Jack by the Hedge (Jack of All Trades Book 4) (18 page)

‘Do you know what he died of?’ said Jack.

The doctor shrugged. ‘Some sort of poison affecting his liver and kidneys, it would appear. That’s all we can say at the moment. There will be an autopsy, which should make it clear.’

‘Where is he?’ asked Mr Swift.

‘He’s been taken to the mortuary. Do you want to see him?’

‘Yes, I do. If you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all. I’ll take you there.’

Along the long corridor, Jack took the old man’s arm as they walked, following the white-coated doctor. They ambled, Mr Swift was slumped onto his walking stick, as if he’d aged five years in as many minutes.

‘I am sorry, Mr Swift,’ said Jack. ‘It was obvious he was in a bad way last night. I just hoped they’d be able to rescue him.’

The old man turned to him. ‘Everyone’s gone. Elsie, Ian.’ He gave a long sigh. ‘It’s just me by myself now.’

Chapter 35

Liz and Zar had reassembled the cascade. The wooden blocks needed two to lift them in place to make up the unit, which consisted of steps of non-uniform size, down which water would run in simulation of a waterfall. Alongside the cascading water would be various plants, depending on the season, as Liz set it up about four times a year around the borough for various occasions.

Both were in their park overalls, wearing Wellington boots. The rain rattled on the top canvas and the sides shook like sails in a gale. The roof was sagging on one side where a puddle was collecting above, drips coming through the joins.

They had a wheelbarrow of compost. Liz and Zar were putting it in the cavities down the sides of the cascade, for plants to apparently grow out of, though in reality they’d remain in their pots which would be hidden by the compost, giving the effect of prolific greenery growing alongside a waterfall.

‘I don’t know how that man got in the park,’ said Liz. She had a smear of compost on her cheek and forehead. ‘He was enormous. Round as a compost bin, almost as high as this roof. I couldn’t imagine him climbing over the park fence. When I asked him, he looked utterly bewildered, didn’t know where he was, as if he’d suddenly appeared from another planet.’

‘He must’ve barrelled into the cascade,’ said Zar.

‘That hardly matters,’ she said, ‘but the worst of it was Jack’s telescope. When he took Ian to hospital, I put it in here to protect it, for heaven’s sake.’

‘That’s a real shame,’ said Zar.

‘Jack’s upset. And I feel responsible. I should have laid it on the ground. Not left it to be knocked over.’

‘You weren’t to know that man was around.’

‘No,’ said Liz with a sigh, ‘but you just can’t assume. And next time, I won’t.’ She went to the marquee entrance and looked across the lawn. ‘Oh, this rain. The beds have to be dug over and flowers in by tomorrow.’

‘What if it rains all day today?’

She shrugged. ‘Then nothing will get done. There’ll be puddles everywhere. And I’ll have to explain to the Mayor and MP, and whoever they bring with them, that the rain gods have cursed us.’

‘It’ll be just you at the ceremony. Not Ian. With him in hospital.’

‘I doubt they’ll wheel his bed along.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sure the bigwigs just come for the food and drink. A catering company brings it all over tomorrow morning. It’s such a palaver for one hour. Then off they all go, to the pub for all I know. Or their next do.’

What was she to say to the guests about Ian? As little as possible. Ian is ill; he’s sorry he can’t be here, and so forth. Then stand by the cascade and the Tree Plan and try to keep to park topics. Show them the greenhouses...

‘I’ve been thinking about Ian,’ said Zar.

‘Thinking what?’ she said, thrown from her own thoughts.

‘You know the death stalks you had me pull out. Do you suppose he might’ve accidentally picked them? Thought they were edible.’

‘I suppose it’s possible,’ she said carefully.

‘But then Mr Swift would have had them too,’ said Zar dismissively. ‘So not very likely.’

‘Not very likely,’ she agreed.

She could so easily have yelled – shut up! Which would only have alerted him. She just hoped Ian was alive and recovering – and they’d never find out who or what caused his sickness. Put it down to some mysterious bug. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She couldn’t go on like this.

‘Carry on with the compost, will you, Zar?’ she said, turning away. ‘I’m going to the office.’

And she ran out into the rain.

Her tears were smothered in the raindrops. Zar was smart. She’d kept him with her so he wouldn’t talk to anyone else, but then he talked to her. About those damned mushrooms.

