by David Woods
“He was a big man, in his twenties, with a deep husky voice.”
“Was he fat or thin? And how was he dressed?”
“He was tall, well built and not at all fat. He was wearing manual working clothes, and I noticed he had a pair of huge new boots on.”
Garry thought for a moment, and then went pale as his heart sank.
The doctor noticed his change of colour and look of dismay. “What’s the matter, Mr. Osborne?”
“Did he have a black beard and long hair?”
“No. On the contrary, his hair was fairly short and he was clean shaven.”
“What colour was his hair?”
“I’d say it was dark.”
Garry turned on his heels and walked out, his hands thrust deep in his pockets as he stared at the ground in front of him. The doctor turned to the receptionist. “What a strange man. His sister’s life has just been saved and he acts as if she’s just died!”
The nurse behind the desk nodded. “Yes, I can’t understand it either. Nurse Bowen said the chap who saved her life was wonderful.”
“Yes. He certainly was.”
Garry proceeded slowly home, thinking about Angela’s response to him, certain it was Jim Grainger who called at the hospital to deliver the magic cure. He was determined to be proved right. He was pleased about Angela’s recovery, and convinced it would only be a matter of time before her memory returned — but the man he had managed to put out of his mind for so long had entered it again.
Jane was waiting for him. “How was she?”
“She looks good, but her memory’s gone.”
“I suppose it’s to be expected after all this time.”
“The doctor said she should make a full recovery.”
“Oh good. But then she’ll have to face the loss of her mother and father.”
“Yes. That’ll be a nasty shock.”
“Were they very close?”
“Yes. Very.”
“Oh dear. But how did she suddenly recover?”
“Some bloke turned up, talked to her for a while, and that was it.”
“Who was he?”
“No idea. Neither has anyone else.”
Garry walked away, sat alone in his study and churned the day’s events over in his mind. Nagging doubts about his sister’s relationship with Grainger worried him. Could she really have had an affair with him? No surely not - he was just not her type. He slowly convinced himself that the man who called at the hospital was an old friend with a special gift of penetrating speech.
The next evening Jane handed him a brandy; she found it a good idea to give him his drink, which usually started a conversation and tended to stop him drinking any more. She looked at him deep in thought.
“Funny the hospital didn’t take the man’s name.”
“Yes,” he growled. “That’s what I said.”
“He must be a remarkable chap to get through to her, after so many others had failed.”
“Remarkable, yes. But who the hell was he?”
Garry poured another large drink, gulping it down as he stared at the floor. Jane quietly slipped out of the room and up to bed. Another hour went by and she suddenly sat up in bed as a crash of glass from downstairs awoke her. She began to worry about what damage he was doing when the door burst open, and he lurched into the room, stumbling on the loose carpet. “Jane. Why did you clear off?” He fell on to the bed and she cringed away from him in terror. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want me anymore?”
She stayed silent and the colour left her face. He lunged forward and tore her nightie from top to bottom. She screamed, but was pinned down as he smothered her with drunken kisses, one hand gripping her breast tightly. The shock of the pain filled her with strength and she pushed, wriggled and eventually fell off the bed, leaving him swearing at her. The torn nightie fell off as she ran towards the bathroom, locked the door and draped a towel around her naked body. Within half an hour it was quiet and she guessed he must have fallen asleep, so she made her way to a spare room where she had a bed already made up for such an eventuality. She locked the door and lay awake shivering and sobbing, finally realising her husband had turned out to be a drunken beast. Although she knew she still loved him, she did not know how long she could put up with his nasty ways, and kept trying to think of a way to reform him.
The next morning he was his usual repentant self. “I promise I’ll never do that again.”
But this time Jane did not believe him. She just looked at him sternly and said, “If you do, I’ll leave you.”
Garry was shocked and thought quickly about how much he could lose.
“This time I really will stop myself drinking too much.”
“We’ll see.”
They went to work together and he made an effort to be civil with everyone.
* * *
Garry’s enquiries regarding Jim Grainger’s whereabouts came to nothing. All he could find out was that Grainger had been released a couple of weeks previous, but neither the police nor the prison authorities would divulge his present address. Garry soon gave up and concentrated on running the construction company.
Later that week Jane announced she was pregnant. She told her mother first, tearfully pouring out her problems with Garry. “Now I’m trapped with a man who turns into a drunken beast at the slightest excuse.”
Marian was sympathetic. “I’m sure he’ll change when he knows about the baby.”
“I do hope so. But how long will it last?”
Garry was delighted with the news. “We’ll have a son to carry on the Osborne name and business.” He even had a large bouquet of flowers delivered.
On Sunday morning his concern was suddenly overwhelming. “My dear. You must stay at home and look after yourself.”
“But I want to carry on working as long as possible.”
“Do you really? Why not come in part time for a while?”
“Only part time?”
“Yes. I insist that you rest as much as possible.” He was even more delighted at the prospect of having the entire company to himself, without his wife checking up on him. Jane was pleased with this display of affection and poured him a drink.
