The Happiest Days by Jonah
This is a story about love - real love - at work in the lives of good people. It follows on from "Halls of Academia," but the story really began many, many moons ago with "A Letter from America". There are no real people herein so, if you think one of the characters is based on you, or on somebody you know, have another think and come up with a different answer. Having said that, I didn't invent every character. A couple of them were originally crafted by another author. I have to (well, actually, it is my pleasure to) thank Jacob Lion, in the USA for his permission to use his characters in my stories.
I hope you will enjoy this story, and I'm grateful to Nifty for enabling me to bring it to you. Nifty does not charge either me or you for doing so, but it does cost money to do it. Please consider donating to Nifty at https://donate.nifty.org/ to help keep this site going.
Chapter 10 The gods
Once Jean, Garret and Lloyd had gone to school on Thursday morning, Philip and I went home to check on progress.
"You'd best come in here with me and the lads," said Paul. "We're only hanging doors, but you don't want to be in the way of Bob and his gang."
Bob and his gang consisted of two men and two women. Julie hadn't come as she had only been required for one day. Her role had been to wash every plate, cup, saucer, dish, knife, fork or spoon in the place. She had spent Wednesday afternoon up to her elbows in dishwater and had painstakingly identified every item in the house that could benefit from her attentions. all the ornaments had been washed as well as many of the boys' toys. The rest of the gang had treated each room with powerful odour-neutraliser. It's strong, chemical smell still lingered, and probably would do for days, but it was preferable to the acrid, cyanide smell from the smoke.
Today they were scrubbing down all available surfaces with a powerful, industrial strength de-greaser. They had done the living room and were working their way up the stairwell. Bob, himself, was in the kitchen, so no manpower was wasted. I found myself a job holding doors in place while Andy fitted hinges to them and then screwed them in place. Philip found employment doing the same job for Alan. That left Paul to follow behind us with a brush and dustpan, so that no cleaning up was left to do. Alan was carefully explaining to Philip everything he was doing. He had endless patience with the boy and, Philip was an enthusiastic listener.
At eleven ' clock, I risked the wrath of Bob by invading the kitchen and brewing tea for everybody. At twelve I announced my intention of standing fish and chips for everybody. Bob, who had tolerated my earlier intrusion, put his foot down at this. I, or my insurance was paying them and I didn't have to feed them. Besides, If I wanted the job to be finished, I shouldn't be stopping them from working, and his crew had brought their own snap anyway, so it was very kind of me but....
I had been taking lessons from Jean,
"It wasn't a suggestion Bob. I AM standing you fish and chips. Andy, make a note of what everybody wants then me and Philip will go and fetch it."
"I'll come with you Simon," said Andy. "Al would be lost without Philip to help him."
Having phoned through our order, Andy and I climbed into my mini. In honour of the occasion Andy had actually put on a T-shirt - the first time I had seen either of the boys other than bare-chested.
"I think Alan has got himself an admirer," I observed as I drove.
"He always does," the boy replied. "He's always been like that. Kids love him."
"Is he really your brother? " I asked, then added, "tell me to mind my own business if you want."
"No, that's OK," he replied. "He was my best friend at the orphanage but, when mum and dad adopted me, they didn't want to split us up. We started off friends and ended up brothers."
"You were lucky to find such good people to adopt you," I observed.
"They weren't the first," he said, "but I'm not sure I want to talk about that."
When he pouted like that, it was hard to resist the urge to hug him. It's a good job I was driving.
We pulled up outside Barrett's Fish and Chips on the Reepham Road and collected our order. As soon as we climbed back in the car he apolologised.
"I'm sorry Simon."
"What for?"
"I was rude."
"No you weren't."
"It's just that .....well my first two foster homes weren't good people. I don't like to remember that."
"And I shouldn't ask you to," I pointed out.
"When Mum and Dad came along, I just knew it would be different," he said. "Especially when they said they'd take Al as well."
"You're a lucky lad, and I'm pleased for you."
"Thanks!" he said, lighting up the car interior with his smile.
When we got back, Bob apologised.
"Thanks Simon," he said, taking his sausage and chips. "I'm sorry about before. It's just that we need to have the job finished for four this afternoon. There'll be no coming in tomorrow if it isn't because another job has come in for Norwich Union."
Paul chipped in.
"Bob mate, we're almost done here. If it looks like it's going to be tight the lads and I will give you a hand. You know we'd always do that."
"Do you think you could get it done on time with a nine-man crew?" I asked.
Bob did the maths and brightened up instantly.
"Easily," he said happily.
So, after lunch, we all scrubbed. I will guarantee that you have never met such a happy crew of workers. Andy's T-shirt had come off again, as had Philip's socks. Al soon joined him in that, but the work never slowed for an instant. By three o clock the buckets had been emptied and Paul was drying off the last bit of damp wall with a length of industrial towelling.
"You happy with that Boss?" Bob said to me.
"More than happy," I replied. "It's not quite like home yet, but it doesn't look or smell as if there's been a fire."
So that was the end of the days work and the signal for our return to our home on the morrow. I went to school to tell the others the good news.
"That's splendid news," Jean told me. "Now, what have you found out about Garret's cousin?"
"Oh, I could tell you a lot about him," I replied with a grin, as I thought back to the days of our childhood, "but I expect you only mean whether he needs a bed for tomorrow night."
"You know very well that's what I mean."
"Sorry! Well Garret phoned him last night after we spoke to you, and explained everything to him. His only question was whether we would have a sofa tomorrow night. I told him we would have a bed for him - then I told him about your invitation to dinner. He said that is very kind and he is looking forward to it."
"Right," she said with a very determined air. "Being a very important person, he'll have seen a lot of London and its environs. We'll have to show him that we're not all country bumpkins in Norfolk."
Suddenly, two lines by C.S.Lewis flashed through my mind. They were from "The Screwtape Letters," and they ran: "She's the sort of woman who lives for others - you can tell the others by their hunted expression."
I don't know why I thought of that.
Having consulted with Garret and brought him up to speed, Philip and I then went shopping and then back to Cringleton to begin cooking dinner.
Jean was home first, with the other two not very far behind. She had, somewhere, purchased a six pack of John Smith's bitter which, she told us, was for Garret and I to consume.
I pointed out that, six pints between two of us would probably lead to us not being in a fit state to look after children. Why, I asked her, didn't we leave it until Friday night, when we would have Riku to help us.
On Friday night, Jean replied, Riku, being Japanese, would probably prefer to drink saki. I couldn't think where she would obtain saki in Norwich but, in any case, Garret informed her that a good bit of Riku's upbringing had been in America, where he was not taught to drink saki.
For a horrible moment I thought he was going to go into what Riku DID learn at that period of his life, but then I thought THAT part of his education had probably been in Japan.
In any case, after an excellent meal (though I say it as shouldn't) of Vienna steaks with new potatoes, carrots and broccolli, complete with thick onion gravy, we finished the evening playing Scrabble till bedtime. Mrs. Moffatt actually elected that we play Trivial Pursuit again - you have to admire her tenacity. It proved to be a double-bluff. We fought off the threat of Trivial Pursuit, only to discover that she - even without Rosie - was better still at Scrabble. At first we challenged a few of the more improbable words that she apparently knew. After the first few challenges had been successfully kicked into touch by the lady, we gave up challenging. Philip, I discovered, had an incredibly good vocabulary, but it wasn't good enough to see off his headmistress.
At bedtime, it was still light outside, but we all had an early start in the morning, and we'd played enough Scrabble anyway. Presumably, at some stage, it did get dark that night. I'm only going on previous experience since none of us saw it do it.