CHAPTER 3
We spent two hours in the car park, as Rosie talked me patiently through the mechanics of riding a bike as opposed to not interfering with it from a pillion seat. There were a few niggles I could see, such as the odd speedometer and the lack of a side stand, but the little machine was docile and uncomplicated to ride.

“Down here, Debbie. This is the drain plug, and…hang on…”

She put some effort into unscrewing a black plug in the crankcase.

“Oil filler cap doubles as a dipstick. Only place you need to put oil; it’s not a bloody two-stroke. Chain is in a case, so it won’t get too cruddy, but you will need to lube it every so often, and these bits tension the chain. Locking nuts, see?”

It was well within the mechanical knowledge I had been given by Dad, never mind the stuff I had picked up at Mossman’s. I realised I was already looking at the bike with visions of getting something a bit larger and more potent. Oily’s hand came down on my shoulder.

“Dreaming already, love? Two bits of advice for you. First is not to load stuff onto that rack, but use the pillion seat. The handling goes all to fuck if you put heavy stuff right at the back. Second tip is to lose the mirrors a month before your test date, if you go for a full licence”

“Why’s that?”

“They fail you for lack of proper rear observation if you don’t look over your shoulder a lot. Taking the mirrors off makes you do it, gives you the habit, aye? Don’t ask Sam how he knows that!”

Carl laughed out loud.

“Or you, Bro!”

A wry grin, a round of hugs, and they all started to fasten their lids. Rosie held me at arms’ length for a moment.

“This is where you start getting a life back, love. You know where the club house is, and the welcome there is permanent. That comes from the Prez, not me, but same-same from me, aye? We’ll ride you back to your place, just so you get an idea of what traffic’s like, then we’re off. Not letting you get taken out on your first proper ride, are we?”

I looked across to Sam, with my own grin.

“My hair down inside my leather, wasn’t it?”

His answering smile let me see that he was finding his own place in the world, and it looked like a good one. He tossed me a small paper bag.

“You’ll want these, Debbie!”

Fingerless leather mitts. The world moved slightly, before my mood sprang back, and I straddled the little bike, rose to my tiptoes to rock it forward off the centre stand, then kicked it into life. We made our way sedately back towards Adamsdown, where the other three bikes left me and roared off towards their own homes.

Down the little alley behind the house, and into the wooden shed. I dumped my helmet indoors, then went straight out to catch the bus again, after padlocking the shed door. I wasn’t going to ride out to a bike shop to get a lock and chain for the bike, as by definition I would have to leave the bike outside, on the street, without a lock.

Two hours later and I was home again, a heavy plastic-coated chain with a massive padlock now running through the bike’s back wheel and round the saddle. Enough for the day; I made a mug of hot chocolate and took it up to my bedroom, where it sat on the bedside cabinet along with the post from the doormat as I half-lay on a spread bath towel doing a number of necessary but rather uncomfortable things with plastic items to the new anatomy. A shower followed, then a simple meal of mince and potatoes before heading off to the pub.

I had the formal appointment with Bert to come, so I took a seat at the bar, and when Harry came over to me, I ordered an orange juice and lemonade.

“Wagon tonight, Debbie? I mean, I know you drive them, but you know what I mean”

“Yeah, Harry. Job interview tomorrow, and besides, I’ve just got a new bike, so trying to be good”

He lowered his voice, checking who was near.

“Thank fuck for that, woman. I don’t mind serving people who like a bit to drink, but I get a bit worried when I see them doing it all the time. You’ve been here almost every night, and that’s not a good thing, given how you can put the beer away”

I nodded, more than a little touched by his concern.

“Yeah. It was nice not having a hangover this morning, for once”

His concern encouraged me, and I could feel the letter in my jacket’s inside pocket.

“Got a question for you, Harry, and it’s a bit cheeky, so I will understand if you want to tell me to sod off”

“Really?”

“Er, yeah. I wanted a recommendation for another pub”

That one brought a roar of laughter.

“Let me guess, Debbie. If I’m wrong, just slap me!”

“Yeah?”

“You after a dyke pub by any chance?”

I don’t know exactly which expression he saw on my face, but his hands both went up in defence and denial.

“Sorry, girl! Looks like I got that one wrong! I assumed, you know, biker, lorries, all that…”

He spotted my grin even as I tried to keep it away from my face.

“Harry, you are wrong, aye, but you are also bloody well right, just not exactly. I am straight, so it’s not for me. I just have a couple of mates who are looking to visit, so yes, I am looking for somewhere safe”

“They dykes or poofters?”

