This caused Mr Parker to remark, “You’re not very strong, are you?”
“Well, I’m not weak either,” I protested. “I’ve done quite a lot of heavy lifting actually.”
“When was that?” he asked.
“I used to work on the loading bay at the factory.”
“I thought you said you were in the paint shop.”
“I was eventually. But I started off on the loading bay.”
“So you’ve done painting and loading,” he said. “What else?”
“Well, nothing really. Apart from a bit of joinery.”
“Are you a trained joiner then?”
“Er…no.”
“What about plumbing? Do you know anything about that?”
“No, ‘fraid not.”
“I can do plumbing,” he announced. “And welding. In fact, there’s very little I can’t do when I think about it. I know about land drainage, tree planting, fencing and timber felling. I can change the hydraulic pipes on most types of tractor, and I do all my own vehicle maintenance too. That’s petrol and diesel, mind. In the past I’ve done ploughing, milking and sheep drenching, as well as dipping. I’ve installed septic tanks. I know the inner workings of the Watford Slurry Pump. I built this shed we’re standing in, and I put down most of the concrete you can see around the place.”
While he was telling me all this I stood beside the boats nodding vaguely. I wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be leading up to, but it seemed interesting enough in its own way.
“I can operate circular saws, mechanical excavators, jack-hammers and pile-drivers,” he added, before pausing to give me a significant look. “But the one subject I know nothing about is boats.”
“Oh,” I said. “Don’t you?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Well I only know a bit myself.”
“Maybe so, but I can see you appreciate them more than I do.”
“I do quite like them, yes.”
He placed his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor.
“The thing is,” he said. “I want them painting, and I’d like you to do it.”
“But that’s a big project,” I replied. “They’ll need several coats to do them properly.”
“That’s alright. We’ve got plenty of paint.”
“And it might turn out they need some caulker too.”
He looked up. “Caulker?”
“To prevent them leaking.”
“There you are,” he said. “I wouldn’t have known that. I’ve never even heard of caulker. You’re just the man for the job.”
While we talked a thin shaft of sunlight had begun to play on one of the boats. It seemed that the wet weather outside was indeed giving way to clearer, brighter conditions. In this acute light the gold paint along the boat’s gunwale momentarily regained a little of its original lustre, giving it a very striking appearance. There was no doubt that the paintwork was in some need of refurbishment, but for a few seconds I had a picture of what the finished job would look like. I could just imagine the raised prow when its details had been carefully touched in by hand, and the gold lines running from stem to stem. Yes, I thought, the completed vessel would look magnificent.
“Trouble is,” I said, “it’d take weeks to do all seven of them.”
“But you could have them done by Christmas, could you?” asked Mr Parker.
“Well, probably, yes. But I really should get going very soon.”
He ignored my weak protest. “We’ve got a bothy you could stay in, if you wished.”
“Oh,” I said. “Er…have you?”
“Across the yard there. Quite cosy in the winter, it is. And we’d give you breakfast every day.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Cooked by Gail, of course.”
I considered his proposition and realized my resistance was running quite low. To tell the truth I felt exhausted. The waterproofs I’d been wearing for hours were now dry again, but the thought of repeating this morning’s journey was unappealing. On the other hand the offer of a place to stay with a cooked breakfast each morning seemed very attractive.
“Can I keep the bike in here for the time being?” I asked.
“Of course you can,” he replied.
“Alright,” I said. “I’ll stay.”
♦
A few minutes later he took me across the yard to see the bothy. It was a tiny place, with a tiny bathroom. As we walked in it felt a bit chilly, but as Mr Parker demonstrated with the flick of an electric switch, it could warm up quite quickly. From one of the windows there was a good view of his house. The lake, though, was out of sight. After he’d left me to settle in I realized with a shock that I hadn’t eaten all day. No wonder I felt so weak and tired. I decided the best course of action was to get down to Hodge’s shop and stock up on a few things, so I went and gave the bike another try. With a mixed feeling of relief and disappointment I discovered it still wouldn’t start. I then set off walking to Millfold.
There was a little bell attached to the door of Hodge’s shop. It rang as I went in, but for several minutes he pretended not to have heard. I knew he was there though. I could, hear him moving about in a back room behind a sort of plastic curtain made from multi-coloured strips. It sounded as if he was brewing tea, judging by the spooning, stirring and clinking noises he was producing. Eventually I went to the door and opened it for a second time, so that the bell rang again. Only then did Hodge appear amidst the plastic strips.
“Baked beans, is it?” he asked.
“You are open then, are you?”
“Open every day,” he said. “Early closing Wednesdays.”
“Oh, I see. Right. Yes please, baked beans.”
He went to the appropriate shelf. “You’re lucky. These are the last two cans.”
“Oh,” I said. “You’ll be getting some more in though, won’t you?”
Hodge smiled in a cheery way and clapped his hands together. “I’m afraid not.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“No demand once the season’s over. Not worth opening another box.”
“But I’ll be staying for a while now, so I’ll definitely be buying them.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“Who?”
“People who come in here asking for things.”
“You mean customers?”
“Call them what you like,” said Hodge. “There’ll be no more beans this year.”
“So that’s your final decision, is it?”
“I believe it is.”
“Oh,” I said. “Right.”
At this point I’d liked to have walked out of the shop without buying anything at all, but unfortunately there was nowhere else to go. I had no choice but to purchase the two cans of beans plus a few other essential items, but I left determined not to give him my custom again. When I got home I remembered an advert I’d noticed in a copy of the Trader’s Gazette. It took a while to track down as there were a lot of pages and I kept being distracted by other items, but eventually I found what I was looking for.