The Waiting
written by: Kevin Hogan
CHAPTER ONE
John Jeffries was getting on in years. His family was small, but growing. His twin daughters had their own children: Kathleen with Jerry and Amelia, and Angela with Vincent and Gregg. Their husbands, David and Chris, were good lads, John liked them both. They were good workers and had made a good life for their families. John had grown old with each of the increasing families. They had involved him in every aspect of their family’s lives, marriages, birthdays, christenings, and holidays. He had been involved with them all. He loved all his family, and they loved him. His will was written two years earlier. He had kept the information secret, but his two girls got everything, and his grandchildren and great-grandchild had a ‘little something’ put away for when they might need that ‘little something’.
John was eighty-nine years young. He walked every morning, no matter what the weather, to the local supermarket, almost two miles away, to select his fresh food for the day and his beloved fresh bread. Once home, tea and toast and an hour reading the daily paper set him up for the day. In winter, he would spend an hour in the local library, a couple of mornings a week. A couple of mornings at the pensioner’s centre where he would catch up on the local gossip from his friends, several of whom he had been at school with; infant school. Other mornings were spent in front of the fire writing letters to friends who lived in places too far to walk and too expensive to phone.
In summer, he would have his breakfast outside on his patio, which he had built some thirty years earlier when he could. Then he would have a couple of hours in the garden. But whether it was winter or summer at two forty-five, he would visit his local hostelry, ‘The Prince of Wales’, and have his usual pint and a half of Timothy Taylor’s Landlord. Two hours of bridge or chess later, he would be walking home, stopping to pass the time of day with all his local acquaintances.
Jack was a good six-foot in height, but as all aging people do had lost about two inches in the last five years since he was forced to give up his love of weight training. A tear in his shoulder muscle had finally put paid to his early evening activities, but his physique could still be seen. He stood tall and straight, just as he always had. But now lying in his hospital bed, he suddenly looked as fragile as every other old man who had just had a heart attack, only this heart attack was a bad one. He had been at his hostelry and was walking home in the bright late afternoon June sun, when, without any warning, he found himself falling to the floor as his legs gave up their movement and the pain in his chest made him lose consciousness. As he woke in the white clinical intensive care unit, he knew things were not good. The pain in his chest was subdued with a strong painkiller; only the painkiller wasn’t working very well. He felt weak, something he hadn’t felt for several years, the last time being food poisoning from rice he knew tasted not as it should.
He looked around the room as he lay prone on the uncomfortable bed. He could see a variety of machines out of the corner of his eyes beeping, squelching, and flashing, he knew they were attached to him, and he knew that they were there to keep him alive. It was the fact that he now had to rely on someone or something else that worried him more. He had always relied on himself, he was always the one others would look to for help, now, it was he who needed the help, it was an uncomfortable feeling.
Just as he was about to slip back into his dreams, he spotted a woman in white moving towards his bed from behind the machines. She said something to him, but he was already slipping away into the darkness.
‘Dad! Dad! You need to wake up.’ It was the voice of his daughter Kathleen. ‘Dad! Come on, wake up.’ John’s eyes flickered into life, and as the light entered his retina, he could only just make out the vision in front of him.
‘Trust you to wake me up when you always said I should get more sleep.’ Kathleen smiled. At least her father had not lost his dry sense of humour.
‘They want to give you a quick check over.’ Kathleen explained as the two nurses moved into eyeshot.
‘We need to check a few things,’ the extremely young nurse explained. To John, she looked like one of his daughters, when they had just finished high school before they went on to college. He smiled at them. If they were as clever as his daughters, then he was in good hands. In just a few minutes, they were finished. They had checked his blood pressure, taken the printout from his heart rate machine, and taken a blood sample, to John’s quip of ‘Don’t drink it all at once.’
His two daughters returning to his side as the nurses left with their collection of information about their father’s condition.
‘You need to rest. The doctor said to get as much sleep as you can.’ Angela held his hand as she spoke. Although John was still half asleep, he could feel her hand trembling.
‘I will,’ he muttered as he began to drift off once again.
‘That must be the first time he’s ever done what we asked,’ added a tearful Kathleen.
‘Second time,’ he whispered as the sleep took hold of his dreams.
‘John. John.’ His eyes flickered as he heard a woman’s voice gently trying to wake him. ‘Open your eyes,’ she coaxed.
‘The doctor said I had to sleep. Why are you waking me up?’ he asked.
‘I only want your mind. You can let your body sleep,’ the woman answered.
John’s eye flickered open. ‘What are you talking about?’ he asked, still more asleep than awake.
‘You don’t recognise me, do you?’ John was somewhat puzzled by the comment.
‘When I fell, I hit my face. You should be able to see my two lovely black eyes. I’m afraid my vision is very blurred at the moment.’
‘In that case, do you not recognise my voice?’ the young woman asked.
‘I’m in the hospital. I’ve bashed my face, not to mention my heart attack, and you’re asking me if I recognise your voice. Leave me alone and let me go back to sleep,’ he pleaded.
‘Okay. But I’ll be back, and then I think we’ll have a little walk.’
‘Oh yeah, and I suppose you’ll want to dance to Frank Sinatra and the big band sound.’
‘What a great idea.’ The comment was lost on John as he returned to his slumber.
