Page 7 of The Stranger's Voice

The doors to the side entrance had a breeze block holding it open. Kicking it to one side and pulling the emergency exit closed behind me, I ventured down the hallway to where the old time music played. I’d walked five paces when the hammering on the door I’d just closed, halted my progress. Someone was using their fists to bang the door. The urgency of the noise had me turning on the spot and reaching for the push bar to open the door.

“Why the fuck did you close the door, dude?” The tall, scrawny looking lad said, peering at me from underneath the peak of his red baseball cap. His hair shorn close to his nape. It was the silver stud pierced just below his bottom lip that caught my attention first.

“It’s an emergency exit, dude,” I said, emphasising his reference. I think it was only the second time I’d ever used the word, and it didn’t sit right.

“How posh are you? Don’t say dude again, you sound ridiculous.” He said.

The lad walked past me and waited in the corridor. “Are you going to close the door or what?” He said.

Perplexed by his bossy nature for a kid who looked only fourteen, I followed his orders.

“Why did you wedge the door open in the first place? It's a fire risk to have it open,” I pulled the door shut and turned to hear his answer.

“I went out for a quick ciggy. I wasn’t any longer than three minutes, I saw you drive up in that big van of yours when I came out.”

“Are you old enough to smoke?”

“I’m eighteen,” he said and pushed his cap back so I could see his face. Now I could see his eyes, he looked more grown up than his eighteen years. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

“Just concerned for my fellow man, cigarettes will kill you, stop smoking,” I said.

I used my stern look but didn't make an impact. The young lad smirked, the smile lifting the corners of his mouth. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Yes, dad,” he said, and he thumped down the hallway in his black steel capped boots. He didn’t wait for my reaction to his sarcasm.

I followed him to the main hall. The large, low ceiling room hadn’t changed since I was there a year ago. I’d built the community centre a stage, so they had somewhere to put on shows. The local school put on their plays and song recitals every year in the hall. The original building opened during the 1950s, but in the last decade, there was no money to do any repairs. That’s where I came in. Anything that needed fixing or built became my responsibility. My mother kept me up to date with the endless list. I loved my mother and would do anything for her. This was the same hall she used as a Girl Guide, the same hall that had school dances every month. It was the same place that held the Women’s Institute meetings. If it was important to her, then it was important to me. I had the funds to help out and the skills. Anything I couldn’t do, I had a contact that could.

Once I’d built the stage, more organisations booked in their events, giving the community hall owners an income to enable them to keep the place open. It was the only place in the area where the young kids could go other than hanging around on street corners.

By the time I reached the main hall, the lad was on the stage, changing the music on the CD player. Several couples danced around the wooden floor, many of them female couples. The men were thin on the ground or too busy playing cards at the back of the room.

The blue rinse brigade was out in full force. Various walking aids littered the room. Most of the men and women sat on wooden chairs looking out to the dance floor with envy, clutching on to their walking sticks for dear life. I wondered when I would be like them. When I would wish I was leading my wife of decades around the floor like I was still twenty-one.

“Callum,” a woman exclaimed from across the room, “you came back.” The grey-haired lady made a beeline for me, walking to the beat of the music. She was nearing seventy although you’d never know it from the speed she walked across the hall to greet me. It had been a year since I last seen Pippy in person. I had received many emails from her about the goings on in the hall. She was the keeper of secrets, but the stories that were common knowledge ended up in her weekly updates of the community centre.

“Hello Pippy, how are you keeping?”

I kissed her presented cheek and then lifted her off the floor in a hug.

“Put me down,” she said and slapped my arm but laughed with glee. “All the better for seeing your handsome face, how long are you here for this time?”

“I have no plans to run off, I’m here for good. I haven’t changed my mind.”

“That’s great to hear, it’s about time you settled down and found yourself a wife. I have an extensive list of repairs for you. I can get you to work right away if you have your tools in your van.”

Pippy managed the community centre, along with a group of other retirees. They made it their mission to offer a place that had heating, secure doors, and a friendly greeting. I did all of their repairs for free as my donation to the community. I was a carpenter by trade, but that didn’t stop me learning the basics of an electrician too. Pippy stuffed a piece of paper in my hand. She had it in the front pouch of her apron. It had more projects than I could handle on my own. I would need the apprentice, I suspected Pippy knew this too. Glancing at the list, Pippy had prioritised the jobs she wanted to be completed first. With an apprentice, we could get things done a lot quicker. I hoped that he was a hard worker.

“The ink is still wet on this list Pippy, did you see me drive into the car park and write it?”

She laughed and grabbed my forearm, patting it. “No, dear, your mum called me the other day to let me know when you were coming to visit. I wrote it last night when we had our committee meeting. Can you do everything on there?”

I glanced back at the list, nodding here and there, as I read it. “Should be no problem, but I could do with help. I’m supposed to meet my new apprentice here, do you know which one he is? He’s called Scottie Morgan. I hope he’s a budding carpenter that could do with earning money. He wasn’t very chatty in his conversations.”

“That lad over there, he’s been talking about you all week. Scottie’s lost his job at the local construction site. The company went bust, and now it’s standing half finished. All but Scottie has moved on to other jobs because they can travel, but he needs to stay local to look after his mum.” Pippy said.

I followed Pippy’s line of sight and spotted the lad that was smoking outside when I came in. He looked strong enough, and if he needed to take care of his mum, chances are he would be reliable too. He sat next to an older woman who was chatting to him, her hands moving in sign language as she spoke.

“All right then Pippy, you have yourself, two slaves. I’ll speak to Scottie, and we’ll be back soon to start work. I’ll need a set of keys to the place.”

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