Mr Dibbs Fixes Bikes

33

Alfie couldn't raise his head. His eyes felt heavy and he struggled to open them until he stopped. He wasn't in pain, but he had the feeling he should be. He couldn't remember anything after seeing his precious big shed erupt in flames and the thought of that, the memory, almost made him weep, but he couldn't do that, either. Something prevented him from doing anything and only his hearing appeared to work at all.

A voice, that seemed so far away, yet right beside him, talked in hushed tones. A familiar voice that stirred his memories. A voice that sounded both upset and thankful. Grateful, even, and, as he continued to try to move, he listened to that voice that calmed him and gave him the strength that he knew he needed in this moment.

"It's all my fault. I know it is." A hand touched Alfie's and he could have called out in triumph that he could feel it. "I dragged us up here, away from everything we knew because I thought I could have a better life. For me and Frederick. But we've just caused nothing but trouble. Especially for you. I'm so sorry. For everything. I hope you can forgive me, because I don't think I can forgive myself."

Esther. The voice belonged to the lad's mother and Alfie had to wonder why, even though he now recognised her voice, it still stirred memories that were far too painful to acknowledge. He wanted to squeeze her hand in reply. He still couldn't move and that pain that sat in the back of his mind started to edge forward, to become more real and substantial. He damned his old body for making him look like such a fool in company.

She continued to talk. Continued to blame herself for all manner of things that, even in his stupor, Alfie knew she had no right to blame herself. Such a sad tone, a defeated tone to her voice and those memories that tickled his mind came rushing in, overwhelming him as they had so often over the years. She sounded like the Duchess as she neared the end. Crushed by life and his oblivious, careless apathy toward her.

"Thy ..." He could have sighed in relief as he managed to make his lips move, though his throat felt dry, like coarse sandpaper scraping across the inside of his throat. "Thy's got nowt to be forgiven for, lass. Thee and thine 'as done nowt wrong, and I'll have none of it."

"Nurse!" Esther's hand slipped from Alfie's as he heard her cry out. "Nurse!"

Long moments passed and Alfie began to regain more and more of his sensibilities. Eyes opened, squinting at the bright light that cascaded through half-open blinds, wavering with the easy breeze that passed into the room through open windows. A flurry of activity surrounded him and he started to feel more sensations return to him. He could move his hands, though it felt as though he had carried a dozen bags of heavy shopping all the way home.

He could move his head and managed to see Esther, stood a distance away, thumb at her lips, where teeth chewed and bit against her nail. She looked as though she hadn't slept or eaten for days. He heard the nurses talking among themselves, checking his vitals, casting light into his eyes, asking questions that he answered without thinking. And, all the while, he looked to Esther and could only see a mirror of the Duchess in her eyes.

Once they had completed their checks, platitudes spoken and words about bravery and strength, the nurses drifted away, leaving only him and Esther in this part of the room. He remembered now. The fire gutting the big shed. Him, in his pyjamas and slippers, rushing out and crying into the night at the loss of his beloved bicycles. And the pain. Pain worse than anything he had ever experienced. As though a clawed hand ripped at his chest, tearing out his heart. He had thought the pain of the 'minor cardiac event' was bad, but this pain felt so much worse.

"Where's the lad? Is he fine? Safe?" He couldn't sit up, not yet, but he could feel something was amiss with his chest. "Ee. I'm not best pleased at making a nuisance of meself. Is he alright? The lad?"