Trevor's Odd Assay
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Mike said he wouldn’t be long and made his way past three strangely quiet children who were playing in the corridor. The three of them were sitting in a tight circle playing a really slow game of patter cake. The game was almost in slow motion, with the eldest of the group, a boy who looked about ten years old, leading. The boy's younger sister; Trevor assumed she was his sister, helped and encouraged the youngest of the three, another boy who looked to be about five years of age.
Mike gave the three of them, what Trevor thought was an absurdly exaggerated wide birth. At the end of the corridor Mike turned right and disappeared out of sight.
There was something about the silent way in which the children played that made Trevor feel a little uncomfortable, especially when the older boy looked up and caught Trevor watching him. He smiled and mouthed the words 'Don't worry,' before turning back to the game.
Trevor was more than relieved when Mike returned from round the corner after some fifteen minutes. He quickly trotted up the corridor towards the lift, giving the children wary glances as he passed.
“Right,” Mike said, stepping into the lift, “One more stop, and then we’re done, seventh floor please, and...” Mike paused for a second while Trevor released the hold button, “It's probably best not to visit this floor on your own lad, some of the households are a bit tricky. Best let me deal with them from now on I think.”
*****
As the lift door started to close a hand suddenly appeared, stopping its passage with a complaining shudder. As the lift door opened again a young olive-skinned man appeared at the threshold. He was dressed in a white shirt and black waistcoat and trousers as he stood hesitantly at the door.
“Is this lift going up or down mate?” he said urgently in a thick London accent. Mike was still recovering from the shock of his sudden appearance so Trevor answered.
“Oh up!” He said, “We’re going up.” The man quickly looked over his shoulder at the children and then briskly stepped into the lift. As the door closed behind him he nervously adjusted a thin black bowtie.
"Bugger it!" He said, "I think I’ll take the scenic route.”
*****
Mike and Trevor left the young man in the lift when they alighted at the seventh floor. Mike knocked on a door which was soon opened by a dark haired man in his fifties, who was sporting quite a large well groomed moustache.
“Hello Mike,” He greeted, pumping his hand enthusiastically, “Come in, come in, I’ve been baking for the Neighbourhood Watch.”
“Not today thank you Mr Clementine,” Mike apologised, managing to extract his aching hand, “There’s an inspection this afternoon.”
“Please Mike,” Charles Clementine reproached, “How many times must I tell you, it’s Charles.” Mike smiled bashfully while Charles continued. “You’re lucky to catch me in as a matter of fact; I’m working from home today”.
“I know,” Mike said, “Mary Paddock told me. He turned to reveal Trevor, who was skulking behind him and added “This is Trevor Brice our new concierge.”
Charles reached out past Mike and shook Trevor’s hand “Pleased to meet you,” He said with a wink, “I feel safer already.”
“Where’s Mr Arthur?” Mike enquired, “At work?”
“No not to day”, Charles replied, “Ben has just popped down to that unsavoury looking Pie and Mash shop on the ground floor for a spot of early brunch”. Mike raised an eyebrow, but thought it best not to comment.
“He can’t seem to get enough of the place,” Charles continued, “Of course I wouldn’t be seen dead there myself but he seems to like it. He said he was looking forward to a toad in the hole but I could have easily knocked one of those up for him.”
“Well as you say,” Mike said uncomfortably, “I just wanted to introduce you to the lad here and tell you about the inspection, you know, in case you were worried about anything in particular.”
“No not at the moment but we’ll let you know if there’s anything amiss as usual.” Then as an afterthought Charles added, “You know about the tramp I suppose?”
“Yes,” Mike said, “I’m keeping an eye on that particular situation.”
“And that strange man who wanders around all the time? People keep asking me about him.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Mike replied, a little irritated, “He lives here and he's no trouble to anyone.”
“And of course there’s the sixth floor,” Charles added hesitantly.
“Oh!” Mike responded, flustered, “Yes well, that’s kind of ongoing as well," He said turning quickly to Trevor. “We’d better be going Lad. Good afternoon Mr Clementine.” Mike called out as he walked briskly back to the lifts, with Trevor following in his wake.
*****
A little later the same morning Mike and Trevor sat surrounded by the dark brown wooden décor of Celia's, the ground floor coffee shop on Calliope Street. Trevor sat nursing a large latté, with his back to the coffee bar, looking up at a black and white picture of Marilyn Monroe, which was hanging above Mike’s head on the wall behind him. Mike was firmly pressing a tea bag against the inner side of his cup with a teaspoon.
