Chapter Two – Running Off With Somebody Else's Husband

Now, I must tell you about the married man. He was in his mid-thirties, more than twice Bike Handle's age, and already had a perfectly good wife and two lovely children. His wife was a nice woman, the sort who'd help you out if you were in trouble and wouldn't dream of poking her nose into anybody else's business. She kept a clean house, looked after her children and worked hard to make a decent home.

I never could understand what possessed that man. He had a wife who loved him, two children who needed him, and a home of his own. Yet he decided to get himself involved with Bike Handle, of all people.

She knew perfectly well he was married. There was no misunderstanding, no confusion and no excuse. She knew there were two children involved as well. But that didn't stop her. If anything, she seemed rather pleased with herself.

The affair went on behind his wife's back until eventually the husband decided to leave home and run off with Bike Handle. You can imagine what that did to his poor wife. One minute she was getting on with her ordinary life, looking after the children and keeping the household together; the next she was left trying to explain why their father had packed his things and gone.

I remember the gossip going round the street. Women were talking about it at the shops, over the garden walls and while hanging out their washing. Nobody could believe he'd been so bloody stupid. And as for Bike Handle, well, there wasn't much sympathy for her either.

What got my goat was the way she carried on afterwards. She seemed to think she'd done something clever. There she was, swaggering about as though she'd won some sort of prize, when all she'd really done was help wreck a woman's marriage and upset two innocent children.

One woman said she'd never seen such a shameless little cow in all her life, and I don't think anybody disagreed.

The husband wasn't much better. He was a grown man with responsibilities, yet he'd thrown them away for a seventeen-year-old girl who couldn't behave herself for five minutes. He'd made his choice, and now he had to live with it.

His wife, poor thing, had to get on with bringing up the children. She didn't deserve any of it. I often thought how hard it must have been for her, especially when she had to walk down the street and hear people whispering about what had happened. She'd done nothing wrong, yet she was the one left picking up the pieces.

Bike Handle didn't seem remotely bothered. She was too busy enjoying herself and behaving as though the whole affair had been some great romantic adventure. I doubt she'd given the poor woman a second thought.

But there was more to come, because that arrangement didn't last as long as Bike Handle apparently imagined it would.