she—

“Enough!” snapped Irene. “I’m astounded myself and less than pleased at this . . . development. But I think we should all behave like adults and—”

“Adults? You’re one to talk!” Isabelle hissed at her. “You’re not the one
adults
sold like a head of cattle! You didn’t have years of your youth taken away. Ask your darling brother how he and I ended up engaged! Maybe he’s finally found the guts to tell you the truth about that.” She was shaking so hard that she was having trouble articulating her words properly.

“Isabelle,
chérie
 . . .” Leon held a schnapps glass under her nose. “Have a sip. It will calm you down.”

She swatted his hand away. “And while we’re on the subject of truth . . .” Slowly, like a snake facing a hypnotized rabbit, she turned to Josephine.

Never in her life had she been so disappointed by another human being. She would have trusted Jo with anything. And now this.

“Does your dear paramour happen to know the whole truth about you? Does Adrian Neumann, son of the
great
Gottlieb Neumann, know that you weren’t just away somewhere for
those
years, but that you were in prison for being a common thief?”

That was when the real commotion started. Questions were shouted from all sides, and the group cast questioning—and disparaging—looks at Josephine and Adrian. Josephine in prison?

Susanne Lindberg and her fiancé exchanged a look of deep concern. This frenzy was the last thing they needed on the eve of the race. A scandal could endanger the whole undertaking!

Charles Hansen turned to Isabelle, Josephine, Adrian, and Irene and tried to make himself heard over the din. “I think the four of you should leave the room and go try to sort out this . . . matter elsewhere. Better now than during the race. Once we get started, it will be all about fairness and a spirit of cooperation—”

Isabelle interrupted him harshly. “Thank you for your suggestion, dear Charles. But there’s nothing to sort out. A great deal is clear to me now.”

“But Isabelle, it isn’t what you think at all!” Josephine cried. “Adrian and I, we didn’t betray you, we—”

“Shut up!” Two words, like strokes from a whip.

Isabelle stalked toward the door, trembling with fury. “I’ll see you on the racecourse.” It sounded like a threat.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Instead of going to bed at a decent hour, as Charles had advised all of the racers to do, Josephine had spent half the night awake. She and Adrian had had so much to talk about, and her years in prison were the least of it.

“Moritz Herrenhus wanted to get you out of the way,” Adrian said flatly once she had told him everything. “He let you use his bicycle for months. There’s no way he should have been so upset that you borrowed it secretly. But that’s just like the man—he probably didn’t like the fact that his daughter was spending so much time with a free spirit like you.” Josephine’s past changed nothing about how he felt about her.

And they had talked about Isabelle, too, of course. And about America. Adrian had raved about the bicycles waiting for him in Berlin. When Josephine tried to raise the subject of his injured leg, he waved it off casually. “Later . . .” was all he said.

When they finally had parted and Jo was lying in bed, so many things were going through her head that she couldn’t sleep at all.

By the next morning, Jo felt so wound up that if the race didn’t start soon she thought she’d throw some kind of fit.

It was a picture-perfect day, bright and sunny. The starting line had been set up on the outskirts of Copenhagen, on the road that led westward, first to Roskilde, then Kalundborg. The snow-white houses gleamed in the sunlight, and a few seagulls that had found their way into the city flapped and squawked overhead.

Of course, the members of Susanne’s and Charles’s home club were there, as well as Susanne’s own family. But very few of Copenhagen’s citizens had turned out, as the race had not been heavily publicized in advance. Charles Hansen planned to sing the praises of the race and the participants afterward, with the motto “See what women can do when no one’s looking!”

Josephine had no interest in the press or anyone else. Adrian was there, and that was all that mattered to her. Now there was only one more thing she wanted: to start! When she looked into the faces of her fellow riders, she saw that they all wanted the same thing. She caught Lilo’s eye, and they grinned at each other.

All around her, final adjustments were being made to bicycles, hats were being straightened, jackets buttoned, provisions distributed, and final prerace sandwiches eaten. The women’s voices were more shrill than usual, their faces flushed with excitement. One or two drank a glass of sparkling wine to calm their nerves, a practice that earned a look of disapproval from Susanne Lindberg. The air was practically vibrating.

