Red Bicycle 3-5

3.

 

 

Alexander was nine when his sister was killed. The ten years that followed her death were like a strange, self-fulfilling dream. First his mother passed away - of grief, so he was told. Then, three years later, his father followed her, having turned to the bottle to assuage his feelings of guilt. Why he had felt himself to be responsible for the family’s misfortune was a mystery which Alexander couldn’t understand. Katya’s death, the official report stated, was the result of a criminal act. The driver who committed the act was responsible. His father’s desire to shoulder the blame, Alexander thought, was tantamount to madness.

 

The funeral was held in the city’s cathedral. Donations, made by his father’s work colleagues, covered the cost. A great many people attended, such was the outpouring of grief the three deaths had engendered. Afterwards, the city’s bishop stood before Alexander and blessed him. ‘You must not believe your family to be cursed, little Alexander’ the bishop said. ‘Joy will return to your life if you have faith in God.’

 

Alexander hadn’t considered that his family might be cursed. A tragedy had overcome them from which they had not been able to recover. Alexander thought of these things and wondered if he too would succumb to such sorrow. He vowed that he wouldn’t. Surely it would be more appropriate to make the best of things, to carry on and live his life. Surely that would be the way to honour the memory of his sister and his parents. What’s more, the chief of police – who had also attended the funeral of Alexander’s father - had told him they would continue the search for the culprit. ‘No matter how long it takes’ he said, tears glazing his eyes, ‘we will bring the driver of the car to justice.’ Alexander had thanked the chief and said he would look forward to when the day of justice arrived. After all, justice was the least that his parents and Katya deserved.

 

 

 

 

4.

 

 

At the age of twenty-one a new woman came into Alexander’s life. Her name was Natalya, a teacher at the nearby primary school. They met on a blind date in a local café. Natalya was shy and unassuming, and Alexander was drawn to this aspect of her personality. At first, they struggled to make conversation. He considered making up some interesting facts about himself to impress her: that he collected objects d’art, perhaps, or was on first name terms with the city’s bishop and police chief. He watched as she sipped her coffee, thought how delicate she looked, her brown hair tied back, her hands smooth and elegant as they lifted her coffee cup. Instead, he told her the simple truth: that since leaving college he’d been working at the food processing factory; that he was well respected there due to his father’s many years of service; that his sister had been killed in a hit-and-run incident; and that both of his parents had died of grief. He apologised for being so blunt, for telling her such things during their first meeting, but justified his outpouring by saying that, for the first time, he felt able in her company to unburden himself after many years of being alone. She smiled and Alexander was unsure whether it was a smile borne of pity or understanding.

 

He'd ordered two chicken salads. As they ate Alexander admired her deep, clear eyes. He told Natalya that he’d inherited the fifth-floor apartment in which he’d lived for the whole of his life. ‘All I aspire to is the pleasure of my own loving family’ he said. ‘I’m not able to offer you, or anyone, riches…Only my trust and devotion.’

 

Alexander fell silent and his head drooped slightly. Natalya dabbed her mouth with a napkin, tucked the napkin neatly beneath her plate. Then she gently took hold of his hand. ‘I think we are well-matched, Alexander’ she said, smiling, ‘for a loving family is the only thing that I have ever aspired to.’

 

 

 

5.

 

 

They were married in the city’s cathedral, where Alexander’s mother, father and sister were buried. After they were declared husband and wife, the priest, who had helped officiate at all three funerals, whispered: ‘Your parents and sister are looking down on you from heaven, Alexander. They are very proud.’

 

Within a year a child was born – a boy, named Lukas. Alexander and Natalya were devoted to the child. They worked, doted on their son, kept themselves to themselves. Even though they talked of moving into a more modern, more spacious apartment, they decided to remain on the fifth floor of the tower block. They had no further children and this was their only sadness. It was a shame that Lukas would not be blessed with a little brother or sister, but Alexander and Natalya felt content with what they had been given.

 

One day, shortly after Lukas’s ninth birthday, Alexander took his son to the town’s indoor market. The market had always been a place of wonder. The tight-knit stalls were filled with antiques, bric-a-brac, toys, books, and vintage clothes. The air was alive with enticing aromas from the food section – cakes, soups, sweet treats, spices, savoury pies. They wandered from stall to stall for an hour or more, Lukas eager to spend his birthday money, Alexander enjoying his time with his son after a week of hard work. Near the end of their visit Lukas was drawn towards a stall that Alexander had never seen before. The stall sold an assortment of heavy objects – ironware, old lamps, tools and signs. An elderly man sat to the side reading a newspaper, his wares cluttered around him. Dishevelled, with a grey beard, the man wore a money pouch around his waist. Custom was slow, he said; his money pouch was barely filled with coin. ‘Let the boy take his time’ he said to Alexander as Lukas began to explore. ‘There’s all manner of things further out back.’

 

Alexander stood and waited as Lukas disappeared into an area hidden behind an old wheelbarrow and an assortment of second-hand gardening tools that hung from a steel girder. ‘There’s nothing that can hurt him’ the old man said. ‘It’s mainly ornamental stuff – water tables for birds, statues and clay pots. All good quality. And all at a fair price. Perhaps there’s something that might interest you?’

 

Alexander shook his head. He didn’t care much for the old man’s patter. ‘Not now’ he said, his voice sharper than he intended. ‘As you wish’ said the old man and returned to his newspaper.

 

Alexander ambled over to the stall opposite, then slowly walked back. Five minutes had passed. He stood a while longer, looking towards the dark recess behind the wheelbarrow, impatient now for Lukas to reveal himself. A flicker of anxiety coursed through him; suddenly he began to fear for Lukas’s safety.

 

Just as he thought these things, his son appeared. ‘Dad! Dad! Come here – look what I’ve found.’

 

Lukas ran towards his father and took hold of his hand. ‘I’ve found something for my birthday’ he said. ‘You must come and see.’

 

Lukas began to pull Alexander. The old man glanced over the top of his newspaper and smiled.

 

‘Look. Isn’t it wonderful ? Can I buy it, dad ? Please ? Can I buy it with my birthday money ?’

 

As they stood among the old stone bird tables and the over-sized clay pots Alexander felt his heart begin to thump against his chest. Leaning against a tall statue of Athena, the front wheel twisted and contorted, stood his sister Katya’s bicycle.

 

 

Next instalment: Red Bicycle 6-7 | ABCtales