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 9 From the ashes
Well Jean was as good as her word. I was proud of the two boys who behaved impeccably in her home. Neither of them could do enough to help her and she accepted all offers of help with a good grace.
At bedtime we tucked in the boys and then settled down for a chat with Jean.
"I'm afraid I don't have spirits or beer," she told us, "but there's a very good apricot wine that I quite like, if you'd like to join me."
We would and did. Jean felt that, since I didn't have any meetings planned the following day, Philip could stay with me. There would still be some shopping to do, but she reccomended I also have a look in at home to see how the workmen were progressing.
"You want to satisfy yourself that they're doing what you want," she said.
She was right of course, so the next morning, at about eleven, Philip and I parked up outside our home. The front door was open so I went in.
"Hallo!" I called.
"In here Bor!" said a voice from the living room.
The living room looked different from how I had last seen it. The floorboards were bare and the furniture had gone. On a stepladder in the middle of the room a middle aged man was doing something with a flat trowel. He climbed off when he saw us and deposited the trowel in a large bucket of water.
"Paul Herbert," he told me. "Alliance gave us the job of making good, so I brought two of my lads and got started on it right away. We'll not be in your hair for long."
"I can see that," I replied. "I didn't expect you to have made so much progress."
He quickly glanced at Philip then lowered his voice.
"Alliance told us that there were kiddies who were without a home. I don't know how other builders go on about that, but we take it seriously. Our two lads came to us from an orphanage. They'd had a hard time. It's the job of all decent people to see that that doesn't happen."
I could only nod agreement, a lump having formed in my throat.
"Well now!" he exclaimed, becoming businesslike and addressing himself to both Philip and I - I was starting to like this man - "The lads have loaded up the debris, your old ceiling, the furniture and the carpet, into the truck and taken it down the tip. They're going to call in at the builders' merchants and load up with doors before they come back. I've already put a double glazed unit in that window."
I saw that he had. I hadn't noticed.
"When I ve finished I need to let the ceiling dry. We'll work upstairs so's not to disturb it. That'll just leave the doors down here to do in the morning. I won't be painting the ceiling since you're getting a decorator in anyway."
"Well thanks for...." he hadn't finished.
"Alliance said they're getting a heavy cleaner in when I've finished, but when they told me they were getting in Three Js - who are the best - I told them there was no need to wait. They'll start this afternoon. They should get their clean finished some time tomorrow so there's no reason you can't move back in on Friday. You'll probably want to get fresh bedding. Three Js will launder the stuff upstairs for you but, if it were me, I'd want fresh anyway. All that 'll need doing is decorating this room and the hall and stairwell but, when you get him in, the decorator will work round you."
There was a noise of a heavy diesel engine on the driveway and the room darkened.
"That'll be the lads now." he told me. "I'd best get back to the ceiling or they'll think I'm slacking."
He was off up the ladder as we slid out of the door. I stopped dead. There, in the open front doorway stood a god. I'd have put him at about eighten or nineteen at the most. His shirtless torso was tanned and so, beneath his wavy blond hair, was his swarthy face. His blue eyes twinkled as he apologised for being in the way. I backed into the stairwell and pulled Philip with me.
"No, no," I said. "Carry on"
As he stepped into the living room he called,
"Dad, where do you want these doors stacking?"
I didn't hear the reply because there, in the doorway was another one. Black hair this time, and a bit more self assurance than the first one.
"Hi!" he said, apparently to both Philip and I, though the friendly wink was for Philip. I felt jealous.
Both boys headed back out of the front door. For want of a better idea Philip and I followed.
"Is there anything we can do to help?" I asked as the blond one started unstrapping the load on the truck. His brother answered for him.
"No, we've got this, thanks. Besides, you're paying for it - or your insurance is."
This was the occasion for another wink at Philip who, I will swear to my dying day, almost swooned. The expression on his face was fairly unambiguous. If I didn't know better, I'd have said that the boy was in lust.
I was glad that my mini was parked on the street because at that moment a transit van turned onto the driveway and parked nose to nose with the truck. A tall man got out from the drivers side and called out to our deity.
"Are you here for the duration Al?"
"You'll be fine Bob," replied the Al-god. "I'll let you know if we need to go out again but I don't think we will."
Paul appeared in the doorway.
"Alan," he said sharply. "Are you going to stand there gossipping and let Andy unload those doors on his own?"
"Sorry Dad," said Al, and disappeared round the far side of the truck. Paul walked to the newly arrived van from which four more people were emerging.
"Morning Bob," he greeted the driver. "You alright to start upstairs this morning? I've just plastered the ceiling in the living room."
"Fine by me Paul," replied the other. "Julie will need to be in the kitchen of course."
"Thass OK, I shan't need to go in there till tomorrow morning."
"No probs then. Just tell me which bit of the floor upstairs I need to jump on."
Paul ignored that, assuming that it was a merry jest.
Philip and I dined at MacDonalds and then popped into Argos to order some furniture. Philip didn't have very much to do with arranging for a three piece suite and a sideboard to be delivered on Friday morning. I also ordered a couple of rugs, since it didn't make sense to get a new carpet before the decorating was done. I finished the job off by ordering new bedding.
After all that, I made for the primary school to report to Jean. She was surprised at the rate of progress , but pleased. Philip and I then headed for her home, having promised to make a start on dinner.
This time Garret and Lloyd got home at the same time as Jean and dinner was almost ready. After dinner Jean arranged a game of Trivial Pursuit. We played as three teams, Garret and Lloyd, Philip and I versus Jean and her cat Rosy. It was the first time I had met the cat, as she is very rarely in the house.
Either the cat or Jean had played before. They gave the four of us a sound thrashing.
Soundly thrashed,the boys were put to bed, then Garret and I sat down to drink apricot wine with Jean. Rosy, apparently, didn't like apricot wine and Jean hadn't got any cider.
Jean said that, if we were staying any length of time, it might be worth getting in some beer, but I firmly told her to do no such thing.
"Besides, "I said, "the builder tells me we can start moving back in on Friday."
"Oh Christ!" said Garret, blasphemously. "Riku!"
To be honest, I had forgotten all about him as well.
"Did you tell him we could put him up?"
"Of course I did - as soon as you told me to."
"Who is Riku?" Jean wanted to know.
"Riku Ito," Garret returned. "He plays the piano a bit."
"The concert pianist?" Jean clarified. "He plays more than the piano. He's very talented. I saw him at Glyndebourne once. He played..... now what was it?"
"The piano?" Garret suggested. "He's my cousin and he's playing for the East of England Forces concert at the Castle on Saturday night. He asked us to put him up Friday and Saturday, but with all that's been going on, I'd forgotten all about it."
Jean offered an immediate solution.
"Why don't I put him up for a couple of nights," she suggested. "You don't HAVE to move back in on Friday and the boys would be better moving in when you've had a chance to get the place ready for them."
Garratt thought about that.
"If you're happy to do that Jean," he said, "I'll suggest it to him but, knowing Riku, he'd probably insist on coming to us if we could only offer him an air-bed on the floor."
Jean was unruffled.
"Well, see what he says," she replied, "but, if he does insist on coming to you, I insist that you bring him here for dinner on Friday night."
"That's a very generous offer Jean, after everything......"
"I'm not offering, Mr. Ito," she said firmly. "I'm insisting."
Garret subsided immediately.
"Yes headmistress," he said meekly.