When a man is wrestling a leopard in the middle of a pond,
he’s in no position to run.
David Huxley in Bringing Up Baby
Early in their second year of marriage, Muriel announced that she was pregnant again.
‘But Detty’s only seven months old!’ cried Charlie, bemused.
Muriel laughed. ‘You know what we’re like, Charlie. It’s a wonder I wasn’t pregnant again when Detty was only one month old!’
‘You … you weren’t, were you?’
She didn’t look that big, but Charlie wasn’t sure he knew as much as he should about such matters.
‘No. But the doctor said I’m probably three months pregnant.’
Charlie stared at her burgeoning belly, trying to calculate the birthdate. ‘But they’ll be barely a year apart. Thirteen months between Detty and the new baby!’
Muriel gave him her mischievous smile again. ‘Babies. The doc’s pretty sure it’s twins.’
‘Oh, my dear Lord.’ Charlie slumped down onto the sofa bed. ‘Three children within two years of marriage! That has to be a record.’ Then he kissed Muriel’s forehead. ‘I guess I’m making up for lost time.’
‘I know,’ cried Muriel. ‘And I’ll still only be twenty. Plenty of years ahead for many more!’
‘Oh, my dear Lord,’ repeated Charlie.
He lost no time in explaining the situation at the factory, and was very glad he did. Not only was he going to get another raise, but there was a good chance that he would get a promotion to the position as assistant manager of the factory's tool and supply rooms, all four of them. If he got that position, it would mean yet another increase in salary, which would help him to not only support his growing family but also allow him to continue saving toward buying a home.
‘That’s wonderful news,’ he told his manager. ‘Muriel will be thrilled. And business must be booming.’
Heathfield nodded. ‘It really is. I’m going to be needing a new payroll manager soon, especially if you keep getting pay rises at this rate. Sanders can’t keep up with the general accounts and sort out all the wages.’ He ran his hand through his hair distractedly. ‘Sometimes we have to run just to keep up with ourselves.’
And Charlie had an idea.
‘Mr Heathfield, would you consider employing another ex-prisoner?’
‘Sure,’ said the manager with a shrug, ‘if he comes as well recommended as you.’
‘He does,’ Charlie assured him. ‘There is one more thing, however. My friend is black.’
Heathfield stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged again. ‘Charlie, if he knows enough about payroll and figures to get me out of this scrape, I don’t care if he’s green with yellow spots. Just get him in as soon as you can.’
‘I will, sir. Thank you.’
Before he could lose another moment, Charlie called the prison and set about finding Amos. By the next day, Charlie had discovered that Amos was living back with his family in the town where he’d committed his crime all those years ago. On returning from the war, he’d found work in a storeroom, and was making a meager living on which to support his wife and their two growing children.
It was two hours’ drive away, but Charlie wasn’t prepared to wait. Borrowing Roger’s car, he took to the open road with a thrill at driving at speed again, and made his way to Corville to track Amos down at his home.
When he opened the door, those familiar eyes gazed at Charlie just as they had decades before, and then the two men embraced like brothers.
‘I didn’t know you were out!’ gasped Amos. ‘How did you get out?’
‘Did you not read my letters? You know me and my letters – I wrote you dozens of messages over the years.’
Amos frowned, puzzled. ‘I got a few when I first landed in the Pacific, but they stopped after a year or so. The guys used to complain that the mail was hit and miss - unlike the Japanese.’
Charlie studied his friend closely. The war had taken its toll on Amos; he could see that. He looked fifteen years older than Charlie rather than six or seven, and life continued to be hard for him and his family, by the looks of it.
Well, all that was about to change.
‘Amos, my friend,’ he said, clapping the man on the arm, ‘if you haven’t read those letters, then we’re going to be here a while. I have a lot – a lot – to tell you.’
‘I ain’t going nowhere,’ said Amos with a grin.
‘Oh, yes, you are.’
Where he’d stay, and how, they weren’t quite sure. But Charlie knew, somehow, that they’d work it out.