Chapter 2: Colin
The gentle chimes of the antique German oak Hamburg wall clock announced, ‘It ist time for ze Lunch!’ Colin Sedgewick sighed contentedly, placed the top back on his treasured 338 Conway Stewart lilac marbled fountain pen and returned it to its wooden case. He blew across the inked script he had just finished and closed the leather-bound ledger. Colin prided himself on being the only accountant in town who didn’t possess a computer. He preferred the ‘old ways’.
He descended the impossibly narrow stairs of his third storey office with a definite spring in his step. He opened the heavy wooden door and stepped out into the cobbled courtyard. There she was. He took a moment to admire his new pride and joy. His eyes took in the shining chrome, the gleaming paintwork, the racy lines. He couldn’t wait to jump on her and cruise down to the park.
He was so excited he nearly forgot his safety equipment! ‘You can’t cruise anywhere without a helmet!’ He placed his lunchbox on the bench and raised his right leg. He smoothed the worsted trouser, donned the brass bicycle clip and securely fastened the chinstrap of his colour-co-ordinated helmet. He was ready. He wobbled over the cobbles towards the ornate courtyard entrance, ringing the shiny chrome bell twice to warn pedestrians of his approach, then rode out onto the street.
All was very well in Colin’s world as he carefully manoeuvred his gleaming gent’s Raleigh Spirit, resplendent in ‘mushroom’ paintwork along Bottom Street, keeping a watchful eye on traffic at all times. Approaching the junction he gave a textbook hand-signal and turned right onto the high street. He rode with care and consideration toward his fellow road-users, religiously keeping within the cycle lane. Then… disaster! He was forced to pull out into traffic to ride around the white van some ignoramus had abandoned across the kerb and the cycle lane! He decided to give the lout sat in the cab who was glued to his mobile phone a stern piece of his mind as he rode past! The builder shook his head at being ‘tutted at’ by the old bloke who had just cycled past then the builder returned his attention to his phone.
Colin’s dander was well ‘up’ now. He was ready for anything. He reached the junction, applying the brakes smoothly ensuring he stopped precisely at the white line. He waited patiently in the sunshine, humming Bach’s Overture No 3. His personal space was then rudely invaded. He nodded perfunctorily at the intruder, a young man clad in mud-spattered lycra on one of those space-age mountain-bicycles! The young alien glanced at him through futuristic sunglasses and smiled. ‘Nice bike, Granddad!’ he remarked as he sped away. ‘Harrumph… Granddad indeed!’
Colin performed his ‘over the shoulder’ safety check before pulling away and pushed hard on the pedal. At that moment a white van appeared out of nowhere and turned across his line of travel. Colin grabbed the brakes, bringing the Spirit to an abrupt stop. He recognised the driver. It was the lout who he had just passed. He un-ruffled his feathers and rode across the junction without further incident. This was quite enough excitement for one lunchtime, he thought. He approached the entrance to the park and stopped, waiting for the traffic to clear. Then he saw her. Heard her, more accurately.
The sound of a powerful motorcycle engine announced her arrival in Colin’s world. As he waited at the yellow ‘Give Way’ box she stopped next to him. He glanced at her. And saw a beautiful girl riding a black motorcycle. He noticed her long blonde hair flowing under her black open-face crash helmet. He also noticed her un-fastened leather jacket, and her vest. ‘Good Lord!’ Colin’s breath was momentarily taken away. ‘She wasn’t wearing a bra!’ He might have been an accountant, but he could recognise pert female nipples! The on-coming traffic cleared. He remained motionless as this vision rode off. He could have sworn she smiled at him. What a day! And he hadn’t even had his lunch yet. Colin rode into the park, being mindful of the people along the path. Then he reached his favourite bench.
“Hi Colin.” His lunch-date said. Colin steered the Spirit towards the bench, and braked rather dramatically, sliding the back wheel to a stop. Then dismounted, swinging his leg over the Spirit in a very cavalier fashion.
“Are you alright?” the girl asked. In Colin’s mind he was Steve McQueen, arriving on a huge black motorbike which probably had a shotgun attached to it. Then he coolly dismounts before striding manfully up to his ‘old lady’ who was about to be ravaged.
“Er, yes Mabel, I’m fine thank you. Nice to see you here.”
“Haven’t you forgotten something?”
“Oh yes, silly me.” He stooped to remove his bicycle clip and smoothed the turn-up of his worsted suit trouser leg.
“Is that a new bicycle.”
‘Yeah baby! Wanna go for a ride?’ “Why yes it is,” he replied. “Do you like her?”
“Her?”
“Of course it’s a ‘her’. Bikes are just like ships, and, er, Eddie Stobart Lorries. They are all named after girls.” He said with authority.
“Ooh Colin!” Mabel said coyly, “I do like it when you are being manly!”
“What have you got for lunch today?” Colin nodded towards the brown paper package next to her, no bigger than a box of teabags. Mabel patted the bench next to her. He didn’t need asking twice.
