Cycling

She rode past my house on a bicycle.

I was doing the washing up and concentrating on getting the glasses
clean. The juice stains them red and you have to scrub with one of
those poky brush things, like a loo brush but smaller.

The kitchen faces onto the street and cars and pedestrians pass by
regularly. It's not a busy street you understand, but people do use it,
they do go past my window. So a woman on a bicycle would not seem
unusual. At least not at first.

I finished doing the washing up and dried the glasses with a glass
cloth, which is thinner than a normal drying up cloth and doesn't leave
fibres on the glass.

Standing back to admire my handy-work I caught sight of a woman on a
bicycle riding past the house, unremarkable apart from the fact that
she had a small boy in the basket at the front.

My immediate thought was how dangerous and if I had been in the front
garden and not in the kitchen I would have told her so.

They rode out of sight and I returned to my work. There was washing to
put on and then I sat down to write a shopping list.

It was as I walked to the door to fetch my coat that I saw her
again.

This time she was cycling very slowly and looking over at the house.
Putting on my coat I thought that perhaps I knew her but didn't
remember and that that was why she kept staring.

I walked into the kitchen for my handbag and the list sure that I
didn't know anyone silly enough to carry a small child around in a
bicycle basket.

Looking out of the window before leaving I could see that there wasn't
anyone about and so left the house to walk to the shops as it was a
nice day and he had taken the car to work.

I was double locking the front door when I heard a squeaking sound
coming from the road behind. She must have turned around just past the
gate. I looked round without thinking and as I did so she smiled at me.
I smiled back instinctively as there was no reason not to and I thought
if it was somebody I should know I wouldn't want to appear rude.

As I smiled she removed one of her hands from the handlebar and pointed
at the child.

I started frowning then, as I didn't know what she meant by doing such
a thing and not only was she now pedalling about with a small boy in a
bicycle basket but she was doing so with one hand. She kept pointing
and smiling but said nothing and made no move to stop or slow down.
Well I didn't know what to make of it so I returned to locking the
front door.

Walking up to the road I looked at the ground as I was thinking that
perhaps she wasn't as well as she should be and that if I looked her in
the eye she would only be encouraged.

I walked along the road for a little while like that, staring at the
floor, until I thought that perhaps I might look a little strange
myself and so, sure she had gone, I raised up my head and continued on
as normal.

The weather was clear and crisp, there was no traffic on the roads and
I was enjoying my walk, almost glad that he had taken the car today
after all. It was as the supermarket came into view that I heard it
again. It was the chain I think, it needed oiling. I turned my gaze
back to my feet.

I heard her ride past, the rhythmic squeaking fading as she did so. And
then as I reached the corner I heard it again, not fading but sounding
louder until, losing my resolve, I glanced up.

There she was cycling back towards me, the child still in the basket,
smiling at me and pointing at the boy in the basket.

I was angry now and felt tempted to stick out my hand and knock her off
her bicycle.

I did no such thing but shouted 'Good afternoon' in a loud voice,
trying to show her that I didn't mind and still felt goodwill towards
her. She didn't answer but laughed aloud and pedalled off. It was a
mean laugh I thought and I feared for the child.

All round the supermarket I couldn't shake the thought of her. She'd
done nothing wrong to speak of but had unsettled me all the same and I
forgot to buy butter because of it.

Walking home I tried to enjoy the walk but my bags were heavy and my
nerves were on edge.

She didn't return although I was expecting to hear her squeaking behind
me all the way back to the house. I unlocked the front door quickly and
I can't tell you what a relief it was to be home.

It was getting dark so I drew all the curtains and put on the
radio.

He came home a little later than usual and I could feel the cold on him
when he kissed my cheek. He seemed a little distracted and asked me
lots of questions about my day. I told him about the shopping and a
conversation I had had with a friend of ours.

I didn't tell him about the bicycle woman because I thought it sounded
silly and that he would think I was making a fuss over nothing.

He ate his dinner quickly and was up and pacing around the room by the
time I had finished mine. He was doing nothing to calm my already
frayed nerves and so I went into the kitchen to wash up.

He followed me in.
'I have to tell you something.'
'Mmmm?' I was scrubbing a casserole dish at the time as I
remember.
'Stop washing up for God's sake. Just for a moment.'

Well he didn't speak like that often and it was enough to make me stop
and turn round to face him. He was pale and there was a muscle
twitching in his cheek.
'What's wrong?'
'I need to tell you something?'
'What is it?'
He said nothing.
'Robert what is it?'
I was a little anxious now myself. It had been a disturbing day
altogether and he wasn't helping.

I took off my washing up gloves and went into the sitting room. If he
wanted to talk I would at least be comfortable.
He followed me in and sat on the edge of the sofa across the room from
me.
'Please tell me Robert what you want to talk about. I have the washing
up to finish.'
He coughed.
'Robert?'

He stood up and went to stand behind the sofa.
'I've met someone else.'
I sat terribly still and said not a word.
He came round and sat on the edge of the sofa again.
I couldn't move.
'There may be a child involved.'
I started to feel sick.
'What I mean is this child&;#8230;&;#8230;.it may be mine.'
'A boy.' I said 'About a year old.'
He stood up again.
'Yes. Yes. A boy.'
'His mother rides a bicycle.' I said.

He frowned at this and was put of his stride I think, as he said
nothing for a moment but just stood there frowning.

I stood up and went upstairs leaving the washing up in the sink half
finished and Robert behind the sofa.

Shutting the bedroom door behind me I climbed into bed without washing
and undressing and fell asleep eventually to the squeaking sound of
bicycle chains.