CHAPTER TWO
‘John. I’m sorry, but you will have to go and find a job and somewhere to live. You have a week.’ The warden at the home had hardly ever spoken to him, but when he had, it was always for a bollocking or some bad news. At sixteen, John towered over the short arse. He had always been polite to him, even though the man had been less than friendly. Fortunately, John’s liaison worker had been aware of the forthcoming situation and had pre-empted the fact that John was about to be made homeless. She had made arrangements for John to work on a building site as a labourer. The foreman had been told that the young man had the physique of a twenty-year-old and was just as strong. The foreman had agreed to give John a month’s trial. There was still the problem of where he was to live. His liaison worker had assured John that he would not be homeless and would have somewhere to live.
With one small leather suitcase holding all his sixteen years’ worth of worldly goods, he stood in the doorway to a very nice flat in a series of flats.
‘Don’t just stand there. Put your bags in the bedroom. I’ve left some room in the wardrobe for you.’ John walked down the short, narrow corridor, checking each room. Toilet, bathroom, kitchen, and then bedroom.
‘But there’s only one bedroom?’
‘Yes,’ Anita shouted.
All John could say was ‘Oh!’ He stored his three shirts on coat hangers. His solitary jacket and one of his two pairs of trousers looked lonely in the area left for him. His socks and underwear were left at the bottom of the wardrobe with his spare pair of shoes and his toothbrush, and his solitary block of soap. The last piece out of his case was a stolen towel from the towel rail early in the morning when the fresh towels were put out. It would be evening before anyone would know there was one less.
John returned to the living room, where Anita was sitting in her dressing gown. ‘I’ve been waiting for you. I thought they were releasing you first thing this morning.’
‘Just a few signatures and questions to sort out.’
‘They didn’t ask about your mother?’ Anita asked.
‘Yes. After ten years, someone finally asked if I knew where she was.’
‘What did you tell them?’
‘I told them bollocks.’
‘And that’s why you were late?’ Anita had told them never to bring John’s mother into any conversation. She had read the history, and it wasn’t pretty. John’s father had never appeared on the scene once he found out that John’s mother was pregnant. After five years of neglect, John was finally taken into care and had learned to look after himself from the moment he entered the home, or as John always referred to it as “the shit hole,” much was his hatred of the building and the system. The only moment of hope was when Anita walked into his life at the age of thirteen. She was fresh from university, and he was her first challenge. He loved her smell, he loved her voice, he loved the way she walked; in fact, he just loved her.
‘Yes. There was nothing they could do to me except mess me about.’
‘Good for you.’ Anita was pleased that John could look after himself. John stood in the doorway looking in at Anita, who was slowly letting her dressing gown fall open. ‘The house rules before we go any further. We share the rent, we share the cleaning, we share washing, and we share the bed.’ John’s eyes opened as Anita stood, revealing a body beneath the dressing gown. ‘And the first lesson is how to please me.’ John was sure he had died and gone to heaven. He spent the day in bed. He spent the night in bed. It was Anita who begged for sleep. John just couldn’t wait for her to wake up.
He worked hard at his job, and although he was just the hired labourer, he managed to learn enough about bricklaying, joinery, plumbing, and plastering and to lend a hand when needed. His biggest failure was getting to grips with the electricity. He tried, but after too many electric shocks, he decided he was a beaten man, and as he told Anita, he didn’t want frazzled hair. The other point he often made was that they gave electric shocks to the mentally insane to make them better. He was getting them for free, and it might just turn him insane. Anita would just smile and say very little.
The year was 1939, and one cold March evening, John arrived home late. He had been working overtime to earn more money to add to his savings so he could put down a deposit on a house. He had not mentioned it to Anita. He was saving it as a surprise. He arrived at the darkness of his flat. It was unusual because Anita was always home before him. Once inside and the door closed, he walked into the living area and switched the light on. He decided he would surprise Anita and have the tea ready. He waited until eight before he began to worry. It was only when he went to get his heavy overcoat to go and search for her that he noticed her wardrobe door was open and everything had been removed. He checked her bedside drawers; they were empty. Next stop the bathroom cabinet, empty. As he searched the flat, everything of hers was gone. Eventually, he slumped into the chair. He was hurting. His heart and soul ached. He was considering asking her to marry him. What had he done to make her leave him, he knew she had.
He woke with a start. He hadn’t realised he had gone to sleep. He had not intended to sleep. A sudden thought flashed through his half-asleep mind. He jumped up and sprinted to his bedside drawer. The tin of money used for the weekly shopping was gone. He delved further into the drawer, right to the back, well hidden, so as not to be found. His bankbook was gone. He knew immediately his one hundred and ninety-two pounds would be gone. Even though it was his bankbook, somehow she would be resourceful enough to empty his account. It was nearly midnight when John slid into his cold bed, and a further hour before he could sleep.
The following day, he took an extra half an hour for his lunch. He arrived at the Trustee Savings Bank with his birth certificate, his bank account number, and a letter showing his address. The bank manager checked the account. It had indeed been drained except for sixpence to keep the account open. The bank manager assured him that he had been in the day earlier and withdrawn the money himself. The bank manager was ready to call the police. The bank teller was called for and asked to identify John.
‘Oh no! This wasn’t the man who withdrew the money. Mr Jeffries yesterday was a smaller man and a little older. The signature was perfect. He was with Mrs. Jeffries. They had the green bank book.’ It was obvious the male bank teller was frightened as he had realised that John Jeffries was the man in front of him and not the man from yesterday.
‘Thank you, Mr. Linnett.’ The bank manager rose to close the door behind the teller as he left. He returned to his seat and looked John in the eye. ‘Have you given permission for someone to take the money out of your account?’ The question was expected.
