Page 10 of The Midnight Bakery
It was one of the things which worried him, actually, living the way he did. He’d never been pernickety about his appearance, but even basic maintenance wasn’t so easy now. He worried that, like an old house, the moment he started to neglect it, however slightly, his body would wear its age far more so than it did now.
He checked his watch. ‘Just in time,’ he said, although, of course, there was no coincidence about the timing of his arrival. ‘Shall I switch on the telly for you?’
Eleanor nodded.Gardener’s Worldhad been one of the things which had got them talking in the first place, and now, time permitting, they always watched it together. ‘Don’t tell anyone,’ she said. ‘But you’re my favourite.’
Tam glanced towards the door. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favourite, too.’ While it was true that Tam said that to all the residents, in Eleanor’s case, he meant it. He turned on the television and perched on the only other armchair in the room. It wouldn’t do to look too comfortable.
Once upon a time, Tam would never miss an episode ofGardener’s World. Gardening had been his livelihood, and it never ceased to amaze him how much call there would be for a specific plant or a particular colour of rose if it had been featured on the nation’s favourite programme on the subject. Now he no longer had a garden. Nor a television set on which to watch it, but he still liked to keep his hand in. One day those things would change, and he wanted to be ready when they did.
Tonight, he was able to watch for a full thirteen minutes before he got called away by another member of staff. Trish was running late so he was needed to help with the drug trolley. He stuffed another Jaffa Cake in his mouth as he left Eleanor’s room and winked. ‘See you tomorrow, milady,’ he said.
Eleanor waved a hand as if to dismiss a recalcitrant servant and snorted with laughter. She was definitely one of the things which made his job worthwhile. Perhaps the only thing. She was certainly the only one who knew the truth of his circumstances.
Working in a residential care home was not a career move Tam had ever seen himself making, but then a lot of the events of recent years weren’t what he’d foreseen either. Bankruptcy being one of them. He shouldn’t have been so trusting, he knew that now. But hindsight was a wonderful thing, and it was very easy to be wise after the event. Going into business with his best mate had seemed like one of the most logical decisions he’d evermade, at first anyway. His horticultural business had started off small, selling to just a handful of garden centres, but as it grew it had made sense for him and Chris to work together – more manpower, for one thing. But he should have realised that Chris wanted different things than he did. And, when it inevitably fell apart, Chris hadn’t been the one to take responsibility – that had been left to Tam. Chris might have walked away with a bankruptcy label around his neck too, but even that hadn’t bothered him. He was free to carry on, to start up a new business any time he liked. It had been Tam whose conscience wouldn’t rest. Tam who sold his house and everything he owned to pay off his creditors, and even that wasn’t enough. They were small businesses like his; it wouldn’t have been right to let them down. It was the only time in his life he’d been grateful for his divorce – had he still been with Sandra the devastation caused to their lives would have been unimaginable. As it was, Tam had lost everything apart from his integrity, and yet on most days he still thought he had done the right thing.
The job at Chawston House had come about through a friend of a friend, and Tam had jumped at the opportunity – he couldn’t afford not to. It had been a lifeline for a drowning man and without it, things would have been so much worse. And it wouldn’t be forever. In another year or so his debts would be clear and then he could start thinking about saving for his own future. Perhaps he’d even be able to rent a flat, or afford the deposit, at least. After that, who knew? He still had another fifteen to twenty years ahead of him before he could even think about retiring. Not that he wanted to, he still had far too much life to live, but what he couldn’t get his head around was that those years might be spent working at Chawston House, or somewhere similar. The cold wasn’t the only thing which kept him awake at night.
Once Tam’s shift had ended, he finished handing over to Trish and then it was only a matter of minutes before he walked out, bag slung over his shoulder, into the night air. It was nearly eight, time for relaxing and settling down for a few hours before bed. Not for Tam, though; he still had a few things to do before he could turn in.
One good thing about his shift pattern was the opportunity it gave him to have an evening meal. It was a perk available to all staff who were on duty at that time, but not many took advantage of it. Most of them went home to cook, but without that luxury Tam ate whatever was on the menu. Tonight, it had been sausages and mash, with cabbage that was more mush than cabbage had any right to be, and carrots as hard as bullets, but he had eaten it all without complaint. Breakfast and lunch he had to provide himself, but it was surprising how little he could get by on.
Food was something Tam had stopped thinking about – in any pleasurable way, that was; it had simply become fuel. But in every other regard Tam took care of himself as best he could. It had taken quite some time, of trial and error, awkward confrontations and a few heated discussions, but eventually he had found a small gym where the staff were a little more relaxed about security. He was pretty sure they knew why he was there, but he was just as well dressed as any other member and unfailingly polite, so mostly they didn’t give him a second glance. He was able to shower, wash his hair and, importantly, have a shave every night. There was never the opportunity in the morning, but he was lucky – his ginger hair was inclined to curl and his five o’clock shadow was barely noticeable, so he was able to get by with just a cursory wash and brush-up.
His evening ablutions completed, Tam headed towards a small car park where he had been staying for the last few nights. It was nudged in between the buildings down a small side streetand wasn’t far away from his work. It was quiet enough, and there was a streetlight too, for which he was always grateful. There was a downside to that, of course, but so far he hadn’t incurred any unwelcome attention.
