Snakes' Elbows (2 page)

3 Barney's First Day Back

Woodford was not as Barney remembered it. He hadn't been back since he was five. It wasn't so much that things had changed, it was just that they looked different now that he was older. Take the river that flowed through the middle of the town. When Barney was small it had seemed to him like a raging torrent. If you fell into it, he thought, you would be carried away in moments and never seen again. He had been too little to see over the bridges and his mother used to lift him up and set him on the parapet so that he could look down into the waters as they swept past below. It had
been frightening in a way because of the strong current and the depth; but nice too, because his mother had always held on to him tightly and he knew he wouldn't fall in. He clung to her arms and watched the river race past.

Now that he was grown up, he could easily look over the side of the bridges without help as he walked through the town for the first time in over sixty years. He was amazed to see how narrow the river seemed, how small and slow and shallow. This was partly because when he was a child it was the only river he had ever known, but during his life he had found out just how big a river can be. Barney had seen the Seine in Paris and the Thames in London. He had seen immense rivers: the Mississippi when he was in the United States, the Nile in Egypt and the Ganges in India. When he was in Brazil he had even seen the Amazon, which was so wide that when you stood on one bank you couldn't see the other side.

But the river in Woodford also looked small
now simply because Barney himself was bigger. The statue of Albert Hawkes was also not as big as he had thought it. Neither the mountain at the edge of the town nor the spire of the church, the one with the pretty windows, was as high as he remembered. He felt a little as if he were looking at everything in the town through the wrong end of a telescope. And although he understood why this should be, it made him feel slightly sad.

His first day in Woodford did not go well. He went into the art gallery because apart from playing the piano, Barney loved looking at paintings more than anything else in the world. But the Woodford pictures were so disappointing. There was one where the sheep were bigger than the shepherd, and a portrait of a lady who was rather beautiful except that she had her eyes crossed. Barney guessed correctly that this wasn't deliberate, but that the painter, although extremely good at hands and hair, was not very skilful when it came to
eyes. ‘Oh well,' Barney thought, ‘at least I have paintings of my own to look at.'

From the gallery, he went to the supermarket to buy some food. The kitchen of the house into which he had moved was completely empty and so he needed everything. He would have to carry home all the boring things like salt and tea before he could even begin to think of treats like jam tarts and chocolate cake. Because he had spent all his life in hotels he had never had to shop for groceries before and he found it bewildering, all the aisles stuffed with packets and tins of every kind of food you could imagine. Just as he was putting a sliced loaf in his basket he heard someone saying, ‘It's him! Barney Barrington! The pianist!' Embarrassed, Barney slipped into the next aisle and went on with his shopping.

‘Look, Ma!' a little boy said. ‘That man with the can of soup and the milk! It's the man who was in the paper this morning, the millionaire who's come back to live here.'

Everyone who was standing around with yoghurts and eggs and pieces of cheese in their hands stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at Barney, as though he were one of the paintings in Woodford's art gallery.

‘He's right, you know,' said an old man. ‘It is him.'

Barney felt his face go hot and red. Even though he didn't have everything he needed or wanted he hurried to the check-out.

‘Oh look,' said the young woman behind the till, ‘it's you! It's him,' she said to the man behind Barney as she rang up the groceries.

‘Who?' said the man.

‘Him,' said the young woman. ‘You know, whassisname. Thingie. The fellow in the paper. Plays the piano. Pots of money. It is you, isn't it?' she said, turning to Barney again.

‘Yes, it's me,' Barney confessed helplessly.

‘Told you so,' the young woman said triumphantly to the man in the queue.

Barney paid for his shopping and fled.

By the time he got home he was ready for lunch. He made beans on toast, but he could see that it wasn't going to be very nice because he had forgotten to get any butter for the bread. He decided to eat up in his room and was crossing the hall with his meal on a tray when suddenly the doorbell rang. Who could it possibly be? He didn't know anyone in Woodford. He set his lunch on the hall table and cautiously opened the front door.

Plooff!
Immediately a flashgun went off, blinding Barney for a moment with its white light.

‘Who are you?' he exclaimed to the two men who were standing on his front step.

‘
Woodford Trumpet
,' said one, as
Plooff!
The second man took another photograph.

