Their Relationship, Over a Series of Bikes

~ Their First Bikes ~

Arthur moved onto Alfred's street in 1952, when Arthur was 12 and Alfred was 10.

Arthur had not wanted to leave England. Still weary from war, and torn through every seam and street and household, he wanted to be there to help his homeland get better. It was his duty as an Englishman to revive it, just as his father had made it is duty to defend it.

But his mother couldn't bear it any longer. Again. Because this had all happened before.

She'd lost her father and all her five brothers in the Great War. There were too many bad memories in England; it no longer felt like home. The pain had driven her to seek a fresh start in America. And that was where she met Fred. She kept her maiden name after they married, because the war had left no men in her family to carry it on.

At the start of the next great war, Fred wanted to move to England. His country weren't ready to join the fight yet, but he wanted to protect the home of the woman he loved. And he did. He just didn't make it back home himself.

Neither did Arthur's four older brothers. The eldest two had run off to enlist, legally or not. And the twins…well, nobody was safe during the Blitz. They had been risking their lives helping others to safety, as they often did during the nights when the lights went out and the air raid sirens blared. And one night their luck ran out.

Arthur had been a bit of an 'accident'. His brothers delighted in telling him so, even when he was just a toddler. Why else did he think his mother was older than the other mothers in the neighbourhood?

But Alice Kirkland never let Arthur take their cruel jokes to heart. She told him that she delighted in having her littlest boy by her side. He had brought her number of sons up to five – to make up for the five brothers she had lost before. And since Fred had died mere weeks after Arthur was made, that happy summer when her husband had come home for a few short days, Arthur had been the best parting gift she could ever hope to have. Especially since Arthur looked the most like his father, Alice told him. And Arthur, even at 3, would shove that in his brothers' faces.

Until they were all gone.

And once again, Alice was left in a broken country, with a broken family. But at least now, thank God, she had Arthur.

And although America was now a place of bad memories, too – the country where her husband was born, where they met, where the next tragedy began – Alice decided her last son should see it. She wanted Arthur to know the life that Fred had known growing up, not the tragedy that she'd suffered through as a child.

And that was how Arthur and his mother ended up moving into the little green house at the end of the street.

Although Alfred – peering out of the window of his big blue house, watching the moving van and trying to catch a glimpse of the new neighbours – didn't know any of that at the time.

It took Mrs. Jones 2 full days of nagging at him before Alfred braved the new neighbours in person.

"Why don't you stop asking me what sort of people they are, and what England is like, and go and find out for yourself?"

Like she thought he was nervous or something. Ha! Alfred wanted to laugh at something so silly! Of course he wasn't nervous of the new neighbours. Who was afraid of some new older kid moving down the street. Certainly not Alfred. He was just…being courteous and giving them time to get comfortable in their new home, he told his mother.

Mrs. Jones laughed at that. For quite a long time. And then when his father got home from work, she told him what Alfred had said, and Mr. Jones laughed, too.

"It's very kind of you to let them settle in, Alfie," his mother said, stroking her son's hair as his parents put him to bed. "But perhaps the new neighbour boy is lonely? Don't forget he's just moved to a brand new home in a brand new country! It must be very different and strange for him, especially without any friends to show him around and help him understand American life. He's probably just sitting in his new room all bored. Or helping his mother tidy and unpack all the boxes."

"Tidying? Bleurgh!" said Alfred's father, making a disgusted face. "Sounds to me like the new boy could really use a hero to help him out of that one. Someone to get him out that house and lead him around town to show him what's what."

Alfred was sold.

As his parents turned off his bedroom light and bid him goodnight with warm smiles from the doorway, Alfred was already planning how to introduce himself to the new neighbours, first thing tomorrow morning.

"I-I-I-I-I'm looking for the new kid! I wanted to see if he needed a hero to stop the tidying."

That certainly had not been the plan he'd decided upon, but Alfred had got a bit flustered when it was the mother who opened the door. In his daydreams, it had always been the boy who opened the door, so he'd prepared for that.

"Certainly! Do come in," the lady smiled, nonetheless. She ushered Alfred into the little green house, and he took the opportunity to look around with great curiosity.

