Mr Dibbs Fixes Bikes

11

Alfie tried hard to hide the smirk upon seeing Frederick slouch into the back garden, his mum pushing him forward. The lad still looked half-asleep, hand reaching to rub at his eyes, yawning, looking around him as though he thought himself still in the grip of his dreams. He had asked and Alfie had told him the start would come earlier than the lad were likely used to.

A knapsack sat against the lad's back, no doubt filled with vittles for the day, one strap dangling and catching his arm as he plodded toward Alfie. The Sun had already risen, but the morning still felt cold and the lad wore a thick, quilted coat that would end up mithering the lad afore the day began to broaden. Alfie already had everything ready. Rods, reels, tackle box, fresh sandwiches and a vacuum flask filled with hot, strong tea. Alfie doubted the lad had the wherewithal to carry much of anything.

"Right. If he's any trouble, or starts moaning, send him home. He'll remember the way." The lad's mum turned Frederick around, setting the knapsack strap straight and brushing his hair with her hand, tidying the coat, rubbing a thumb against something she had seen on his cheek. "You be good for Mister Dibbs. If he says you've been a nuisance ..."

"Leave it out, mum!" Frederick pulled away, as all boys do when mothers showed too much affection around others. "I'll not do nothing!"

"He'll be fine. As like he'll fall asleep afore cause bother." Alfie began to gather the fishing tackle, far heavier these days than they once were. "Thy's got nowt to worry about, so long as he doesn't take to having a swim. I'll ensure that he doesn't, mind. He'd disturb the fish."

He winked at the emerging look of shock and worry that crossed the lass' face, hoping that she realised that he had joked about it. Mothers were mothers, and they didn't take kindly to such jests, always expecting the worst and worrying themselves spare about everything. Alfie would keep his eye on the lad. As best he could.

For a moment, Alfie almost expected the lad's mum to call off the fishing trip, at least for Frederick, but, then, she managed to see the joke and gave a tight smile before checking the lad over one last time. Alfie rubbed the handkerchief under his nose, wishing she would have done with a routine the lad had probably gone through several times by now. After one last brush of her fingers through the lad's tight curls, she stood, giving a pained smile that spoke of never seeing her son leave often.

The walk to the canal took them through several streets where few people stirred at this hour, save for those workers rushing to cars to drive away to a day filled with toil, or, as most did in this day, sit before computer screens, tapping at keyboards for hours on end. As they walked, the lad started to stir from his sleep-addled state, looking about him with wide eyes, setting their path in his mind. Of course, the lad hadn't roved far, up to now, as far as Alfie knew.

A new town took some getting used to, Alfie suspected, though he had never lived anywhere but here. He had only ever known these streets and the surrounding fields and woods. Travel and holidays had consisted of straight trips to the coast, with his mam and dad, staying days in a caravan, spending time on the beach, or in the arcades, or walking, always walking. A practice he had continued with the Duchess and Charlie.

He had never set foot in another country. Never flown. The furthest he had travelled had found him on the border of Scotland and that had felt far enough for Alfie. Living in a different town had never occurred to him, never interested him. Everything he had always wanted, or needed, had come from this town. Love, a son, contentment. For a while. Charlie, of course, had travelled, with the army.

The streets of the town gave way to tree-lined lanes that wended and twisted their way through an ever more green landscape, hills rising up to both sides, where cows and sheep fed themselves on browning grass as the year wore on. The sounds changed and the lad appeared fascinated by everything. Every noise made his head whip around. Every new thing caught his attention. An old, wooden gate with a stile to the side had the lad clambering up and over and back again.