Josephine crouched and, for the hundredth time, looked to see that her bicycle was ready. Gerd Melchior had checked each of the bicycles thoroughly the evening before, but better to be safe than sorry.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Isabelle arrive, Leon at her side. Her expression was rigid, and she wore an elegant cycling outfit. The jacket with all the pockets that Jo had painstakingly sewn for her was nowhere to be seen. Instead of greeting the others with a handshake, as was the custom, she simply gave the group a nod.

Adrian stood nearby with Gerd Melchior and raised one thumb in the air. “I’ve got my great cycling adventure behind me. Now it’s your turn!” Adrian had said to her the night before, just before he left. “Enjoy every mile, and don’t worry about anything or anyone, you hear me? I’ll be with you in spirit.” He was going to follow in one of the support wagons and meet her later at one of the checkpoints.

Adrian traveling in a carriage. Josephine felt a knot form in her throat. She felt like crying, but would that have changed anything? No doubt the German doctors would be able to get his knee working again. If they couldn’t . . .

To take her mind off Adrian, Jo checked her tools. A screwdriver, a pocketknife, patching gear, and a few odds and ends—just what would fit in the bottom pocket on the back of her jacket and wasn’t too heavy. If she got a puncture, she would not be forced to wait for Gerd Melchior or one of the other mechanics.

Next, Jo checked her provisions. She had five rolls, a few handfuls of dried fruit, and two pieces of Danish cake packed with almonds and marzipan. That would have to do for the first one or two hundred miles. Her two metal flasks were filled with water. On Adrian’s advice, she had dropped a cube of sugar in each one. The sugar would dissolve and give her a burst of energy with every sip.

Jo stretched her legs. They felt good. Strong, supple, with no sign of the cramps she had suffered a few times during her training.

Her bicycle, her equipment, her physical condition—she had never felt more ready. The waiting was unbearable.

“Ladies, gentlemen, this is a historic day. Because with this race, we will show that women are just as capable of great performances as men, if not greater. From today on, the fairer sex will be known as the stronger sex. Susanne and those riding with her will put to shame all those lies about the weakness of women that have proliferated—without a shred of evidence.”

Charles Hansen’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes flashed with anticipation as he looked around the group assembled before him.

“A long-distance race like ours deserves to be called by another name. The reason is simple. Unlike other cycling competitions, competitiveness is not what we are all about. We are not haggling over which rider is a few minutes faster than another. We are not
racing
. What binds us, rather, is the will to reach our goal together, with our love of cycling carrying us to the finish line. Which is why I want to impress the following upon all of you: If you see a rider, man or woman, standing by the road in need of help, stop and ask what the matter is. Share your food! Let him or her take a drink from your flask! And if a rider breaks down, see how you can help. It is time for community spirit to prevail. Arguments, jealousy, and childish quarrels have no place in the next six hundred miles.” He looked meaningfully at Isabelle, then Josephine.

Jo nodded. She would not be the one to start something.

Charles Hansen stepped over to Susanne, whispered something in her ear, and gave her a quick kiss. Then he turned back to the other riders one last time.

“I wish you all an enjoyable ride through our beautiful Zealand. Bon voyage, or as we say in Danish,
god rejs
e
!”

For the first hour, Susanne and the thirty other participants rode together. The mood was buoyant, as if they were off on a jaunt to the seaside. They laughed and joked, and some swapped stories about other tours they had done. Susanne talked about her wedding plans. “After we get married, I want to have at least a dozen children,” she admitted with a laugh.

“If you can still have any after this tour . . . Cycling makes women infertile, or hadn’t you heard?” joked Luise, drawing laughter, but with a hint of bitterness.

To Josephine’s great relief, the others treated her perfectly normally; some were even friendly. No one seemed to put too much store in Isabelle’s talk of prison. Everyone had seen how worked up she was, after all. And no one took her accusation—that Jo had betrayed her and stolen her former fiancé—seriously. Conversation focused on the ride ahead.

As the enormous cathedral in Roskilde came into view, Susanne abruptly increased the tempo—the fun was over. A group of ten, mostly Danish and French women, went with her, as did Isabelle, Veit Merz, and Leon Feininger.