This was the only house on the entire street that he'd never been into before. It was that crotchety old couple, the Gordons, who used to live here, and they just hated everyone. Especially little children – and especially Alfred. The house was just as much a mystery to Alfred as the new boy. He wanted to know what the rooms looked like – was it like his house, or more like the Smiths' house, or the Petersons' house? He hoped it was more like his house. His house was the best one. Oh, it was all so exciting!

"My name is Alice Kirkland. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Alfred stuck out his hand, as his father had taught him. "Alfred F. Jones, ma'am. I live at number 50, the big blue one."

"Oh, of course. I met your mother briefly and she told me you might be popping in some time. It's so kind of you to come fetch Arthur like this," the lady was saying, as she showed him into the living room. "We just moved in, all the way from England, so he doesn't know anyone in the whole big country of yours!" Alfred clenched his fists: yep, this new boy definitely needed a hero. "I do so hope you'll show him around? I'm sure he would love it!"

"It'll be my pleasure, ma'am," Alfred said, giving her his most winning smile. Alice's heart was completely won over, and she hurried upstairs to fetch Arthur, leaving Alfred with a glass of cold lemonade which quite delighted him. The new neighbours were so much better than the old ones. And the downstairs looked like his house the most, only smaller, so it was all turning out splendidly.

Alfred looked around inquisitively at all the decorations and furnishings in the room, swinging his legs and scuffing the carpet as he sipped at his lemonade. Finally his eyes travelled over to the door, where he found the new boy watching him.

Yes, he was definitely older. He didn't look much bigger, though, which was a good thing. Just…older. And, therefore, smarter and cooler and more important to get to know. Older kids new so much about the world, and Alfred was dying for someone to tell him, so he could report back to other children his age. Knowing an older kid would give Alfred's reputation such a boost. Not that he really needed it.

"How old are you?" Alfred asked, before he could remember his manners.

"I'm 12."

Twelve? Wow. Although Alfred had been expecting a teenage number: the boy's sharp eyes and stiff poise made him look so mature. But, then again, Alfred wasn't very good at judging older people's ages (he'd thought his 15 year old babysitter was in her thirties, at least). And besides, Arthur was all the way from England, so that gave him extra interest points. And anyway, twelve was still pretty good.

"And how old are you, 4? You're supposed to say your name first when introducing yourself. Or do they not teach you proper manners in America?"

It was then (finally) that Alfred took note of the scowl on the other boy's face.

Now that the big question of his neighbour's age was out of the way, Alfred actually took in the other's appearance – the frown clouding his vibrant green eyes, the downturned mouth, the thick black eyebrows furrowed, unimpressed, behind a shaggy blonde fringe.

"Sorry," Alfred murmured. He felt very bashful all of a sudden, around this exotic older boy. "I…got a little carried away because…I'm so excited to meet you." He coughed and held his head up high, sticking his hand firmly out into the space between them. "My name is Alfred F. Jones. I live at number 50, with my father and mother. My father. Mr. Jones, works in finance. I'm 10 years old. I like playing sports, especially baseball, and I also enjoy reading, drawing, and bike riding."

Arthur's eyes lit up in hope and he grasped Alfred' hands, shaking it heartily. "Arthur Kirkland," he said quickly, and then rushed on. "You like reading and drawing? What are your favourite books? Are you any good at drawing?"

"Oh, I don't read books. I meant reading comics." Arthur deflated. "And…drawing comics…" Arthur dropped Alfred's hand entirely and they stood there dumbly.

"Sorry," Alfred added.

"No, it's quite all right," said Arthur, shrugging. "I'm just not familiar with comics."

It was Alfred's turn to light up. "I can show you!" he offered excitedly, practically bouncing on the spot. "I'm sure you'll love them! If you like reading and drawing, you'll certainly like comic books! Would you like to come and see my collection some time?"

Arthur blinked and twisted his hands together, bashfully. "Thank you. That's very kind of you, Alfred. I appreciate it."

"No problem! Like I said, I'm so excited to meet you!" Alfred rambled, completely taken away with the thoughts of befriending the new neighbour. Over comics, no less! "I hope we can be friends! Do you want to be friends? I want to show you all over town, if you'd like! I've never met anyone from England. Can you tell me what it's like? What was the war like? Was it very terrible? Why did you move here? Can I look around your house? The last people who lived here were horrible, so I never saw inside. But your mother is so nice! She gave me lemonade! Do you get lemonade all the time? My mother makes me apple pie – you have to try some! Why don't you come over for dinner tonight!"

