Mr Dibbs Fixes Bikes

28

Frederick slunk down in the chair feeling completely out of place. He didn't like these fancy restaurants, with their cutlery set out on the table in precise positions, napkins folded on a little plate that he didn't know what to do with, a single, artificial looking flower, looking sorry for itself in a small, glass vase in the centre. He preferred fast food places, where people talked and could mess around on their phones. Places where all kinds of people came to eat and wandered away as soon as they had finished.

Here, all he could hear were quiet murmurs and the tinkling of knives and forks against plates. He looked around and couldn't see a single face that made him feel welcome. Not one ounce of colour to any of the faces of the other customers, except his own, his mum's and his dad's. His dad. All the way from London, sat across from him in a cheap suit and wearing a strained grin as he tried to catch Frederick's eyes.

"You're looking good, boy. Have you grown?" His dad knew very well Frederick hadn't grown at all. "All this Northern air's doing you good, eh? Got any new mates? Girlfriend?"

"Don't badger him, Anthony." Mum sat straight-backed, legs crossed, pointing away from Dad, hands clasped in her lap. "Sit up straight, Frederick. Don't give anyone a chance to stereotype you."

Reluctant, Frederick adjusted himself on the uncomfortable chair and looked down to his own lap. He knew what his mum meant, of course. He had seen the eyes of everyone pass across all of them while the other customers thought they weren't looking. It wasn't something new to him, or his mum, or his dad. They didn't belong here and he felt that thought press upon him every second from the moment the young woman had looked them all up and down as she led them to the table.

That same look had passed the face of the other young woman who had brought water and breadsticks and the same look had crossed the face of every person who worked there as they moved around the restaurant dealing with the other customers. That look that screamed that they wanted to know what people like them were doing in a place like this. They made it obvious while trying so very hard to not appear obvious.

He wished he could say it was because they were up here, in the north, where the only people with colour in their skin were Asians or Middle Eastern. There were so few black people, Frederick couldn't remember the last time he had seen anyone like him. Not since he and his mum had visited the last motorway services all those weeks ago. It wasn't only here, though. He had seen the same kinds of looks even in London, where, sometimes, you could only see black faces on some streets.

"Your menus." The young wait staff woman reappeared, handing out big, leather-bound menus to Mum and Dad and a smaller one for him. "Is there anything you need? Drinks?"

"Thanks, darling. You want cola, Freddie?" His dad grinned at the woman as though she were his best friend and Mum brushed something away on her lap. "Cola for the boy and a dry Martini for my wife. Nothing for me. I'm good with the water."

He winked at her and then at Frederick. Why, Frederick didn't know. Both Mum and Dad started looking at their menus in silence, though Dad made several glances toward Frederick's mum as he did so. Frederick's menu had all the usual stuff, with pictures, but it all looked far more fancy than he liked. Lots of plants sprinkled around the actual food. Sauces in little cups teetering on the edge of plates. Amounts of food that Frederick could eat in a couple of bites.

"I'll have burger and chips." He folded the menu, placing it on the edge of the table and caught the looks from both his parents. "What? It's on the menu!"

"Nah. It's fine, boy. You eat what you want. My treat, eh? I tell you what, that's what I'll have, too." He, too, folded the menu, putting it on top of Frederick's as he turned to Mum. "Essie? See, water. I'm looking after myself, ain't I? Doing well. Not a drink passed these lips in a month, god's honest."