by Drew Black
"Are you being serious?"
"Well, you start on the hoist, and I'll take over later. Don't look at me like that Jamie, I promise, I'll do my share on the hoist."
Jamie opened the gates of the cage and loaded it with two large boxes whilst Quilter climbed the ladder up to the first floor. Jamie then hoisted the load up to Quilter, snagged it and caught it, the cage swayed gently, and Quilter took hold of it and brought it to a halt. When he got the call, Jamie released the catch and lowered the cage back down, as he had done thousands of times before.
During the course of the morning, Quilter checked on Tom a couple of times, and Tom had been pleased to discover that he had been doing the job correctly. Quilter also kept his promise to Jamie, and after a couple of hours took over the hoisting duties.
Tom came up the slope from the stock room to the loading bay just as the klaxon sounded for lunch and was amazed to find Quilter hoisting the cage. If his memory served him right, it was the first time he'd ever seen him do it, but in fairness to him, he made the task look easy, especially considering that the stock he was hoisting was some of the heaviest that they handled.
"Ay-ah Tom, you finished?" Quilter asked brushing his hands together.
"Yeah, I hope it's right, it got a bit more complicated towards the end."
"Well, I'll go and check it. If there's anything wrong, we'll go through it this afternoon."
"What, are you not having any lunch?"
"No, I'll grab something later, you two go ahead."
Jamie chattered away to Tom as they climbed the stairs to the canteen, but Tom's thoughts were elsewhere, there was something wrong, he could just feel it. It was just so unlike Quilter to be so nice to him. Or was he just being paranoid, maybe Quilter had just realised that he was here to stay and decided to make the best of the situation. Afterall, he had initially thought Quilter was setting him up to fail by showing him the stock control, but that hadn't been the case. He wondered what Jack would have thought about it all ...
Tom's thoughts were interrupted by a wolf whistle. He looked back over his shoulder to see Christine smiling at him. She was sat with Sue in the rest area. He returned her smile before entering the canteen through its swing doors.
Having got their meals Tom and Jamie sat down at their usual table which they shared with the lads from the machine room. Soon everyone was indulging in general banter with one another, and Tom forgot all about Quilter.
The main topic of conversation was women, which along with football and drinking alcohol was one of their lunchtime conversation staples. One of the machine room lads, a guy called Jimmy Tolson, was boasting that he had slept with Christine from accounts the previous weekend. However, the general consensus of everyone else was that Jimmy’s claim was highly dubious. So much so, that John Sergeant, the mill's chief mechanic decided to compile a list of pros and cons, on the back of one of the canteen's cardboard coasters, to ascertain the validity of Jimmy’s assertion. He entitled the list; Christine; Private and Confidential Information. Tom liked Sarge who was a real man's man who had a heart as big as a lion and a voice like a foghorn. However, he felt far from comfortable with him having a cheap laugh at Christine’s expense.
"Okay Jimmy, let's get this straight. You claim to have had carnal knowledge of Christine from our accounts department."
"Keep your voice down will you." Jimmy hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
"Sorry Mel." Sarge said lowering his voice to a shout, "I'm just trying to get this clear, that's all."
Jimmy was beginning to wish he'd never mentioned it, but it was far too late for that, all the others were loving Sarge's little game.
"Just to be absolutely crystal-clear Jimmy, we are talking about Christine from accounts with the blonde hair, big boobies, and the wittle wed wips? Sarge asked before imitating Christine's pouting expression. "Not some slapper you met downtown when you were pissed up that from two hundred paces bore a passing resemblance to her?"
"Listen Sarge, you know me, I'm no bullshitter."
Everyone jeered.
"I wish I hadn't mentioned it now, but I'm telling you the truth. She was really up for it as well, she couldn't get enough of it, it was a struggle to keep up with her."
"Whoop! Whoop!" Jamie exclaimed.
Everyone was rolling with laughter.
"Okay lads." Sarge said, removing the pencil from behind his ear, and trying to keep a straight face "Let's give Jimmy the benefit of the doubt, for now anyway. We definitely need more proof though Jim. What colour is her pubic hair?"
