Red Bicycle 6-7

6.

 

 

It took Alexander a few days to come to terms with the re-appearance of Katya’s bicycle. His son’s enthusiasm – his insistence that Alexander buy it – was disconcerting. It was as if unseen forces were pressing Alexander towards a particular outcome. It had been fifteen years since the bike was stolen. His memory of it had faded – brushed away by marriage and fatherhood. Looking at the bike in the market hall he was overcome by an overwhelming sense of guilt. He realised that not only had the bike slipped from his memory, but the memory of his sister had faded too.

 

After paying the old man and driving home Alexander locked the bike in the storage shed in the cellar, promising the boy that they would take it to be repaired the following day. ‘Can we paint it a different colour ?’ said Lukas. ‘Yes, if you want to’ said Alexander who was willing to agree to anything, just as long as the bike was placed out of sight. ‘I want to paint it red’ said his son ‘so it looks like a Ferrari!’

 

When Lukas was asleep Alexander went into the cellar. He stood staring at Katya’s old bike, occasionally running his hand along the frame or else gripping the handlebars. He searched through Katya’s boxed possessions until at last he found the original receipt containing the serial number. Alexander lifted the bike and checked the number on the underside of the frame. The numbers matched: proof – as if he needed it – that the bike belonged to his sister.

 

That night in bed Alexander recounted to Natalya the strange turn of events that had re-united him with the long-lost bike. He told her that the thought of Lukas cycling filled him with dread. ‘I couldn’t refuse him’ Alexander said. ‘He was so excited when he saw it. If he hadn’t wanted to buy it so much, I would have left it where it was. But his insistence – his face a picture of pure joy – meant that I had no other option. Now I’m frightened; I know it sounds stupid but I am. It will forever be a reminder of Katya’s tragic death.’

 

Natalya listened patiently. She said: ‘What does it say, Alexander, that our son saw your sister’s bike and wanted it over and above every other birthday gift in the world ? Surely it represents a bond, however strange the circumstances might be – a bond between our son and Katya. We are not the kind of people who pander to superstition. Perhaps we can call this incident a coincidence in which a love greater than we can imagine was demonstrated in the form of a long-lost bicycle. Let us be happy with that, Alexander. No harm can come of it. We will make sure that Lukas is supervised. And soon he will outgrow it and your sister’s cycle will be left in peace with all the other things in the cellar. Let our boy cycle until his heart is content. And when he does so remember your dear sister and think of the love she would have shown to our son.’

 

They kissed and prepared to sleep. Natalya’s words had soothed Alexander’s fears. He closed his eyes and accepted everything that she had said.

 

 

 

7.

 

 

Before Lukas was able to ride the bike, it was left at the repair shop. The front wheel was replaced, new brakes fitted, and the chain tightened. As Alexander’s son had requested, the old white paintwork was rubbed away and replaced with Ferrari red. When Alexander and Lukas collected the bike the look of joy in the boy’s eyes warmed Alexander’s heart. ‘Wow’ he said, ‘it looks brilliant!’ Alexander couldn’t disagree. The cycle had been transformed, from a prim and proper bicycle suitable for a young girl into a lean fashionable machine more in tune with a nine-year old boy.

 

That same afternoon Alexander and Natalya prepared Lukas for his maiden ride. A helmet was placed on his head, the strap fastened tight beneath his chin; elbow and knee pads were attached to his limbs (much to the boy’s displeasure). Because he was already proficient, having only recently discarded his smaller bike, Lukas pedalled confidently from one end of the car park behind the tower block to the other, his mother clapping and shouting words of encouragement, Alexander watching his son’s every movement as if checking for any possible infringement that might hinder his progress.

 

Lukas completed three journeys across the car park, his speed and confidence increasing on each occasion. After a while Natalya called for him to stop, suggesting that he put the bicycle in the cellar. There was homework to complete; he could ride some more the next day. But Lukas pleaded for one more journey to which his parents reluctantly agreed. Natalya kissed her husband and went inside to prepare dinner. Alexander stood and watched as his son pretended to rev the engine of the imaginary Ferrari.

 

As Lukas embarked on his final journey across the car park Alexander’s mind began to drift. He thought about the coming week’s work at the food factory and about the family’s plans for the following weekend. He thought of these things oblivious to his son’s frantic shout that something was wrong, that he was in need of urgent assistance. Only when Alexander looked up and saw Lukas riding at speed onto the main road did he realise that all was not well. ‘Dad – help!’ shouted Lukas, and promptly disappeared from Alexander’s sight, turning left onto a road that would soon be busy with late afternoon traffic. Alexander called out to his son, began to sprint across the car park. Half-way he stopped, turned, and ran to his car which was parked opposite the tower block’s rear entrance. He got in, started the engine, and sped off in search of Lukas.

 

Alexander accelerated along the road. The traffic was still reasonably light, but he soon found himself behind a slow-moving truck that was wide enough to prevent him from overtaking. The cycle lane was clear, but he could not see Lukas. Had he fallen off ? Or crashed ? And why was he cycling so fast ? Nothing seemed to make any sense.

 

Alexander pounded his fist against the horn. ‘Move out of the way!’ he shouted. The truck driver, provoked, slammed his foot against the brake pedal, causing Alexander to brake hard in turn. But the driver’s actions worked to Alexander’s advantage. The lumbering truck struggled to pick up speed as the road lifted into a short incline. Alexander dropped into a lower gear, pressed the accelerator to the floor, and prepared to overtake.

 

It was a manoeuvre that reaped Alexander a reward. There, in the distance, racing away from the lowest point of the descent, was Lukas. The bicycle was travelling at a tremendous speed, but it didn’t seem as if his son was pedalling. Alexander continued to accelerate until he drew level with the red bicycle. Through the open window he shouted: ‘Use your brakes! Use your brakes!’ Lukas glanced at his father, his face taught with terror. ‘I can’t’ he shouted. ‘They’re not working! It’s driving by itself!’

 

Alexander looked ahead. The road was clear although a restriction sign indicated they were about to enter a village. He looked at the speedometer: the bike was travelling well above the speed limit. Alexander needed to stop the runaway bike or else Lukas would surely come to harm. But how ?

 

As they entered the village the bike swerved to the left, turning at speed into a private estate. Alexander followed. The road descended into a cul-de-sac. Alexander saw smart, yellow-bricked bungalows with smart new cars parked on their driveways. Lukas was hurtling straight ahead, towards the largest, most prominent bungalow. Alexander held his breath.

 

Instead of ploughing into the raised paving stone, as Alexander feared, the bike seemed to lurch in the direction of the front garden – a large, rectangular manicured lawn surrounded by a border containing many colourful plants and shrubs. The bike suddenly jumped and twisted mid-air, as if it were competing in a dirt rally, the rear wheel digging deep into the well-tended soil on landing. Plants were either flattened or torn asunder as the bike skidded to a halt leaving a deep unsightly gorge in the trimmed grass.

 

Alexander heard his son scream as he was thrown from the saddle and landed on the lawn. The bike came to rest among a collection of red flowers, scattering their petals, roots and stems all around.

 

Alexander brought his car to a halt and ran towards Lukas. The boy was crying but was not seriously hurt. ‘Thank God you’re ok’ Alexander said holding Lukas close to him. ‘I thought something terrible was going to happen.’ He looked at the damage inflicted on the garden, at the deep troughs seared onto the manicured lawn. As he did so Alexander became aware of a figure standing quite still in the bungalow’s doorway - an elderly figure who clearly expected an explanation as to what had gone on.

 

 

Next instalment: Red Bicycle 8-10 | ABCtales