‘I don't want my picture taken,' Barney said, and as he moved to close the door the man who had spoken shoved his foot in to block it open. The foot was wearing a splendid shiny black
shoe of the finest leather. This was odd because otherwise the man was extremely scruffy.

‘
Woodford Trumpet
,' he said again. ‘Come on, open up.'

‘What do you want?' asked Barney.

‘Tell us all about your fabulous life. Show us round your lovely home, you know. All that.'

‘I'd rather not, if you don't mind,' Barney said.

‘Well, I
do
mind, as a matter of fact,' the man replied, becoming shirty. ‘I haven't got all day to waste, I'm due over at Jasper Jellit's place in an hour's time to see the preparations for his party. Come on, hurry up and let us in.'

By now Barney felt quite frightened. ‘I really don't want to,' he said again.

The man was still pushing at the door with his foot and peering through the gap to see whatever he could of the house. Suddenly he spotted the tray sitting on the hall table. ‘That your lunch?' he demanded incredulously. ‘Beans on toast? That's all you're having? No
smoked salmon? No champagne?'

‘I don't like smoked salmon,' Barney said. ‘I like beans on toast.'

Plooff!
The man with the camera had stuck a long lens through the gap in the door and taken another photo. The blinding light startled his companion who made the mistake of moving his foot.

Immediately, Barney slammed the door and turned the key, locking them out. His heart was pounding with fear.

The man from the
Woodford Trumpet
began to hammer and bang. ‘Oi! You! That's not fair! Let me in! Open this door or you'll be sorry.' The knocking went on and on, ending with a last blow so violent that Barney guessed correctly that the man had kicked the door with his splendid shiny black shoe of the finest leather. ‘Don't think you've heard the last of this because you haven't,' he shouted through the letterbox. ‘You'll be sorry!'

By the time all of this was over Barney's
baked beans were stone cold. He returned to the kitchen and scraped them back into the pot to warm them up again but it wasn't a success because of all the crumbs from the toast that were mixed in with the tomato sauce. Eventually Barney gave up.

He went to his room where his piano was. No matter how bad he was feeling, even if the weather was cold and wet, even if he was lonely and people were being horrible to him, playing the piano always made him feel better. He loved listening to beautiful music, and to make that music, to be at the centre of that wonderful sound, to be a part of it, was the sweetest thing. And so opening his piano Barney started to play. Although he did not know it, something was to happen the following day that would completely change his life.

4 Wilf

When he was in town doing his shopping, Barney had asked to have the newspaper delivered to his house every day, and so when he went downstairs the following morning there was a copy of the
Woodford Trumpet
lying on the doormat.

‘WE SPILL THE BEANS ON BARMY BARNEY!' screamed the headline. Below this there was a photograph of the plate of beans on toast Barney had been going to have for his lunch the previous day.

‘THE
WOODFORD TRUMPET
can reveal today that MAD millionaire Barney
Barrington is a SKINFLINT!

‘“I LOVE smoked salmon,” the parsimonious pianist told our special reporter yesterday in an EXCLUSIVE interview “But it COSTS too much. So I eat baked beans. I don't LIKE them, but at least they're CHEAP!”'

On the front page there was also a picture of a devilishly handsome man standing outside a white marquee with two big black Alsatians. ‘IT'S GOING TO BE A BIG ONE!' read the caption, and then in slightly smaller print: ‘JASPER JELLIT, seen here with his DOGS Cannibal and Bruiser, tells the
Trumpet
EVERYTHING about his plans for this weekend's INCREDIBLE party! Please see pages 2, 3, 4, 5 & 6.'

Feeling rather glum, Barney went into the kitchen and made his breakfast, which was not a success. He was carrying it through the hall on a tray when suddenly the doorbell rang.

‘Oh no! Not again!'

His heart began to thump and he stood
still, hoping whoever was there would simply go away. But the doorbell rang again and suddenly the flap of the letterbox shot up, revealing a pair of small bright eyes. ‘So you are at home after all,' said a voice.

‘Please go away,' Barney pleaded.

‘Couldn't we talk for a moment? I just wanted to ask you something.'

‘Are you a journalist?'

‘Me? No! Course not!'

‘Who are you then?'

The small bright eyes blinked. ‘It doesn't matter,' the voice said sadly. ‘I'd best be on my way. People are always telling me to push off. Sorry to disturb you. It was just a thought.' The flap of the letterbox snapped shut and the small bright eyes disappeared.