‘No. I have not given anyone permission to use my bank book for any reason at all.’ His answer was said firmly. With John being such a large, well-built fellow, the bank manager was inclined to believe him. The bank manager had obviously had this problem in the past because he knew what to do.
‘In that case, we need to ring the police and report a stolen bankbook. Do you know who stole it?’ That was the question he feared. As much as he loved Anita, she had hurt him by taking his love and then tearing him apart.
‘Yes,’ he admitted, controlling his anger. ‘The woman I was living with stole the book and used it to withdraw my money.’ John watched the reaction on the bank manager’s face. ‘I have no idea who the man was.’
‘We’ve got to report it as a theft. In fact, I suppose it is technically fraud.’
‘What are the chances of the money being returned?’ The bank manager relaxed a little because John wasn’t, at the moment, expecting the bank to repay his money.
‘The police, I’m sure, will find the woman, whether the money will have been spent, I’m not sure.’
The policeman arrived after only a ten-minute wait and took a statement from John and the bank teller. He took John’s address and said he would keep in touch with him. Unfortunately, Anita had yet another sting in her tail. Upon arriving home that evening, there was an unstamped brown enveloped letter on the doormat. It was from their landlord explaining that he had received not a penny in rent for over two weeks and that he wanted Anita out of the property by the weekend. No sooner had John sat in the chair there was a knock on the door; a rare occurrence.
‘Could I speak with Miss Mullery?’ the man asked.
‘I’m sorry she no longer lives here,’ replied a tearful John.
‘Could I ask who you are?’ John could see that the man seemed perplexed.
‘I’ve been living with Miss Mullery,’ he replied honestly.
‘Could I ask where she has gone?’ John decided to invite the man into the flat and explain what had happened. As it transpired, the landlord had arranged for someone to move in over the weekend, just two days away. He offered John another flat, a much cheaper flat in a not very nice part of town. John had limited choices and agreed, saying he would move his personal belongings in the morning. It was then that he was informed that the furniture belonged to Anita, and he would need to move it.
At work the next day, John began to look at his options. He didn’t want to move and live in the ‘dark side’ of town. He knew he had to make a decision and quickly. As he walked home in the dismal rain, he saw a man walking round wearing one of those sandwich boards advertising the Lancashire Evening Post with the headlines ‘WAR IMMINENT’.
‘And which regiment would you like to join,’ the sergeant asked.
‘With my building background, I suppose the Royal Engineers.’
‘And when are you available to join up?’ asked the pleased-looking sergeant.
‘Tomorrow morning would be good,’ suggested John.
The sergeant was a little stunned, but maintained his composure. ‘Bus leaves at eleven hundred hours from the main door.’ The sergeant pointed to the front door. All John had to do was inform his landlord that he could keep his furniture for what he owed in rent. A letter first thing in the morning would be soon enough. John could at least have one last decent night’s sleep before he started his new life.
‘Come on, John. Wake up and talk to me.’ said the woman returning like the proverbial bad penny.
‘I’m tired. Go away.’
‘You’ll regret sending me away.’
‘I’m not sending you away. You can stay here. Just let me sleep.’
The woman smiled. ‘Okay. Just for a few hours, then I’ll be back.’
‘Bloody good,’ said John under his breath. ‘Let me sleep, I’m reminiscing.’
CHAPTER THREE
It took ten weeks to finish his training. John was amazed that out of the forty who started, only eighteen ‘Passed Out’. In the coming months, all forty would make the grade in becoming cannon fodder. He was about to be transferred to the Royal Engineers when new orders arrived. He was to report to Bassingbourn near Oxford for a non-disclosed posting. When he arrived, he was met by Colour Sergeant John Potter. The sergeant took him to his billet, explaining that he had a single room because of the job he was about to undertake. All the fantastic jobs he could think of ran through his excited thoughts, the only one that didn’t was that of storeman.
‘It’s a great job. We keep the wheels turning. Without us, everything grinds to a halt.’ All John could do was think, ‘Oh yeah! Great.’ It took him less than a week to realise that the sergeant was correct. The only problem was that they may keep the wheels turning, but the wheels kept falling off because they kept running out of the regular pieces of equipment. Brushes, shovels, buckets, not to mention military vehicles of all descriptions, tankers of petrol, tables, chairs, not forgetting grenades, bullets, and guns; lots of them. In fact, John and his sergeant dealt with every conceivable piece of equipment the army supposedly had, and what they didn’t have, they began to source it from wherever they could.
‘We need twenty thousand Accrington bricks and enough sand and cement to glue them together,’ asked a second lieutenant one dismal day in July. They didn’t do bricks, or timber, or any downspouts or anything building-wise. John took the order.
‘I know where we can get this stuff,’ he told his sergeant.
‘But where are we going to store it?’
‘We don’t need to store it. We get it delivered direct.’ explained John.
‘Do it. We’ll face any problems.’ It was the first time his sergeant was prepared to share the responsibility of working beyond their brief.
A week later, they were both summoned to the station commander’s office. John knew this was the time when he would find out whether his sergeant and friend would be true to his word. They both knew what the meeting concerned. They had been continually overstepping their posts as storeman and ordering, and having delivered equipment that the army would normally not be supplying. When they received an order, instead of refusing it, they had merely sourced it and then had it delivered. The only problem with that initiative was that it was against the official line of the supply system of the army.