“I promise to drink just one brandy a night until our son is born.”
“Oh, yes. But it might be a girl.”
“No chance of that happening.” Their relationship improved somewhat, as he tried desperately to keep his promise.
* * *
Angela’s memory did not improve and she stayed at the hospital receiving treatment, Garry and Jane visiting at weekends. She liked Jane and they talked whilst Garry sat listening. Eventually she was allowed an outing from the hospital. After a couple of weeks he took them both to the farm. The burned-out shell of the house had been flattened, and a digger was working on the new foundations. Gemma was pleased to see Angela and nuzzled her affectionately, whinnied with excitement, and this was the first time any of her past life returned to her memory. The smell of the warm breath and sound of the horse sparked a cord in her mind and she said, “Gemma, it’s nice to see you.”
Garry was pleased to see his sister’s reaction. “You remembered her name?”
“Yes. Maybe I’ll remember other things now.”
They returned to the hospital and the doctor said to Garry. “Angela’s mind may be blocking out those things which she can’t accept — like her parents’ death. I would recommend she stays near the farm for a while to try and remember her old surroundings.”
“Fine. She can stay with Peter French, the farm manager.”
Jane took her sister-in-law to London for a day’s shopping to replace clothes destroyed in the fire, but the day turned into two days. They managed to buy a car full of clothes for both of them, including two maternity dresses for Jane. The outing breathed new life into Angela, who was looking forward to riding Gemma again.
* * *
The site manager walked around the huge site checking on the progress of
bricklayers and carpenters, as he was under pressure from his bosses to complete the new school on time. The company was suffering from a shortage of labourers to keep the skilled men working at full capacity.
Jim saw him approach and grinned. “Good morning, governor. How are you this morning?”
“Under pressure and fed up.”
“What, still short of labour?”
“Yeah. Bloody short.”
“I’ll make you a proposition.”
“Go on, then.”
“If I keep two brickies going, will you pay me double?”
“How are you going to do that?”
“If you can make a hod to carry double the amount, it’ll be no trouble.”
“All right. I’ll arrange for that.” He looked at Jim’s heavily built frame and knew it was a possibility. “We’ll give it a try and if it’s successful you’ll be earning more than me.”
Jim smiled. “I’ll look forward to that.”
The huge hod carrier was made up with strong bracing at the corners and Jim started using it on the following Monday morning. It was hard work but he managed to keep two fast bricklayers going, and even worked on into the evening for overtime. Rosie piled mountains of food on his plate to satisfy his enormous appetite, and always had second helpings ready if needed. How different he looked since he first arrived. He had become tanned as a result of being constantly exposed to the elements and his body was bursting out of his new clothes, which Rosie spent a lot of time mending.
Jim thought a lot about Angela, and wondered if she had fully recovered. He could still see the vision of her beautiful face vividly in his mind, and ached to see her again, but was still convinced she would be unhappy with a labourer and ex-convict. He pitched himself into his work to keep his mind occupied.
He saved a great deal of money in the next few weeks, and began to think of ways to start a business. The construction of the new school was still behind schedule and he talked to the site manager again. “If I produce extra labourers and deliver them to site, will you pay me their wages plus 20%? And I’ll pay them.”
“Sounds like a fair idea. But how’ll you produce these men, when I can’t?”
“I’ll collect them from the surrounding area and deliver them in a van.”
“I’ll let you know if it’s on.”
Jim bought a second-hand van and worked on the engine and, after spending all day Sunday working on it as well, it ran properly. When he arrived for work on Monday morning the site manager called him. “My boss is agreeable to your proposition.”
Jim was delighted, and spent several evenings fitting seats purchased from a local scrap yard into his van. The local paper carried an advertisement offering labouring jobs with free transport to the site, and interviews were held in the local pub. The landlord had agreed to let him use a corner table, and Jim sat nursing a pint of bitter, hoping someone would apply.
An hour passed but no one arrived, and just as he was beginning to get despondent two men walked in together. He could tell they were construction workers from their build and dress. They ordered pints and the landlord directed them to Jim, who shook hands with both of them. They sat down and explained they already had jobs but had to use their own transport, so if the money was right they would be interested. When Jim quickly explained the terms, they agreed to join straightaway, and he bought them two more pints. Other men arrived and, by the end of the evening he had recruited eight, all of them heavily built with existing jobs, but wanting the overtime and free transport. Only one, after listening to Jim’s proposition, left saying he would think it over.
Jim wondered about this particular man for some time after. He was a small chap with slender clean hands, not at all used to manual work, and he had asked a lot of questions about the site and even wanted to know where Jim lived, to which Jim replied, “Not far from here.”
The other chaps were still in the bar drinking and one of them said to Jim as he was leaving. “Did you take him on?”
“No. He didn’t want the job.”
“That’s just as well. He couldn’t do a day’s work if he tried.”
