Bob of Small End (53 page)

“
I guess
so. That’ll take care of the £212, I suppose.”

“
Yes. It
probably will.”

Bob was back
at the shop by five o’clock Thursday. Only Ken was there and they
loaded the van together.

“
What
happened today Ken?”

“
There
were three requests for more sets. Lori put them on a list for you.
And Pat installed the fluorescent lights.”

“
I
noticed that it looked brighter when I came in. What did that
cost?”

“
Don’t
know yet. He’ll send a bill later. And another cheque arrived, for
£128.”

“
From a
Southampton shop?”

“
Yes.”

“
I
wonder when we’ll start getting some from the Bournemouth area. I’d
have thought that there’d be just as many visitors
there.”

“
It
could be people about to cruise back to the States that are buying
them in Southampton. I wonder if we could market to them directly
somehow.”

“
We
could have a brochure and have it delivered to the ship before it
arrives.”

“
I think
that’d be a bit complicated to arrange Bob.”

Sam Loring was
standing by the patch of concrete when Bob parked his van so he
walked over to talk to him.

“
It
can’t be solid enough to work on yet can it Sam?”

“
Not
quite, although this stuff sets quicker than the concrete people
normally use. But it’ll be ready on Monday. Our brickers will be
here then.”

“
How
much would they get done in a day?”

“
They
won’t be finished, I can tell you that!”

Friday was a
long day. Bob took side roads trying to avoid the traffic jams but
there were very many cars: probably people having a Spring holiday.
He didn’t get back to the workshop until after six. There was no
one there. He would have preferred to drive home but he had to park
at the shop because he needed his drive to park the Vauxhall. He
was too tired to make supper so he ate at the Crown.

He caught the
early morning bus to Big End, walked to the station and dozed most
of the two hour trip to Waterloo. He had two hours before his next
train left so he took the underground to Kings Cross and wandered
around, looking for a place to eat. He passed several inviting pubs
but hoped to find a Thai restaurant. He asked a couple of
passer-byes if they knew of one but all they suggested was Indian.
So that was where he ate, filling his plate from a buffet that had
probably begun life a week ago. His next train took him to Grantham
and, after a short wait, he caught one to Boston. Finally a taxi
took him to Sally’s. He arrived just in time to join her for
afternoon tea.

“
I’ve
scones and raspberry jam again Bob. I told Rita to buy extra and if
you didn’t arrive in time for tea I was going to butter them and
give them to you tomorrow for your drive home. I’ll make you some
cucumber sandwiches instead. It’ll probably be the last time I make
them.”

“
You
could make them in the retirement home Sally.”

“
I
suppose so but all I’ll have in my room is a microwave and a sink.
I don’t know why they give you a microwave, they provide all the
meals.”

“
What if
you wanted to make tea or coffee for yourself?”

“
Ah,
that’s it. I could use it to boil a mug of water. Have you bought
one then?”

“
No, not
yet.”

“
You can
have mine if you come May 31st. That’s the day I move out, a
Friday. The auction’s the next day.”

“
Are
they selling your things here, from the house?”

“
Yes.
It’s the easiest way. So if you want anything now’s the time to say
so. I’m not keeping much, just the photographs, three or four books
and some pictures.”

“
I don’t
know what to say Sally. You have some very nice things but I just
can’t go around and take them.”

“
Course
you can Bob. It’ll all be gone to someone else in a month’s time.
Come, lets take a look,” and she eased herself out of the chair and
reached for Bob’s hand. “You’ll have to help me; I don’t want to
fall. Let’s start upstairs while I have the energy.”

It took a
while to climb the stairs. Bob carried the oxygen bottle and held
her under her arm. Once upstairs Sally led him to her old bedroom.
“There are one or two nice pictures here Bob. Would you like
them?”

“
I would
but I’ve nowhere to hang them.”

“
Sit
with me on the bed for a little while Bob. I’d like a short rest.
There, that’s better. Now, tell me about Maria. Is there anything
new to tell me about her?”

“
No. Why
do you ask?”

“
I
thought that you rather liked her.”

“
I do,
but we haven’t met since I last talked to you.”

“
Do you
write to her?”

“
Only
about the Lake District tour she’s conducting. I’m taking
it.”

“
Oh. I
rather thought that you and she might be seeing more of each other
by now.”

“
No.
That might happen in the future or it might not. I don’t know what
she thinks about me. Nor do I know if I’m still attracted to
her.”

“
The
reason I asked is because if you two lived together in the future,
or if you did that with another woman, you’d probably move to a
different house. Most women would want a more modern home than the
one you have now.”

“
Yes
you’re probably right. I hadn’t thought about it. But I don’t want
to leave my house. It’s the family home.”

“
It was
the family home Bob and will always be so. But if you start a new
relationship you might also want to move to a different place. So,
I’d say, if you like those pictures, take them. You may have lots
of room for them in the future.”

“
Oh
Sally. I’ll take them, as a gift from you. Thanks but I’m not
thinking of moving to a different house!”

“
Okay.
Now what else. The furniture is good quality but probably not your
taste.”

“
Er,
yes, that’s right.”

“
And the
lamps or the ornaments?”

“
No
Sally.”

“
Okay.
Let’s go and look at the other rooms.”

They slowly
checked each room in the house and Bob ended up with six pictures,
a nice wooden sculpture of a bird, not one he’d made and given to
her, she was keeping that one, two intricately carved book ends and
a set of fish knives and forks.

“
I know
not many people use these today Sally but I’d like to. They’re
lovely.”