They were interviewed separately and then sat together in front of the station commander. They sat in the empty room resplendent in photographs and memorabilia covering the walls. They jumped to attention when the commander walked in. Once he was seated, he signalled for them to sit. He read the report in front of him.
‘So, Sergeant, you claim the idea was yours,’ asked the commander.
‘Yes, sir,’ answered the sergeant.
‘But private Jeffries insists it was his idea,’ challenged the commander.
‘It was, sir,’ replied John.
‘So you have both been breaking the rules for the past weeks and sending the costs for me to sign?’
‘Yes, sir,’ both men replied.
‘So you are both to blame in that case?’
‘No, sir. It was my idea,’ insisted John. ‘The sergeant is just covering for me.’
‘No I’m not. It was my idea. Private Jeffries is just trying to save my stripes.’
‘Well, in that case, I suppose I need to blame you both.’
John and his sergeant glanced at each other. It was one of those ‘Whoops!’ moments when you knew that the next few words were going to change their lives.
‘Yes, sir,’ they answered in unison.
‘In that case, I think I should promote Corporal Jeffries and commend Sergeant John Potter for using your initiative. Well done, men. We now need to sit down and work out where we can get even more supplies from, as it looks like war is imminent and we are going to need more of just about everything.’
The next meeting took place the next day. It started at 0800 hours and lasted into the evening. They were supplied with tea, coffee, sandwiches, and beer once the darkness had fallen. They sat with three of the commander’s personal officers. At first, John was concerned that in the meeting the monkeys had to know their place and the organ grinders would rule the meeting, but it was obvious very early into the meeting that the officers knew nothing, and they knew they knew nothing and now John and John knew they knew nothing and now the officers knew that John and John knew they knew nothing. What the officers did know was how to get their own equipment from A to B. Soon, John and John knew that information.
September was the mark of the country’s involvement in the Second World War. John was made up to sergeant within days of the war, as Colour Sergeant John Potter was promoted to training sergeant with the responsibility of training even more young men to fight the enemy. John was suddenly faced with having to find equipment from all over the country as requests came in thick and fast. He was soon leading a group of six NCO’s and one very intelligent officer who struck up a friendship with the men as on the first morning as a shipment of equipment arrived he pulled off his jacket donned a green private’s overall and joined in moving it from point A to point B and then reloaded everything throughout the day as trucks arrived to take their equipment away. Needless to say, a few beers were sunk on that first day.
John never served under fire. He asked several times, but was constantly refused. Several of his men were promoted and moved as they learned John’s methods of attaining equipment. There were blips in equipment where their usual source ran dry because of the lack of workers, but someone always found another to fill the craving.
Colour Sergeant John Jeffries left the army in 1951 at the age of 32 after his job became monotonous. Gone were the adrenaline days of finding equipment and arranging delivery. He was slowly becoming a storeman, counting what came in and what went out. The fun had gone. The camaraderie had waned. So he left. He found a job in a builder’s merchant. A large firm on the outskirts of Lincoln. He was initially just selling the commodities in the yard, and when they ran out, that was it. Several people who were let down always asked where they could get what John couldn’t provide. He decided that he would do what he did in the army and find out who supplied what. Within a few weeks, he was able to identify building suppliers who had what they didn’t or at least should have.
Several months later, John began to look for another job. Basically, he was becoming bored with the same old thing day after day. One Monday morning, neither the manager nor the under-manager arrived for work. Instead, a young woman arrived early in the morning, explaining to the twenty workers that the two men had run off together. Everyone seemed to know who she was except John. Someone later mentioned that she was the owner’s personal secretary. She asked an elderly man to take charge, and in turn, the man asked John to be the stand-in under-manager, which meant a little more money, which in turn helped to pay the rent on his small rented house.
‘We need to order supplies.’ The manager had commented, expecting John to do the job, which he duly did, ordering twice as much as they usually ordered. As everything arrived, the manager wanted to know what had happened. John explained that they always ran out of supplies and that he had been sending the customers elsewhere. Now, at least they would have something to sell. It was then that John took one almighty gamble. He ordered four times the normal order. Once it had arrived, they had, for the first time, a full yard. The manager had what could only be considered to be described as a nervous breakdown and could be seen crying at his desk, asking, ‘Why me, why me?’
John just smiled as everyone ran around like headless chickens. He spoke with a young man who organised the transportation of supplies, checking that if needed, he could find other transport. He then informed the manager that he was going out for the day, and before any response could be made, John was gone.
He had checked where the large building sites were in and around Lincoln. He had also researched some of the companies doing the building and tried his best to find out who supplied them. At his first visit to a twenty-house site near the village of Washingborough, he chatted to the site foreman who accepted his card and promised if he needed anything in an emergency, he would ring. The second site of twelve houses was being built by a firm called Eccleshire, and John met the owner, who was overseeing the building work. He had men on site waiting for bricks promised today, but had yet not arrived. John asked if he could deliver just enough for two days’ work. The owner accepted John’s offer, and one telephone call and an order of five thousand bricks given, and a promise of delivery within the hour.