"Blonde, same as her normal hair, of course."
"Nah, I doubt that very much," Mel Simpson a guy who worked for Sage chipped in, "that hairdo's definitely a bottle job."
"Okay Jimmy, we'll let that one slide. In fairness, she'd probably turned the light off by that stage anyway."
This brought more roars from the table, and by now people from other tables were beginning to look over to see what all the fuss was about.
"Distinguishing marks" Sarge enquired
"Oh, that one's easy she has a large tattoo on her backside that reads; 'John Sergeant kiss this."
"Very drole that one Jim. No ... distinguishing ... marks." Sarge scrawled on the upturned coaster. "Does she talk during sex, and if so, what does she say?"
"Get off me you fat bastard!" Mel Simpson said. Just then the klaxon sounded.
"Saved by the bell." Sarge said with a sigh. "No seriously Jimmy, it's only a bit of fun but do you want to know what I truly think though?"
"What?"
"My Alsatian’s more likely to have had sex with Christine Gibson than you."
On their way back down to the loading bay Jamie was revelling in the whole Christine episode. "Sarge is such a good laugh, isn't he Tom?"
"Yeah, he is, but he goes a bit too far at times though. Everyone will remember him goading Jimmy about Christine, and stories like that have a habit of spreading, especially in a place like this."
"Do you really think Jimmy shagged her though?"
"To be honest Jamie, I don't know, and I don't care."
11
As soon as the rest of the team had gone for lunch Quilter set to work. He knew that he had to be fast, and more importantly, he had to be careful. He scaled the ladder that ran adjacent to the cage and pulley system and climbed to the very top of the gantry.
The rope was about an inch in diameter and he had to fray it exactly right, so that it was still strong enough to get the cage off the ground, but weak enough to give way within a few minutes of use. He was beginning to panic, maybe this was a stupid idea, and if it went wrong, he'd be looking at a stint in the big house, that was for sure. He took a moment to settle his nerves. "I'll give you twelve months wear and tear right now Harry." he said to no one in particular.
Quilter set to work on the rope, picking at the twine with his army knife. He worked with gusto whilst continually reminding himself to be careful. What was about to happen this afternoon had to look like nothing other than a terrible accident, the type that happened all the time, in factories such as this, all over the country. The type you read about in the newspaper whilst you ate your lunch. How awful you'd think, before turning over to the sports section and forgetting all about it. He concluded that the section of rope he’d been working on was sufficiently frayed. In fact, he was a little concerned that he may have overdone it because now it looked just like a rope that had been tampered with. It would have to do though; it was too late to back out now because even he would struggle to talk his way out of this one.
Quilter descended the ladder. He armed sweat away from his forehead, his heart was pounding, and he felt short of breath. He prayed that no-one had seen him up there. Maybe Harry had come wandering through, whilst he was busy fraying the rope? Now how likely was that? He asked himself. No, he just had to stay calm and everything would work out fine.
He sat on the workbench at the bottom of the goods-out chute examining the hoisting ro
pe. In fairness, at this distance it didn't look at all bad. Phase one had gone exactly to plan, and he was actually starting to believe he could pull the whole thing off. In fact, he felt annoyed that he had even ever doubted himself because that was so unlike him. He glanced at his watch; it was ten to one. Shit, he'd almost forgotten, the dummy stock control exercise. Right word for the right guy he thought snickering to himself. He propelled himself down from the smooth surface of the work bench and jogged back down to the stock room. I hope it fuckin' kills him Quilter thought as he checked the dummy's auditing, and the thing that frightened him the most was that he meant it. He'd even seen the chump making eyes at Christine, his girl. Did that stupid ass hole really think that he was going to let him waltz in here and take over his job and his woman? Well if he did, he was in for one hell of a surprise, that was for sure.
12
On hearing the klaxon sound Quilter gathered all Tom's paperwork together and affixed it to his clipboard - no mistakes. Go to the top of the class Tommy-boy, he thought, just enjoy it while it lasts though, that'd be my advice to you.
