The Water Bowser (6)

J didn’t utilise the two hours available for sleeping very well before his Mum was at the door calling him down for breakfast. Round and round in his head was his parting conversation with Mo, a good hour after dawn.

‘I won’t lie to my Dad, Mo ….. I can’t.’

‘I know, but it may not come to that,’ she reassured him. Then, as she turned and walked away, over her shoulder, she said ‘Jan and her bike will be outside on the road, hidden in your laurel hedge.’

J was quiet at breakfast and because his Dad was fussing around making sure he had everything in his briefcase (‘start of a new case, must be on time’) his Mum didn’t notice.

‘Right, must dash for the train, have a good day.’

Mr. Brown opened his front door to find a group of children in his driveway, some of whom he recognised.

‘Hello everyone, suspect you’ve come for J.’

He made a move towards his car when a tattered old van pulled up with a screech across the bottom of the drive. The foreman inside the van looked up the drive and grinned, ‘Got the lot of you.’ He muttered … ‘with one cast of the net.’

He got out of his van and stamped up the drive with an expression of extreme satisfaction and, it has to be said, malice on his face. The sort of expression someone might have who was expecting to extract joyful retribution.

That was his first mistake.

‘Mr. Brown!’ he hurled his greeting like an accusation. It certainly wasn’t a question.

Mr. Brown had not liked Mr Chadwick the first time they had met.

‘Ah, Mr. Chadwick, how can I be of help …… I haven’t got long, my train leaves Kettlesham station in 30 minutes.’

‘Never mind your train!’ bellowed Mr. Chadwick (second mistake), I’ve caught your son trespassing again, again,’ he repeated for emphasis, ‘With these bloody vandals on my building site.’

Mr. Brown paused, then sighed. He was just turning towards J for the confirmation that couldn’t be a lie, when Mo broke into the conversation.

‘Trespass on your building site? Why on earth would we want to do that?’ she gave what she hoped was an outraged flounce (but one that Mrs Brown standing in the doorway noted as somewhat theatrical).

Such subtleties were lost on Mr. Chadwick, ‘I saw you there yesterday, with that water bowser you’d moved from one side of the site to the other,’ his face began to redden, ‘That’s trespass and criminal damage, there’s no knowing what might have happened.’

‘Mr. Chadwick, are you suggesting that these children are capable of moving a water bowser across your …..’

‘Hello, everyone,’ Jan came hurtling round the corner and up the drive, ‘thought I’d try the gears out on the top road and ……’ She stopped, as if only just aware of the scene before her. ‘What’s going on?’

Again Mr. Brown and Mr. Chadwick were too slow to avail themselves of the opportunity to clarify things (as they saw it).

‘This man,’ Mo pointed angrily at Mr. Chadwick, ‘Is accusing as all of trespass, criminal damage and claims that we moved some smelly old water tank across his building site!’

‘The one that’s painted one half green, the other half blue?’

‘There you are!’, Mr. Chadwick took the opening, ‘So you did move it!’ his aforementioned nasty smile returning to accompany what he saw as concluding the issue at stake.

‘Move it?’ Jan looked quizzical, ‘I don’t think anyone has moved it …. I’ve just looked down on it now – from the top road. I love it when the sun catches it, reminds me of a huge glistening beetle. Up to this point Mrs Brown had found Jan’s performance convincing, but now she wasn’t so sure. Heedless, Jan ploughed on, ‘Sometimes when the light’s right I like to paint it …. Watercolours of …..’

‘You’d get better depth of colour with oils,’ suggested Bum.

‘Look I must go,’ exasperated Mr. Brown, who’s attention from the matter in hand had been somewhat distracted by the movement of the second hand on his watch. ‘You say the bowser is in its usual place?’

‘The water tank?’ Jan shrugged, ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Well let’s go and see …. It’s on my way, but you lot’ll have to walk back.’

Before Mr. Chadwick could collect his wits, the children had bundled themselves into the old Morris Oxford Estate and Mr. Brown had started the engine. He was honking his horn for the van to be moved.

As they pulled over into a dirt layby on the top road Jan exclaimed ‘There it is’ …….. I can’t think what all the fuss is about.’

They all got out of the car. There it was, green and blue, catching the sun. He wasn’t sure about the beetle bit, but Mr. Brown had to own that he too liked seeing it there, he passed it nearly every day.

When Mr. Chadwick pulled up in his van behind the Morris he didn’t get out immediately. The delay seemed to further grate on Mr. Brown who had started over towards the van when its occupant got out with a weariness that comes with an incomprehensible defeat.

‘There you are Mr. Chadwick, the evidence does not support your accusation. Now I must go .’

Stung into some pretence of a fight back Mr. Chadwick went personal, ‘Who do you think you are? … some sort of barrack room lawyer?’

‘QC actually, Mr. Chadwick.’

‘QC? Mr. Chadwick looked even more confused, then giving up made his way slowly back to the van muttering ‘Sherry? I could do with something stronger than sherry.’ He drove off in his habitual hurry.

Mr. Brown turned away from the children, as if contemplating the bowser, but J could see from behind that he was smiling. The others stood frozen. Each one of then wanted to shout and whoop their escape but had the sense to realise that their advantage was probably precarious and that crowing might be their undoing.

‘Right,’ said Mr. Brown, turning with a serious but not unkind face. ‘You are all going to walk back to our house where you are all grounded for the day. There is plenty of clearing and weeding to be done in the garden, Jennifer will show you what to do.’

They all nodded their assent and thanked Mr. Brown. What for was left unsaid.

‘J, you are to explain this to your Mum, making clear that this is not a punishment, more protective custody. She will understand.’

— X —

It was late when J, reading in bed, heard his Dad’s car in the drive. He heard him being greeted by his Mum and then a low murmur of voices before this abruptly ceased – presumably by the shutting of the kitchen door.

Half an hour later he heard his Dad climb the stairs and knock softly on his bedroom door.

‘Come in Dad,’ he responded, aware of his anxiety catching in his voice.

‘Good work J,’ said his Dad, sitting down on the end of the bed. Your Mum’s told me how hard you all worked, apparently the garden has been transformed.’

‘Thank you Dad.’

‘No thank all of you, well done.’

‘I mean thank you for sorting out this morning.’

‘Ah ….’ Mr. Brown nodded his head, ‘Yes that was a bit of a pickle wasn’t it?’

‘Sorry Dad.’

‘Hey! No need to apologise …. Despite some odd circumstantials the evidence clearly rebutted Mr. er, Chadwick’s main accusation …. I see no need to re-open the case.’

‘Thanks Dad.’

‘I hear you are all cycling over to Hockley Wood tomorrow for a picnic. Good bunch of friends you got J. Those girls are really something and you boys seem to know when it’s best to keep your mouths shut! Perhaps you could build some dens in the woods, I think that’s the sort of thing that children are supposed to do.’

‘Will do Dad.’

Mr. Brown got up to leave, but paused as he re-opened the bedroom door. ‘Funny thing though, I drive along that road most days and could have sworn that the green end of that tank was on the Kettlesham side. When I drove back this evening the green end seemed to be pointing towards the village. Funny thing that…… Good night.’

The door closed behind him.