John had waited to make sure they did arrive, and true to his word and the efficiency of the men in the yard, they arrived within minutes of the hour. Both men shook hands, and promises were made. An hour later, John was at a council site on the outskirts of the city, near an area known as Swanpool. There must have been footings for over fifty houses, but very little building work was going on. No one was on site except for the foreman who introduced his self as Paddy O’Rearden and spoke with the smoothest of Irish brogues. He explained that they had to lay off all the workers due to the strike at the brickworks in Skelmersdale, where they had ordered the bricks. John gave them a solution by offering to lend them the bricks, and they could be replaced once the strike was over. Paddy couldn’t believe his luck. He was straight on the phone to the man at the council who okayed the loan. John phoned his yard and arranged the delivery of fifty thousand bricks, enough to keep them going for a while. Late afternoon, John visited a small plot of land where five houses were under construction. The builder was struggling for scaffolding and planks of wood as well as roof tiles. He had, as usual, been let down. John again was on the phone arranging for delivery within the hour, but his yard didn’t have enough roof tiles, so he was on the phone to one of his competitors arranging for them to deliver the following morning.
He had completed a lot of handshaking and had assured the people he had met that if they ordered through him, it would be there in 24 hours. Once back at the yard, he was met by the owner with his personal assistant scurrying around.
‘Where the hell have you been.’ he screamed at John as he pulled in the yard in his Standard 8 motor car.
John didn’t need to hear him he could lip-read. ‘Actually,’ said John, not in the least phased by this loud-mouthed boss. ‘I’ve been earning you a great deal of money.’ The owner was suddenly quiet. Very few people had ever spoken back to him, and this man had not only spoken back, but had done so in a controlled, unflappable manner.
‘I don’t care. You left the yard. You are fired.’ the owner shouted.
‘Sir,’ said his personal assistant, trying to explain. ‘He has brought in a lot of orders today.’
‘I don’t care. He’s fired. He should be here, not running around.’
‘I take it you will, of course, be giving me a week’s wages in advance of the termination of my contract.’ John’s boss was suddenly dumbfounded. He expected at least a shouting match.
‘Yes. Yes. Of course.’ His boss took a breath. ‘Now get out of here.’ But instead of going, John stood tall, towering above his boss.
‘How much for the business?’ he asked.
‘What!’
‘How much for the business?’ John waited. ‘I know you are in trouble. I know you need to sell. You are up to your eyes in debt. How much for the business?’ he repeated.
‘Eight thousand.’
‘I’ll give you four thousand.’ It was a tentative offer. John knew the business was worth nine to ten thousand, even with the debts.
‘Seven.’
‘I’ll tell you what. Five grand and I’ll pay off your debts.’
‘Six grand.’
‘Done.’
‘I’ll draw up the sale.’
‘You will have your money as soon as the deeds are transferred.’ John suddenly wondered where the hell he was going to get some extra money from. He knew he had a lump sum from the army. He had saved when in the army and had, he hoped, about five thousand. He knew his first stop in the morning would be his bank manager.
The bank manager recognised John immediately. He was older and bigger, but he remembered that face and the calmness he showed when having lost all his savings. ‘I need to transfer my savings from this account.’ John gave him his green bankbook and account number, and bank details from Bassingbourn. He then asked if he could check to the penny how much he had.
‘You have three thousand three hundred and twenty-two pounds and a few pence. Quite a stash.’ The bank manager commented.
‘Yes, but not enough for my purposes.’
‘Actually, I’ve just noticed that you have not included your investments,’ said the bank manager.
‘I haven’t got any investments,’ corrected John.
‘I’m afraid you have.’ John was puzzled. ‘You remember the money which was stolen.’ John nodded his head. ‘I explained to head office what had happened, and in their wisdom, they reimbursed your account with the money. We eventually got it back when the woman went to jail.’
‘Oh!’ It was the first time John had thought about Anita in several years. The hurt had subsided during those years, and to hear she had been sent to jail still saddened him.
‘With the war and everything, we didn’t know where you were, so we invested the money.’ The manager ran through his ledger. ‘You have as near as dam it another thousand.’
‘Can I lend three thousand?’ John suddenly asked and then went on to explain the reason why.
‘I’m sure we can come to some arrangement. I’ll get all the paperwork completed. Do you want us to do all the legal work?’ John hadn’t thought of that and agreed. Everything was now under one roof, so to speak. John also arranged for the bank to look after his business account.
He was confident that the money would be there. He decided to return to work and check that the orders had gone out. He entered his undermanager’s office to find yesterday’s boss, Joe, sitting in his seat.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked
‘You’re the boss now. You will need the main office, and you have your first visitor. She’s been waiting an hour or so.’
‘Thanks, Joe.’ He smiled at the elderly man who returned his smile. Joe had taken John under his wing in those first few hours before he found his feet, much to the surprise of Joe. Joe had expected at least a week. But a friendship had been made.
‘Good morning,’ he said as he tentatively entered the room. He only saw the woman’s back, but as she turned, he recognised her immediately. She was the personal secretary of his now ex-boss and a real looker. He smiled, but behind the smile was the thought that he wanted to get to know her better, much better.
‘I thought I’d better let you know how much debt you are taking on.’
‘One thousand eight hundred at the last count,’ answered John.
‘Three thousand nine-hundred. The books have been cooked.’ John sat deeper into his chair. The look on his face was an obvious feeling of disappointment. He had a couple of thousand off the price, but an extra two thousand in debt.
‘I think if you offer the companies owed money a fifty percent up front of what you owe, they will wait a year for the rest.’ The woman was trying to be as helpful as possible.
‘Why are you giving me this information?’ asked a curious John.
‘Because you are the first person I have ever seen stand up to Mr. Jennings. And I hate to see someone cheated.’
‘Well. I have enough money to buy and a little to pay off the debts, but nowhere near the final amount.’