More than once he had thanked his lucky stars for having had the foresight to buy an estate car and, opening the boot, he clambered inside the spacious interior. His boots came off first, then his jacket, and once he’d stowed both carefully away, he took his uniform from his bag and laid it out so he could fold it ready for the morning. Placing it on the passenger seat ensured it never got creased. He had already changed into his tracksuit at the gym, so now it was simply a matter of climbing inside his sleeping bag.
Five minutes later, with a library book in hand, Tam settled down for the night.
9
William
Back in the day, the club had been called Oasis and William had been a frequent visitor, just like all of his mates. Not that he let on, but he and this town knew one another well. William had grown up here, gone to school here. It was only later that he’d moved away. But although he knew these streets like the back of his hand, they had a different feel about them now.
He could still remember his teenage self, walking down Bridge Street on a Saturday night, with far too much beer in his belly, laughing and carousing with the lads. They’d had a favourite spot down by the river where they used to smoke and neck cider straight from the bottle. It was also where he’d had his first kiss, with a girl called Michelle. That was before Louise, of course. Good times. Yes, they’d drunk too much, been loud and no doubt obnoxious on occasion, but it had been fun, none of it had felt threatening – they were just having a lark. But William had been only too aware when the fun had stopped for him and it had all become desperate instead. When the object of a night out changed from enjoyment to seeking oblivion.
Some of the memories were good ones, but there were many more which weren’t and it wasn’t the first time William wished he’d never come back. But he’d made a promise, and what would he have to show for the last few years if he didn’t take the opportunity when it arose? It might be the last chance he’d ever get. He must remember that.
Of course, the club hadn’t been called Oasis for years now. It had had a number of names over time, the most current of which was Vipers, a name which William thought highly appropriate. And Stuart was the biggest snake of them all. It sickened him to think that Danny might turn out to be like him, only putting on a show of being respectable when, in fact, he didn’t care one jot how he made his money. Only time would tell though, and tonight William had a job to do.
It was Tuesday, traditionally a night when the club was quiet, so unlike on other days when most of his time was fully occupied, either on the door or dealing with club-goers outside, William had more opportunity to get a better feel for what was going on inside.
Most of the staff at Vipers were like William – people who wouldn’t necessarily have chosen to work there given their pick of jobs going, but who, like him, didn’t have the luxury of being choosy. Everyone, that was, except for Stuart. Somewhere in his late twenties by William’s estimate, Stuart’s habitual expression was middle distance between a sneer and a knowing arrogance, as if he believed that not only was he better than anyone else, but that he was also in possession of knowledge only he was privy to. It made William uneasy, and perhaps it was a sixth sense he’d picked up over the years, but William had been wary of him from the get-go. Now, knowing what he did, he was even more wary. Admittedly William hadn’t worked at the club all that long but he had a feel for when a situation was right and when it was wrong, when a situation would resolve itself or whenintervention would be needed. And on quiet nights like these, William’s antenna had time to finely tune itself.
The first few hours of his shift were relatively relaxed, but once the night got going he was quickly able to spot the most serious contenders for making trouble. They had a hard edge to them, and whereas the rest of the punters were just out to have a good time, these few had eyes which glinted with something much darker.
He had been watching three men in particular, drawn to his attention by the fact that they seemed to know Stuart well. Initially he thought they were simply getting quietly and steadily drunk, but following a trip to the bathroom, William saw their behaviour had changed – from amiable and relaxed to something that seethed with a bright and brittle energy. It was something he’d seen on far too many occasions before. What was worse was that he was powerless to do anything about it. Unless, of course, anything untoward happened.
By one in the morning, adrenaline had been coursing through William’s body for hours, and with neither fight nor flight to make use of it, he felt jittery and nauseous, a raw headache beginning to gnaw at his temples.
The spark, as sparks did, flared briefly, but with so much combustible material in the room, caught rapidly. The fire flashed, and for William that meant he was up against five men intent on trouble. He was bigger than most of them and two immediately melted into the background, but it was the three he’d spotted earlier who were most likely to cause him problems.
For the most part, the altercations at the club which William had got involved in previously had been short-lived. It had been enough to point out that if their behaviour continued they were likely to get chucked out and, by and large, their friends convinced them to stop being stupid. Few of the arguments had ever been serious enough to warrant William physicallyrestraining anyone. Tonight, though, he knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as a few quiet words. He had placed himself between two of the men, holding the bicep of the one on his right in a very firm grip, when Stuart suddenly materialised beside him.
‘Looks like you can handle yourself,’ he said to William with a snide grin. ‘But I can vouch for these fellas personally. They’re just a little excited, aren’t you, lads?’ he added, turning to them. ‘No need to get alarmed, William.’ He stressed the pronunciation of William’s name as if he thought his request to be called anything other than Bill was frankly ridiculous. As if he was doing William a favour. It made William want to prove just how well hecouldhandle himself.
There was a moment when things could have gone either way, but then the ringleader gave a dismissive shrug and leered at William. ‘All right, Grandad, I’m cool,’ he said, wriggling his arm in an attempt to release William’s grip.
