Mr Dibbs Fixes Bikes

17

A minor cardiac event. That's what the doctors had told him. Minor. It wasn't as though Alfie had thought himself indestructible, but, along with other age-related ailments, he now had to worry about his heart giving out on him. And the treatment? Aspirin. An aspirin a day to thin his blood. Yet another pill to add to his tally. He felt as though he had terrified the lad over nothing and now had to contend with the lad's mother fussing about him.

"There's no need, lass!" Consigned to his settee, Alfie had already watched as Esther, who he still couldn't call by her name, had polished his furniture. "Thy has thee own life to lead! I'll be fine."

"You're not fine." Washing. She was now sorting through his washing and Alfie had rarely felt so embarrassed. "People who have heart attacks aren't 'fine'. And if you try to get up from that sofa, we will come to blows."

The lad didn't help. Sitting there on the single chair, hiding a chuckle behind his mouth. Alfie had a good mind to throw them both out, kindness or not. At least the hospital visit had taken care of his indecision about visiting the doctor's, but it had also led to Esther setting up an appointment for the opticians, after tidying up his pile of letters and finding the reminder.

It reminded him too much of life with the Duchess, though, back then, he had gladly allowed his beloved wife to take care of everything. No. Not allowed. Expected. He came from a different generation, but that was no excuse. He had left the house every morning, expecting to come home to everything clean and tidy, and with his tea on the table. How he wished he had taken on more. Had appreciated her more. But he hadn't.

He appreciated Esther's fussing, he truly did, but it was not something that sat right with him. Not to mention he couldn't even leave the house without the lass asking where he was going, what he was going to do, whether she could do it for him. The allotment hadn't seen him for days and that bicycle languished in his shed, untouched since that day.

"There isn't no point in arguing, Mister Dibbs. My mum's fierce." The lad enjoyed every second of Alfie's discomfort. "She's got you now."

That sounded ominous. For almost a week, now, Esther and the lad had come around in the morning, then at night after Esther had finished work. He hadn't had so many people in the house for so long for years. Never one for inviting guests, Alfie had preferred the company of the Duchess, and Charlie. Since those days, he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of people he had invited through those doors.

"It's your birthday soon, isn't it, Mister Dibbs?" The sound of the washing machine began to groan and rumble from the kitchen as Esther returned to the living room. How she'd found out about his birthday was a mystery. "We should do something. What do you enjoy?"

"I'm not as like to celebrate birthdays." His last celebrated birthday sat back in the mists of time, when the Duchess had not left him. "At my age, they mean little and celebrate less. Don't thee mind about my birthday."

"Well, we'll discuss that later. I'm not talking about a party, just ... something, you know?" She leaned down, shifting Frederick aside, and retrieved her handbag, slipping it onto her shoulder. "Now, Frederick, don't be a bother for Mister Dibbs. Out and play, but make sure you check every so often. If he needs any shopping, you do it. And no heavy lifting."

"I'm not crippled, lass!" He started to stand, but a glare from Esther had him returning to the seat. "And 'he' can get his own shopping, thank thee very much."

Esther gave a roll of the eyes, leaning over again to kiss Frederick's head, brushing the tight curls of his hair and cupping his cheek before turning to the front door. A little hesitation and she leaned over to kiss the bald head of Alfie, too, which brought heat to his cheeks he hadn't felt in years. She treated him like a child. Still, it was nice to feel a little affection after so many years.