‘I have almost two thousand to invest from the sale of my parents’ house.’ The woman smiled cautiously. ‘Twenty-five percent of the company and an option for you to buy me out with a twenty percent enhanced offer at the end of each year.’
‘So after four years to buy you out, you would want approximately £4000?’ asked John.
‘Yes.’ Penny was impressed with his quick addition.
John held his hand out his hand. The woman slid her soft, white hand into his. He held onto her as he asked. ‘What do I call you?’ John didn’t even know her name.
‘You can call me Miss Leigh.’ She waited for a reaction before she smiled and continued. ‘Penny. You can call me Penny.’ There was an even bigger smile.
‘Penny. Couldn’t have chosen a better name,’ commented John. ‘I’ll get Joe to show you the ropes.’
‘Pardon?’ Penny was a little confused.
‘With a twenty-five percent of the business, you’re going to have to pull your weight and help to run the business.’
‘I thought you would never ask!’ Penny admitted. She hated working for her current swindling boss, but as with most people, she needed the money. Dipping into her savings was not what she wanted to do. ‘When do I start?’ she asked.
Joe arrived at the door. ‘Joe, can you show your second new boss the ropes. I’m going to make some money.
‘Wake up, John.’ The voice was soft and gentle, and he knew the voice from somewhere, but couldn’t remember where.
John lazily opened his eyes. ‘God, you are the worst task master I’ve ever met, doctor.’
‘Come on, open your eyes,’ the woman asked.
John looked at the clock. ‘It’s two o’clock in the morning. What are you doing waking me at this time?’
‘I’ve been trying to wake you all night.’
‘Well, now you have succeeded, what do you want?’
‘Now that I’ve got your attention, I want you to come with me.’
‘Now I know I’m dreaming. I’ve just had a heart attack. I’ve two lovely black eyes. I’m drugged up to the eyeballs. I’ve wires everywhere, and you want me to get out of bed. Go away and let me go to sleep.’
‘Moan, moan, moan. You never change.’ John didn’t hear the last comment as he had returned to his dreams
CHAPTER FOUR
‘Have you got the order?’ he asked Penny.
‘You always ask the same question every time.’
‘I know. But if I didn’t and you hadn’t, we, oops, sorry, you, would be losing money.’
‘Get out there in the cold and get some more orders and make me some money.’ Penny laughed at her own joke. In fact, since joining the business some three months ago, she had at least one good laugh every day. The atmosphere at work was relaxed, even though everyone was working harder than before. John had given all the workers a promise of a bonus at the end of every month if they were in profit. True to his word, the last three months had shown a profit they had received their bonus. Attendance at work was better. Music played in the yard and quietly in the sales office. Tea and coffee were free, and John always managed to get packets of biscuits and cakes at least once a week for the vultures to devour.
Several members of the workforce had put forward proposals to improve the efficiency. If it worked, they received a small brown envelope with a few pennies enclosed. Penny loved her job working alongside Joe, who had shown her the ropes and now protected her from all those lecherous workmen who wanted her to serve them. Everyone was on first-name terms. Because there were three Johns in the business, John was rechristened ‘big John’.
Each month, the profits grew and so did the wages. John increased the hourly rate, but still maintained the bonus for everyone. Penny didn’t sell her quarter share in the business at the end of the first year, and John had decided to organise a business birthday bash for the workers and their better halves. John and Penny were the only two solo guests and finished up sitting next to each other at the meal. They were friends, good friends. John wanted more than friendship, but had been too frightened to ask for a date. Penny, on the other hand, desperately wanted him to ask. She had fallen in love with him that first day, and her love had only grown during the first year.
Joe had arranged for his son to bring a record player and a collection of records for them to dance the night away. Once again, John was forced into Penny’s arms because everyone else was dancing with their partners. He loved her smell. He loved her shapely, long legs and her ‘upper body projectiles’ as one of his army friends had once described them. Her long dark hair and burning blue eyes sent his knees to jelly. Everyone talked behind their backs. No one could understand why they had not already become an item. Joe had decided to take the initiative and had been plying them with drink throughout the evening, even though it had been a free bar, he had made sure that their glasses were never empty.
‘Why do they keep filling up our glasses?’ asked John, just coming to the end of a waltz.
‘They are just looking after their boss, obviously hoping that this happens every year.’
‘Good idea.’
‘Just one question,’ asked Penny.
‘Ask away.’
‘Who is paying for this?’
‘Oh! Did Joe not tell you it was out of your profits?’ teased John.
‘He did not. I’ll have to cramp his style. Cement wellies first thing Monday morning.’
‘Ouch!’ John realised Penny knew who was paying, but still tried to tease. It was at this point that their eyes met. There was a sudden realisation. The music had stopped, and they were still looking into each other’s eyes. It was Joe’s voice they heard first.
‘For heaven’s sake, kiss her and then we can all get on with the evening.’ Penny and John looked around the room. Everyone was smiling at them. They turned to each other, their eyes met again. They kissed to a rapturous round of applause and relief from everyone. ‘Well done,’ said Joe as he left the floor, and the floor began to fill again for the next tune. Penny and John were oblivious to everyone’s gazes as they made their way to the bar hand in hand.
‘You need to wake up,’ said the woman.
‘Not again.’ John rubbed his eyes. ‘I’m just getting to the good times.’
‘Come on. Open your eyes. The swelling has gone down, you should be able to see more clearly.’
