Jack by the Hedge (Jack of All Trades Book 4) (17 page)

‘Oh, Jack.’ She stopped undecided, the rain dripping off her hair, running down her face. ‘Something’s happened to your telescope, I’m afraid.’

‘What?’

‘Wait a moment.’ She dived back in the office and came back out a few moments later with a large golfing umbrella. ‘I’ll show you.’

She crossed over and they both sheltered under it. Mostly it worked, though Jack had to lean in, their shoulders bouncing against each other as they walked swiftly. As they came out to the drive Zar and Rose were running in, their hoods up. They quickly yelled ‘Morning,’ and some comment on the rain as they dashed past into the yard.

‘What’s happened to the telescope?’ said Jack as they scampered on.

‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘But something’s broken.’

‘Oh, great.’

The park was a pale curtain of rain. Mist crept about the shrubbery and children’s playground. Jack was half protected by the umbrella, his exposed hand cold and wet. The lawn was squelchy, his boots the cleanest they’d been since new.

In the marquee, he immediately spotted the telescope in one corner. And sped across to examine it. He knew at once what had happened from the shattered glass. It was a punch in the guts.

‘The mirror’s broken,’ he said, down on his knees, looking at the bits as if he might be able to piece them together.

‘Is it serious?’ she said.

‘Yes.’ He was already calculating what, if anything, could be done. ‘There was an 8 inch convex mirror in there.’ He slapped the telescope body. ‘It collects the light from the stars and planets, whatever you’re looking at. It’s the most vital bit of the telescope.’

‘Is it replaceable?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said turning up his hands. ‘Never had to do it before. What a wreck!’ He looked at the scope and mount. ‘It’s like a car without an engine. You can salvage the bits, but it’s not a car anymore.’

‘I’ll replace it,’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘I put it in here.’

‘I told you to.’ He stood up, wiping off tiny splinters of glass from his hands. ‘It’s my stupid fault. I should have put it in my van before I went to the hospital. This is what comes of cutting corners.’

‘I put it in here upright,’ she said. ‘I tested that it was standing secure. But I should have laid it down on the grass. Anyway, I was opening up this morning, when a big hulk of a guy came out of the marquee. He didn’t know where he was, how he got here. Drugs, I think. He knocked over my cascade.’ She indicated the blocks in disarray. ‘And this too. I am so sorry, Jack.’

‘Damn it all,’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s not your fault. All mine. One hundred percent. I should have put it in my van. Because that’s what happens when you don’t. 600 pounds of telescope down the drain.’

‘Maybe it can be repaired.’

‘I’ll investigate tonight. See if I can buy a mirror for it somewhere. I can’t imagine it’ll be less than one fifty. If I can even get it done.’

Rain was pelting on the canvas, dripping down in a few areas, where canvas sheet met sheet, and puddling on the grass. There was a blast of thunder and, a few seconds later, its echo.

‘Is there anything I can do at all, Jack?’

‘Don’t think so,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It’s happened.’ He flicked a hand, ‘It’s only money.’ He gave a short laugh, thinking of the few hundred cushion he had. He didn’t have a spare one fifty. Or whatever. Pox.

‘Do you want to leave it at my place?’ she said.

‘I’ve got to get it back home,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to take it apart and ferry it to the van. It has to end up at my flat.’

‘Bring the van in,’ she said. ‘I’m in charge today.’

‘I will,’ he said. ‘Thanks.’

‘And one more thing. It’s a cheek asking, considering what’s happened. But can you take Mr Swift to the hospital to find out about Ian?’

Jack considered her request for a few seconds. He’d had a row with the old bastard yesterday. Then again his son was in hospital and very ill.

‘OK. I can’t do anything else, this weather,’ he said. ‘I might as well do something useful.’

Chapter 33

All the park workers were in the mess hut drinking tea when Liz came in. Zar and Rose were finishing the remnant of yesterday’s cake.

‘Tea, Liz?’ said Amy.

‘Please.’ She sat down and waited for her tea. There was quite a bit to do, and not that much of it could be done. She’d scratched herself some notes. Amy put a mug of tea in front of her. ‘Thank you, Amy.’ She looked about her. ‘Everyone here?’

‘Except Ian,’ said Bill.

‘Let’s begin with that then,’ she said. ‘Ian’s in hospital. He was taken ill last night and had to be rushed to casualty.’

