The Water Bowser (4)

‘But what’s the point?’, Dob’s face creased into incomprehension as he carefully held the folded paper that seemed to have two mouths, depending on how you held it.’

‘It’s just a bit of fun,’ laughed Mo, ‘just like pushing this tank of smelly water around, no point, just fun.’

‘Where’s the fun in this?’ Dob was trying hard, as he knew he had to make an effort with their new friends, but he just couldn’t see it.

‘It can tell you things about yourself and other people,’ added Jan.

‘What sort of things?’

‘Oh all sorts of things, what you like and all that. This one tells you about the future.’

‘It can tell the future?’ Dob was getting interested, ‘phew!’

‘This one tells you what you might be when you grow up.’

‘Can I try? How do you do it?’

‘Look you put the forefinger from each hand in two of the pockets and your thumbs in the other’.

‘Like this?’ Dob was concentrating hard, he was worried he would break it.’

‘’Yup, then you move your fingers and thumbs to open and close the slits.’

‘Hey this is fun!’ Dob had quickly got hold of the required actions and was working the paper speedily, ‘but how does it tell me what I’m going to be?’

‘Might be’ interjected Mo, but Jan was already explaining the process.

Now open and close the paper the same number of times as letters ….. b   ….. l  ….. u ….. e , yep that’s it. Now look inside and pick one of the numbers.

‘Seven.’

‘Now do the same seven times. ………. Yes, that’s it …… now open that flap and it’ll tell you.’

Dob did as instructed and then his face creased again, this time into incredulity – ‘a ballet dancer? A ballet dancer!’ He looked up in panic, ‘I don’t want to be a ballet dancer, I want to be a rugby player.’

‘I said it was what you might be,’ Mo interjected quickly.

‘What were the other options? Dob moved to open another flap but Jan stopped him’

‘You can’t do that, it’ll spoil it.’

‘Why don’t you make one yourself Dob and put in things that you might want to be?’

‘Good idea’, Dob smiled, ‘can I put rugby player on all of them?’

Mo laughed out loud and Dob looked quickly up, afraid he’d made a fool of himself, but she was pointing down the track whence the bowser had escaped the previous evening and where J, Bum and Eb were now walking back up to them. The reason for her mirth was clear, Eb was walking with his hands held out in front of him as though he didn’t know what to do with them. J, finally coming out of the trauma that had commenced yesterday afternoon was trying not to laugh and Bum, trailing a little way behind was looking anxious.

‘I’ve greased up the big cog on top of the front axle and the A frame moves really easily now – we’ll be able to steer it,’ he grinned, then frowned, ‘anyone know how to get this grease off my hands?’

— X —

They had eaten their lunch early, realising by common consent that they had largely wasted the morning talking over the extraordinary events of the previous afternoon.

Everyone had a particular favourite bit (although for J who had yelped when the bowser had just missed the corner of a partially constructed house the word ‘favourite’ would be a bit inaccurate) and felt the need to recount it again and again.

Dob was the only one with (literally) hands on experience and kept describing his sudden alarm as the wheel he was leaning on started moving away from him. ‘I tried to grab the tyre with my hands , but it was no good, it carried on moving …. slowly at first and then …’

‘It slowly went faster and faster’ Eb would agree.

‘Can something slowly get faster?’ Bum asked once, but everyone was too excited to dissect the technicalities of literary description.

‘When it hit that deep rut’

‘And you screamed!’

‘You did to.’

‘I thought it was all over when it tilted over on two wheels.’

‘Me an’ all, it was leaning right over.’

‘Thank God it hit that old pile of sand.’

‘Threw it back upright again.’

‘And on down the track.’

‘And water shot out of the top.’

Every time they all laughed at that point in the narrative, it felt like a light-hearted moment in a tale of the most dire jeopardy.  At each telling Mo would say  at this point, ‘We must find a better way of getting that water out.’

Then J would recount the horror of watching the now fast-moving bowser hurtle past the corner of the partially constructed house, ‘It can only have missed it by inches!’

‘I thought it was going to topple into that trench,’ Jan would mutter, shaking her head.

‘It was on the flat then and slowing up.’

‘We were lucky, we’d’ve struggled to get it out of there.’

That previous afternoon they had all stood still for a moment in shocked silence looking down the slope to the again stationary bowser. Then they had run down to it, Eb and Dob whooping, Mo and Jan laughing somewhat manically and Bum muttering ‘Ye loaves and ye fishes.’ J had followed slowly, not speaking.

‘It’s just the A frame and the front axle – it’s hit something and twisted,’ shouted Eb, the first on the scene.

This was potentially serious. An unsteerable bowser was an inconvenience, one whose front wheels were stuck at an angle would be a nightmare to move – it would want to go round in circles all the time. Dob frowned then bent to grab the tow cup at the end of the A frame. It lifted easy enough. Then he gave an exploratory sideways pull. It moved slightly, but not much.

‘It’s moved a tooth on the cog,’ shouted Bum, ‘Do it again.’

Dob obliged.

‘Another tooth!’

Then they all grabbed a bit of the frame and with some pulling, some pushing they inched it back straight.

‘It would be good if we could steer it,’ said Jan, looking across at the slope up which they planned to move the bowser, ‘Look, there’s a couple of bends in that track.’

‘Grease would probably do it,’ grinned Eb.

— X —

If they had largely wasted the morning, they made up for it that afternoon. Dob and Eb pushed barrows full of sand into the two foundation trenches that the bowser would have to cross before it could be pushed up the other side of the gentle valley. Bum resumed his position astride the tank, once again getting very wet and green.

Mo had returned to the problem of the water, ‘we’ll never get it up that hill.’

‘What about syphoning, like Miss Jones showed us last term? Suggested Jan, ‘Do you remember J?

J did remember, in fact he had thought of this a couple of days ago but had kept his thoughts to himself, reasoning that sending Bum home everyday wet and covered in green filth was bad enough – but to have to explain to his mum that he’d accidentally swallowed some of the stuff …..

‘Great idea,’ shouted Bum, ‘should’ve thought of that me self. My Dad just bought loads of plastic tubing for his garden irrigation scheme, I’ll bring some tomorrow.’

‘Even with the water out it’s going to hard work pulling it up them slopes,’ J said.

— X —

Later that afternoon, just before heading home for their teas, they regrouped around the roadway that had been built over the two foundation trenches. Bum was reminded to bring the plastic tubing and Mo did her best to explain how the pulley system would work, ‘It means we won’t have to pull so hard to move it – not really sure why – but it works on boats ………’

‘We’ll have to find something strong to fix it to,’ exclaimed Eb, looking anxiously across at the zig zag track.