Josephine considered increasing her own speed but decided against it. Her pace felt just right. So why change it?

“Let them go,” said Lilo, drawing up beside Jo. “Whoever takes the lead now usually ends up pedaling in behind the rest at the end.” Changing the subject, she said, “So, did you get a chance to talk things out with Isabelle?”

Jo told her she hadn’t.

“What I don’t get is why you didn’t come clean to Isabelle long ago,” said Lilo. “To be honest, if I were in her shoes, I’d be angry, too.”

“What about? Isabelle’s and Adrian’s engagement was a farce from the start. It wasn’t as if she had any real claim to him. You should have heard how disparaging she was every time she talked about him,” Jo answered heatedly. “Besides, what was I supposed to come clean about? A few hugs and kisses? We only discovered that we had fallen in love just before he left. Apart from a few postcards and one or two letters, I hadn’t heard from him since then. So what exactly was I supposed to confess to her?”

“Well, if that’s the case . . .” Lilo frowned. “Then why is Isabelle getting so upset?”

Josephine swerved to dodge a pothole. “I have no idea. I never thought that Isabelle would be offended. I thought she’d be happy for me.”

“Maybe it’s just the timing. A lot of women riders get pretty overwrought right before a race. Isabelle’s been quite prickly over the last few days, don’t you think?”

“Does that surprise you?” Jo replied. “With all the pills and stuff that Leon’s been giving her . . .” She shook her head. Of course, she had tried a few of the miracle pills herself, but she’d lost all sense for her own body. Unable to feel whether she was close to exhaustion or not, she had pushed herself much too far, and it taken forever for her to regain her strength. It had been a frightening experience.

Lilo raised her eyebrows. “Isabelle is taking a little dope?”

“More than a little,” Jo replied and picked up the pace.

They rode into Kalundborg, where the first checkpoint had been set up by the harbor. Jo was rapt as she looked at the first stamp in her booklet. How lovely it would look when all fifteen stamps were in it!

Susanne and her group had passed the checkpoint a good half hour earlier, they discovered. Lilo and Jo exchanged a look. The Dane really seemed to be in a class of her own.

Jo decided to continue on. Lilo opted to stay and find a bathroom and catch up with her later. When Josephine saw Irene pull up alongside her, she sighed.
Oh, here it comes,
she thought. The nagging questions, the arrogant remarks, and—

“Don’t worry, I’m
not
going to ask you about my brother,” said Irene.

Jo glanced at her sideways in surprise. “Well, you know . . .” she began, without actually knowing what she wanted to say.

Leaning low over the handlebars, Irene grinned back at her. “Forget it. It can’t be any worse than the thought of having Isabelle for a sister-in-law. Who knows, maybe you and I will get along famously one day?” There was certainly a dose of sarcasm in her voice, but she did not sound angry.

“Who knows?” Jo said with a smile, enjoying the tailwind that carried them along the coast as if on the wings of angels.

With the wind came an inner lightness. What kind of merciful fate was it that allowed her to take part in this race? Breathing deeply, Jo took in the open countryside and the deep blue of the water beyond.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” said Irene, and her usually arrogant voice sounded almost humble.

Jo nodded but said nothing. She felt an unpleasant dryness in her mouth. When she tried to gather enough spit to swallow, she couldn’t do it. A slight dizziness came over her, and her bicycle wobbled and nearly slid off the road.
What’s going on? Concentrate!
Jo coached herself. Then she realized she’d forgotten to drink. Frightened by her own carelessness, she dug her flask out of a pocket and drank almost half the water in one gulp. A quarter of an hour later she felt better and decided to eat a roll before her hunger got to her as well.

A good hundred and fifty miles after the start of the race, Josephine, Irene, and an Englishwoman who had joined them reached Vordingborg, the southernmost point on the route. For all three riders, the race so far had gone well. They had managed to keep up a steady, brisk pace without burning up too much energy. Lilo pedaled into town shortly after they arrived.

“What do you think? Want to keep going?” Lilo asked.

Josephine considered what to do. Thanks to the tailwind, she was not feeling especially exhausted, so she set off with Lilo and Irene for Køge, where Charles Hansen had set up a support station and made sleeping arrangements for the riders.