Chandelier

Many years ago, I found myself working on a building project in London.
I was a young apprentice back then: Silly as a box of frogs and selfish with it.

The project itself was a very large house in Kensington, and had recently been acquired to act as the main UK residency for the then Sultan of Brunei.
This house was like nothing I’d ever seen before:
It was located in a private road, the entrance of which was patrolled by armed police, and had electric gates so big and strong that if a tank had been driven at them, it would have just bounced off like a space hopper!
Around the court yard of the house were beautiful gardens, flower beds filled with the most vibrant colours I had ever seen.
Patrolling the outside of the house was the Sultan’s own security and trust me when I say this; you would NOT want to mess with these guys! One of them had a neck that I’m sure was the same size as my waist!
On entering the house I was greeted by an enormous entrance lobby: Wide staircases situated on the left and the right sides, both leading up to a first floor balcony. I couldn’t help but admire the elaborate marble steps, and the gold handrails felt smooth as I ran my hands along them.
First impression was that the wall covering looked like wall paper, but on closer inspection I found that it was fabric, deeply padded, enough to press my fingers into.
The carpet was a deep blue colour with a gold pin-dot design.
Underlay so thick, that I felt myself sinking into it as I walked.

Although nearly complete, there were still jobs that needed finishing throughout the house so me and my senior, Dave, put on our plastic over shoes which, although resembling wearing a couple of Tesco’s bags on our feet, did actually protect the carpet, and we started work.

Even though there was a high number of tradesmen working in and around the house, when lunchtime came around, the place resembled the Marie Celeste.

“Grab that step ladder Boy,” Dave said, “We’re going up stairs next;” the trademark rollup stuck to his lip.
“But it’s one o’clock Dave!?” I explained, watching him walk up the stairs.
Dave stopped and thought for a minute, slowly re-lighting his rollup, “Let’s get set up first Boy, then we’ll go down the cafe.”

All I cared about was any excuse NOT to do anything, so a lunch break being postponed, even for a couple of minutes, was a total travesty!

“Right then,” I sulkily murmured, grabbing the wooden steps and stomping my way up the staircase: the same staircase that wouldn’t look out of place in ‘Gone with the Wind’.

Looking everywhere except in the actual direction that I was travelling, I reached the top step, missing my footing, and stumbling forwards...

“WATCH IT!!!” Dave shouted, as I flew through the air...

CRASH!!!

I landed on the cushioned carpet, glass showered down around me.

Looking up at Dave, I had never seen him wear such an extraordinary expression before:
His mouth was hanging so far open I could see his tonsils, and the rollup was now literally hanging vertically from his bottom lip.

“Bloody Hell Boy!” Dave said quietly looking up at the ceiling, “What have you done?”

Standing to my feet, I followed Dave’s gaze and also looked up:
An enormous chandelier swung backwards and forwards above me; glass and wire hanging down like, well, like a load of glass and wire!

“Oh my God,” I thought... “Oh my God... Oh my God.” Unbeknownst to me, I was saying it as I was thinking it.

Frantically picking up as much glass as he could Dave looked straight at me, “Get the fucking steps, quick!”

I grabbed the ladder and hurried back down the stairs, nervously looking around as though my life depended on it, closely followed by Dave.
As we reached the bottom of the stairs he overtook me, leading me to the room that we had been working in before this sorry episode.

“Stand them up as they were before,” he whispered nervously, getting tools back out of his bag and strategically laying them on the floor, finally hanging a hammer on the now erect steps.

Dave turned to me and grabbed my shoulders, “Now, we’re going to walk out of here without a care in the world, right?”

I composed myself, took a deep breath, and calmly walked out of the front door.
“Blimey,” Dave said, looking over at a security guard who was leaning up against a car smoking a cigarette, “I’m bloody starving!”
The guard laughed, “Go for it mate, I’m just waiting for the shift changeover. The other bloke should have been here at one o’clock! He’s always late. I suppose I’ll have to cover for him as usual!”

