Church Group

by Michael Brightside

  * * *

  I woke up the next morning to the sound of my alarm, groaning as I hit the snooze button. I’d been up late the night before watching more motocross videos round Al’s, and would have killed for another hour in bed. Forcing myself up I made my way to the window and drew open the curtains. I groaned again. The whole sky was grey, not a shred of sunshine visible. Typical. I’d have been much more up for a day working outdoors had it looked a bit more inviting. Oh well, I thought, rummaging through the wardrobe, best dress weather appropriate. I pulled out jeans, a t-shirt and an old hoody. Al turned up while I was still getting dressed, obviously eager to get his hands on the cash.

  We biked down to the main road Ship lived on, wobbling as we pedalled slowly, trying to read the numbers on the front doors.

  “This one I reckon!” Al yelled out, coming to a halt outside an old bungalow, following that up with, “Fucking hell, look at the state of the place!”

  We were halfway through the village, but on the very edge of the side that faced the water, in the distance you could just about see the sea defences. The garden of the bungalow grew up with weeds and waist high grasses, mimicking the corn in the farmers field that lay beyond the boundary fence. The home itself looked long overdue a good tidy, white painted pebble-dash falling from the walls in clumps, and piles of mess everywhere, rusty engine parts and grease coated spanners.

  “Our job to sort it out I reckon,” I said dryly, looking into an open workshop at the end of the garden, floor to ceiling shelves covered in unidentifiable metal objects. “What have we got ourselves into?”

  “You’re here then? And on time too, good good. Do come in, don’t mind the....”

  Al went to unlatch the front gate, when a frenzy of manic barks sounded out. The pair of us jumped together.

  “You, quiet! Boy here has come to help us tidy the place up a bit,” Ship said, walking towards us. It looked unlikely he would be joining us in the day’s events, in his smart black trousers and white shirt, albeit with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

  A fuzzy brown and white blur appeared from over the top of the shabby fence, its tiny fluffy head disappearing and reappearing, again and again. What was this, some kind of overgrown hamster? I looked at the fur on Ship’s face, whatever it was that kept jumping up and down was the same colour. Maybe it wasn’t a hamster, maybe it was a piece of Ship’s beard. Or maybe Ship’s beard was made out of hamsters.

  “Come in, come in,” he welcomed us. “You got a dog Boy? No?”

  We both shook our heads.

  “You want a Yorkshire terrier if you ever get one. Loyal and intelligent. Meet Jasper.”

  We looked at each other, and then leaned over the gate and looked down at the dog. I was surprised it was possible to fit loyalty and intelligence in something the size of a rat.

  “Hi Jasper.” Al smirked.

  “Hello Jasper!” I tried to put a bit more enthusiasm into my tone of voice. Sleepiness now gone, my mind was on the money.

  We made our way into the front garden, Jasper jumping up at us but thankfully no longer barking. He ran between Ship’s bare feet, brushing against the grey hair growing on his toes. I was deeply regretting my own outfit choice already. The sun had burned through the heavy cloud of earlier and was shining proudly in the sky, blinding me whenever I looked the wrong way. Al had planned ahead better than me and chosen shorts.

  I would have cycled home and gotten changed, if it wasn’t start time on our very first day.

  “Your first port of call for today,” Ship said, “is creosoting this fence. So neither of you has done this before then?”

  We both shook our heads. It hadn’t been so much a question as a statement of fact when he’d asked, even if I had done it before I wouldn’t have contradicted him by telling him so.

  “Righty ho, most important don’t take too long about it. I’ve got lots more to be done over the next few weeks. Second most important, dress right.”

  He disappeared round the side of the house and was back moments later with two bundles of white fabric. Handing one to each of us, I have never been so relieved.

  The overalls may have been full length in the arms and legs, but they were a lot thinner than the denim I was wearing.

  I was tempted to strip off right there and then to swap my clothing, but Ship gestured towards the workshop at the end of the garden. We nipped in and changed quickly, I showed Al the endless shelves of metal bits I had spotted from outside, he reckoned they were engine parts.

