Magnus Mills - All Quiet on the Orient Express

Not until the third such evening did the subject of groceries come under discussion, and even then it was only brief. Hodge turned to me at the end of a particularly quiet interlude and said, “By the way, we’ve got a new consignment of beans at the shop.”

“Baked beans?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “I’ll bear it in mind.”

“Just thought I’d let you know.”

“Thanks.”

After that we both returned to contemplating our drinks, and the matter wasn’t raised again.

Walking home it occurred to me that I could have gone over to the Journeyman to see if Lesley was around. After all, she’d been very friendly on that first night we played darts together, offering to buy me a drink and then saying, “Maybe another time.” This had seemed like a very obvious hint. The only trouble was that I didn’t have a good enough ‘excuse’ for suddenly turning up at her local. Wainskill was a good ten miles away and the road went there specially, so I could hardly walk in and say that I just happened to be passing through. The darts match I’d missed would have provided the perfect opportunity to get to know her better, but unfortunately this chance had gone. Now I had no idea when I would see her again.

♦

Meanwhile, I spent my days trying to get on with the boats, only for the work repeatedly to be postponed by Mr Parker. It seemed there was always something else cropping up that was more urgent. One morning, soon after I’d agreed to build the mooring raft, he announced that all the materials I required were waiting for me down by the jetty.

“Do you want to get started on it today?” he asked.

“Could do,” I replied. “Of course, it means I’ll have to abandon the work on the boats for the time being.”

“That’s alright,” he said. “Christmas is still weeks away.”

His word was my command, so a little later I found myself amidst a collection of oil drums and planks. There was also a box of coach bolts to hold everything together. Assembling these components into a complete unit took a lot of trial and error, despite my carefully drawn ‘plan’, and the work took all day. The finished raft looked fairly robust, but whether it would float or not was a different matter. I tried hauling it to the water’s edge for a buoyancy test and discovered it was quite heavy. In fact, I could only move it with the greatest difficulty. This was something I hadn’t thought of. I was struggling with some spare planks trying to make a sort of slipway when someone came up behind me and said, “Need a hand there?”

It was the old man who’d helped me repair the jetty.

“Oh thanks,” I said. “Yes, two of us should be able to get it launched.”

“You built this, did you?” he asked, examining the raft.

“Yeah, just finished it.”

“Wouldn’t have caught that other lad making anything like this.”

“No?”

“Never. Just lounged about all day long, playing with the girls.”

“What girls?”

“All of them,” he said. “Holidaymakers, day-trippers. Didn’t do a stroke apart from pulling them in with his boathook.”

“Sounds like nice work,” I remarked.

“Work?” snapped the old man. “That’s not work!” He walked round the other side of the raft and found a suitable hand-hold. “Well, do you want a lift with this or not?”

“Yes, please,” I said. “That’d be a great help.”

I grabbed the raft on my side and the two of us succeeded in dragging it to the water’s edge. Another pull and it was floating beside the jetty. Then I tied it up and tried walking about on the deck.

“Stable, is it?” he asked.

“Seems alright,” I replied. “Yes, I’m quite pleased.”

I came ashore and began tidying up the remaining gear.

“You’ve done a good job there,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“I hear you’re working at our place tomorrow.”

“Am I?”

“With the circular saw.”

“Oh,” I said. “Er…yeah, right.”

“Eight o’clock, you’re coming.”

“OK.”

Obviously Mr Parker’s advertisement in the Trader’s Gazette had brought some response, but this was the first I’d heard of it. No doubt he planned to tell me about it in his own good time. Meanwhile, I was struck by the thought that I always seemed to be the last to find out about anything round here. Even the old man knew before I did.

“Where is it you live again?” I asked.

“Stonecroft,” he said, pointing along the lake. “Second turning on the left.”

“Righto.”

“About time we got all that timber cut.”

“Yes.”

“Six months it’s been lying there.”

“Well,” I said. “Should be able to get a start on it tomorrow.”

He nodded and wandered off into the trees without saying goodbye. I carried on tidying up, and shortly afterwards Mr Parker arrived in his pick-up.

“Finished then?” he asked, as he got out.

“Yes,” I replied. “Do you want to test it?”

“Could do, I suppose.” He walked onto the jetty and made as if to step onto the floating raft, but then seemed to change his mind. “No, I’ll take your word for it.”

“It’s quite safe,” I said.

“Quite probably,” he replied. “But there’s no point in taking unnecessary risks.”

“No, suppose not.”

I loaded the remaining equipment into the back of Mr Parker’s pick-up, and then waited as he surveyed my handiwork.

“By the way,” he said at length. “I’ll be taking you off the boats again tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, OK. Why’s that then?”

“We’ve got a hire contract for the circular saw, up at Pickthall’s. It’ll be a day’s work cutting firewood.”

“Right.”

“Mr Pickthall wants you there at eight o’clock. Make sure you do a proper job for him, won’t you?”

“I’ll try my best.”

“That’s good.”

It was almost dark now, so we got into the truck and drove up to the yard. Entering the bothy I noticed immediately that Gail had been in and taken the history homework I’d left on the shelf inside the door. In its place she’d deposited her geometry book, along with a note saying the latest exercises had to be handed in the day after tomorrow. It occurred to me that Gail was starting to take advantage of my good intentions. I didn’t mind doing the homework as it was quite easy and gave me something to do after dark. There was even something to learn from it. I’d discovered over the past few weeks, for example, that her geography teacher was very interested in limestone. Questions about stalactites, stalagmites and swallow holes cropped up regularly, and any answers which included the words ‘sediment’ and ‘precipitation’ were sure to receive favourable marks. Meanwhile, the English teacher had a fascination with the concept of irony. Questions about the ironic condition seemed to be his or her stock-in-trade. I only had to suggest in an essay that such-and-such a fictional character seemed to be mocked by fate or circumstance, and I’d be rewarded with a red star and ‘v.g.’ beneath my final paragraph.

Nevertheless, I was slowly beginning to recognize that Gail did much better out of the arrangement than me. After all, she only had to present the latest batch of homework at the bothy and it was completed at the drop of a hat, which left her free every evening to do whatever she liked. The least she could have done in return was bring it over while I was at home. On the other hand, I had to admit I sometimes found it hard to concentrate when she was present. The homework always took twice as long if she was sitting on the sofa waiting for me to finish it off, so maybe delivering it in my absence was just her way of being considerate.