Jack Mutant - Which Way is Down (part 6)

 

His father glanced across at him and smiled. Jack felt that in all the world and all of time he was exactly where he should be and he wanted the moment to last forever.

 

‘How’s your mum been?’

 

Jack nodded, ‘Okay...I guess.’

 

‘Had any strange men round?’

 

‘I don’t think so Dad.’ Jack watched his father’s hands on the steering wheel, they looked older,, the knuckles rough and pale as if dried out. ‘Are you still working at that big stately home?’

 

‘No son….I fell out with the Head Gardener. I pruned something the wrong way, a Tree Peony, he said I’d killed it and it had been in the garden for thirty years or something. He didn’t like me anyway.’

 

It seemed to Jack impossible that somebody wouldn’t like his father. ‘Why, why didn’t he like you?’

 

‘I don’t know son….because I don’t like killing things. That’s all gardeners do, a bit of growing yes but mostly they kill things, weeds, snails, bugs, mice, it’s like a war out there. We fell out bigtime after I refused to put traps down to kill moles, after that he was just looking for an excuse to sack me. Have you ever seen a mole Jack?’

 

‘I’ve seen a dead one.’

 

‘They’re beautiful little creatures, perfection they are.’

 

‘Why did he want to trap them though?’

 

‘Oh because they wreck lawns with all their little mole hills...but they don’t know it’s somebody’s prize lawn do they. They’re just going about their business, the business of digging.’

 

Jack thought about the moles as they drove along, he tried to picture their underground world, so removed from everything yet still enough to upset humans enough to want to murder them. He asked after a pause, ‘So where are you living now Dad?’

 

 

‘I’m at a hotel, a nice hotel. I’m a porter, sort of.’

 

‘Oh - do you wear one of those posh jackets and hats and stand outside like a soldier.’

 

Mr Massey laughed. ‘No..it’s not that posh. I help in the kitchens. The money’s not much but I don’t have to pay bills, no rent or anything.

 

Jack thought for a while then asked. ‘What do you er... port then, I mean if you’re a porter, what do you move about?’’

 

He saw his father grimace a little. ‘Er….well sometimes I help with the prep...but mostly I deal with the clearing up that sort of thing. I suppose I move plates and dishes. Sometimes I don’t get to bed til one in the morning.’

 

Jack took a moment to mull over what his father had told him. He knew what a KP was, a potwasher, his neighbour’s teenage son did it at the weekends in the local pub, he hated it, came home stinking but he was saving for driving lessons. Jack let that possibility sit upon the surface of his consciousness a while until it made a dent and finally it was absorbed. My dad’s a Kitchen Porter, he washes dirty dishes for a living.

 

‘It’s hard graft Jack. Lots of big, heavy pans to wash and shift around. I wasn’t going to sacrifice these biceps I acquired doing that big overgrown garden...and I can’t afford gym membership, that’s for sure.’ He sighed and tutted impatiently, then continued, ‘Look the main thing is that I don’t have to pay rent, I’ve got somewhere to live, free food and there’s no hassle, no stress. I whistle while I work.’ He began to whistle something, a semi-tune, an amalgamation of all the tunes in the world.

 

‘Do you have your own room dad, maybe I could stay for a bit?’

 

Mr Massey shook his head. ‘Too small Jack, my room’s tiny. I go back and lie on the bed, plug my ears in, listen to my favourite music, sink into….’

 

‘Obscurity,’ said Jack.

 

‘Obscurity!’ They both laughed. ‘Indeed Jack. The other workers are mostly youngsters, they go off and get drunk, do the things that young people do. I’m not into that stuff anymore Jack. I’m getting old now.’

 

‘You’re not that old.’

 

‘Ay….sometimes I get tips. I’ll buy you something Jack, next time I get tips, something...better than a packet of monster munch. What do you want?’

 

Jack shook his head. ‘Nothing Dad.’

 

They turned off the main road into a little single lane, flanked by Beech trees, half-dressed in their autumn foliage. Jack was always amazed at how, wherever they were in the country, his dad seemed to know all the little cut throughs and hidden gems off the beaten track. Even if they’d never visited a place he always seemed to know it like the back of his hand.

 

‘There’s a little pub down here, The Feathered Cap, if it’s still here that is. I suppose they might have turned it into a big fancy house, all swollen….with a big swollen vehicle on the drive. No look there’s a sign to it. I haven’t been here for a few years. I used to pop in when I was a sales rep, years ago, pop in on the way home to watch Sky Sports and…’ he lowered his voice, ‘avoid your mother.’