“
Yes.
They came from my Mum’s Mum, your great grandmother. I think they
were one of her wedding presents. Now I must have a short nap and
then I want you to take me to a new restaurant for supper, one I’ve
just heard about.”

“
All
right. I’ll go for a walk while you are resting. How long do you
want?”

“
An hour
would be fine. Take the key and lock up when you leave.”

Bob walked
around the small village of Wyberton, keeping away from the road
running through it as best he could, admiring the flowers in the
well-kept gardens. He returned just over an hour later and tip-toed
past the living room where Sally was still sleeping and carried his
bag to his bedroom. He looked out of the window; there were groups
of dead flowers next to the rocks at the side of the pond and the
grass badly needed cutting. It was a sad to think about what was
happening. He washed then sat in the lounge and waited until Sally
woke.

“
Oh,
hello Bob. Is it late? I must have slept longer than an
hour.”

“
Just a
bit Sally.”

“
Well,
I’ll wash then we can go and eat.”

“
Do you
want me to help?”

“
No
thanks Bob.”

“
Then
I’ll get the car ready.”

It started as
soon as he turned the key and would be a joy to drive home.

The restaurant
was run by a French couple. They had taken an old run-down mansion
and installed chandeliers, tapestries, floral wallpaper and had
polished the woodwork and the floors. Three candles, set around a
bowl of roses, lit each table and a pianist was playing softly from
an alcove in the corner. Bob was impressed and somewhat
intimidated. The maître d' and a waiter helped Sally into her seat
and placed the oxygen bottle where it was not noticeable. She had
refused to take her wheelchair and used a walking stick and lent on
Bob’s arm when moving about.

They began
with asparagus Dijonnaise, which Bob ate with pieces of a largish
hot roll. He finished the rest of the roll with a creamed mushroom
and onion soup; Sally chose a garden salad with vinaigrette
dressing. Both were tempted by the tenderloin medallions but Bob
settled for breast of duck in a balsamic cherry sauce, refusing the
fish choices this time. Sally ordered a poached sole fillet. They
ordered wine by the glass, letting the waiter select the most
suitable. A crème caramel for Sally, a tiramisu for Bob and coffee
completed the meal. Sally refused to let Bob pay.

“
It’s my
turn Bob. You can pay next time. It was a nice meal, wasn’t
it?”

“
Yes it
was. We’ll have to come back here.”

Over breakfast
the next day Sally told Bob that she was glad to be moving to a
nursing home. “Things are becoming quite difficult for me. It is
hard to prepare a meal and cooking, the little I do, is
exhausting.”

“
What is
it like, the place you’re going to?”

“
It is
comfortable and people I know who have had friends or relatives
stay there say the staff is very helpful. When I was a nurse I
often went there to see clients and I always thought it would be a
good place for me when the time came. You’ll be able to see for
yourself when you visit.”

“
It will
be a while before I can come back Sally. Maybe a month or more. I’m
so busy delivering toys. We might have to hire another man to help
me. And customers have asked for different kinds of toys so I’ll
probably have to make a few and Ken will have to see if we can make
them in the workshop.”

“
I
understand. Come when you can then.”

She stood,
leaning against the side of the front door as Bob drove away and
lifted her arm and waved back when he put his arm out the window to
wave goodbye.

He followed
the same route home that he used when he drove to see Sally in the
van. Driving through the bigger towns took the most of the time for
the arteries were relatively quiet. He drove just above the speed
limit, slightly slower than most of the other drivers. When he got
home he found that there was plenty of room in his driveway for the
car, something that he had worried about. He carried the pictures
and the other items from Sally indoors then collected his overnight
bag. He added his used clothes to the others that were already in
the washing machine and turned it on. He made salmon sandwiches for
supper, thinking it was a lot different from the one he had eaten
last night. Afterwards he sat in his armchair, put his feet on the
coffee table in the lounge and supped a glass of port while he
thought about where he’d go tomorrow.

Chapter 21 Production

Ken was
standing behind his desk when Bob walked in Monday morning and
pointed to the corner behind his desk, telling Bob he’d bought a
safe in Southampton. “There it is. I was just going to bolt it to
the floor but that can wait.”

“
How
will you do that? It’s concrete. Do you have a carbide
bit?”

“
Yes,”
and he sat down.

“
The
safe’s got a combination lock, here’s the number,” and he passed a
piece of paper to Bob. “It’s the date we began our business—141996.
That’s easy to remember, I’ve tried it and it works.”

“
What
did it cost?”

“
£237.81. Here’s the bill.”

“
Thanks.”

Bob sat down
and asked “How many sets did you make last week Ken?”

“
Six
hundred. We could have made more but things slowed down when Pat
was installing the lights. He had to turn off the electricity for a
while. The sets have been boxed and Saturday I stacked a hundred of
each in the van and put the rest in your shed. We’re almost out of
the log boxes and the plastic ones haven’t arrived so we’ll have to
wrap the sets in newspapers and store them in your shed if the new
boxes don’t arrive soon.”

“
All
right. I’m driving west today and tackling the Dorset shops, the
ones I haven’t yet visited. I’ll check the map, plan my route then
leave.”

“
Rose
dropped in early Friday morning. She was surprised to see the shop
so busy. She told me she needs more sets. Perhaps you could see her
on your way out.”

“
All
right. I’ll put some more in the van before I go.”

At
Tyne’s
Gift Shop
Rose asked
for ten of each set. “We are selling the new ones mostly but people
still want the trains. Can you spare ten of each?”

“
Yes we
can now Rose. Ken and I want to take you, Jenny and Leo to lunch
someday. What days would suit you?”