part 2
He knew he would soon have to find a paying job - a daunting prospect to the former thief, but he had promised the Warden and, more importantly, he�d promised his Mum. Still, it had only been a week, and there would be plenty of time for that later.
He turned up the radio, adjusted the cushions and reached for his sandwich. Life was good.
~~~~
He was still there when his Mum came home from the newsstand, but as soon as he heard her key in the lock, he jumped up and went into the tiny kitchenette to put the kettle on for her cup of tea. He popped back into the sitting room in time to help her with off with her coat, and wait for her to remove her hat with its long, sharp hatpin that kept it in place.
�Ooh, thanks, Luv,� she sighed, as she sank wearily down into her favourite armchair.
��Ard day, Mum?� he asked solicitously as he put her coat and hat away in the closet. �You look all in.�
�That I am!� she agreed, easing off her shoes. �Ohh, that�s better!�
�Just you sit there and take it easy,� he told her. �I�ll look after things.�
He moved the small occasional table closer to her chair, before fetching the Staffordshire pottery biscuit barrel that had been one of her wedding presents when she�d married his Dad. He knew it was very special to her, as it was one of the few things she�d brought with her when she�d emigrated from England. It was shaped like a thatched cottage, with climbing roses around the door, and it had always been one of his own favourite things, too. He arranged some fancy biscuits on a plate which he placed on the lace doily in the centre of the table. �Don�t spoil your dinner, now, will you?� he said with a grin, disappearing again as the kettle began to whistle.
He re-appeared a couple of minutes later carrying the old brown teapot in its knitted cosy, along with the sugar bowl and milk jug and her favourite china cup and saucer on a wooden tray. (He�d brought her a nice antique silver teapot when he�d come home, but she insisted on saving it �for best�.) He placed the tray on the table, then added milk to the cup and poured the tea. With a monogrammed silver teaspoon he added two teaspoonsful of sugar to the cup and stirred it carefully, so as not to slop it into the saucer.
�Thanks, dear,� she said, as he put the cup and saucer in her hands. �At least you �aven�t forgotten �ow to make a good cuppa!� she added as she took a sip.
�Never!� he announced, with a dramatic flourish, before refilling his own cup and sitting on the sofa opposite.
�So, �ow did the job �unting go?� she asked, expectantly.
�I didn�t go out today,� he admitted, over the rim of his cup. �Still, there�s no rush, is there?�
�Well, that depends on �ow you look at it, dear, doesn�t it?�
�What d�ya mean, Mum?�
His mother placed her cup and saucer on the little table before she spoke.
�Every day you put it off, it�s going to be that much �arder,� she explained. �And, much as I like �aving you �ome, in all honesty I can�t afford to keep you if you �aven�t got something to put in the kitty at the end of the week.�
�But��
�I know, I know, you gave me that money when you arrived, but it won�t last forever. And, then, there�s your own self-esteem to consider. �If a man �asn�t got a job, �e �as no purpose to �is life,� that�s what your Dad used to say.�
�All right, Mum. Tomorrow I�ll go out and look for a job. I promise.�
~~~~
Two days later, Goniff sat on a bench in Central Park and rested his tired feet. This was proving harder than he�d anticipated. He felt that he had been walking the streets of New York forever in search of a �suitable� job. He�d had no idea where to start, or even what to look for.
He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag as he mentally ticked off his skills, most of which wouldn�t suit him for any kind of legitimate employment. He was a quick learner but, with the influx of returned servicemen, businesses could pick and choose from men who already had the necessary skills they were looking for.
He knew he wouldn�t be able to stomach a job in an office, shut indoors all day, so that narrowed the field a bit.
Yesterday, he�d thought he might fancy being a delivery driver, zipping around the streets in one of those little vans that seemed to be everywhere these days, but it seemed he was just too late every time he applied.
He�d considered driving a truck, but the only jobs available had involved heavy lifting, and he wasn�t going to do that unless he had no alternative.
Today he was faring no better. He�d left his name with the personnel departments of several companies, but they didn�t seem very hopeful at his chances. There had to be something a bright young lad could do, legitimately, in a city the size of New York.
Holding onto this positive thought, he set off again to search for his destiny.
~~~~
It was getting late in the afternoon and he was thinking about calling it a day, when he came across a crowd of people rubbernecking at a construction site. He was about to step into the road to get around them, when something made him turn and look at the activity behind the barriers.
He read the signboard that showed an artist�s impression of the finished building, and then craned his neck upwards to peer at the steel skeleton that stretched impossibly high against the clear blue sky. He saw men climbing effortlessly up ladders to the top levels, fearlessly walking along the narrow girders or riding cranes to the very top of the building�s frame with nary a safety line in sight.
�I don�t know how they can do that.� a woman said in an awed voice. �What if they fell?�
�That�s why most of these people are here,� another voice said close to his ear. �They�re just hoping for an accident to happen.�
Goniff turned to the speaker, �Do they �ave many � accidents, that is?� he asked.
�Not as many as you might think. Those guys know what they�re doin�,� the man replied. �You wouldn�t catch me up there for a million dollars, though. I�ve no head for heights.�
Goniff looked back at the building, then turned to the man again. �Do you know where the office is?�
�It�s over in the corner, there,� he pointed along the street, then looked down at Goniff as if he were crazy. �You�re not thinking of�� he began, but Goniff was already pushing his way through the crowd.
~~~~
Mum was just closing up her newsstand for the night when her son strolled up. ��Ello, Rodney. What�re you doin� �ere?�
�I was just passing by and I thought I�d walk you �ome.�
�Ooh, in�t that nice of you,� she said, a beaming smile lighting up her face. Despite his well-known shortcomings, her Rodney was a good son to her. �What�ve you been doing wiv yourself all day, then, dear?�
�I got meself a job, Mum.�
�A real job?� she enthused. �Nothing illegal?� she added suspiciously. She had no illusions about her son�s history.
�Yes, Mum, a real job,� he assured her, �an� I�m going to be working on Park Avenue!�
�Park Avenue? Are you sure it�s legal?�
�Mum! I promised, didn�t I?� He looked mortified that she might think otherwise.
�All right, all right. Don�t get on yer �igh �orse, now,� she placated him. �Tell me all about it while we walk, then.�
�You remember back �ome, when I was a kid and Billy Campbell dared me to climb up onto the roof of the sauce factory?� he began.
�Ooh, �ow could I forget!� she interrupted him. �Me �eart was in me mouth when I saw you up there. I thought you was going to fall and break your neck, I did!�
�Yeah, well, I didn�t, did I? You know �ights never bothered me.�
�They might not �ave bothered you, but it scared me silly to see you up there on that roof like that.� She could still remember the way she�d dragged him home by his ear, threatening him with a walloping from his dad.
�Well, maybe you�d better get used to it, cos that�s what my job is.�
�What? Climbing up buildings? Like a �uman fly? You�re joking?� She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and faced him. �Now, stop teasing your old Mum and tell me what you�re really doing.�
Taking her firmly by the arm, he continued along the street.
�No, Mum, not a �uman fly. A steeplejack.�
�Oh my Gawd!� She stopped dead again.
Before she could say anything else, he hurried to explain. �Over on Park Avenue, they�ve started building the first new office building in New York since the war � it�s going to be called the Tishman Building � 22 storeys �igh it�s going to be when it�s finished.�
�And you�re��
�And I�m going to be working there, on the girders and later, maybe, riding the cranes, �elping to build it,� he added proudly. �The money�s good too.�
She stopped and looked at him again, lines of worry creasing her face. �I�ve been thanking my lucky stars that I got you back from the war in one piece, Rodney, and no amount of money will make up for it if I lose you for good.�
�Don�t worry about me, Mum. I�ll be just fine. You know I can �andle it.�
�Well, you may be able to �andle it, but I don�t know that I can.� With that, she shook off his hand and continued along the sidewalk on her own. He stared after her retreating figure for a full minute, shaking his head. He�d been so happy he�d found something he could do. Something he�d be good at. Something legitimate, that suited his talents; but now he wasn�t so sure.
�Mum!� he called after her. �Mum, wait for me.�
~~oOo~~
Chief climbed down from the cab of the truck and waved his thanks to the driver. As the rear lights of the truck disappeared down the highway, he looked around for some clue to the name of this one-horse town he�d landed in. It was a typical small town � Main Street and not much else. A sign over one of the larger buildings caught his eye � Craigsville Feed and Grain & General Store. �An omen?� he wondered.
He was still getting used to his freedom and determined to enjoy it for a while � not yet ready to settle in any one place. He�d decided that, after spending the past three years all over Europe, it was time to see some of his own country and so, for the past few days, he�d been hitching rides and going wherever fate took him. This was the latest in what he intended to be a long list of temporary stop-overs.
It was just beginning to get dark and he mentally tossed up whether to find somewhere to stay for the night or to eat first. A hollow feeling in his stomach tipped the balance in the favour of food, so, picking up his duffel bag, he headed across the street to where a neon sign announced �Kelly�s Diner�.
As he walked through the door, he felt the warm ambience of the place � a nice change from the late fall chill outside. A quick glance around showed that there were only three other customers: A couple sitting in a booth at the far end and an old guy at the counter lingering over a cup of coffee. Although the furniture was old and the tablecloths and curtains were a bit faded, the place was spotless and enticing aromas wafted from the hutch behind the counter.
He hung his coat on the rack behind the door, then dropped his duffel onto the bench seat of the corner booth and slid in after it, sitting with his back to the wall � a habit he doubted he�d ever lose. He had barely picked up the menu when a young, blonde-haired waitress in a blue dress with a spotless white apron placed a cup on the table in front of him. She looked no more than 18. �Hi,� she said cheerfully as she looked the handsome stranger over, �what can I get you, hon?�
�Can I get a steak?� he asked, �If it�s not too late?�
�Sure. You want all the trimmin�s with that?� she replied, writing on her order pad when he nodded his agreement. �It�ll take a few minutes; you want coffee while you wait?�
�Real coffee?� the man asked, still getting over the poor excuse for coffee they�d had to get used to in England.
�Sure is, hon� she confirmed. �Cream and sugar?�
�Just black.�
�Comin� right up,� she told him, as she returned to the counter and delivered his order through the hutch. She was back almost immediately with the coffee pot in her hand, filling his cup to the brim with the dark, steaming brew. The aroma filled his nostrils and he inhaled deeply and appreciatively.
�Mmmm, that smells good!� he said, almost to himself. �Thanks, Amy,� he said, reading her name badge.
�You just back from the war?� the girl asked, indicating his bag.
�Yeah. A week ago,� he replied.
�You�re not from round here, are you?� she asked. He figured it was a rhetorical question that didn�t require an answer and sipped his coffee. �Ya headin� home?� she continued.
He shook his head.
�Where ya headed?�
He put down his cup before answering. �Nowhere in particular. Just seeing the country.�
�Have you been to New York City?� she wanted to know. �I�ve always wanted to see New York.�
�Just left there three days ago,� he informed her.
�What�s it like?�
�Too big.�
She would obviously have liked to stop for a chat, but just then the couple at the back rose to leave, and she walked back to the till to take their money. �I�ll go see how your steak�s comin� along.� she called over to him as the door closed behind them. She spoke through the hutch, and he heard a muffled reply from the other side.
The girl turned back toward him but, before she could say anything, the door opened again and a man came in, quickly, with a surreptitious look over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him. Everything about the newcomer put Chief on alert. All his senses clanged alarm bells at the man�s appearance; the hat pulled down over his eyes and his furtive manner, but, before he could react, the man pulled a knife and was demanding that Amy open the till.
She stood frozen with fear � unable to move.
The old guy at the counter slid from his stool and cowered on the floor behind the scant cover of the chrome legs of his former perch. The intruder waved his weapon in the man�s direction and he sank down even further.
From his seat in the back corner, Chief watched with growing concern. Amy was too terrified to heed the robber�s instructions, and the man was obviously desperate enough to use the knife to achieve his goal. He inwardly cursed his decision to pack his knife and sheath in his bag. He�d decided that it would be asking for trouble to wear it outside the war zone so, to avoid temptation, it was in the very bottom of his duffel bag. The robber didn�t seem to have noticed him in the corner booth, but any attempt to retrieve his weapon would be bound to attract the man�s attention.
Just then, the hutch doors opened � �One steak with trimmin�s� a voice announced as a plate appeared on the servery shelf. Unnerved by the distraction, the armed man lurched at Amy. In that same instant, Chief launched himself from the booth.
His momentum carried them both to the floor, knocking over several stools as they wrestled for ownership of the blade. The old guy scuttled backwards around the end of the counter as they rolled in his direction. Chief�s natural abilities had been honed in his three years with Garrison and he seemed to be getting the upper hand but, with a strength born of desperation, the other man succeeded in slamming Chief�s head against the solid wood of the counter. Momentarily stunned, Chief was unable to prevent the other wrenching his knife hand free, and, before he could recover, the blade was plunged downwards into his unprotected shoulder.
As the sharp weapon penetrated the thin fabric of his sweater and shirt and into the muscles of his shoulder beneath, Chief�s immediate reaction was one of shock followed by agonising pain � there was no way he could maintain his grip. Making the most of his opportunity, the robber jumped to his feet and ran for the door.
Recovering from his initial shock, Chief reacted without conscious thought: He wrenched the blade from his flesh and hurled it after the retreating figure. He heard a scream as he collapsed back onto the floor then shock overtook him and he lapsed into unconsciousness as the scarlet stain spread over his shoulder and dripped onto the linoleum.
