Magnus Mills: All Quiet on the Orient Express

When I’d got dressed I went round to turn the water off, and then headed back to my tent. On the way I noticed Mr Parker standing by the gate, opening and closing it and giving the paintwork a thorough examination. I decided I might as well go across straight away and make sure he was satisfied with my efforts, so I casually strolled over. As I approached and joined him he gave me a brief glance, but then continued gazing at the gate in a preoccupied way. He appeared to pay no attention to the green square under his feet, or to the person who painted it. Instead he just stood there in silence. Not until several long moments had gone by did he turn and speak at last.

“Did you say you wanted to take a boat out?”

“Er…yes,” I said. “I would quite like to.”

“Well, you can if you wish.”

“Oh, right. You can fix it up, can you?”

He smiled. “I can fix anything up.”

“So are they your boats?”

“I have the main interest in them, yes.”

“Oh,” I said. “I never realized that.”

“Do you want to go this morning?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Alright, well, I’ll come by in about half an hour and we’ll go and sort you one out.”

“OK,” I said. “Thanks.”

After he’d gone I looked again at the green square and wondered why the men in the pub had made such a big deal about it. After all, Mr Parker hadn’t even mentioned the subject. Admittedly the square was very difficult to ignore, especially in the broad light of a new day, but I soon came to the conclusion that they were trying to create something out of nothing because they had little else to talk about. I decided to put the whole thing out of my mind and instead make the most of this morning’s generous offer.

Mr Parker came back in his pick-up shortly after I’d finished my breakfast of baked beans and a mug of tea.

“Very sparse existence you’ve got here,” he remarked as I joined him in the cab.

“Well, it’s only for a few days,” I said. “Makes a nice change, really.”

“You like hardship then, do you?”

“Not particularly, but as I say, it’s only a few days.”

“And then you’ll be off on your travels?”

“That’s the plan, yes.”

As we talked we had been slowly trundling towards the entrance to the lower field, where we now arrived.

“Unlock the gate, will you?” said Mr Parker.

He handed me a key and I got out and unchained the gate. It was another sunny day, and as we continued in the direction of the lake I felt quite privileged to have the whole place to myself. Mr Parker drove at a leisurely pace, and appeared to be inspecting the property as we passed through it. At the far side of the field he paused to look at some fallen branches scattered amongst the mossy trees. Also to examine the broken remains of an upturned boat lying beside the dirt track. I’d seen this boat each time I went by on the way to the pub, and guessed it had lain abandoned for many years. There were several species of plants and small trees growing through the bottom where the wood had rotted, and to my eyes it made quite an attractive landmark.

“We’ll have to get rid of that sometime,” announced Mr Parker.

“Don’t you like it then?” I asked.

“No, I do not,” he said. “Most unsightly.”

“I think it looks quite nice myself,” I remarked. “Very rustic.”

He shook his head. “It’s no good it being rustic if it’s no use.”

“Oh, well, no,” I said carefully. “No, I suppose not.”

We carried on to the lake, and pulled up beside the green boat-hire hut. Mr Parker produced another key and after a couple of tries unlocked the door. As it opened there was a cracking of new paint, and I realized that the hut had been given its coat of green quite recently.

“Someone’s been busy,” I said.

“Yes,” he replied. “We like to keep on top of the painting.”

“I’ve noticed that.”

To tell the truth, whoever painted it hadn’t done a very good job. There were runs everywhere and the door seemed to have been shut before the paint was even dry. Definitely not a piece of professional workmanship. However, I made no comment on the matter, and waited while Mr Parker peered into the hut, as if trying to get accustomed to the gloom within.

“By the way,” he continued. “Have you done any rowing before?”

“Well, not since I was a child,” I said. “We used to live near a park with a boating pond.”

“So you can row, can you?”

“Yeah, it’s like riding a bike.”

“I mean to say, we wouldn’t want you getting into any difficulties.”

“No, I’ll be OK. Thanks.”

“You won’t need rescuing after ten minutes then?”

“I doubt it.”

“Very good.” He turned and faced me in the doorway. “Right, that’ll be one pound for the hire of a boat please.”

“Oh,” I said. “Sorry, I didn’t realize…”

He glanced at the lake and then back at me. “Something wrong?”

“Er…no, it’s alright. Have you got any change?”

“Not on me, no.”

“The thing is, I’ve only got notes. Sorry.”

“Oh,” he said. “I see.”

“Can I owe it you for the time being?”

He considered this for a moment, peering into the hut again.

“I suppose you can, yes,” he said at length. “For the time being.”

“Thanks.”

“Now then, while we’re both here we’ll just see if we can get this open.”

He disappeared inside, and I could hear him unfastening some bolts behind a hatchway in the front of the hut. It sounded like he was having a bit of a struggle, so I tried to see what I could do to help from the outside. The hatch was about four feet long and looked as if it was supposed to open outwards. Unfortunately, the paint seemed to be sticking, so I began prodding and poking at various points. As I did so, Mr Parker continued speaking in a muffled tone from inside the hut.

“I’ve never taken to boating myself.”

“Haven’t you?” I said, raising my voice a little so he could hear me.

“No,” he replied. “I’ve tried it, but I didn’t like it.”

“That’s a shame. Maybe you should give it another go.”

“I haven’t time to go playing around in boats.”

“Oh. No. I don’t imagine you have.”

“Got more important things to do.”

“Yeah.”

“So today I’ll be leaving you to your own devices, if that’s alright.”

“OK.”

The bottom of the hatch moved slightly in my direction. There was a small gap underneath, so I stuck my fingers in to try and help pull. A moment later a sharp rattling noise came from inside the hut. The right-hand corner of the hatch was now free, but the left corner remained stuck.

“Are you pushing or pulling?” asked Mr Parker.

“Er…pulling, actually,” I replied.

“Well, can you pull a bit harder? Please?”

We were now both speaking with raised voices. I gripped and pulled. At the same time I heard a grunt from inside, and the hatch quickly opened outwards, jamming my knuckles for a moment before swinging up at me. I stepped back and let go, allowing the hatch to slam shut again.

“Flaming hell!” roared a voice within. “Keep hold of it then!”

“Sorry,” I said, attempting to get my fingers back under. This hurt somewhat, as my knuckles had been grazed quite badly. Next instant the hatch swung up again to reveal Mr Parker doing battle with a wooden support prop, which he instantly began jamming into position. I noticed his face had turned a deep pink and his eyes were blazing. It seemed important that this part of the operation should be completed as quickly as possible, so I grabbed the prop and helped guide it with my free hand, while still holding on to the hatch with the other. A few seconds later the prop was safely in place, and the struggle was over. There then followed a brief silence. I didn’t say anything to Mr Parker, but instead pretended to gaze out across the lake in a preoccupied manner.