‘Stop! Wait!' Barney put his tray down and threw open the front door.

Standing on the doorstep was a roly-poly little man with wild hair and small bright eyes. He looked humorous and jolly and made no
move to shove his foot in the door. ‘Hello!' he said. ‘My name's Wilf. I was just wondering if there was any chance of a job going.'

‘What kind of a job?' said Barney.

‘Anything really,' Wilf said. ‘I suppose I'm a bit late in the day, you've probably got loads of people working for you by now. I could mow your lawn or if you needed any painting or decorating I could do it. I can turn my hand to anything, me.'

Even though he was no good at anything except playing the piano, it had never crossed Barney's mind to employ anyone. But now that Wilf had suggested it, it seemed like a wonderful idea.

Suddenly Wilf spotted the tray of food. ‘That your breakfast?' Barney nodded. ‘Doesn't look too tasty, does it? You've burnt your toast.'

‘I know,' Barney said sadly.

‘And you've cut it into squares. Toast's nicer when you cut it into triangles. If I came to work for you, I'd bring you your breakfast every morning.'

‘What would you give me?'

‘Whatever you wanted.'

‘That's part of the problem,' Barney sighed. ‘I never know what I want. I'm so indecisive.'

‘Let me see then,' Wilf said. ‘Some days I'd bring you crumpets that I'd toasted until they were piping hot and I'd cover them with butter that would melt and drip through the holes. Then I'd sprinkle them with cinnamon and sugar. Other times I'd bring you cornflakes and a white china pot full of hot chocolate. Some mornings I'd even make you pancakes.'

‘What about lunch? Would you give me nice lunches too? And dinners?'

‘Course I would.'

‘And would you ever give me spinach or sprouts?'

‘Yuk! No! Never!' said Wilf.

‘When can you start?' asked Barney. Wilf started to work for Barney that very day. He went down to the supermarket and bought all the things that had been forgotten
the day before. Although he was a small man he was extremely strong and he carried home a massive bag of shopping. At noon he made mashed potatoes with roast chicken and peas, and afterwards there was lemon pudding and cream. Barney was desperately hungry. He hadn't had a proper meal since arriving in Woodford, what with the cold baked beans and the burnt toast, and he thought Wilf's lunch was the most delicious thing he had eaten in years.

In the early afternoon, just after Wilf had finished doing the dishes, a huge lorry pulled up outside the house.

‘What's this all about?'

‘It's my collection of paintings,' Barney said anxiously as the men started to unload dozens of big wooden packing cases. To his great relief, Wilf immediately took charge, telling them where to put the boxes as they were brought into the house. After the men had gone, Barney and Wilf spent the rest of the day opening the
cases and hanging the paintings on the walls. Wilf drilled holes and hammered in nails. With all the hard work, his hair became even wilder than it had been when he arrived at the house that morning, and stood straight up in mad tufts. He prised open each of the packing cases in turn and carefully lifted out the pictures.

Barney loved his paintings so much. Seeing them again was like meeting old friends after many years. Because he had spent all his life living in hotels he had only ever been able to have one painting with him at any given time and the others had been kept in store until today. Taking them out of their boxes was like opening presents; it was like Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one. Some of the pictures were huge and filled a whole wall. Some were tiny and looked as if they had been painted using a brush with only one hair. There was the painting of a ship sailing off into the sunset. There was the castle on a cliff beside the sea. There was the beautiful woman with a yellow
butterfly balanced on the tip of her finger – oh, there were so many of them, more than I could ever tell you, and each one was more wonderful than the one before.

When all the paintings with their gold frames were on the walls, Wilf made them both an evening meal of cheese sandwiches and chocolate biscuits with orange juice. Barney had really enjoyed the day, unlike yesterday, when he had felt so lonely and miserable. ‘Will you come and work for me, Wilf?' he asked as they were drinking their juice. ‘Will you help me with everything? You can live here if you want because there are lots of empty rooms.' He also told Wilf that he would pay him and when he said how much, Wilf's eyes opened wide.

‘As much as that? Are you sure?'

‘Certain,' Barney said.

‘Done deal! Yippee!'

Wilf was so pleased that even his hair looked happy.