Arthur stared, a blush building on his face at having the little American boy show so much interest in him. He'd never found himself that fascinating, and neither had anyone else – but Alfred was practically on tiptoes, leaning in close with the brightest sparkle in his eyes as he interrogated him.

It would be very nice to have a friend here.

"I do like sports and bike riding," Arthur said, rather unexpectedly, even to him. "Um…you asked me a minute ago…"

Alfred laughed freely. "So I did. Well, that's swell! We can play together! It's summer vacation, so we have lots of time to have fun before school starts. You won't…" He trailed off, looking very forlorn all of a sudden, head hanging like a scolded puppy.

"What is it? Alfred?" asked Arthur, peering up into his face.

"It's a bit silly…"

"No, not at all," Arthur reassured him, rubbing the younger boy's arm encouragingly. "You can tell me. We're…friends, after all. Aren't we?"

Alfred looked up, face blank, just giving Arthur a few, slow blinks. Then a wide smile spread to his cheeks, and his sky blue eyes twinkled like they were alive all on their own. "Yes! We are! Thank you! I mean, that'll be super!" Alfred exclaimed. "I…was just hoping you wouldn't forget about me when school starts. But, we're friends so…it'll be okay."

Arthur found his new friend's smile to be thoroughly infectious. He found his own lips twitching upwards in return, just at the sight of Alfred's unbridled joy.

It was the first time Arthur had smiled in weeks. Ever since his mother had told him they would leave England, he'd been miserable. He'd dreaded it – felt lonely even before he got here, just knowing that he'd be on his own from now on.

But maybe if he had at least one friend who wanted him here, he could manage for now. It was unlike Arthur to brighten up or warm to someone so very quickly, but Alfred had come at just the right time: Arthur was pretty sick of being miserable, and here was someone who was thrilled just at the thought of being his friend. A little boy who was looking up at him so eagerly, expecting him to be fun and exciting. And it made Arthur feel big and fun and exciting. Just a little, really – but after so long of feeling nothing at all, a little felt like a whole lot to him.

The two boys left the living room, planning to head to Alfred's house to check out his comic books.

But Mrs. Kirkland stopped them in the doorway.

"I was thinking…" she said slowly, catching the boys' curiosity and leaving them hovering by the door for more. "Arthur here had to leave most of his toys and belongings behind when we moved to America. And I know he'll certainly be wanting a new bicycle before long." Arthur lit up, and Mrs. Kirkland sighed inwardly in relief. He was looking better – getting excited about something. Alfred had done wonders for him already. "Alfred, could I ask you to do me a big favour and show Arthur to the nearest bicycle shop? You can help him choose one – tell him the best bikes everyone around here is using. Would that be all right?"

Alfred started fidgeting excitedly, thrilled at the prospect of not only going bicycle shopping, but getting to be the one to teach Arthur – the new, cool, older kid in the neighbourhood – what was popular in town. He felt like a king.

"I would be honoured, Mrs. Kirkland, ma'am. I just got my first bicycle for my birthday last week, so I know all about them."

Alice laughed, and Arthur stepped forwards, to hug his mother around the waist. "Thank you, Mum."

Alice, stroked her son's fair hair, chest feeling very much lighter than it had done in a while. "You're welcome, love."

She handed them their money, trusting them to keep it safe, and to tell Alfred's parents where they were going before they set off. Alfred could hardly control himself at being in charge of so much money, even if Arthur was the one carrying it in his pocket. He just felt so important. Being Arthur's friend was already amazing.

And it would only get better once he and Arthur could set off on their bicycles together, roaming around town to their hearts' content, all summer long. They could explore even further and have even more adventures than Alfred could by himself.

And Alfred could teach Arthur all about life in America, and Arthur could tell him all about England, and they could be great friends by the time school started. Maybe even best friends – so that everyone in school would know that the new English boy was Alfred's friend first and foremost.

And hopefully, when next summer came around, they could do it all over again.

A/N:

Written for the Olympics over on the USxUK LiveJournal Community.

When I got the idea for this story it was actually much longer in my head. The story was split into sections detailing how their relationship grows over the years, from one bike to the next.

However, due to the time restraints of the event for which I wrote this, I could only do "Their First Bikes."

I don't know if I will ever continue this story, but I would like to. One day.