"Tea’s too weak in this place," He complained.
They had been served by the same man in the bow tie that they had met in the lift. Trevor could hear him speaking to the middle-aged woman who was also serving behind the counter behind him. He was speaking in a thick Italian accent, which Trevor found odd as he had the impression earlier that he was a Londoner. The third staff member on duty was a cute redhead who was working on the shop floor clearing the tables of crockery and wiping them down with a damp cloth. Trevor thought she looked quite pretty, in a kind of boyish way and wondered if that was why she wore so much make-up. When she noticed Trevor watching her she gave him a warm smile. Trevor looked away quickly; embarrassed about being caught ogling and saw that Mike was watching him again.
“If there is one thing you need to know about Musevary Towers lad, it’s that you have to have a certain frame of mind to work here.” Trevor nodded and continued to listen, trying not to let his eyes find the red-headed barista again.
“Musevary Towers seems to attract a certain sort of resident,” Mike continued, “There’s none here that I would call particularly normal. They’ve all got their particular ways about them.”
“I see,” Trevor said, but he didn’t, not really. Mike paused to make sure Trevor was paying attention.
“So to work here you need to know what’s going on and you need to know how to deal with things.”
“OK,” Trevor replied distantly, momentarily distracted by the redhead again as she left the coffee shop with a damp cloth in one hand and a dustpan and brush in the other. Trevor guessed that she was going to empty out the ashtrays and wipe down the tables outside. Mike cleared his throat, getting Trevor's attention again.
“You need to stay a bit focused here lad; otherwise the tower will swallow you up, I’ve seen it happen, if you let the likes of Jan out there distract you...”
“Jan!” Trevor repeated dreamily causing Mike to look up into the heavens for the third time that morning.
A commotion caught their attention and Trevor was half out of his seat when he saw Jan in an altercation with a bearded tramp outside. The latter had knocked over a coffee cup, which lay smashed on the pavement. Trevor was about to go to her rescue when Mike grabbed his arm. The fake Italian Barista ran round the counter and headed towards the entrance instead.
“I haven’t finished with you yet lad!” Mike scolded, “This is important.” Trevor sat back down, a little irritated, which seemed to strangely please Mike
“So you do have some gumption lad, that's good to see. You'll need it here Lad,” Mike continued, “But more importantly, you need to have the right mind set, you know, to deal with all the weird staff that happens here.” Trevor was listening again and despite initially almost laughing at Mike, he had to admit that this morning had been unusual to say the least.
�
�So is this what today's health and safety inspection is going to be all about, the weird residents of Musevary Towers?” Trevor asked. Mike nodded gravely.
“Take a look outside,” Mike advised, pointing through the large shop windows at Jan and the Italian seeing the old tramp off down the street. “That sort of thing happens all the time round here.” Trevor was still not sure though, it was only a tramp after all.
“So what happens if we don’t pass this inspection thing?” Trevor asked.
“Oh nothing really,” Mike replied, “It’s all a bit informal really. And anyway, the jury’s already returned a verdict.”
"Have they?" Trevor asked, feeling relieved, "How come?"
“It wasn’t me who was being inspected lad,” Mike explained, "Or the tower."
“Wasn’t it?” Trevor asked, surprised.
“No lad it was you,” Mike said grinning for the first time that morning, leaving Trevor speechless. “And by the way lad,” He continued, leaning across the table to firmly pat Trevor on the shoulder, “I think you will do just fine here.
“Do you?” Trevor asked, finding his voice at last.
“Yes I do lad,” Mike replied, “So I’ve decided that you've passed muster lad, you’ve passed the test.”
The End
© 2013 Chris Raven
About Tall Stories
‘Trevor’s Odd Assay’ is an introductory short story about a young security guard’s journey up through the floors of Musevary Towers, a mysterious residential tower block where anything can happen. It is a preview for ‘Tall Stories’, an anthology of tales that are set in a shared story environment where a number of writers have set stories that intertwine, allowing them to share and develop each other’s characters and locations every time a story is told.
About The Author
Chris Raven was born in south London just shy of 50 years ago. He originally started out in Theatre in the 1980s but he became side-tracked by health and social care, where he has made his living for the past 20 or so years. More recently he has found his way back to the creative arts by contributing a number of short stories to the Indie collaboration’s series of free anthologies. He has also been coordinating a shared writing project with other new writers called ‘Tall Stories’.
Please see below for details of my other published short stories: