Jack by the Hedge (Jack of All Trades Book 4) (14 page)

That didn’t make any sense. If things were inevitable, she couldn’t do anything other than what she was going to do anyway. Which she didn’t believe.

So scrub that thought. Scrub any deep thinking. Her head was a-tumble. Just paint.

She’d promised the builder supper. Well, there was plenty left over from lunch. Did she want him to stay the night?

Yes and no. Company, uncomplicated, someone to talk to, to hold her as time passed. No – she might weep, talk too much, give herself away as events unfolded. Time so stretched out when you were waiting. With nothing to fill you but the event you wanted and dreaded.

And then? Once it happened.

Nothing perhaps. Or a funeral. Or an investigation.

Zar knew too much. Would talk innocently about the work she’d given him. She would be questioned. And be believed or not believed.

In time. Hours and hours later. In the meantime, nothing could distract her. No music, no book, no chatter. Perhaps it would be better if she suffered alone, if the builder had not been invited. Then, at least, she would not betray herself.

She could claim a headache. Not so far from the truth. A terrible migraine. She would be oh so apologetic, but really she couldn’t… Did he mind?

Her bell rang.

It couldn’t be Jack. Too early, and he didn’t know the gate code. Though Ian might have given it to him as he had to come and go. She went to the door and looked through the spy hole. It was Ian. The man she’d promised herself to. Still standing upright. There was no point not answering the door; she was obviously in, with the light on in her hallway, kitchen and sitting room.

She opened the front door.

He beamed at her like a shy suitor.

‘Might I come in?’ he said.

She thought a moment and then said, ‘Let’s go for a stroll, Ian. It’s mild out and I’ve a bit of a headache. Fresh air might clear it.’

‘Oh dear,’ he said. ‘I’ve a bit of a tummy ache myself.’ He rubbed the area. ‘I don’t know what it is.’

‘Worry about the ceremony,’ she suggested.

‘Probably.’

She took her outdoor jacket off the hook and slipped it on. She felt for her keys, always necessary now she lived on her own again. Though she had a spare set under a brick, just in case.

She closed the door behind her, and ushered Ian along the path and out of her garden gate. She joined him on the drive and took his hand. He squeezed hers. They were enclosed in darkness.

‘Can we walk a little slower?’ he said. ‘I feel a bit twingey. It comes and goes. A sort of stabbing.’

‘No rush,’ she said. ‘We’ll go at your pace.’

They slowed. She couldn’t see his face but through his hand felt him wince every so often.

‘I am a worrier, Liz. Do you think I’m getting an ulcer?’

‘It’s said to be a stress thing,’ she said. ‘Just walk slowly and remember, everything is in hand. And I am your backstop.’

‘Thank you, Liz.’ He stopped and rubbed his stomach. ‘I would love to walk with you, but it’s no good. Not tonight. I think I should go home. I don’t feel well at all.’

‘Let’s get you back then. Tuck you up with a hot water bottle.’

‘Oh! That was a kick.’ He stopped walking, and hunched over clutching his stomach with both hands. He was breathing quickly, the two of them still on the drive. ‘It’s as if I’ve swallowed glass. Can we stop a while?’

‘Of course, Ian.’

She stood a little way from him. He was a dark shadow against the deep purple sky. A bat flipped past like a constricting handkerchief a little over their heads. They were on the main drive by the playground, the swings and roundabout silent and dead, barely visible in the gloom.

‘I enjoyed today,’ he said, the words coming slowly as if he were frozen. ‘Our lunch especially. And the cake at tea was a jolly thing. Everyone coming together.’ He suddenly recoiled and grabbed her arm in a tight grip. ‘My stomach is turning like a washing machine.’ He winced again.

‘Would you like to sit down, Ian?’

‘That might be a good idea. Thank you, Liz.’

She led him slowly to a nearby bench where they sat side by side. He rubbed his stomach with both of his hands, his breathing rapid and thick.

‘Ooh! Where did that come from? It’s like I swallowed a brick.’ He rocked backwards and forwards. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me, Liz.’

‘Acid indigestion,’ she said. ‘It can be very painful.’

‘No, no, more like…’ And he kicked one leg out, then the other. ‘Bloody cramps. It’s like metal bolts up my legs… Oh my God!’ His arms were thrashing.