“D’you know him, then?”
“No. But I’ve seen him about.”
“D’you know what he does for a living?”
“No idea. Nothing, if the truth be known.”
Jim forgot about the small man, and the following Monday he got up early and set off in the van. All the men were waiting as arranged, and the site manager was delighted with the extra help, thanking Jim warmly. They all worked on until eight in the evening, with Jim still doing two men’s work.
The new arrangement worked very well and two more men joined the team the next weekend. The old van was loaded down, and Jim wondered if he should have bought a bigger vehicle.
The following Monday, when all the men were packing up to go home, Jim was still taking loads of bricks up twenty feet on to a scaffold attached to a short end wall. He wanted to be ready for the next morning’s rush with bricks in hand, so he stacked a load at each end of the thirty feet run of boards. He stood up and stretched, feeling tired and looking forward to a good meal. When he looked around, the site was empty apart from four men, two with ladders on their shoulders.
He was about to climb down to catch up with the other workers who would be waiting by the van, when he noticed the approaching men were all carrying short lengths of heavy chain. The two men with ladders placed them at each end of the scaffolding and started climbing, whilst the other two followed up behind. Jim was about to descend, but the sight of these rough looking men filled him with alarm. He stood nervously and watched as the first man reached the top of the ladder and peered over the scaffold boards. His heart sank when he saw the familiar face, and the dreadful scene on the night of the fire flashed through his mind.
Chapter Ten
A man with ginger hair and a deep scar on the side of his head approached, rattling his chain and laughing when he saw Jim’s nervous expression. “So you’re the gypo bastard that killed my brother?”
Jim glanced along the scaffold to see the two other men approaching with grim expressions. The fourth man, who was taller than the others, stood behind the ginger-haired man, who spoke slowly. “You’re a stupid bastard advertising yourself in the paper. Now you’re going to pay with your life.”
All four men laughed as Jim crouched ready to defend himself. “You don’t stand a chance,” the tall man growled.
Jim grabbed a recently laid brick and hurled it at the nearest two men, and it landed with a thud in the big man’s stomach. When the ginger-haired man ducked, this action spurred the other three men forward, whirling their chains round above their heads. Jim could see there was no escape, so he hurled more bricks, making them retreat for a few seconds. Then he turned, sat down on the planks, placed his feet against the new wall and pushed, gripping a supporting scaffold pole under him. He strained and heard the sound of metal tearing away from brickwork, and the four men shouted in horror as the entire structure started lurching over. Jim got up, grabbed a concrete lintel, pushed with his feet, and then hung on as the steel pole and wooden board structure crashed to the ground. The men screamed as they hurtled downwards, but fortunately for them the ground was soft and muddy, which cushioned their fall. All four men lay still for a few seconds and then got up slowly. Jim was pleased to see none of them was seriously injured or worse.
The other workers ran towards the broken scaffolding when they heard the crash, and one of them leaned a ladder up against the wall so Jim could climb down. The four attackers walked away unsteadily, covered in mud and saying nothing when asked if they were injured.
While Jim was standing looking at the damage, one of his workers said, “What happened, Jim?”
“Those four blokes came to see me and the whole thing came down.”
One of them picked up a length of chain. “Well, they didn’t come for a chat.”
Jim nodded. “That’s true.”
&nb
sp; “What ‘ave they got against you then, Jim?”
“It seems I upset one of them years ago.”
The men looked at each other and nodded. “We won’t ask any more questions, but we don’t like our new boss being got at.” They all laughed as they walked towards the van.
Jim watched the four muddy looking figures disappear in the other direction and wondered when they would return. The last man to be dropped off that evening sat next to the driver’s seat and broke the silence. “You know any of those men, Jim?”
“Never seen them before in my life.”
“Well, I’ve seen the ginger headed fellow with the scar on the side of his head.”
“Where?”
“In the King’s Head.”
“Does he drink there regularly.?”
“He might. I’ve seen him in there at least twice.”
Jim thought about it for a minute. “Thanks, mate.” He parked the van farther away from the terraced house than usual and walked home deep in thought. Rosie had a meal ready, which he sat down and ate in silence and after he had finished she looked him straight in the eye. “What’s the matter? You look worried.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a small problem at work to-day.”
“Come on, then. Tell me about it.”
He thought for a moment and realised she could be in danger, so he told her the full story.
She looked horrified. “Blimey, you said a small problem. They’d ’ave killed yer.”
“Yes. I suppose they would.”
“You ought to tell the police.”
“They won’t believe an ex-con.”
“But the police should be looking for them.”
“Yes but my main worry is your safety. If they find out where I live you could get hurt.”
“I’m not afraid of them bastards. Adolf ’itler didn’t make me leave this house, so a few ruffians certainly won’t.”
“It would be better if I left until this is over.”
“Don’t you even think about it.”
“In that case I’d better think of a way of sorting things out away from here.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Well, if I could meet this man and talk to him.”