Ian was in intensive care with drips and doctors, and she was here, doing her job as if it were simply another autumn day, the leaves falling and the rain having its day. The day was so slow, as if Ian’s hospital bed were moving imperceptibly down a mountain glacier while she waited at the foot to know what was happening to him.

She was in the office when Jack arrived. When she’d first come in, she’d done nothing. It was a hideaway. Then wiping her eyes, she must appear normal and not simply wait for news. She must busy herself or time would never pass. And so she looked up telescope mirrors, thinking she might surprise Jack with a present. But was quite bamboozled by the technical language. It had killed twenty minutes but not been a useful quest.

‘How was it?’ she said as he entered.

A question normal people asked. Her heart racing, guessing the outcome from his dour face. Not wanting to be told.

‘He’s dead,’ he said.

‘Oh no!’ Her hands slapped to her cheeks. ‘How can that be?’

‘He died half an hour before we arrived,’ said Jack. ‘The doctor took us to the mortuary. There he was, still in hospital pyjamas, as if he were asleep.’

She uncovered her face, a tear slid down her cheek, that she caught on a finger.

‘How did Mr Swift take it?’

‘He was quiet on the way back. Worried about what’s going to happen to him.’

‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘It’s always the living that suffer.’ And felt she should ask, as anyone would ask. ‘Did they say what it was?’

‘Some sort of poisoning. They don’t know what. There’ll be an autopsy.’

‘Oh,’ she said, overcome with exhaustion, ‘I just want to close the park. Send everyone home. Bring down the shutters on today.’

‘You’re the boss now.’

‘I don’t want to be anyone’s boss,’ she said dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

‘You’ll do it better than he did.’

‘He was my neighbour,’ she said. ‘I’d hear his television faintly through the wall. He helped me put up my bean poles.’ Speak no ill of the dead. Everyone knew that. She handed out further memories like old photos. ‘I gave him tomatoes, he gave me broccoli… I pruned his roses while I was pruning mine. I looked after his rabbit when he was away. We had a drink together on Christmas morning…’

It had happened. The event she’d put in train when she gave him lunch yesterday afternoon. Did anyone know they’d eaten together? Zar must keep quiet about the mushrooms in the park. Her thoughts flowed under his words like a second sound track.

‘You can’t help wondering,’ said Jack. ‘Or maybe it’s the way I think, but could it have been deliberate, the poisoning?’

‘What do you mean?’ she said, knowing absolutely what he meant.

‘Suicide or even murder,’ he said.

She flapped a hand in dismissal. ‘I can’t believe it. This is not gangland drugs turf. It’s a park. These things don’t happen. Not here.’

‘Put it down to my sick mind. Too many crime movies.’

She was trembling. She wanted him out of her space but didn’t know how to get rid of him. Ian was dead. Did she seem too upset? Not upset enough… or in the right way? Why wouldn’t the builder leave? Was he watching her?

‘You’ve a smudge on your cheek and forehead,’ he said. He took the tissue out of her hand and wiped them off. ‘That’s better.’

‘Thank you, Jack. Now I’m suitable for the troops.’ She managed a half smile, her stomach tumbling like a drier. ‘How’s the weather doing?’ Always a safe topic.

‘It’s stopped raining,’ he said looking out the window. ‘Well, well. Might get some work done today. Blue patches are opening up.’

She looked at her watch. ‘It’s almost lunchtime. I’m going home. I can make something for Mr Swift.’

‘He looks rather lost,’ said Jack. ‘I said he could help me with the bricklaying this afternoon.’

‘That’s good of you.’

Go, she thought. She needed to compose herself. Take in this new world. Not chit chat. Or what might she say? And then it occurred to her, she could at least restrain speculation in the mess hut over lunch.

‘Don’t tell anyone about Ian,’ she said. ‘We’ll have a meeting after lunch and I can tell them formally. Better than piecemeal.’

‘OK,’ said Jack. ‘I’ll leave it to the boss. I’m off to eat.’

And he left.

Just like that. As if nothing much had happened. He came, gave the news. He went. She sat numbly in Ian’s chair. Hers now. With a whole half day to get through. Home first, shut the door on the world for an hour, weep her eyes dry. Make sense of it, if sense there was. And return to the new regime.

Chapter 36

As Jack left the park office, Rose came out of the tool shed. Her hair was awry, her face grimy. As she saw him she frowned; a second earlier and she might have ducked back into the shed.

‘I’m sorry about your telescope,’ she said.

‘Some giant was wandering round the park,’ he said. ‘Knocking things over.’

