by Michael Ross
“Are you ready for an adventure, big boy?”
“I am, Uncle Dan. Where are we going?”
“Cannot possibly tell you.”
Chan is behind him, making a point of pushing a pair of swimming trunks deep down into his rucksack, then walks up to me.
“Thank you, Danny.” She gives me one her bear hugs that used to embarrass me a few years ago. I like and appreciate them now.
“How is Derek?”
“Not too bad. His leg is in plaster, and he says they have told him he will have to use a walking stick for the next month or so.”
“Must have been a bad break.”
“He’s a big man, isn’t he? A lot of weight for a little ankle bone to take. He’s more upset about work. He’s got another big job lined up for the winter, but we’re going to have a hard couple of months before then. The joys of being self-employed, eh?”
“Do you need any money, sis?”
“No, of course not. We’ll manage.” She hesitates. “But I wouldn’t mind borrowing twenty quid for petrol today.”
I give her thirty and refuse to let her speak.
“Okay then, me and the mighty Butch are off to conquer the world.” Then I have an afterthought which should have come to me much sooner. “I’ve just realised I should have spoken to you about this before, but, well, this girl I’ve been seeing—well, been out with twice—Jessie, Jess, Jessica is her name. I was wondering—well no, that’s no good because I’ve already asked her—well, she’s coming with us as well. If that’s okay with you. It is, isn’t it? Okay, I mean.”
“Jessica, mm, very posh. Does she know how good you are with words? Ooh, ah, ugh.”
“Yes, sorry, I know, but it’s just that she somehow feels very special and I would like to spend some more time with her today, but if it’s a problem…”
“You’ll dump her? No way! The second girl my big brother has ever dated—I have got to meet her—if Jeremiah doesn’t kill your chances forever.”
“I’ve been out with more than one girl!”
“Let’s not go there, eh? You married a bloodsucking vampire. If you’ve made the same mistake again, I might be forced to kill you.”
I give her a great big kiss on the cheek.
“This is no mistake, Chan.”
But what if it is?
***
Driving over to Leigh House, Jeremiah and I play this game wherein I answer a pretend phone. Today I am in charge of a tower where bad children are imprisoned. I cover my mouth as Butch makes a ringing sound. Brr, brr.
“Hello, this is Gustav, keeper of the tower.” I cannot possibly make my voice go any lower.
“Hello, Gustav. Can my friend Emily come out to play?”
“Who is this? Of course Emily cannot come out to play. This is a prison. No one comes out of here unless I say so.”
“But you are a silly man, so let Emily out to play with me.”
“Grrr. Did you call me a silly man? I will chop your bones up and eat you.”
“No, you won’t, because you have a smelly bum.” With that, Butch doubles up with laughter.
There are fifteen other kids in his class and Butch puts in requests for all of them before we get to South Road.
I stop the car and turn to my prisoner.
“Now Butch, I would really like it if you could be on your best behaviour today. Before we head off on our adventure, I want to let you know that the lady we are picking up is a very good friend of mine, and I want her to have just as nice a day as you. Can you promise me that you will be good all day?”
Butch looks most confused. “Aren’t I always good?”
That is a cracking fine question.
“Well yes, young man, you certainly are. Forget I ever asked you.” I cannot let him think he has won this conversation. “So, Emily…why was she the first person who had to be rescued from the tower?” I have hit a nerve. Butch’s face blushes deeply—purple, white, and red. Got you, boy. I win!
When I pull up outside Leigh House, I can see a large box placed outside the front door, with some clothes lying on top. As I get out of the car, Jess appears, carrying some bottles and what looks like a large, folded blanket. She is dressed in black jeans, a blue and white hooped top, and is wearing two very large, golden hoop earrings. I am probably boring you by now, but she looks stunning. Sorry, I will not do that again. If I ever mention Jessica Roberts again, you can take it as read that she looks stunningly, gorgeously fantastic.
“I thought we could have a picnic.”
Why didn’t I think of that? I hastily push the packet of mini-pork pies I bought earlier this morning under the driver’s seat.
“Jessica, this is Jeremiah, but I call him Butch. Butch, this is Jessica, but I call her Jess.”
“It is very nice to meet you, Jess. You may call me Butch.” The little charmer!
“And it is very nice to meet you, Butch, and you may call me Jess.”
One day I will tell Butch that he is only, to my knowledge, the second person in the world to call her that.
“Can you help me carry the box down to the car?” she asks me.
“Of course. Butch, can you sit in the back so Jess can sit in the front with me?”
The boy frowns.
Jess rescues him.
“Oh, no, I’ll sit in the back. There’s more room back there anyway. I’m sure Butch would rather be up front with his uncle.” How considerate. The box is heavy and I give Jess a questioning look as I load it into boot of the car.
“Everyone ready?” I’m not a coach driver with a fifty-passenger load, but I do feel as if I have some authority over my fellow travellers today.
“Ready.”
“Ready.”
“Now before we leave, Captain Jeremiah, I have to inform you of your responsibilities today.” I switch Stan on, but turn the sound off. I have programmed in the route to the beach. “On this screen there is a map and an arrow.” I point it out for him. “Keep your eyes on that arrow and when it changes direction, tell me every time. If you make a mistake, we will get lost.”