As he made his way back up the slope, he heard Tom and Jamie arriving back from the canteen, he heard them mention Christine and something about shagging. They must be talking about his Christine, he thought frantically. He was just about to ask them what they were talking about when he clamped his mouth shut. Whatever it was it would just have to wait, he had urgent business to attend to.
"Ay-ah Dave, how did I do?" Tom asked a little anxiously. He imagined Quilter would revel in it if he'd made even the tiniest of mistakes, and probably use it against him as well, if he got half a chance.
"Well, I've checked it thoroughly, and if I'm honest, I'm a little disappointed,"
Oh, here we go Tom thought.
"I couldn't find a single mistake! Well done Tom, that was excellent work.
Tom smiled and inwardly sighed with relief.
"Way to go Tom." Jamie said slapping his buddy on the back.
"Here you are Tom." Quilter said handing Tom's papers back to him. "Keep them safe for the time being, I'll make you up a training file later, and we can put them in it."
Tom felt elated, all that book learning with Jack was beginning to pay off. He just wished his mate was here now to enjoy the moment with him. He went over to his locker, opened it up and placed the paperwork on the top shelf.
"Right!" Quilter said clapping his hands together. "Who's for hoisting?"
"I'll do it." Jamie said eagerly.
Quilter could not believe his own ears. This prat was not only a complete idiot, but also a sucker for punishment. He knew he had to come up with something and fast. Fortunately, though Tom came to his rescue.
"No, fair's fair Jamie. You and Dave have been humping this lot all morning, so I'll work the hoist."
Bingo! Quilter thought sighing with relief and resisting the urge to smile. "Cheers Tom. Come on then guys, let's get to it."
Tom began loading the cage whilst Quilter and Jamie climbed the ladder up to the first floor. When Tom got the call from above, he hoisted the cage up to his work colleagues. Tom beavered away, even though his head still felt a little muzzy from all the figure work, he still felt physically fresh. He smiled to himself, he'd been determined not to give Quilter anything to pull him up on. Although, he had to admit that Quilter had been okay with him. Maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to come around. In fairness, he could understand how a person could become territorial about a place, particularly if they'd worked there for a long time. 'Don't trust him.' he heard a voice in his head say, and he could've sworn it was Jack talking to him. Now he was being silly. he re-focused his attention to the task in hand.
Upstairs Quilter was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. Tom had already hoisted six loads, and there's no way he would've thought the rope would have been strong enough to hoist more than two. He guessed there was only another three or four loads left to move. How could that fuckin' rope be holding, he'd frayed the bastard down to just a few strands of twine. Beads of perspiration began to form on his forehead, and his temples began to throb. Down below he could hear voices. Oh shit, it was Harry, it would be just his luck if the old fucker chose this exact moment to show them all that he wasn’t past cranking the old hoist. Surely that couldn't happen could it? Quilter peered over the hatch to see his worst nightmare unfolding in front of him.
"I used to work this hoist ten hours a day son." Harry said to Tom whilst removing his jacket.
Quilter began to panic. Keep calm he told himself, just keep fuckin' calm. If the old fucker wants to kill himself, there's nothing you can do about it.
"Here's how it's done young'un." Harry said lacing his fingers together and pushing them outwards until the knuckles cracked.
"Hey, Harry's having a go on the hoist." Jamie crowed peering through the hatch. "Good old Harry!" he called down.
"Less of the old, son, if you don't mind."
"You sure about this Harry." Tom asked his boss with genuine concern.
"It's no problem whatsoever Tom, I'm still as fit as a flea, even if I am getting on a bit."
Harry put on his work gloves, took hold of the rope, and proceeded to hoist the cage up to the first floor. When he'd got it up there, he snagged the rope expertly?
"Way to go Harry!" Jamie shouted down.
Harry performed an elaborate bow. his face was beaming, even if it was a little bit flushed.
