Innocent on the run. Part 25.

Chapter 7. Ricky walked along the road into Houston, past factories and giant stores. People were leaving work for the day, driving out through factory gates in their enormous cars. Everything was larger than life in the States, he thought. They certainly had plenty of space, the roads were all very wide and the buildings set back a long way from their fronts. It was around five o'clock, he guessed, not having a watch to confirm it. He hadn't eaten since he was in Port Arthur and he was feeling quite hungry. Finding a place to stay the night was going to be a problem, as he couldn't afford to rent a room, so would have to keep his eyes open for a suitable place. One thing in his favour was that it didn't get really cold at night. Once he found a job and a room, he would get a change of clothes. There were a lot of garages along this route, selling petrol, repairing and selling cars, and he thought he would try them for a job the following day. As long as he kept well away from the city centre and didn't cause any trouble, he was sure he would be O.K. He thought about sending a letter to his parents, telling them that he was alright and not to worry about him, but he abandoned the idea after a while. After all, they wouldn't normally hear from him until the ship got to the next port. He had sent a postcard from Port Arthur telling them it was a great place, and the weather was marvellous, so their minds would be at rest for a while longer. There was a hamburger stand on the next corner so he bought a coke and a burger which staved off the hunger for a while. What he would have given for a fish and chip shop! He walked on down the block and saw a pool hall on the other side of the street, so he crossed over at the lights and went in. It was pretty much the same layout as the one in Port Arthur, but a bit more run down, a bit seedier. There were quite a few people playing, so he sat on the bench and watched a game. Two men were playing and they made some good shots, but after watching for a while he began to get bored. It was no fun on your own, watching the door all the time in case the police came in. A foursome on a table over in the corner were playing a game amid gales of laughter, so he went across to see what it was all about. He managed to find a seat near to the table, mixing with the crowd of onlookers. One guy, a short, fat little man was clowning around as the others were trying to get their shots in. If a ball went near to a pocket he would get down level with the table and blow hard on it, trying to stop it from going in the pocket. As someone bent over the table to take a shot, he put his cue between the guy's legs and rubbed it up and down. When it came to his turn he danced around the table, quickly sighting on two or three different balls before striking the cue ball with the wrong end of his cue. His partner in the game had a bald head, and as he bent over to take a shot, the little guy shielded his eyes and shouted, 'Quick switch his head off, he's blinding me! Once, he tapped him on the head with his cue and shouted, 'Don't miss this, melon head.' The crowd was getting bigger, and the laughter was rocking the place, when someone said, 'Lookout, here comes that miserable bastard Willie.' A sour faced individual was making his way through the crowd to the table, and the laughter died. The little fat guy didn't care though. 'Hiya, Willie,' he grinned. 'What's up?' 'What's up.' he barked. 'There's other guys trying to play here as well as you lot. Now cool it, or hit he streets.' The little guy laughed, 'Okay,Willie. Fancy a game yourself, do you?' Sour face looked daggers at him, turned around and left. The others were trying their hardest not to laugh as Willie stamped back to his desk. 'Fancy a game, do you.' the bald headed one mimicked. 'You know he lost a fortune to that hustler last week, you jerk.' The little guy roared, doubling up with laughter! 'I know. Couldn't have happened to a nicer bastard.' He recovered a little of his composure and added, 'Just because he owns the place, you'd think he owns the place.' The crowd was filtering away now and the room settled down again. Ricky stayed where he was to watch the rest of the game, but it wasn't as much fun as before. Sour face had killed the atmosphere. The players still enjoyed themselves though, and the fat guy kept doing outrageous things to the other players, but it was a bit quieter. Ricky stayed in the pool hall until nine o'clock, then went outside to look for somewhere to spend the night. He walked towards the city centre through a very run down neighbourhood. The buildings were all in a very sorry state, some with windows smashed and doors hanging off, others with their windows boarded over, no roofs on them, or ceilings hanging down inside. There were plenty of people around, and kids were playing in the street among the debris and garbage. Others were sat on the steps of the buildings that were inhabited, talking, laughing, or shouting abuse at one another. There was every colour of person imaginable, white, black, yellow, and every shade of brown. Descendants of people from dozens of different countries, Mexicans, Africans, Hispanics, Germans, Greeks, Swedes, Italians, Irish and English, as well as countless numbers of Eastern European countries. It was a truly cosmopolitan part of the city. Ricky thought he would blend in here without too many questions being asked about him. He stood on the corner of the block and wondered what to do next. His final plan was to get enough money together to be able to travel to a port to try to get back home. Where the nearest port was, he didn't yet know. Maybe there was a port in Houston itself. He would have to find out. A black kid of about eleven approached on roller skates. He did a turn around Ricky and stopped. 