‘By ambulance?’ said Bill.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Jack, the builder, took him.’

‘What was he doing here?’

Here we go again, she thought, her private life paraded. ‘He was my guest,’ she said. ‘Or he might have been, if he hadn’t found Ian vomiting his guts out, out there by the playground. About nine o’clock.’

‘Do they know what’s wrong?’ said Amy. ‘How long he’ll be in for?’

‘Don’t know to both questions,’ she said. ‘Jack has kindly offered to take Mr Swift to the hospital – and we’ll know more when they’re back. In the meantime, I’m in charge, probably for the next couple of days. Any questions?’ She looked around at them all, giving them time to take it all in.

‘He was fine when we left last night,’ said Bill.

‘I’ve never seen him so cheerful,’ said Amy.

‘Obviously very sudden,’ said Liz. ‘Jack took Ian in, as I’ve said, and they rushed him to intensive care.’

‘That builder is getting his oar in everywhere,’ said Bill.

‘What do you mean by that, Bill?’

Bill blew a raspberry. ‘He’s just a contract worker. Here today, gone tomorrow. And here he is, in the park after dark and now taking the boss’s father to hospital.’

‘Do you want to take him, Bill?’

‘I’ve only got my bike.’

‘Then shut up.’ She watched him grind his teeth. She’d never liked Bill and knew it was mutual. Everyone was watching her, waiting. Had she been too harsh? Too late. ‘It’s indoor work this morning, until the weather eases off. The playground and courts stay shut. Bill, Amy and Rose, you can tidy the tool shed. It’s getting a bit of a tip anyway. Sharpen the baggin hooks. Zar, you can help me in the greenhouse and marquee.’ She looked at her watch. ‘A few minutes to finish your tea, and then off you go.’

She wanted to rush out of the mess hut but felt she should stay to see them all out to work. She was the temporary boss now, and, if Ian died, the permanent one. She wasn’t sure she liked it. The antagonism, the need to face down hostility, every day.

One day at a time.

She felt very alone. But she’d done it. Put herself here. It had never been her intention to make herself the boss. Everything was changing too quickly for her to catch up.

Chapter 34

Jack’s first van stop was on the drive parallel with the marquee. It was raining hard as he crossed the lawn to pick up the mount. In the marquee, he detached it from the telescope and braved the weather to dash across to the van. He put it in the back and returned to the marquee for the telescope. He wrapped it in the blanket, though it hardly mattered now. Habit. When could he afford to get it repaired? It hurt. He’d loved that scope. Out in the evening scouring the skies. It would sadden Mia too. She was often out with him when she was over, looking at the moon, the planets and into deep space.

It had happened. No one had died. Once at the van, he put in the scope, shook his head at the damage, some other day’s worry. And closed up the back and got in the front. He sat back, wiping his wet hands on his trousers. So he’d slept alone, there are a lot worse things. Today was another day, he might try to visit Liz in her greenhouse later. And who knows?

He drove to the cottages.

He rang the bell of number 1. There was movement inside and Mr Swift answered the door.

‘What d’you want?’

‘I’ve come to take you to hospital.’

‘I’m not going with you.’

Jack could easily have walked away at that moment. He was doing the old man a favour. This wasn’t in his contract.

‘It’s pouring with rain,’ said Jack. ‘I know we had a bit of a row yesterday…but your son’s in hospital. And you need to be there with him.’

‘I do,’ admitted Mr Swift.

‘You don’t have to talk to me. Consider me your taxi.’

Mr Swift looked at him fiercely. ‘You won’t come none of your union nonsense?’

Jack couldn’t prevent a short laugh. ‘Let’s say that’s a topic we stay off of.’

‘Unions have ruined this country.’

Jack held up a hand. ‘Don’t start, if you want a lift.’

‘You don’t agree with me?’

‘I don’t.’

Mr Swift seemed about to put his fists up. Jack had his hood on but was getting severely wet, the rain soaking into his trousers.

‘You coming or not?’

‘I’ll get my coat,’ said the old man.

Jack got into the van and waited for him.

They drove off, neither wanting to start a conversation. The traffic was busy at the Greengate junction with the Barking Road, the windscreen wiper overworked. The sort of weather where you consider every driver a menace. And wonder what you are doing out in it yourself.

‘You having a thing with her next door?’ asked the old man at one point.

‘Nope.’

‘Then how come you were there last night?’