~~~~
As the patient slowly surfaced from the black pit of unconsciousness, he became aware of voices close by. �He�s going to be all right, Sheriff,� one voice was saying, �but you won�t be able to interview him for quite some time.�
�I know that, Doc, but I have to be here when he wakes up,� a second voice responded. �You understand.�
�I know,� the doctor replied. �Make yourself comfortable. I�ll be back later to check on him.�
Deciding he was in no hurry to face the all-too familiar �interview�, Chief allowed himself to sink back into the dark oblivion.
Some time later, when he again became aware of the world around him, his mouth was dry, his head throbbed and he felt a dull ache in his shoulder that he knew from experience was bound to get much worse as the anaesthetic wore off. For a minute, he thought that he was handcuffed to the bed, but then realised it was just the IV that restrained his hand. He lay still, without opening his eyes, trying to piece together the events that had landed him here, but the effort was beyond him and he soon gave up. The room was quiet, but, even with his eyes closed, his senses told him that someone was in the room with him. He decided there was no point in delaying the inevitable � best get it over with. At least, he thought, they couldn�t cart him off to prison until the hospital decided he was fit enough to be discharged. Would he never be able to leave his past behind?
Slowly, he opened his eyes, thankful for the dim lighting, and carefully turned his head, but was unable to see the other occupant of the room. The man in the chair, noticing the slight movement, rose and walked slowly toward the bed, with the familiar measured stride of lawmen everywhere. He stopped by the bed and looked the patient up and down.
�Glad to see you�re awake, son,� he said, in a not unfriendly voice. �Name�s John Kelly � I own the diner. That was my daughter Amy you saved, and I wanted to be here when you woke up to thank you personally.�
Chief�s dazed brain took a few seconds to comprehend. �Amy?� he managed to whisper.
The lawman nodded. �Amy Kelly, the waitress from the diner - my daughter. You saved her from that robber.�
It took him a few moments to process this information. Then he remembered. �Is he�?�
�He�s in the intensive care unit, under guard; the doctors say he�ll survive. Don�t worry about him � he�s headed for a long stretch in the county jail.�
Chief shuddered involuntarily and closed his eyes again.
�I can see that you�re tired,� Kelly said quietly, �so I�ll leave you alone. We�ll come by and see you later when you�re feeling better. I owe you, son. My daughter means the world to me, so if there�s ever anything I can do for you, just say the word!�
As the lawman left the room, the man in the bed relaxed visibly. Even in his semi-conscious state, he recognised the irony of that offer and couldn�t suppress a smile as he dozed off again.
~~oOo~~
Garrison walked briskly through the heavy wooden door that led out of the rear of the Mansion and down the steps to the Jeep parked in the courtyard. Apart from his briefcase, his luggage was already in the Jeep, and his driver was waiting with the engine running, ready to get him to the airport in time to catch his flight.
The Sgt Major, on secondment from the British Army, whose life the cons had constantly delighted in making as difficult as they knew how, was waiting at the bottom of the steps. He saluted the captain, who returned it crisply.
Garrison looked back at the building he had called �home� for the past three years � as if he wanted to fix it in his memory. It certainly wasn�t pretty to look at, but it held a wealth of memories he�d be unlikely to forget for a long time.
�Captain, we need to go now if you want to catch your plane,� the private at the wheel reminded him.
He climbed into the passenger seat, dropping the briefcase between his feet. The driver let in the clutch but, as the vehicle began to roll, Garrison suddenly yelled for him to stop. The startled private stalled the Jeep.
As the officer leapt from his seat and ran back up the steps, the private yelled after him �Sir, you�ll miss your plane.�
�Get your engine started, I�ll only be a minute,� Garrison called back over the balustrade. The private looked at the Sgt Major, who could only shrug his shoulders in reply.
Flinging the heavy doors wide, he rushed upstairs to his old quarters, where he paused for breath just inside the door. It was crazy, he knew, but he just had to take it with him; he was sure no one would miss it.
He was back downstairs and into the Jeep in next-to-no time, the driver gunning the engine to make up for lost time and spraying gravel behind them as they headed out through the huge gates that separated the walled courtyard from the parkland outside. �Bloody Yanks!� the Sgt Major swore aloud, as he watched the dust settle in their wake. �It�ll be much quieter round �ere from now on,� he added, to himself, as he turned and marched briskly back to his quarters to finish his own packing.
As Garrison settled into his seat for the short drive to the aerodrome, he folded the battered green corduroy jacket neatly on his lap. For luck.