All at once his head shot forward and he vomited, a forceful gush that flooded out in a splash. Bent over, he continued heaving.

‘There’s something the matter inside,’ he moaned. ‘This is awful.’ He retched again. ‘Help me, Liz.’

‘Stay where you are,’ she said. ‘This is serious. You don’t want to be moving. I’ll get an ambulance,’ she said. ‘Could be appendicitis. I’ll phone from the house. Don’t worry. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

She left him and walked quickly to her cottage. She let herself in, closing the door on the park and the man on the bench. She leaned her forehead against the cold glass. It was happening. She must not intervene.

She did not phone. She did not go back.

Chapter 24

Jack took the telescope mount out of the back of his van. He put it down on the pavement. And took out the telescope itself which was wrapped in a blanket for protection from the tools and oddments in the back of his vehicle. He laid it carefully on the pavement. It was quite an operation, as this 8 inch Newtonian weighed fifteen kilograms. Not made for carrying about. Something he should have considered before he’d bought it. He didn’t have a back garden, so was always travelling to sites away from city lights. A favourite of his and Mia’s was up a hill by Epping Forest. Once, it had clouded over even as they were climbing up to the viewing point, arriving at the top with all that weight, simply to have to carry it down again.

Tonight, though, was reasonably clear. Some cloud, but plenty of sky between. Mars, he’d already spotted, and hopefully the Andromeda Galaxy would be out of cloud. In his backpack, he had his camera; he’d try for some photos, plus a head torch to help set up. It was easy to drop things on dark nights.

Jack locked the van and thought of Rose out like a log on the sofa. Just as well he was here. No complications. He’d enjoy a session under the night sky – with no lies to tell.

He took the mount, then the telescope to the locked gate. And phoned Liz.

When she answered, he said, ‘It’s me, Jack. I’m at the gate with my gear.’

‘I’ll let you in.’

The gate buzzed. He held it open with his shoulder and brought the gear in. The gate snapped shut behind him. The mount was over his shoulder, the telescope he carried in his arms like a mother with an overweight baby. Jack had decided earlier where to set up. Just outside the marquee. It offered wind protection and shelter if needs be. They’d be looking south at the ecliptic, the line that sun and planets took from east to west, which was unobstructed in the park.

Past the wall he’d been working on today, barely visible in the gloom. In the faint glow of streetlights, the park trees were like black cut outs against inky sky, pinpricked with stars, amidst cloudy islands.

The plan was to set up, then go and collect Liz.

He crossed onto the lawn and could make out the outline of the marquee. Somewhat forbidding in the dark. An owl hooted. Underfoot the ground was soft, dew settling. In the two cottages, the lights were on, fortunately with the curtains closed, so not too polluting.

Jack put down the mount. And then the scope, carefully on the blanket to keep the moisture off. He took out the head torch from his backpack and set it onto his forehead to light his setting up. He hoped Ian knew he was here – or he might, on seeing the beam, come out yelling, Get out of my park! or whatever.

Under the headlight, he assembled the telescope and mount. And switched off the torch, being careful on the battery. Also, it was best practice to get your eyes dark adjusted before viewing. Should he take a quick look before getting Liz? Make sure he could find things. The confident astronomer.

He looked into the heavens. There was the Square of Pegasus, three of the four corner stars clear and bright, one in cloud. He followed the left hand corner star, alpha Andromeda, along a couple of stars and then up. That’s where the Andromeda Galaxy should be. In non light-polluted areas you could just make it out with the naked eye. At two and a half million light years away, it was the most distant object visible without magnification.

No, he wouldn’t start yet. He’d bring Liz out. Share the discovery together.

He left the assembled telescope and walked towards the cottage. He’d ask her to make up a thermos of coffee. Maybe bring out a couple of folding chairs. It was good to have a house close by.

It was then he heard the groaning. Jack stopped, unsure what it was. An animal? He listened. A low moan. And tried to catch where it was coming from. Somewhere in the direction of the playground. He set off that way, switching on his head torch. And in the beam saw someone on the ground, rocking.

When he’d got to him, Jack saw it was Ian, the park manager. He was lying on the grass, plainly in agony. Jack knelt down to him. The manager’s eyes were screwed tight as he writhed.

‘What is it, mate?’

The only reply was a repeated moan with hands clutching his stomach.

