64
Saturday, 5 May 2012
At the door to the petrol station shop, Jack made way for a young man ripping a Mars wrapper open with his teeth before slipping inside. No customers: perfect. A tall stooping man with rheumy eyes stood behind the till. Lurked was more like it; if a human being could make himself invisible, this man got close.
‘Mr Ford?’ Jack was warm; Jackie had warned that her friend couldn’t say boo to a goose.
‘Yes.’ Ford blinked rapidly and straightened. He ran a hand over the till as if casting a protective spell.
‘I work with Jackie Makepeace, at Clean Slate.’ Ford showed no comprehension.
‘Yes,’ he complied. This was going badly.
‘Jackie says you’re a wizard when it comes to wood,’ Jack prattled as he drew out a Mars bar from the display. He placed it on the counter as if laying down arms. Coin by coin, he counted out change.
‘Did you purchase fuel?’ The man was expressionless.
‘Fuel for me!’ Jack grinned and nudged the chocolate. Treating the transaction as life-threatening, Mr Ford took the five-pound note he offered him.
‘How is Jacqueline?’ Ford quavered.
‘Good. She sends her best.’ Jack popped the bar into his pocket and rested his hands on the counter, fingers spread. ‘You’ve known her since school, she says. Wish I had a friend I’d known that long.’
‘I don’t see her often.’ Ford stacked Jack’s change on the counter by coin size, the five pence on top. ‘She was kind.’
‘She rates you. A practical kind of guy who can turn to any job. Thing is, I have a flat pack that needs assembling – would that be something you could do?’
‘I don’t drive, but…’
‘I would fetch you and take you home. Jackie said you live across the road from here.’
‘I guess, I…’
‘Sorted!’ Jack clapped his hands. ‘She has been kind to me too.’ He looked out at the forecourt. There was one car at the pumps. A Ford Fiesta. This man’s name was Ford. Had to be a sign. Jack felt positively happy. Yet the car was a nasty orange, surely not a good sign. ‘She said when you were little you saw a boy die.’
The man went very still and stopped blinking. Jack faltered. You are dealing with other people’s pain. Be kind and merciful. It wasn’t in Stella’s manual.
‘Something happened to me when I was small, that’s how it came up.’ He frowned out of the window. The man at the pump could have been David Bowie. This was Hammersmith; perhaps it was. He thought about saying so to lighten the mood.
‘I wasn’t the only one who saw it.’ Mr Ford produced a box of Mars bars from under the counter and, reaching over the display, stuffed one into the gap.
‘Sorry?’
The man talked quietly; Jack had to move closer. ‘Mary wanted to swap. The cards took me ages to collect; my nan gave me ones from her tea, but she died.’ He rammed in another Mars bar. ‘I wanted Mary’s Yew and the Sycamore which was Number Thirteen. She didn’t need it.’ His face was red, his mouth grim. He spoke as if reading a script. ‘She was chasing her brother and, you see, she had my cards so I had to get them back. The boy ran into the road. Mary never saw me.’ He shut his eyes. ‘My nan said if a thing is wrong, it must be put right.’
‘Are you saying he had a sister?’ Jack pulled out the new Mars bar and handed Douglas Ford the right money. Lucie had said the family was dead. If Michael was fifty today, this sister must be a similar age. Stella said Lucie was hiding something. She was a journalist; she would know there was a sister.
‘I never told tales about the cards.’ Douglas Ford slammed the change into the till and screwed up the receipt.
‘What was her name? Did she see Michael die? You told the police you weren’t there.’ Jack had to stop himself yelling at the man.
‘I didn’t get Mary into trouble. I got there too late to see what actually happened.’
‘Mary? Was that her name?’
‘I didn’t say about Mary, but even so she punished me.’ Ford spoke as if in a dream, his voice toneless. ‘Nan watches over me, she knows what happened. Mary had me punished.’ He said again: ‘My Holly for her Yew. Nan said an eye for an eye.’
Behind them the door slid aside. Jack made way for a woman carrying a can of oil. The woman paid for petrol and a bag of crisps and left.
‘I won’t keep you.’
Ford looked startled, probably hoping Jack too had gone.
‘Did Michael’s death make you angry?’ Jack stroked the top of the Mars bars.
‘I will have to decline the job.’ The man tapped a key on the till and the drawer flew open. He shut it. ‘I get tired after work and hate to make errors. Please thank Jacqueline.’
A swooshing sound, Jack turned. ‘David Bowie’ had entered the shop.
‘Yes, sir, can I help you?’ Ford looked pleadingly at Jack. He had got to Ford; the man was the colour of wax. Odd, a minute ago Ford had been desperate for him to leave. Jack tipped his hand in farewell and mooched out. Out of sight of the shop he checked his watch and stiffened. A few hours until 6 May.
They should keep a watch on the garage. Jackie had said Douglas Ford was nice. It was the nice ones who caught you unawares.