In the rear view mirror, Jess gives me a big smile and blows me a kiss.
We have a lovely, stress-free drive. Other than “right” or “left,” there’s not a peep out of Butch the whole journey. Finally he falls asleep just outside Weston-super-Mare.
Jess leans over his seat and says quietly,
“He’s adorable.”
“Even with the purple highlights?”
“I must admit, I did think you were probably joking. But yes, even with the purple highlights.”
I drive up to the far end of the town so that I can get my car onto the sandy beach. I find a quiet spot and park up the Audi. It is not that warm, but there is no breeze, so we agree to place the blanket on the ground and set up a small trial picnic. Jess produces a flask and pours out a couple of drinks into plastic cups.
She explains, “If I don’t have my cup of coffee before midday, I usually turn into a raving lunatic.” She looks at her watch. “Twelve-thirty. I think that is my personal best for this year.” She quickly refills her cup. She has a weakness, an Achilles heel, that is well worth remembering. It is not long before Butch wakes up and climbs out of the car, bleary-eyed but instantly excited.
“The beach!”
“Nothing gets past you, does it? Would you like a glass of squash?” Jess has thought of everything.
“Yes, please. Is there anything to eat?” The boy has obviously not eaten for the best part of three years and devours sandwich after sandwich after sandwich.
“Yummy! What was in the sandwiches?”
“Only cheese. Were they nice?”
“You bet. We are not allowed to have cheese at home.”
Jess and I melt into an unspoken panic. Has the boy got some sort of allergy I know nothing of?
“You’re not allowed—why?”
“Not sure. Something to do with daddy’s tummy, I think.”
I must l
ook into this further when I speak to Chan next time.
“Let’s help Jess to pack up, and then…”
When he is not looking, I do my best magician impression. “Voilà!” I say and show him his swimming trunks. “We can go paddling in the sea.” I turn to Jess. “Is that all right with you?”
“Oh yes—I’m well prepared myself.”
We pack everything away and then I announce, “If you two can turn your backs, I am going to put my trunks on inside the car.” Jess makes a face as if she is going to be sick, and Butch screams with laughter.
“Da dah!”
“Very nice.” I’m not sure if Jess is being sarcastic or not. Then she says to my nephew, “Now, Butch, can you make sure Uncle Dan does not look while I get changed. If he tries to, you can kick him up the bottom—hard.”
Damn. She has more weapons in her armoury than I realised; charming small children is yet another.
I am frightened of boring you to tears, but Jess in white shorts is a joy to behold. I need to get in that cold water as soon as possible.
We have a great time wandering along the sea shore, splashing and paddling until Butch catches sight of the donkeys.
“Oh, can I, Uncle Dan? Just once.”
“Of course you can. Come on, let’s pick you out a good one.” Even from fifty metres away, Butch has picked out a small grey donkey called Prince. Jess lingers behind us. I walk up to the guy in charge, pay him and then ask quietly, “The girl behind me—would any of the donkeys take her weight?”
He looks over my shoulder with way too much appreciation for my liking.
“Yeah, no trouble. Biffo won’t even notice her on there. Mind you, the price is double.”
Does everyone in the world take me for an idiot? Still, I cannot believe she will be anything but delighted. I shout over to her,
“Jessica Roberts! Master Biffo has requested your attendance.”
She looks astonished and briefly I think I have misjudged matters, but then she skips over to the large, dappled donkey. The guy in charge seems to take great delight in helping her onto her steed. Double the price indeed—he should be paying me.
They go up and down the beach twice, and I snap away constantly with the camera on my phone. By the time they dismount, they are the best of mates, but I am facing debtor’s prison.
The pier is only a short distance away and so is a must. I have just enough money for three ninety-nines and entry to the pier. I put my arm around Jess.
“Could I borrow some money off you until we get back?”
“Absolutely not. From here on in, I pay for everything. I brought plenty of cash with me.”
When I was with Jane, I cannot remember her paying for anything, anything whatsoever. I have no problem with being a kept man for an afternoon.
The next hour costs Jess a small fortune. We try everything. There is not a machine on the pier that does not swallow up her money, and when we are ready to go back to the car, she splashes out on tickets for the pier railway. It would be an easy walk, but it is strange how sometimes squandering money has a satisfaction in itself. We wander back up the beach and when we get back to the car, Jess asks Butch to stand guard over me again. To be honest, I am not even tempted to sneak a look. I have to watch my blood pressure. I ring Chan and she confirms that Derek is now back at home with her.
“Do you mind if Jeremiah is back a bit later tonight?”
“Not at all. He can stay away from school tomorrow. They know about his dad’s broken leg.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when we’re ten minutes away.” I’ve heard all these stories about young married couples and what they get up to when their children are away. Derek is probably in need of some sort of feel-good factor. I don’t want the time of our return to be inopportune.
“Shall we get going, and find somewhere to stop on the way back?”
“What?” Jess looks truly horrified. “We are at the seaside and you want to go back rather than eat fish and chips on the beach? Are you some sort of moron? What do you think, Butch?”