'Hey, dude.' he said. 'Hi.' Ricky answered. 'What's up?' 'Nothing, I'm just thinking.' 'You want to play ball?' Ricky thought for a moment. 'Okay.' 'Come on, then.' and he skated slowly around to the back of the house on the corner. 'Call me Chip.' he shouted over his shoulder. 'I'm Ricky.' he answered, following the skater. There were six other kids of varying ages there, playing with a basketball. They had chalked out some lines on the tarmac, suspended a basketball net on the back of the house, and another one on the house opposite. Chip sat down and took his skates off. 'Hey, you guys,' he shouted. 'This guy's going to play. His name's Rick.' 'You'll have to tell me the rules.' Ricky said. 'We don't have no rules.' One of them shouted, which brought a laugh from the others. They divided up into teams and played for about an hour. It was an easy game, as they seemed to get the ball, run to their opponents net and try to get it through the hole. Then the other team would get the ball, run down the other end and have a try at their net. It was warm work, running up and down the pitch, and Ricky was sweating after a while. He lost count of the score, but Chip was keeping tally, adding a few on to his side's score when he thought he could get away with it. Suddenly a woman's voice yelled out of the window of the house opposite, 'Jerome! Jerome !' One of the young lads winced! 'Oh, Oh,' he said. 'Jerome, get in here. Come on now, I don't want to have to come and get you.' He shuffled off as if going to the electric chair. 'See you tomorrow, guys.' The game broke up then, and the other lads slowly dispersed. Chip sat down to put his skates on. 'Where you live, Rick?' 'I'm looking for a place.' he answered. 'Nowhere to go, huh ?' 'Not yet.' 'My Ma takes in boarders, since my old man went to jail. Let's go see her.' He got up and skated alongside Ricky to one of the houses on the main street. He led the way up the front steps and up two more flights of stairs to a door marked 7. The door had been painted in a brown colour many years before, but now the paint had gone dry and cracked. Large splits had appeared in the wood, and someone had carved his initials in the door. W.P. Chip opened the door and motioned Ricky inside. A Female voice said, 'That you Chip?' 'Yeah, Ma. I got a visitor.' A large black lady got up from a chair and put her newspaper down. 'This is Rick. He's got no place to stay.' 'Good evening.' Ricky said. 'My,' Chip's Mother said. 'A Gentleman! We don't get many gentlemen around here. Ricky blushed! 'No place to stay, huh ? Well, you can stay right here with us.' 'Thank you very much, Mrs? 'You call me Dottie. What you doin' in this neighbourhood, Rick? you ain't American! 'No, I’m from England. Both of Dottie's hands flew up to her face. 'My, oh my. England! What you doing in our country? Oh, forgive my manners, please come in and sit down,' and she patted the settee. Ricky entered the sparsely furnished room and sat down on the settee. The whole room was spotlessly clean, and shining like a new pin. Apart from the settee there was an easy chair and a small coffee table. In one corner was a sink and alongside it, a cooker and a huge refrigerator. In the other corner was a kitchen table and four chairs The floor was covered with linoleum, with a rug in front of the one bar electric fire. Dottie went to the refrigerator and brought out a baked ham, some cold potatoes and some bread. She piled a plate high with the food and told Ricky to sit at the table and eat. She poured milk from a large jug into glasses and gave one each to Ricky and Chip. 'Now tell me all about yourself,' Dottie commanded, and before he knew where he was, he'd started telling her the whole story. About foolishly getting drunk at the party, missing the ship, his flight from the police and his ride in the truck to Houston. She listened with her mouth open, and an occasional, 'My, Oh my.' interrupted his tale. 'Well,' she said finally, when he'd finished talking. 'That's a terrible thing to have happened to one so young as you, and we got to pray to the Lord tonight and ask Him what we should do. Ain’t nothing we can do tonight except pray, so you get some sleep now and we'll try to figure something out in the morning.' Dottie sent Chip off to bed and made up the settee into a bed for Ricky. She bustled about getting bedding for him and showed him the bathroom where he could shower if he wanted to. She went off to bed herself and wished him goodnight. Ricky stripped off in the bathroom and ran the shower. The water felt really good, washing away the dust of travelling, and he got out and towelled himself off in the snowy white towel that Dottie had left out for him. He felt like a new man! He cleaned up after himself, as he'd learnt to do on the ship, and got turned in on the sofa bed. What a day, he thought ! And what a mess! I should be on the ship now, heading across the Gulf of Mexico. Goodness knows when I'll get home! Maybe not for a long time, if they catch me and put me in jail. He dozed off thinking about ships and how he would try to get a trip back to the U.K, before he was caught and thrown in jail. The following morning he was awakened by Dottie bustling about in her tiny kitchen, getting breakfast ready. Chip was in the bathroom, getting washed ready for school, and Dottie turned around and saw that he was awake. 