‘If you stand about twenty feet away, I might be able to see you. Otherwise, I need my glasses.’
‘Where are they?’ asked the woman.
‘In pieces. I broke them as I fell.’
‘Great. Has anyone told you that you’re hard work.’
‘Look. If you are only going to complain, let me go back to sleep.’ John looked at the clock.’ Just wake me in a couple of hours for my breakfast.’
‘Pig.’
‘I heard that.’ John drifted off again.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘So?’
‘Is that it?’
‘You’re in Paris. You’re at the top of the Eiffel Tower. You have a glass of champagne in one hand and your favourite salmon and cucumber sandwiches in the other. I’ve just shown you the biggest diamond I’ve ever seen. I’ve told you how much I love you. I’m down on one knee and I’ve been preparing for weeks what to say, and you ask me, is that it?’
‘Well, where are you taking me on honeymoon?’
‘Skegness or Mablethorpe?’
‘Don’t even think about it,’ warned Penny.
‘Sutton on Sea?’ teased John before saying, ‘It’s a surprise.’
‘It will be for you if it is Sutton on Sea. I spent a week there one afternoon.’
‘Do you want to dance?’ the woman asked.
‘I don’t even want to wake up.’ John answered. ‘And anyway, I thought you wanted me to stay in bed asleep for the good of my health?’
‘Who do you think I am?’ the woman asked.
‘You’re the most annoying doctor I’ve ever met.’
‘Push,’ shouted the nurse above the screams of Penny. John held her hand after both he and Penny were insistent on his presence. ‘Push! We are nearly there.’ There was a bit of fussing from the doctor, but the midwife delivered the first baby and immediately raised her to show Penny.
‘Here comes the second one. Keep pushing. Good girl.’
‘It’s another girl. Twin girls,’ said the doctor, who once again lifted the baby so Penny could see her second newborn. ‘We’ll just clean them up and weigh them, and then you can hold them,’ explained the doctor as he moved to the other side of the room with the midwife. In just a few long minutes, the two girls were wrapped and placed in Penny’s arms. John looked down on them as pleased as any father would be. There were tears in his eyes as he looked at the three loves of his life.
‘I feel tired,’ said Penny.
‘I’m not surprised,’ joked John, and then smiled at his beautiful wife and his beautiful little girls.
‘I’m….’ Penny’s eyes closed as her head sank to one side. It took John a few seconds to realise that Penny had also relaxed her grip on her two babies as her arms went limp.
‘Nurse!’ he called as he realised there was a problem. ‘I need a little help,’ he asked quietly, not wanting to wake either Penny or the sleeping additions to the family. It was only when the nurse lifted one of the babies and John took the other that her face suddenly showed concern.
‘Doctor,’ she shouted as he was halfway through the door.
The doctor turned and focused on Penny. ‘I can see,’ he said as he rushed over. He did a quick check on Penny’s condition, her breathing, her pulse. John took a shocked step backwards as the doctor and nurse began to really do their job. After five minutes, the doctor stopped and stood back. John didn’t need him to talk, his face said it all. The nurse just broke down in tears. John held the two new lives in his arms, his eyes shedding the tears of love.
‘I’m back for that dance.’ The woman stood next to the bed.
‘Woman, will you not let me sleep?’ asked a tired John.
‘You will have all the time in the world once you come with me.’
‘Doctor. I’m stuck here for a few days at least. It may be a month before I can dance. If you’re trying to give me the will to live, then let me sleep.’
‘You’ll be dancing before……’
‘Go away, let me sleep.’
‘We’ve had a check on your father this morning. He seems a bit agitated. He keeps telling us he didn’t sleep very well, even though we gave him something to help him sleep. His heart rate was a little erratic when the nurse checked on him.’
‘What are you telling me?’ asked Kathleen.
‘He had a very severe attack. But for the fact that he is such a fit man for his age, it would have killed him.’ It was at this moment that Kathleen realised the true extent of her father’s state of health. ‘He doesn’t seem to have had a good night’s sleep, even though we gave him something to help him sleep.’
‘Is that a problem?’ asked a worried Kathleen.
‘I’m not sure. He should have slept soundly. I don’t know why he should have been woken.’
‘Did my father say why he kept waking?’ asked Kathleen
‘The nurse said a woman doctor kept waking him,’ explained the doctor. ‘I’m sure there was no one on duty last night. There was only one doctor on call, and he was a male. No woman at all.’ Kathleen went in to see her father.
He was sitting up in bed having a cup of tea with a big smile on his face. ‘Good morning, beautiful.’ He greeted Kathleen like he always did.
‘I see the smooth tongue has returned?’ Kathleen knew her father was on the mend.
‘Have you brought my writing folder?’ he asked.
‘Of course, and a couple of pens and stamps and your spare glasses,’ added Kathleen.
‘Well done, my little girl.’ Kathleen just smiled at her father’s comment.
‘What’s this about you not sleeping?’ she asked as she sat beside him.
‘Some woman doctor kept waking me. She even asked me for a dance.’
‘Are you sure you were not dreaming?’ she asked.
‘Seemed damned real to me.’ John shook his head as if emphasising his disbelief that he might have been dreaming.
‘The doctor said there was no one here last night except for a male doctor on call.’ Kathleen explained.
‘I must have been dreaming then.’ John didn’t want to worry his daughter.
‘How do you feel today?’ asked Kathleen.
‘Better than I did yesterday. My eyes don’t seem as swollen. I think I’ll be able to see better today.’