Jack laughed. ‘I might have got to the point of having a thing but your son put a stop to it. Any more questions on the subject?’

‘The two of you seem to be getting on well.’

‘And I’d like us to get on better,’ said Jack, ‘but things happen.’

‘You know my son’s keen on her?’

‘No, I didn’t know that,’ he said, adding after a second’s thought, ‘Is she keen on him, though?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Mr Swift. ‘He’s brought a ring. So he’s dead serious.’

Meaning I’m not, thought Jack.

‘He was going to give it to her last night,’ went on the old man.

‘I hope he’s alright,’ said Jack, noncommittal. There was no point getting into a wrangle over an affair that had never started.

‘I’ll be missing my ukulele session this morning,’ said Mr Swift.

‘A secret talent,’ exclaimed Jack, happy to get off the topic of Liz. ‘How many chords do you know?’

‘Six,’ said the old man. ‘And I bet they’ll be learning a new one. I’ll have to find out what it is and catch up on my own. It’s a band. We’re learning
Down By The Sally Gardens
. Do you know it?’

‘Can’t say I do?’

The old man began singing:

It was down by the Sally Gardens, my love and I did meet.
She crossed the Sally Gardens, with little snow-white feet.
She bid me to take life easy, as the leaves grow on the tree,
But I was young and foolish, and with her I did not agree.

‘You’ve got a good voice,’ said Jack. And thought, not bad at all, considering his age. He held the tune well. ‘It’s a sad song,’ he added.

‘About life and love,’ said the old man.

‘Then I’d better hear some more,’ said Jack. ‘Sing the rest of it.’

The old man smiled, obviously pleased to be asked. He sang on.

In a field down by the river, my love and I did stand
And upon my leaning shoulder, she laid her snow-white hand.
She bid me to take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs,
But I was young and foolish, and now I am full of tears.
Down by the Sally Gardens, my love and I did meet.
She crossed the Sally Gardens, with little snow-white feet.
She bid me to take life easy, as the leaves blow on the tree,
But I was young and foolish, and with her I did not agree.

Jack reflected, there was more to the old boy than he’d first thought. Avoid snap judgements. And don’t talk about unions.

They parked in the hospital grounds. Jack was annoyed at the parking fee, but kept it to himself. Mr Swift was his guest, so to speak, and had enough troubles. Besides which, he could hold a tune which was more than Jack could do himself.

Jack and Mr Swift went to the reception. There, he asked about Ian Swift who’d been taken into intensive care last night. The receptionist phoned through. She had a short conversation, and asked Jack and Mr Swift to sit down, a doctor was coming for them.

They took two seats in the front row of the waiting area. There were about a dozen rows of seats, about half full, men, women, all ages and races. Jack wondered how many were seriously ill, how many trivial. He knew himself that he’d have to be at death’s door before seeing a doctor, and knew, too, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

He shivered. An intimation of mortality. Then felt a duty to his charge.

‘You used to be a bricklayer, didn’t you, Mr Swift?’

‘And so I was, before they made me foreman.’

‘You can give me a hand then.’ He’d said it without thinking.

The old man looked at him. ‘You serious?’

‘Only if you want to. I’ll do all the donkey work. Make up the mortar. Then we both lay the bricks.’

The old man considered it, his tongue lolling in his cheek. ‘I quite fancy that. Mind you, these hands are not as good as they were.’

‘If you can manage a ukulele, I’m sure you can handle a brick.’

Mr Swift put his hand out. ‘Put it there, chum.’

They shook hands, just as a young Asian woman in a white coat came over.

‘Mr Swift?’ she enquired.

‘That’s me.’

‘I’m Dr Khan. If you’d like to come this way,’ she said. ‘Some privacy. And I’ll tell you what’s going on.’

She led them along the corridor and into a small room with three chairs and a desk. They seated themselves. Jack and Mr Swift waited for the young doctor to begin. Jack sensed from her face it wasn’t good.

She said, ‘I’m afraid I have bad news for you, Mr Swift. Your son came in last night. We put him straight into intensive care. We did all we could, I assure you, Mr Swift. But he died half an hour ago.’

‘Dead?’ said the old man. ‘You say Ian is dead?’

‘I am so sorry to be the bearer of this news,’ she said. ‘But yes, I’m afraid he’s dead.’

The room was silenced by the impact of this. Jack could see the young woman was uncomfortable. She hadn’t done this often.