'I'm sorry, Rick,' she apologised, 'I didn't mean to wake you yet. You must be exhausted after yesterday.' He sat up, rubbing his eyes. 'Morning! ' he yawned. 'Did you sleep well ?' 'Yes, I don't remember much after getting into bed.' 'Praise the Lord,' Dottie said. Chip came in from the bathroom. 'Morning Chip,' he said. 'Oh Hi, Rick. Didn't expect you to be up yet.' 'I'm used to getting up early. What time is it anyway? 'Seven thirty,' Dottie answered him. Ricky swung his legs out of bed and pulled his trousers on, before making a beeline for the bathroom to wash and dress. When he came out there was a place laid at the table for him. Chip was already eating his cereals and milk. Dottie put a plate down in front of him. There were two rashers of bacon, two eggs and a hot scone, straight from the oven. The coffee pot was put on the table and Dottie sat down to join him for a cup. 'You're not eating,' he said to her. 'I can't eat that stuff, I'm too fat as it is.' Ricky got tucked in to his breakfast. It was delicious and when he had finished the scone, she put another one on his plate. Chip took one as well, but he cut his open and poured maple syrup on it. 'Now, listen,' Dottie said to Chip. 'Don't you go blabbing your mouth off about Rick being English and hiding from the police, hear?; 'Yeah, Ma.' he said, as if humouring her. 'Never mind Yeah, Ma' she said, clipping his head with her tea towel. 'You just be careful. We don't want Rick arrested. Now get out of here and go to school.' Chip gathered up his books and went out shouting, 'So long.' on the stairway outside. 'What you going to do today, Rick,' she asked as she folded up his bedding. 'Find some work, I hope. I'm going to try the garages, back down the road a bit.' 'Okay, people always need help out here. There'll be a hot meal for you when you get back tonight.' 'I want to thank you for what you've done for me ...' he started to say, but she said, 'No foolishness now. We're glad to help.' 'Yes, but you took me in not knowing anything about me.' 'We know all we needs to know. You're in trouble, that's enough to know. Now get out of here and get yourself a job.' she added sternly. He turned to go. 'Thanks, Dottie.' She waved her tea towel at him. 'Git.' He went down the stairs and out on to the street. It was hot already and still only about eight o'clock. There were not many people around yet, just a few people hurrying along to work. The first garage he came to had nothing for him. 'Too late,' the man told him. 'I hired me a man yesterday.' The next garage didn't need anyone, and the third told him to come back later as the boss wasn't there, but they didn't think he needed anyone. The next place was a car sales and repair depot and the boss was a big, red faced, fat man. He looked Ricky up and down. 'Can you change wheels, son?' Ricky had helped his brothers with their motorbikes, so he had a good idea of mechanics, and he had seen people changing wheels on their cars once or twice before, it didn't look too difficult. 'Yes, Sir,' he said, hoping he could do it without damaging anything. 'Okay, come with me.' He led the way to one of the sale cars on the forecourt. It was a huge Chevrolet, and it had a flat tyre on the back. The Boss pointed to a trolley jack across by the repair shed. 'Go get the jack and change the wheel for me.' Ricky dragged the jack across. It was on wheels and slid underneath a car. Once it was under the car and placed in the right position on the chassis, the handle turned one way so you could pump the jack up. Turning it the other way released the hydraulic pressure and the jack collapsed. The boss saw him struggling with it and showed him how it worked. 'I've never seen a jack like this before.' Ricky told him. 'Yeah, I can see that,' he replied. Ricky placed the jack under the car and found a large solid looking part of the chassis. He turned the handle and started pumping the jack up. The car rose steadily from the ground, and when it was clear he stopped pumping. The boss handed him the wheel brace, which was a spider - like spanner with six different nut sizes on it. He pulled off the wheel trim and exposed the nuts. Finding the right sized spanner on the spider, he slackened off the wheel nuts. They were very tight, but he used all his strength and they eventually gave way. Quickly removing the nuts, he slid the wheel off the brake drum, and rested it on the floor. He knew the spare wheel would be in the boot, so he went around and got it out. It was a simple matter to place the new wheel on the hub, and replace the nuts, tightening them up once they were all on. He slipped the wheel trim back on and released the jack, drawing it out from under the car when it was fully down. The boss looked at him. 'Not bad,' he said. 'Just two things. One, if that had been a front wheel, you would have had to release the wheel nuts when the wheel was on the ground. If you hadn't, when the car was in the air, the wheel would have spun when you tried to shift the nuts. As it was a back wheel, the parking brake held the wheel still while you slackened them. Two. Always tighten the wheel nuts with a last wrench when the wheel is on the ground, before you put the wheel trim on.' Oh, well, Ricky thought. I've blown it! Copyright Deric Barry 2005.