“The funniest thing just happened. As I was sat here a man approached me and placed it next to me. I was a bit scared. He looked like one of those awful Hell’s Angels! He had long blonde hair, like one of those rock-star people. He had very big muscles and he was wearing tight leather trousers and cowboy boots. But when he smiled at me it made me go all strange.” Colin was slightly perplexed at Mabel’s detailed description of the thug.
“Oh you poor thing. Are you alright? He didn’t touch you or anything?” Colin’s eyes noticed Mabel’s breasts heaving under her cardigan. He had never seen them heave before. And she looked rather flushed, he observed.
“Oh, no, nothing like that. He was very polite. He apologised for disturbing my lunch – was tucking into my avocado and prawn wrap when he arrived. He said he was in a hurry and asked if I minded looking after this package for a few minutes. He told me that his ex-wife was coming to collect it and he didn’t really want to see her just yet. So I said ‘Yes’ naturally. And I spoke with my mouth full of prawn and avocado!” She seemed horrified.
“Oh, Mabel. You are so trusting. It could be anything. Drugs, or a bomb!” He took the parcel and shook it.
“Oh don’t be ridiculous, Colin. You must stop reading those crime novels! Of course we’ll help the poor man. Won’t we? Anyway, if was a bomb it would have probably gone off with you shaking it. Idiot!” Colin stopped and gingerly placed the package back on the bench. Mabel moved away slightly, as if a couple of inches would give her protection from an explosive device. Colin then told her about the girl he had just seen on the motorcycle.
“I bet that’s his horrible ex-wife!”
“She might not be that horrible.”
“Of course she is, Colin. I bet she’s a complete bitch!” Colin’s mouth dropped open. He had never heard Mabel curse before. As he closed his mouth, he watched her striding back and forth in front of the bench as she animatedly expounded her theory about why this ‘poor’ muscly Thor-like Hell’s Angel didn’t want to see this blonde Amazonian goddess he had just encountered outside the park.
“I bet she cheated on him with the Leader of the Pack!”
“Isn’t that a song?” He offered helpfully.
“Shut up Colin! I’m thinking.”
Colin smiled. He had never seen ‘this’ Mabel before and he was liking it very much. “Then I bet Maverick caught them bang at it!”
“Who’s ‘Maverick’?” Colin asked, nonplussed.
“The biker I just met silly. He had his name on the back of his leather jacket. Stop interrupting me! I bet the Leader of the Pack was knelt over the blonde hussy, who was completely at his mercy, moaning wantonly as he slowly unbuckled the huge belt on his leather jeans..”
“Jesus Mabel!” Colin coughed into his ham and cheese sandwich.
??
?I bet she was crying ‘Take me now!’ as he ripped her vest apart with his strong manly hands, exposing her breasts….”
Colin’s world turned upside down as he watched Mabel subconsciously carrying out the actions of her fantasy. “Mabel! What on earth are you doing?” She stopped and looked at him.
“Oh dear!” she cried, looking down at her hands which were cupping her breasts. She went beetroot red and sat down on the bench. Colin couldn’t take his eyes off her heaving bosom. He dropped his ham and cheese sandwich and grabbed her, kissing her full on the mouth.
“Oh Colin!”
“Oh Mabel!”
“Oh God! Can you two get a room please! In the park? Really?”
Colin and Mabel started at the newcomer’s voice. They both turned to see a blonde girl in black leather.
“You’re her!” Colin said. “The motor-cycle girl!”
“I guess.” The mysterious blonde replied. Mabel smoothed her cardigan and eyed her suspiciously.
“I suppose you’ve come to collect this.” Mabel nodded towards the package. “He didn’t stay because he doesn’t want to see you now that you’ve run off with the Leader of the Pack!” Colin groaned.
“The what?” The blonde responded, nonplussed.
“Isn’t that why he left this for you? Because he couldn’t stand the pain, the betrayal. How could you do it to him?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Can I just take the package please? I need to be somewhere.” Colin handed it her trepidatiously.
“Can I ask what’s in it?”
“You’d never believe me if I told you.” The blonde goddess smiled as she walked away. Colin watched her until she disappeared from view through the trees. Then he heard a powerful motorcycle roar into life.
The girl on the motorcycle left the park. She had a long ride ahead of her before she could deliver the package to Muttley at the Iron Road biker bar, many miles away in Stratford.
Colin looked at his watch in horror. He was late for work. But before he left he grabbed Mabel by the arm and kissed her once more.
“I need to see you tonight!” He couldn’t take his eyes off Mabel’s cardigan.
“Oh, alright then. Around eight?”
“I’ll pick you up at eight then. See you later babe!”
“Babe?” Mabel flushed. She had never been called that before.
As Colin rode back to his office on his bicycle he whistled … “The Leader of the Pack.”
He’d cycled to the park with a contended smile on his forty-two-year-old face. He now felt an immense sense of pride as he cruised along. The birds were singing, the mid-summer sun glinting nicely off the chrome handlebars on his shiny Raleigh Spirit.
***