  Ship then gave us a pair of rubber gloves each, to put on first. Before handing us both a pot made out of a cola bottle with the top cut off, three-quarters filled with brown liquid with a strong chemical smell, and a couple of brushes.

  “It’s no different to painting anything else,” he said, putting the pair of us at opposite ends of the wide fence at the front of his driveway. “This way you won’t be tripping over each other, and when you meet in the middle you’ll know which of you has worked the quickest.”

  We got to work, hard work. There was no way he was going to paint more of the fence than I was, and I could tell by the look on Al’s face he was determined to beat me too. It didn’t take long before my arm started to ache but that didn’t matter, Al’s would also be aching, it would be worth it to win, the money now being firmly at the back of my priorities.

  As an added bonus Ship had locked Jasper away while we got on with the job. “No good for the little chap those strong fumes,” he’d said as he followed the dog inside.

  Sod the dog, what about us two? I looked over at Al, he’d pulled his t-shirt up to cover his mouth. Best just try and breathe less I thought.

  By mid afternoon we were finished, Al having covered slightly more of the fence than me, though he was on the side of the driveway whereas I had the front lawn, meaning I’d had to be careful not to repaint the grass. We settled on a draw. Ship had come out once to tell us it was lunchtime but seeing that we were nearly finished he let us carry on uninterrupted.

  We stopped for a late lunch of crisps and a drink of squash in his run down but comfortable kitchen.

  “You finished quicker than I thought you would,” he said, after going out front to inspect our work. “You might as well go home for the day, there’s no use in starting something this late, and besides, you’ve done enough already.”

  “Do you still want us again tomorrow?” I asked tentatively.

  “Yes, of course Boy,” he replied. “Don’t worry I’ve got plenty more to keep you busy.”

  Al visibly stuffed down the last of his food so he could speak, “So what are we doing tomorrow boss? More painting?”

  “No, one day is enough spent doing that awfully boring job, follow me and I shall show you.”

  He led us down the garden path towards the cavernous workshop at its end.

  Here we go I thought, we’ll finally find out what all those spare parts are for, when he has us cleaning the grease off them with toothbrushes. Fortunately he walked right past the workshop, stopping behind it.

  As we followed him past the workshop, to both of our surprise we found a massive boat.

  “This is my pride and joy,” Ship said. “She needs some work but that’s where I’m hoping you two come in.” I didn’t even need to look at Al to know he’d be thinking the same as me.

  “We didn’t even know you had this,” Al said excitedly, “you can’t see it from the road.”

  “Best that way I thought,” Ship replied, pulling back the tarpaulin cover draped over the top. You got a real sense of the size of it now, it was a proper boat, one that you could take out in the sea and sleep on, it even had a handrail on the top so you could walk around on deck. It was far from pretty though, all faded and yellow with loose panels of sea bleached wood.

  “Lots to be done here. If you look inside,” he pointed through the small rectangular windows. “I’ve got all of the bits for the interior, they’re in the workshop. I can’t put it in until we get
that roof fixed though.”

  “That’ll be wicked when it’s finished Ship,” I said.

  “Indeed, she should make a good craft when she’s done.” He pulled the cover back over, spelling the end of our first day. Then he gave Al and I a twenty pound note between us and we all shook hands again.

  Getting on our bikes and cycling home, for the first evening in months we had no discussion about how we were going to spend the hours before bed.

  We were both absolutely knackered. We didn’t say as much to each other, but both silently acknowledged it. My mum seemed pleased when I got back, she’d bumped into Al’s mum in the village and found out where I’d spent the day. I don’t reckon she thought I’d stick it out but she didn’t understand. To be earning money whilst being outside and spending time with my best mate had opened my eyes. What a way to earn a living! What I’d always known inside had been confirmed. I could never work indoors in an office, it just wasn’t what I was cut out for. Right then and there I felt that if I could make my career working with Al and Ship then I would.

  That night, as I lay in the top bunk above my brother Dean, I was far too excited to sleep, restlessly trying to work out what the following day might have in store. Would we be fixing the roof like he’d mentioned or something totally different. Maybe Al could fix the roof while Ship and I bolted all the interior bits in place, the dog curled up on the grass outside.

  I was asleep before I even knew it.