Jack loosened Ian’s tie and undid his collar buttons. There was little else he could do. He took out his phone and dialled Liz.

‘Liz. It’s Jack. I’ve just found Ian out here, near the playground. He’s very sick.’

‘I’ll be right out.’

While waiting for her, Jack considered what to do. He could phone an ambulance or take him to hospital himself. The man was writhing and groaning, plainly something was very wrong. There was Liz in his beam, coming out of her gate at a run, her coat open.

‘What’s happened?’ she said when she’d got to him.

‘He’s in a bad way,’ said Jack, deciding even as he spoke. ‘I’m going to take him to hospital.’

Chapter 25

At Newham General, he was reprimanded for not calling an ambulance. He suffered it, while Ian was rushed into intensive care. He gave the information that he knew for records. Name, address. He couldn’t give much more beyond knowing the next of kin was his father who lived at the same address. As for the father’s name, Mr Swift was the best he could offer.

And that was that for him. He’d got the man to hospital. Got a dressing down for his pains. There was nothing else he could do here. He’d passed on the patient to the experts, and was a free man.

Outside by his van, he phoned Liz.

‘I don’t know what they’re doing,’ he said. ‘They rushed him off for emergency treatment. That’s all I can tell you. You’d better tell his father where he is.’

‘I will,’ she said. ‘Though I’m not sure whether to do it now. It’s rather late.’

Jack looked at his watch. It was almost eleven.

‘You might as well leave him sleeping,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing he can do except worry.’

‘I’ll tell him first thing in the morning,’ she said.

‘There’s no point me coming to you now,’ said Jack, half hoping she’d disagree.

‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s late. I am sorry. It’s blown out our stargazing and supper.’

‘Another time,’ he said. ‘Will you move my telescope into the marquee? Just in case it rains. I’ll see to it when I get to work in the morning.’

‘I’ll do it right now,’ she said.

And with their farewells, that was that. As far as a date goes, a non event. Jack set off home. It was a night that had got lost somewhere. No Mars, no Andromeda Galaxy, no supper. Nothing nice at all, as Mia might have said when she was four. Only then recalling, there might be something after all. Rose. And presumably, well rested. So the night might be salvageable.

Stargazing with Liz had not even begun. Neither his fault nor hers, but that of a very sick man who could hardly be blamed. He and Liz had hardly spoken tonight beyond dealing with the invalid. Hardly an occasion for intimacy. Pity. But there you are. Events. There might be other starry nights.

As he drove up Greengate Street, he wondered what was up with Ian. His knowledge of medical conditions wasn’t great. Heart, brain, guts, take your pick or all three together. We are machines, we break down. Leave it to the mechanics.

He could do with some warmth. A little reassurance. All this running around for other people’s benefit. Enough.

The traffic was light, and he was back home in Forest Gate in less than ten minutes. Back to where he’d been three hours ago, with the younger sister asleep on his sofa, as he’d crept out. She’d said if it didn’t work out, then… And yes, it hadn’t. Not even a kiss on the doorstep. So…

He crept into a silent flat. Rose was not on the sofa, though the debris of her bed was. A screwed up duvet, the pillow with an impression of her head. She was not in his bedroom either. Nor in the kitchen, where the washing up had not been done. There was a note on the sitting room table:

‘Nothing on TV. Tired of waiting for you. Borrowed £30. Gone Clubbing. Rose PS might be back.’

Jack looked in his drawer where he kept spare cash. It was cleaned out. He was past caring. He went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. And while waiting for it to boil, he washed up.

Chapter 26

Zar was in his sleeping bag fully clothed. His torch was fading, so he turned it off, and nibbled at the chocolate he’d bought, washing it down with bottled water. He had contemplated going to a hotel for the night. Except it wouldn’t be for just a night. He had left home. There was no going back. It would be humiliating. He’d have to agree to whatever conditions they set, once the verbal bashing was over.

Impossible.

There were three texts on his phone. One from his sister, two from his parents. He wasn’t going to read them. He’d heard too much from his mother, her view was plain. And Leila had given his mother his password. How, he wasn’t sure. Had he given it to his sister, had she worked it out? Not that it mattered. Just that she’d given it to Mum. And it had to be willingly, as she could have said, I don’t know it. And how would his mother know otherwise?