“Well don’t worry,” Dave replied giving a cheeky wink, “your secret’s safe with us haha!”

“Keep laughing,” Dave whispered out of the side of his mouth.”
“Hahaha,” I droned.
I must have sounded like some deranged lunatic!

We drove out of the gate and turned right.

“Hold on Dave,” I asked, pointing behind me, “Shouldn’t we have turned Left? The cafe is that way, isn’t it?”

Dave nodded, “Yes, but we’re not going to the cafe, we’re going to the suppliers, think about it: that security guard should have gone home at one o’clock, right? But he couldn’t because his replacement didn’t turn up in time, but he can’t say that because he’ll get his mate in trouble.”

“Sorry,” I quizzed, “but what has that got to do with us?”

“What it has to do with us Boy is quite simple! If they ask that security bloke if he saw us leave, they will assume that it must have been before his shift change, which would mean that we left before the chandelier was broken.”

“Jesus!” I thought, “That’s so crazy it might just work!”

We went to the suppliers, staying well away from the cafe:
If anyone had seen us walk in there they would have realised the time that we had left the job. This way, it would make it very difficult for anyone to remember.

Picking up some materials from the suppliers, we returned to the site, and gingerly walked in.
Where was the commotion? Surely there would be pandemonium, wouldn’t there?

We gathered up the tools for a second time, went up the stairs, and continued walking under the broken Chandelier.

“I can’t believe it,” I thought, “No one has noticed it!”

A couple of hours went by, and at four o’clock I heard the shouting that I had dreaded. They had found it!

Dave didn’t even flinch, “stay calm Boy,” He said, ”Just keep your head down and get on with your work.”

I was quiet on the way home that day.
Not only was I terrified about getting into trouble, I felt immense guilt at the position that I had put Dave in. The strangest part of my inner turmoil though, was the fact that I felt so weak. I realised that I actually had a conscience, and this was a bad thing. It meant that I was the same as everyone else. It was a long way down from that pedestal, and I hit the floor in a tangled mess.

The next day as we walked in to the job, the site foreman,
George, came up to us, “Alright Boys, how are you doing?”

“Here we go,” I thought...

Dave smiled and looked him in the eye, “Yes fine thanks.”

“Chandeliers eh!” George said, loading his rollup with tobacco, “Who would have thought it? I mean, just think what you could buy with £35,000!”

“£35,000... £35,000... £35,000...” the figure bounced around my head.

“Wow, that’s a lot of money,” I nervously laughed.
My heart was now ready to burst out of my chest!

“You’re telling me it’s a lot of money,” George said, running his tongue slowly along the tiny cigarette, “I bet his boss isn’t happy with him!”

Me and Dave looked at each other.

“Who’s boss George?” Dave asked.

“Bob: the electrician!” George replied lighting his cigarette, “he admitted it this morning; Said he walked past it yesterday lunchtime with a pair of steps and smashed it to pieces!”

“Oh, that’s terrible! Erm, what time was that then George?” I asked curiously.

George explained that Bob, the electrician, had come back from lunch early, at about quarter past one. He then accidently smashed the Chandelier and thought that he had got away with it because everyone else was down the cafe!
He then said that he had hardly got any sleep that night, and felt so guilty that he would have to admit it the next day.

I realised that this poor guy had done exactly the same thing as me, just twenty minutes later, and because he hadn’t noticed the damage on the way up the stairs, he naturally assumed that he was solely responsible.

I couldn’t believe it!

We only spent another couple of days at that place, and I spent every ounce of energy trying to avoid that poor electrician. I just couldn’t look him in the eye.

On the very last day I was standing up a pair of steps, holding a drill.
After I had drilled a hole in the wall, I tried to climb down.
As I did so, my foot slipped, sending me, and the drill, sliding down the steps, ripping a two foot tear down the centre of a newly decorated wall:
A newly decorated, fabric, padded, £100 per square foot wall!!!

I looked at Dave...

“You have got to be joking Boy,” he said, shaking his head, ”you have got to be bloody joking!!!”