A flash of memory, of being advised about my own word choice, and I had to pull my horns in once again.

“A lovely man, who was a very good friend to my late parents, and his bloke. I think I prefer the term ‘gay couple’, if that’s OK”

He nodded, slightly shamefaced, and wrote an address down on a piece of notepaper.

“This place, in the city centre, is probably the safest. There’s a load of places near the station, and some not far from the cathedral, oddly. Lots of them…”

He started to snigger, so I gave him the eyebrow thing, and he snorted out “On Queen Street”, so I let him have that one, joining in with his laughter.

“What’s special about this place, then?”

“Ah, couple of things. A queer bloke I know says it’s got a lot of separate rooms, so there’s quieter bits you can sit in rather than all that disco shit. Other thing is the landlord, who is a real hard case. He doesn’t take any kind of shot, never lets anything build up a head of steam. That’s a real talent for running a pub, isn’t it? He’s a drag queen as well. Only a young lad, but he knows his stuff. You want somewhere safe for your mates, that’ll be the spot. Just don’t be too obvious when they come out, or they might get a kicking”

I gave him a harder stare.

“You don’t mind that sort of man, then?”

“Ah, Debbie, it’s just another customer, isn’t it? As long as he isn’t trying to get a drive up my Marmite Motorway, do I give a shit? I mean, of course, I couldn’t give a shit if he was---”

“ENOUGH!”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“I do not know if I should ever trust your advice again, after that! Tell you what; if they do come for a visit, I will bring them in here, just so you can see they’re just two ordinary men, but please, no more of those jokes. Please”

He grinned happily, his work of winding me up clearly done.

“Do yourself a favour, then, and go and have a look at the place. Just be ready to turn down some unwanted attention from the women. Anyway, job interview tomorrow?”

“Yup. Bert Fratelli”

“Good man. Sound, he is. What do you know about him?”

“Er, I met him”

I ran through the events down at the Bay, and this time Harry was laughing.

“Take this the right way, Debbie, but I do think your bloody luck is changing! I’m having a cuppa now; want one yourself?”

I grinned back.

“Go on, then!”

I was early at Fratelli’s yard the next morning, as I had set off with some pessimism as to how quickly and safely I could navigate the Honda through Cardiff, and I felt a little out of place in the reception waiting area, as all the women who were visible seemed to have hair teased higher than I thought possible, as well as wearing huge quantities of make-up. I was in my normal rig of jeans, para boots and leather jacket, the mitts sitting inside my helmet.

“Mr Fratelli will see you now, Miss Wells”

The red fingernails pointed to a partly-open door, and I walked through to find a large desk covered in papers, a spare chair to one side of the front and Bert behind, in a suit this time, his halo of hair almost glowing in the light from the window. His face took on its own light as a grin split his beard.

“Good to see you again, Debbie! Grab the chair, love”

It was quite a detailed interview, with a few trick questions sprinkled in, but I spotted each one in time. The last one was the hardest to turn round.

“What have you heard about my firm, Debbie?”

I rambled through some of the comments Ruth had passed, and stupidly mentioned her comments about ‘just-in-time’. The old man sighed.

“Bane of my life, that is. You know now who I do most of my work for, and they really do get pushy. So here is my view on that one, just so there is no misunderstanding. I expect my deliveries to be made on time. I don’t like people who dawdle. That is not what it sounds like, though. You deliver late, you tell me why. If it’s for a good reason, the customer can take a running jump. My drivers will not cut corners, drive like idiots just for the sake of a clock and an impatient client. I am not having… We had a couple of drivers who took liberties, and there were some damaged cars, and in one case… No risk-taking. My tasking office sets times so that the load leaves us a little earlier. Gets to the site on time, but it doesn’t make my people have to rush. If that suits you?”

“Sounds ideal to me, Bert. I mean, I don’t know the city yet, so I’ll be a bit slow at first, obviously”

“Two things, Debbie. First, you’ll be riding as a second driver for the first month. Second, you heard of the knowledge? London cabbies?”

“No”

“They use mopeds or motorbikes to learn the routes. You’ve got a helmet with you. You can start doing some exploring. Just remember that an artic is a little bigger”

I ran the conversation through once more.

“Are you saying I’ve got the job, then?”

He roared with laughter.

“Debbie, love, you passed the real interview down by the Bay! This was just what the Yanks call orientation. Welcome to Fratelli’s. There’s a contract with Jenny at reception. Have a read, sign, and we’ll see you back here tomorrow”