Mr Dibbs Fixes Bikes

6

His mum had decided to bake a cake. Why, Frederick had no idea, but he had learned not to ask questions when his mum was in such a good mood. With her hair covered by scarf, she had spent hours, before he'd even woken up, cleaning the downstairs of the house, even though he'd thought it was pretty clean already. She had also unboxed most of the kitchen stuff, found appropriate places for them and set a load of washing going.

It was one of those days. Except, once Mum had decided to bake a cake, she had realised that the only thing she missed was flour. To Frederick, that wasn't a problem. Just not bother with the cake. To his mum, it was the biggest disaster since the last disaster, so he'd offered to run to the shops to get the flour for her. If they sold flour. If these northerners even knew what flour was. And, again, at his offer, the huge, beautiful smile had returned to his mum's face immediately.

He hadn't expected to see the old bloke on the way to the shops. Sat there, on the wall, surrounded by bikes abandoned by, he took a guess, those kids walking away, laughing and pushing each other around. Why they'd left the bikes with Mr Dibbs remained a mystery, for the moment. After a brief 'hello', he had continued on his way. He needed that flour to keep his mum happy.

"You watch, yeah. He'll not only fix it, he'll clean it as well. Half the time, I reckon I could pop the tyre every week and get a free wash and brush up out of the old git." As Frederick waited for the woman behind the counter to give him his change, he couldn't help but hear the boy talking. He talked loud enough. "Creepy old sod he is. Fixing kids' bikes. Better'n paying for a new inner tube, though."

"We should all pop our tyres and make the old weirdo fix 'em." Another boy, giggling at his feeble joke. "Then pop 'em again and make him fix 'em again. And he'd do it, the thick old bastard!"

Frederick hugged the bag of flour to his chest, clutching the change and the receipt in his hand. He had seen how the woman behind the counter had watched him as he'd searched the shelves for the right flour and he wanted to make sure she could see he kept his hands to himself. It wouldn't matter. He knew very well that if someone like her called five-oh on him, they'd believe her even when they'd find nothing on him. That's why he always got receipts.

As he turned sideways to get past the other kids, he chanced a look at them all, especially the one at the front. The loud one who had talked first. Of course, Frederick didn't recognise him, but he wanted to remember his face. The loudest ones were usually the first to start trouble, the first to run away and the first to accuse others of stuff they did. Only trouble was, the kid happened to see Frederick look.

"What are you looking at, Chalky?" He laughed. The others laughed along with him. Frederick had heard far worse. "Flour doesn't stick, mate. You'll still be black when it washes off."

Another round of laughter and then the boy barged his shoulder into Frederick. He should have anticipated it. Prepared for it. After all, it was the type of thing he had become used to, back home. Not from everyone, no, but from enough. Of course he'd get it up here with these inbred northerners. The shoulder barge was just strong enough to loosen his grip, sending the bag of flower falling from Frederick's hands, exploding as it hit the floor.

"You little bleeder!" Anyone else would think the woman behind the counter talked to the other boy, but Frederick knew better. "You did that on purpose! Think it's funny, do you? Throwing flour over my floors? Well, you'll clean that up, my lad, or me and your mother'll be having words."

Laughter from the other boys echoed through Frederick's head as he looked down at his hand. He didn't have enough money to buy any more flour, not that the woman would probably sell any to him now. He shoved the change and receipt in his pocket and turned to see the woman brandishing a dust pan and brush, at him, as he had expected. What was he going to do? Argue that the other boy had knocked into him deliberately?