What became of us

bed. She pedalled as fast as she could, but the bike was like the exercise bike she occasionally sat on at the gym which had all sorts of computer-animated scenery on the screen, but never actually went anywhere. The difference was that at the gym you could program the bike for an easy ride and read a glossy magazine while you pedalled, whereas on the road you were forced to get off and push at every slight incline.
    Ian would get far ahead, then get off and wait for her to catch him up.
    It reminded her of the holiday she had been on with Rick who was the love of her life before Max. They had spent a week on Crete. The way to get around the island, he had said, was on motor scooters. She had gone along with the plan without really thinking about it. It looked like fun, but the reality of entrusting yourself to a machine that had the power to run away from you if you twisted the handlebar a little too quickly, as it did when she first started the engine and tried to get on, was a little different. The man from the hire shop caught the bike as it spluttered off without her. She picked herself up and bravely got back on, but her confidence had gone. Rick sped off ahead looking back at her and steering the bike with one hand at the same time, but she could only manage a snail’s pace. For the rest of the day Rick would ride a few miles ahead then stop and have a cigarette while he waited for her to catch up. At first he found her pathetic crawl along the half-made roads amusing, but after a few stops he became impatient, and by the end of the hot sweaty day he had descended into a silent sulk from which he never quite emerged. Despite the sunburn, she had tried to make up for it in bed that night, but his disappointment in her was immutable. The next year, he had taken the woman he was later to marry to Greece, and Annie had wondered whether the motor scooter ordeal was a kind of test-drive for marriageability which she had dismally failed.

    By the time they reached North Oxford, she was tired and hot and had a strong presentiment that the strain she was feeling in her calf muscles was nothing compared to the pain she would suffer the next day. It was getting light. Dawn was chasing them and catching up.
    ‘Shit,’ she said, puffing up behind Ian’s stationary bike.
    ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘the last haul. It really is downhill from here.’
    ‘It’s all very well,’ she muttered. ‘You have a nice rest while I catch you up — no wonder you’re finding it easier. And your bike’s got more gears.’
    ‘Swap?’ he offered.
    ‘All right.’
    They swapped bikes, but the seat was too high on his.
    ‘I don’t have a spanner,’ he said, patting his pockets as if there might be a forgotten toolkit about his person.
    ‘Call yourself a man!’ she said.
    ‘Come on. You can’t give up now,’ he said, swapping the bikes back again, ‘I’ll give you a start. As soon as you disappear from view I’ll start pedalling and the last one to Magdalen Bridge pays for breakfast.’
    Unable to resist a challenge, Annie set off pedalling as hard as she could, but within seconds he caught her up and rode along beside her, and even though she could see that he was only pretending to struggle to keep up with her, she was still determined to win.
    Suddenly the greying light began to flash like a stroboscope. They both craned their necks, saw the police car coming up behind them and Ian pulled easily in front of her to make space for it to speed past. Instead the police car began to slow down and stopped about a hundred yards down the road in front of them.
    It was only when a uniformed officer got out and began walking towards them that either of them realized what was happening.
    ‘Oh God,’ Annie said, putting both feet down flat, ‘we’re going to be done for theft. I can’t believe it. My career is over.’
    In her mind she could see a little box entitled ‘On yer bike!’ under the main story on the front of Monday’s Mirror. There was never much news on the weekend and there was nothing they liked better than a minor celebrity embarrassment.
    ‘Let me handle this,’ Ian whispered, giving her his bike to hold, then striding forward manfully.
    ‘Can I help you officer?’ he said.
    ‘Do you realize your lights aren’t working, sir?’
    ‘I’m terribly sorry, officer.’
    ‘Indeed, you don’t seem to have any lights...’
    ‘Let me explain, you see, the thing is,’ Annie said, coming up behind him,