Magnus Mills: All Quiet on the Orient Express

When we pulled up in the yard I saw Mr Parker’s trailer parked by the big shed. It was loaded with a large piece of equipment whose purpose I couldn’t make out in this light.

I was about to ask what it was when the terrace door opened and Gail Parker appeared.

“Found them?” she asked, with some concern in her voice.

“No, we haven’t,” replied her father. “We’ll have to have another look when it’s light enough. Could you rustle up some breakfast for this one?”

“Morning,” I said, with a polite smile, and she smiled back.

“Eggs and coffee be alright?” she asked.

“Yes, fine, thanks.”

I followed the two of them inside to a warm kitchen with a large wooden table. I noticed Mr Parker left his boots on, so I did the same. Then we sat down and I was given breakfast. This was the first time I’d eaten at a table for some while; and I made the most of it, accepting the eggs and coffee with good grace. There wasn’t much talk, but after a while Mr Parker started up a conversation.

“I see your motorbike’s quite an early model,” he remarked.

“Yes,” I replied. “Pre-unit.”

“Had it long?”

“A couple of years, yes.”

“You’ve hardly been out on it the last few days.”

“No,” I said. “Suppose I haven’t.”

“Been too busy with other things.”

“Yes.”

“You can put it in one of the sheds up here if you like.”

“Oh…er…can I?”

“If you like, yes. Then we can keep an eye on it for you.”

“Well thanks anyway, but I’ll be going at the end of the week. Hardly seems worth your trouble.”

“Alright, well, if you change your mind.”

“Thanks.”

He glanced out of the window. “Here’s Deakin.”

For the last few moments I’d been aware of a rattling noise coming up the hill, and next thing a pick-up truck pulled into the yard. Looking out I saw the dairyman leave the vehicle, grab a pint of milk and run up the steps. There was a ‘clunk’ outside the door, and then he was running back down again. After he’d gone I recalled the conversation I’d had with him while painting the gate, about how he needed to ‘see Tommy about something’. I concluded that the matter can’t have been as important as he’d made out.

“Met Deakin, have you?” asked Mr Parker.

“Er…just once,” I replied. “Does he come up here every day?”

“Most days, yes.”

“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, you’re not usually up this early, are you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“You’re probably still asleep when he goes by.”

At that moment another vehicle pulled up in the yard. This time it was a Post Office van. The driver bobbed up the steps, opened the kitchen door by four inches and slipped the post onto a shelf inside.

“Thank you,” he said, in a sing-song voice, and was gone again in a flash.

“I never realized it got so busy here,” I remarked.

“Yes, there’s always something going on,” said Mr Parker.

“Must be nice having your own postman.”

“Don’t people have their own postmen in the south then?”

“Well, yeah, but they don’t usually have their own van as well.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he said. “They all go around on bicycles, don’t they? With big sacks.”

“Some of them do, yes,” I replied. “But it’s more sort of house-to-house.”

At that moment a telephone rang in the adjoining room, instantly causing Gail to spring from her seat.

“I’ll get it,” she said, darting next door.

A moment later she was back, “Dad, it’s for you.”

Mr Parker went through and picked up the receiver, while Gail sat down again opposite me.

A few moments passed in silence, and then I said, “School today?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “There’s always school.”

“It’s just I noticed you weren’t wearing your uniform.”

“Oh,” she said. “No. I don’t put it on ‘til the last moment.”

She glanced at a clock on the shelf, smiled at me and then disappeared into another room. By this time I’d more or less finished breakfast and so I decided to make a move. I was feeling very tired, and despite all the coffee couldn’t wait to get back to bed. However, it seemed appropriate to thank Mr Parker for his hospitality, so I got up from my seat and stood waiting by the door. I glanced at the items of mail lying on the shelf, and my eye was caught by a postcard depicting the Taj Mahal. It was very tempting to pick it up and read it, but just then Mr Parker came back into the kitchen.

“Well, that’s a good bit of news,” he announced. “The boats have fetched up at Bryan Webb’s place.”

He said ‘Bryan Webb’ as though I was supposed to know who he was.

“Is that the bloke who goes round in a cardboard crown?” I asked.

“Yes, you’ll have seen him in the Packhorse.”

“Plays a lot of darts.”

“Yes, that sounds like Bryan.”

“Well, thanks for the breakfast,” I said. “Very nice.”

He smiled. “Do you want to come over to Bryan’s and help bring the boats back?”

“How long do you think it’ll take?” I asked.

“A couple of hours should see us through.”

After accepting breakfast it would have seemed churlish not to help, so I agreed. Next thing we were out in the yard heading for Mr Parker’s pick-up. We paused to look at the piece of equipment on the trailer. I could now see that it was a circular saw. All the parts were a dull yellow colour, apart from the huge blade, which was quite heavily rusted.

“What do you think of that?” asked Mr Parker.

“Looks useful,” I replied. “Fits on the back of a tractor, does it?”

“That’s right,” he said. “Picked it up yesterday at the auction.” He rubbed a section of metal and the yellow brightened considerably. “Should clean up nicely.”

“What about the rust?”

“We’ll soon work that off. Now we’ll just get the trailer unloaded, then we can get going.”

The circular saw looked far too big for the two of us to lift, but Mr Parker clearly had the matter in hand. He backed the truck over to the trailer, got them hooked together, then went to the big shed and slid open the doors. Next he reversed the whole outfit up the ramp. While he did all this I stood around uselessly, trying not to get in the way. A moment later he beeped his horn, so I walked up the ramp into the shed. The trailer was now neatly positioned under a chain-and-pulley hoist suspended from a roof girder. He’d already got out of the truck and was heaving the circular saw upwards single-handedly, so I rushed over to help. It hardly made any difference as he seemed to be considerably stronger than I was, and next thing the saw was hanging in the air three feet above the trailer.

“Thank you,” said Mr Parker. “We’ll have to get it fixed onto the tractor sometime.”

While he took a moment’s rest I cast a quick glance round the inside of the shed. Apart from a substantial-looking tractor nearby, there was a huge array of other equipment as well, including a collection of tyres and wheels, and some welding gear. Quite of lot of spare parts lay here and there too. From where I stood I could see what looked like the front section of a snow plough, the chassis and controls of a caterpillar vehicle, and a concrete mixer with a dismantled engine. Also a large pile of wooden planks. There was more stuff piled up at the back of the shed, and the whole place had a combined smell of lubricating oil, paint and grease. It reminded me more of a factory warehouse than an agricultural building.

“Got some good tackle here,” I remarked.

“Yes,” said Mr Parker. “It all comes in handy on occasion.”