‘Really,’ she said, not catching his eye. ‘Quite a fairy tale.’ She bit her forefinger, then added, ‘I will give you back the thirty quid I borrowed.’

‘Nicked,’ he said.

‘Just borrowed,’ she retorted. ‘I saw it laying around.’

‘In a drawer?’

‘Well, that’s not exactly in a safe,’ she said.

‘Oh, so it’s my fault then. I get it. I shouldn’t leave money around my flat. At least, not if I invite you over.’

Hands on hips, she said, ‘You going to call the police on me?’

‘No. But I want it back.’

‘OK. You’ll get it.’ Her nose screwed up. ‘Alright, I shouldn’t have done it, but I was so bored.’ Then she added with a placatory grin, ‘I did mean to come back last night. But you know what it’s like at a club…’

‘I don’t, actually.’

She shrugged. ‘Come throwing out time, you just do what everyone else is doing. You follow whoever is going on to somewhere else.’

It occurred to him; there was Rose tagging along in the early hours with the oddbods chucked out of the club. Maybe…

‘Did you stay in the pavilion last night?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she smiled. ‘My new address. Spartan, but somewhere to crash. Besides, it was so late… Zar was there too.’

‘Quite a guest house,’ he said. ‘Might there have been a big man you brought along from a club?’

‘Of course not.’

Jack stared at her for any hint, she stared back, daring him to challenge her.

He held a finger up. ‘Wait.’ And stepped into the tool shed. In the gloom, Zar and Bill were hanging up tools on hooks. ‘Zar!’ he called. The young man turned. ‘Just a word, Zar.’

Zar nodded and came to the entrance.

‘What’s up?’

‘Did Rose come on her own to the pavilion last night? Or was she with someone?’

Zar looked at Rose. Her face was stony. He turned back to Jack.

‘She was on her own,’ he said.

Jack was exasperated, he’d seen no communication. Rose was grinning smugly. Were they lying? He couldn’t tell. Did it matter? Yes. His telescope was in bits.

‘What were you doing in the pavilion anyway?’ he said to Zar.

‘My parents kicked me out…’ he began, then corrected himself, ‘Or rather, I left before they kicked me out.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Zar shrugged. ‘It was going to happen. Just happened a little sooner than I’d planned… Sorry about your telescope.’

‘I should pass the hat round,’ he said bitterly. ‘Not that I’d get a bent penny from you,’ he added, prodding Rose on the shoulder.

‘Lay off,’ she said resentfully, pushing his hand away.

Jack looked at his watch. ‘I’m going to wash up for lunch.’

‘Jack,’ she called as he began crossing the yard. He turned. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’

‘OK,’ he said, waving a hand in the air. ‘It was the wind that done it.’

Chapter 37

He ate his lunch on the wall, placing a plastic sack underneath him, to keep the damp off. He’d unrolled his shirt sleeves and put his denim jacket on. He was too grumpy for the mess hut, wanting no more sympathy for his telescope. Besides which, Liz had told him not to tell anyone Ian was dead. So best that he keep his own company, and read the Mirror.

He thought of Rose. Lively and attractive, too lively, promising everything to everyone, but that only works for so long. Her sister had kicked her out, had enough of her. He didn’t trust her either. But then again, what was he up to himself? She’d been the understudy, knowing the audience would be disappointed when she came on. Could he really complain when she wasn’t in his bed, waiting?

Hardly. But yes, there was resentment. The 30 quid didn’t matter. Not much anyway. The telescope, yes, but she wasn’t part of that. Or at least, she didn’t do it herself. Some drugged up giant, who she may well have pulled in from the clubbing scene.

Forget Rose.

It had to be Liz. A star session tonight? Last night’s hadn’t happened. And his telescope was kaput, but he had his binoculars – and the skies were clearing. He could suggest another go. Though she did seem overwrought. Understandable, suddenly being manager, Ian’s death, and on top of it all the fuss about tomorrow’s ceremony. She hadn’t exactly been chummy in the office. Maybe it was his attitude and she’d picked up on it. The busted telescope, the rain, a trip to the mortuary…

He cared a lot less about Ian than she did. Well, she was his neighbour, he’d been here less than two days and the man had hardly said a pleasant word to him. No wonder he couldn’t grieve.

He’d been so proud of his 8 inch Newtonian. But it was a heap of junk. Get used to it. Unless he could find a dealer who supplied telescopic mirrors. At a price he could afford. They didn’t give them away.