Mr Dibbs Fixes Bikes

22

Frederick had started to hate it up here. He, and his mum, had had their problems back home, but they had never had bricks thrown through their windows. Of course, they were in a flat back in London, peering down from on high above the streets, but that wasn't the point. At least down there, in that sprawling, bustling city, they could always rely on somebody to support them. Even dad. Up here, he and his mum only had Mister Dibbs, and whoever was doing this had targeted him as well.

He counted his lucky stars for one thing, though. The broken window had appeared to jump start his mum, dragging her out of her mood so fast, Frederick almost didn't believe she had been in that mood at all for the last couple of days. She had hardly said a single word, sat in her dressing gown and pyjamas, thick, fluffy socks on her feet, even though it wasn't cold, cuddling her coffee mug to her chest. She had bitten her fingernails right down and that was always a bad sign.

Yet, now, she seemed energised. Defiant. He knew it wouldn't last long, but he welcomed it, anyway. Right now, she supervised the men who were attaching temporary chipboard to their window frames until new windows could get installed. He hated to think how much that was going to cost, or whether Mum, or Mister Dibbs could afford it.

The police were useless. They hadn't even stayed five minutes before drifting away, not even hiding their disinterest. Frederick had got the feeling they wanted to accuse him of smashing the windows, and why not? They didn't need evidence to accuse him of anything. Some things were the same in the north as in the south. Frederick only wished more good things were like they were back home.

"Blimey, mate! What's been going on here?" The familiar accent told Frederick that Deano had arrived for some reason. "Bang out of order that. You should complain is what you should do. Bleeding kids ought to be sorted out. Back home, the lads'd give 'em what for, eh, Freddie?"

"Yeah." Maybe the 'lads' that Deano knew. Frederick's bruvs were more likely to get accused of it. He noticed the blonde girl beside Deano. "Are you his daughter? He never even said your name. Talked more about football. I'm Frederick. That's my mum, Esther, and that's Mister Dibbs."

"I know Mister Dibbs. Hello, Alfie. Sorry about your window." The girl waved to Mister Dibbs and then to Frederick's mum. "Hello, Frederick's mum. I'm Jeanie."

Apart from her dad, Jeanie was the first person Frederick could remember seeing with a smile on her face. Of course other people smiled, but no-one Frederick had spent any time around. It looked genuine, too. A broad, toothy grin that had a little, cheeky lopsidedness to it that spoke of secret knowledge and hidden intents. She seemed nice. To the side, his mum shook hands with Deano as they discussed the windows, their shared accents bringing immediate comfort to their conversation.

Mister Dibbs, though, had said nothing. Not to him, not to his mum, not to Deano and not even to wave back to Jeanie. Something felt wrong and Frederick had a sense that it involved more than the broken windows. He hadn't even said much to the police. Not that they stayed long enough to enter into a discussion. There and gone, giving Frederick the evils and not even looking for the bricks that had smashed the windows. Nothing they could do but give Mum and Mister Dibbs crime numbers for the insurance. Or so they said.

"'Ere, Jean-Jeanie. Get yourself and the boy some sweets, or something, yeah?" Without even looking to see what size note he gave her, Deano pressed it into his daughter's hand. "I'm going to have a natter with Mister Dibbs and Esther. Alright?"

Frederick didn't like that. It stank of getting pushed away, out of sight so that grown-ups could talk. He had as much right as anyone to be around if they were talking about what happened, but all three of the adults had turned their backs, now, lost in their own, adult world. It was the first time Mister Dibbs hadn't included him in any conversation, as far as he knew. It felt as though the old geezer were ignoring him.