‘That’s good. The kids want to come and see you.’
‘I’d like to see them.’ John knew his kids had kids of their own, and they now had kids. He felt old. He was old.
John wrote all morning and into the afternoon. There were thirteen letters written and sealed, some for his family and some for his friends. They were all stamped ready to go. He had seen most of his family during the day, and the youngest, a little boy of eight, had said he was sure he had seen a woman in white standing by the doorway as he entered, and that she looked like his grandmother. No one took any notice, but John did raise an eyebrow. He didn’t see the woman, but as everyone was wearing white, he didn’t think any more about the incident.
‘John’s had a good day,’ explained the doctor. ‘We’re going to monitor him really closely as he sleeps.’
‘You are still worried about him?’ asked Kathleen.
‘Yes. There was a lot of heart damage. It’s his fitness level that is keeping him alive. The problem is that he won’t be able to maintain his level of fitness. So as it reduces, he will be prone to more attacks.’ The doctor was being honest with Kathleen so as not to build up her hopes.
‘John. We are going to give you a sleeping draft to help you sleep. With luck, it will allow you to sleep throughout the night and not be disturbed by any noises on the ward.’ The nurse was new. She was a little more mature than the one the previous night. He liked her as she fussed over him.
‘Just what I need. I hope that woman doctor stays in her room.’ The nurse had no idea what or who John was talking about and just kept quiet.
‘Come on, John, you’ve been asleep for long enough.’
‘Oh no! Not you again. Go away and let me sleep.’
‘But you have been asleep for about five hours.’ John looked at the clock. It was just after two o’clock.
‘I was knackered this morning after you waking me every five minutes.’
‘Every five minutes, I don’t think so,’ complained the woman.
‘Okay, so I exaggerate a little.’
‘I want to dance.’
‘Dance! You have got to be joking?’
‘Aw! Come on, John. Give it a go,’ the woman pleaded.
‘Will you let me sleep afterwards?’
‘You can sleep forever.’
‘I don’t want to sleep that long.’
‘Only words.’
‘Okay, so where is the music?’
‘There’s a radio on the overhead unit. I’ll sort it out. Just get out of bed, put on your dressing gown and slippers.’
‘Yes, miss.’
‘Don’t be cheeky.’
‘Yes, miss.’ The woman fiddled with the buttons on the unit until music started to emanate from the miniature speakers. Frank Sinatra was singing some swing number supported by a big band sound. John placed his arm gently around the woman’s waist and held her hand in his. It was the smell that made his eyes open wide. His eyes focused as they began to move around the room.
‘So you finally recognise me?’ the woman asked.
‘Yes.’ John stuttered out the answer. He couldn’t understand why he could see without his glasses. He was focusing on someone who looked like his wife.
‘You still don’t believe?’ She made the comment knowing that John was beginning to believe. He just needed that final push.
‘Why?’ He now believed and asked her why she was there.
‘It’s time. I’ve been waiting for such a long time.’ They kissed, just as they had the first time all those years ago.
‘I love you,’ said John.
‘I’ve always loved you,’ she replied.
‘Why are you here?’ John asked.
‘It’s time. It’s time for us to be together.’ They stopped dancing. ‘Come. Come with me.’ They moved towards what was a wall, but now looked like a wall with an out-of-focus spotlight shining on it.
‘Okay, but that’s a solid wall.’ John replied as he held her hand and followed her towards the wall and the light. Penny seemed to melt into the light, but John banged his nose on the wall.
‘Ouch! That bloody hurt.’ John was rubbing his nose. Penny reappeared.
‘You’re not ready,’ she tried to explain.
‘What do you mean, not ready?’ It was then that John noticed the nurse faffing around him and a bleeping noise piercing the air. Suddenly, a doctor burst in through the door and immediately started pummelling John’s chest.
‘You’re not ready,’ Penny repeated. ‘Look at the bed.’
‘That’s me,’ he shouted excitedly. ‘They are trying to save me.’ John looked at his old body being pushed and pulled about. ‘Am I dead?’ he asked.
‘I’m sorry.’ She put her arms around him and held him.
‘They’ve stopped.’ The doctor stood back from the bed, and the nurse on the other side of the bed stood up and looked at the doctor.
‘We’ve done all we can. Let him rest in peace,’ said the doctor.
‘Come with me. There are a lot of people waiting for us.’ Penny took a firm grip on his hand and pulled him towards the wall once again. ‘Watch your nose,’ she teased. This time, they disappeared into the light.
‘I’m sorry, his heart gave out. He passed away peacefully in his sleep. We did try to resuscitate, but he had already gone.’ The doctor looked tired. He knew John had made the best of his life. Kathleen had told him about his antics, but it was always a sad moment when someone who was loved died.
It was still early in the morning, and the cleaners were just finishing. The two elderly women had been chatting with the nurse who entered the room and asked if she could borrow the picture on the side unit.
‘Yes, that was them,’ the older of the two insisted.
‘What’s going on?’ the doctor asked.
‘These two cleaners were working on the wards last night when they heard some music. They saw a couple dancing in the room. They only glanced at them and then went about their work.’
‘Why did you want the photograph?’ asked Kathleen.
‘Because the cleaners are positive that the couple dancing are those in the photograph,’ explained the nurse.
‘But that’s my mum and dad from years ago!’
- The Waiting - November 14, 2025
- Up There - April 20, 2025
- The White Feather - December 12, 2024