Quilter was hyperventilating. He could have sworn he'd heard something from the gantry above, or was he just imagining it. He felt relief the like he'd never felt before when Harry handed the rope back to Tom and started to make his way back to his office.
Tom lowered the cage, and then set about re-loading it.
This was all a massive mistake Quilter thought. Maybe he should put a stop to it right now. However, he knew if he did that, he would blow everything he had worked so hard for, and worse still that punk Ford would end up reaping all the rewards. He took a deep breath. No, he knew he just had to go with the flow and keep calm. Besides, the rope may hold out because there was no way he'd imagined it could have lasted as long as it had, so it could perhaps manage another couple of loads, and part of him was now willing it to hold out.
However, he was jolted out of his thoughts by a whoosh of displaced air as the hoisting rope flew past him, which was quickly followed by a sickening scream from below.
Harry heard the scream and came running out of his office.
"Oh God, it's Tom." Jamie cried. "The cage has fallen on him Dave, it looks bad."
"Let me get down to him." Quilter said shoving Jamie out of the way and mounting the ladder.
Harry was struggling to move the cage from on top of Tom and Quilter helped him.
Jamie scrambled down the ladder, he was sobbing.
They got the cage off Tom, and Harry felt for a pulse.
"He's still breathing, thank god. Dave you go and ring for an ambulance." Harry panted. "Use the phone in my office, and then inform Jessop, and Chris Benson. Tim, you help me. Come on Tim snap out of it, go and get something to cover him up with. A coat anything."
This is all my fault, Harry thought. If I'd listened to Dave Quilter this morning and replaced that bloody rope, this would never have happened. How could he ever forgive himself? He just hoped and prayed that the lad would pull through. Tim returned carrying a couple of coats, by which time other workers had started to congregate at the scene. However, it was all just a blur to Harry, and he could barely hear all the frantic conversations that were going on all around him. He took the coats from Jamie and laid them both over Tom. John Sergeant had arrived and was shepherding his co-workers, keeping them at arm’s length, so they didn't get too close to Tom. "Do not move him," he instructed, “has someone called an ambulance?"
"Yes," Quilter said returning from Harry’s office. "I've told Chris and Mr Jessop as well, there on their way down."
"Is he dead?" someone shrieked.
"Give him more room." Sarge shouted waving his arms and motioning everyone back.
"Chris, sort the staff out." Jessop said to his manager as the two of them entered the loading bay. "Get rid of everyone, except for the witnesses. Send them home on full pay."
"Okay boss, will do." Chris replied, "Come on everyone, move out, and let us get Tom to hospital."
Everyone did as they were told, there was an atmosphere of shock and disbelief throughout the whole place. The mill workers were a tight knit group, and they all just wanted to do what was best for the young lad who had been injured.
"How is he?" Jessop asked standing over Tom.
"He's breathing, and he's got a strong pulse, Mr Jessop." Harry replied.
"That's good news. Okay, a word in your office please Harry, Dave you as well. Sarge you look after Tom as best you can until the ambulance arrives. Keep him warm, but do not move him."
"Okay boss." Sarge replied crouching over Tom. He wasn't really sure what to do, so he just began to talk to him. "You're going to be alright mate. Just hang in there Tom. Besides which, you've got to pull through this, you're the only decent striker we've got."
Inside Harry Jacobs's office Jessop was raging. However, he was still mindful to keep his voice down as low as possible. He, more than anyone, knew that walls had ears. "What the hell is going on here Harry, how on earth could you let this happen?"
Harry was stood looking down at the floor, tears were beginning to well in his eyes.
Quilter stood anxiously at his side, too afraid to speak. He was in shock. What if he dies, he thought, he doesn't look too clever. They could have you for murder. Shit, you've got to get through this somehow, he told himself. You've got believe that you know absolutely nothing about it.
"Come on Harry, the police will be here soon, how did it happen?"
"It's my fault." Harry blurted out, "Dave said that the rope looked a bit frayed earlier today, but I ignored him, I was just thinking of the cost of replacing it, that's all."
