Many of my friends were impressed and very interested in who this ‘cougar’ was. So I took it down because I realised that one day mum might actually come for a visit and my mates would think I’d got the hots for my mum. It wasn’t that. At least I don’t think it was that. Oh no, I hoped it wasn’t that. Was it that?
I think she’d forgotten she was supposed to be hanging the washing, because she remained standing there, lost in thought, rooted to the spot, a cream pillowslip in her hands.
“Mum, I’ve just had a great thought. We’ve still got your old bike in the shed. Let me do it up for you and we can go for a ride together?”
She looked up, her train of thought broken.
“What? What!? You kidding? I’ve not been on a bike for years..”
“But you don’t forget mum, it’s like, umm, riding a bike… Look, I’ll tell you what, let’s have a look at it, give it the once-over, and if it’s in any nick I’ll fix it up, you can give it a run round the block and, I know! Tomorrow – tomorrow we’ll go out to Hayfield like we used to, take a few sandwiches and we’ll make a day of it…”
Without waiting for an answer I strode off towards the shed where mum’s bicycle might be. I say ‘might’ because over time we’d piled all those things like old chairs and appliances, especially after dad had passed away, into the back, and now I was confronted with a huge mound of – well, junk. But there at the bottom I could just make out part of a wheel. Hopefully the rest of the bicycle was there too, and after half an hour of moving stuff around I found that, indeed, it was.
It was the perfect lady’s bicycle – mudguards, no crossbar, handlebars that bent round towards you, with a bell, and a basket for carrying shopping – and flat tyres…..
“See, it’s no good, the tyres are perished. And anyway, didn’t it used to be red?”
It was now a deep pink, the colour having faded somewhat, but….
“Leave it to me, it’s no problem, it’s Eddie to the rescue!”
And with that I whipped the bike onto its back and got to work. There really wasn’t much wrong that a few squirts of WD40 wouldn’t solve, and I went over to the bicycle shop in town and replaced the tyres and inner-tubes with brand new ones.
“Dadah..!”
“Oh, I dunno, I…”
“On you get.”
“Maybe I need training wheels…”
“I’m holding it steady, on you get.”
With a comical grimace she took hold of the handlebars and stood astride the bike.
“I’m holding it, now up you…”
Before I’d finished, she plonked herself onto the saddle – well, more accurately, onto my hand holding the saddle…. Her bum was warm and soft on my hand, and I felt her cheeks press down on me alternately as she began, slowly at first, to pedal. If she felt my hand there, she didn’t mention it.
“Woohoo..!”
She pedalled faster and my hand was left behind in empty space. For some reason I just stared at the hand.
And then suddenly she was turning back towards me, not quite in a straight line, as she used one hand to hold down her skirt to protect her modesty. She headed directly for me and…
“Whoa..!” I laughed as I grabbed the handlebars with both hands and ran backwards. “This thing’s got brakes you know..”
She was laughing so much as she came to a halt, and brushed her auburn hair back out of her eyes, lifting her face to the sunlight – wow, deja vu, she looked so lovely, the years slipped away from her.
“Ummm, well?”
“Yes. You know what? Yes! I need a change, I need a….yes, let’s do it…”
So it was decided. That evening we pored over maps together and looked at the train schedules, we packed sandwiches, we lay together shoulder to shoulder on the carpet, each with a glass of wine, making the final preparations. And then we were ready. We got up. Nothing to do but… I hugged her tightly and kissed her on the cheek.
“Mum, we’re going to have a great old time tomorrow. It’s going to be fun.”
“Ooh,” she smiling, “I’ve not been hugged like that for ages…”
Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it wasn’t.
“Goodnight mum. Should I put the alarm?”
“No I don’t think so. I’m really looking forward to this now, I’ll be wide awake with the birds.”