I can tell they have been hatching plans behind my back.
“I think my uncle is a maroon.”
Jess and I burst into laughter. Maybe I am wrong, but maybe my nephew has maroon highlights.
I do agree with Jess—nothing in the world tastes as good as fish and chips eaten on a sandy beach. When we have finished, Butch plays in the sand and Jess rests her head on my shoulder as we amble down to the water’s edge.
“This has been the best of days,” she says. “I don’t think I can face work tomorrow. Oh, damn! We were out so late yesterday, I have to finish that report tonight. I need to get home.”
I had forgotten, as well.
“Sure. But let’s not rush. It’s been such a great day, I’d rather not spoil it by hurrying all the way home.”
She squeezes my arm and we stroll rather than jog back to the car. Butch lets Jess sit in the front of the car with me and is soon fast asleep on the back seat. Before we get to the motorway, I stop the car and we kiss more passionately than we ever have before. We are both content with our lot in life, and we hold hands the entire journey back to her house. When we get to Leigh House, I go to the boot and unload the now-much-lighter box and carry it up to her front door. The house is almost in darkness.
“No one in?”
She smiles.
“There is never anyone in. Thank you for a lovely day. Give Butch a kiss for me, and I will speak to you soon.”
Before I know it, she is inside the house. I return to the car and drive slowly back to Chan’s house.
Butch is still fast asleep when we arrive, so I pick him up and carry him to the front door, where Chan is waiting to take him up to his bedroom. I carry on into the lounge, where Derek is sitting with his injured leg resting on a stool.
“How’re you doing, Derek?”
“Been better, Danny. Come and sit down for a while. Thanks for looking after Jeremiah today. It was a massive help.”
I listen to make sure Chan is out of earshot, before I ask him, “Are you going to be all right for money? Chan was saying it might be a month or so before you can get back to work.”
“If it’s as long as that, we might be struggling, but if I can get back to work within four, maybe five weeks, we’ll manage.”
He is a proud man, our Derek.
“You know, if you need a few quid, you only have to ask.”
“Yeah, we know that, Dan.” He shuffles around in his seat to make himself more comfortable. “There would still be bits and pieces I could do even hobbling about like this, but driving? No chance at the moment.”
“What are the stomach problems you’ve got? Butch let the cat out of the bag.”
“Just the traces of an ulcer. There’s always a worry being self-employed.”
“Yes, I get that. I’ll put my thinking cap on and see if I can think of anything that might help.”
He is uncomfortable with getting too personal with me. He changes the subject.
“Thanks. How was my little monster?”
“Brilliant, just brilliant. We had a terrific day.”
“Chantelle says there might be a new filly on the race course?”
Wherever did he get an expression like that from?
“Well, fingers crossed, it’s looking good at present. Jess and Jeremiah seemed to hit it off with no trouble, straight away.”
“Sounds good.”
“What sounds good?”
“Danny and his new filly.”
“Derek! What a horrible expression.” He might be a big man, but Chan is still capable of making him shrink back into his seat. “Did you have a nice day?” she asks me.
“I was just saying to Derek, me, and the filly had a cracker.” I don’t move quickly enough and her backhander catches my forehead.
“Ow! You don’t half pack a wallop. Where’s your sense of humour gone?” I get another clout for my cheek. “Seriously, we all had a great time.
Jeremiah is a real charmer without even trying. You have raised a good child.”
Chan looks at Derek. Derek looks back at Chan. Chan looks at me, and then the penny drops.
“You’re pregnant!”
“We thought we would keep it a secret, but, well, I’m sixteen weeks gone already.”
Sometimes I think my observational skills could do with an upgrade. Her rounded tummy is enormous. Well, slightly bigger, anyway.
“Congratulations.”
I catch the worry on Derek’s face but turn away before he catches me looking.
“Let’s have a cup of tea to celebrate, and then I must get on my way.”
Chapter
Thirty-One
The warehouse opens up officially at eight-thirty, but I get in at slightly after seven so I that I can clear my desk as soon as possible. I have had the best night’s sleep possible and my energy cells are topped up to the max. It is amazing how much paperwork builds up in such a short time, but Patrick, my deputy, seems to have coped admirably. He arrives about an hour after me and I can see he is miffed that I beat him to it.
“Everything looks hunky-dory, Pat. Any problems?”
“None at all. I came in hoping to spruce your office up a bit before you came back.”
I throw him a serious and concerned look.
“You had better sit down, Pat.”
He does a far better job than me at looking serious and concerned. Shuffling papers on my desk and avoiding eye contact, I continue, “The thing is, Pat, Head Office have been monitoring your performance over the last year”—I see him visibly gulp—“and now they have asked me to address the issue.”
“The issue?”
“The issue of your performance, Patrick.” I never call him Patrick. “The thing is, Patrick, being next in line of your superiors, it is down to me to break the news to you.”
“But I’ve got two young kids and a mortgage. I—”
“Patrick, I don’t give a toss, the company does not give a toss. You are the new branch manager and that is all there is to it.”
Pat is stunned. In his head, he is rewinding my last sentence and trying to make sense of it. I stand up and offer him my hand.