 

‘Dad!’

 

They turned into a small carpark. The pub was old with low ceilings and littered with dusty ornaments, horse brasses, a stuffed stoat. It was warm and comforting, busy and there was a lovely smell of home cooking.

 

‘Let’s sit here in this little corner son.’

 

Jack was opposite his father and they studied each other. Mr Massey had a semi-feral appearance which had developed slowly over a period of two years; hair neither long or short, scruffy clothes, a tanned face and a slightly wild look in his eyes. The old dad, the pale-faced man with neat hair who wore suits and was almost always snappy and distant had vanished completely. It occurred to Jack that he was much happier with this new dad, who now seemed so open, easy to speak to. The downside was that he was rarely present. He felt happy and sad as they tucked into steak and ale pies and he tried hard to avoid thinking about how time was passing. It felt as if he was in some parallel universe, far removed from school and home.

 

‘So what’s happening at school Jack, do you like it?’

 

Jack shrugged. ‘Not sure yet...I just get through the hours in the day. It’s alright at the moment I guess because it’s all new and no-one really knows me but I think as time goes on, it will get harder, I’ll get more anxious and that.’

 

‘More anxious son! Why, what have you got to feel anxious about?’

 

‘Just...as people get to know me and everything gets sort of familiar, it just feels as if pressure is building, that’s all.’ Jack blushed a little, he was reluctant to share with anyone just how anxious he got sometimes.

 

Mr Massey studied his son and sighed. ‘That’s a pity,’ he said shaking his head. ‘You know I was very naughty at school Jack.’

 

‘I know,’ Jack laughed.

 

‘No, I was really naughty, got the cane and everything. I just had this energy inside me and it had to escape, I tried so hard to behave but….I was, you know, out of control. Always in detention on my own, sitting there in silence. I had an imaginary friend, Rignoll his name was.’

 

‘Rignoll?’

 

‘Yes, so I wouldn’t have to sit there all alone. Sometimes Rignoll would tell me to do things, like cough or hold my breath.’

 

Jack didn’t recognise this Rignoll character but he certainly recognised that energy, that impish spirit inside was inside him too. ‘I can imagine that dad.’

 

‘Yes, once he told me to swear at the teacher...and I did aswell, got me into even more trouble.’

 

‘What, really..what swear word?’

 

‘Oh I can’t say, a really bad one though, yes, after that I’d have to whisper to him, Rignoll, I’d say, stop that now.’ They both laughed.  ‘No..we don’t want to revive Rignoll, he’s retired to...to where all imaginary friends go to when they are no longer required... Aye Jack, your mum says you’re never in trouble.’

 

‘No...I’m not.’ Jack ran his fingertip along the top of his lemonade glass. ‘I don’t really like drawing attention to myself.’

 

‘You must have holidays soon?’

 

‘I have exams next week then half-term.’

 

Mr Massey’s eyes lit up. ‘Are you going to Grandad's?’

 

‘No, mum doesn’t want to drive.’

 

‘You’re old enough to get the train now.’

 

‘It’s three trains, change at Birmingham, change at Macunth...something, it takes all day. Anyway mum’s got jobs for him to do in the house.’

 

‘I bet she has. I miss the old man, I really do..’

 

‘You could visit him...be there when I’m there...sometime.’

 

Mr Massey shook his head. ‘No, it’s awkward now with your mother.’ he leant back on his seat and yawned. ‘What about these exams, have you revised?’

 

‘I’ve revised a bit,’ he lied. ‘I want to do well because they will stream us into groups after the results come out and I want to be with Chris my friend, he’s brainy. It’s hard though, even when I know the answer I can’t really concentrate very well. These dancing worms come alive in my head, eating my thoughts before I can join them together.’

 

His dad laughed. ‘I was the same, brain misfiring all over the place, came out with one O level, geography. You’ll do alright though. I felt like a right failure but I got a job easy enough, selling, selling tellies then later on printers and phone systems.’

 

‘But you hated that didn’t you?’

 

‘I loved it at first, I was on the up then they brought in sales targets, performance pay, stress. I got very tired of it, I got tired of everything...but hey that’s life I suppose. I’m happy now, there’s no stress in my life, except when I’m missing you.’ Jack felt a sting of emotion across his face, his eyes watered slightly. ‘Sometimes you think you know what’s best Jack but you don’t. Do your best in the exams but don’t worry. Who knows which way is up and which way is down. If you do well great, if you stuff them up, well that might turn out alright too.’