~ A Parcel of Rogues ~
Deke was the first of them to turn up, a blast of the bitter November night air following him into the house. Not that the old house was warm to begin with. It had lain empty and neglected for years. Even working at full pelt, the brand new gas boiler was having little impact on the coldness that had seeped into the walls during that time.
“It’s a wee bit warmer in here,” said Abi, leading Deke into the living room, which, like the rest of the rooms in the house, was bare and lit by a single, uncovered light bulb.
Deke and Abi joined Abi’s husband, Brian, to stand close to the only radiator in the room. With his small face, long neck and narrow, darting eyes, Deke always reminded Brian of a weasel. Tonight the weasel was wearing an immaculate sheepskin jerkin, freshly ironed jeans and pure white trainers. He’s dressed as if he’s going out on the town, thought Brian. And looking more like a boss than a builder. The manila folder tucked under Deke’s arm added to that image.
“Would you like some tea?” asked Abi. “Brian was just about to put the kettle on when you arrived.”
Not waiting for Deke’s reply, Brian headed off to the adjoining kitchen. Even if none of their visitors wanted tea, he and Abi certainly did. Having spent the last couple of hours stripping wallpaper in the freezing rooms upstairs, they needed something hot inside them. He had only half-filled the electric kettle when the next visitor knocked at the front door.
“I’ll get it,” he shouted through to Abi, turned off the tap and placed the kettle in the sink.
“Bloody parky oot here,” growled Tony, the joiner, when Brian opened the door.
Tony was a big, heavy man. In contrast to Deke’s pristine appearance, he was as dishevelled as ever. His long, woolly jersey with the holes in the sleeves had obviously seen better days, the massive belly that protruded from it resembling a camel’s hump. And his baggy jeans were slung so low down his hips they would have been the envy of any aspiring hip-hop kid in the town. Brian figured that if ever there was a competition for best builder’s bum – best joiner’s bum, he corrected himself – he was certain Tony would win it hands down.
Brian was on the verge of closing the door behind Tony when the third visitor materialised out of the night.
“Sorry I’m late,” grinned Les, the plasterer and tiler, before bouncing into the house.
That was the thing about Les: he not so much walked as bounced along, his head bobbing up and down, as if there were springs on the soles of his shoes. Little wonder that all his workmates called him Zebedee. Tall, with silver hair, rosy cheeks, a ready smile and friendly, sparkly eyes, Abi regarded him as a sort of kind uncle figure, whom she had taken to immediately. The same couldn’t be said for Tony, whom she thought of as a bit of a bully, and Deke, on whom the jury was still out.
While Zebedee bounced through to the living room, Brian returned to the kitchen to resume the tea-making. He intended to take a back seat at the meeting. This was Abi’s show, after all. And she was far more capable of project managing the contract than him, especially since his illness.
Abi had already organised the major repairs that were needed to their dilapidated dream home, the place having recently been damp-proofed, the roof fixed, the plumbing and electrics brought up to scratch, and a new central heating installed. She had gone on to hire an architect to draw up plans for a range of structural improvements, organise all the necessary planning permissions and let out a contract for the improvement work. Now there she was, notebook in one hand and pen in the other, determined to coerce the successful contract team into agreeing a timetable for the work.
“Thanks very much for coming along at such short notice, gents,” Brian heard her say. “As Brian mentioned when he phoned you, time is getting on and we’re very keen for the work to start as soon as possible. So what we wanted to do tonight...”
“Yer architect hasnae sent a letter oot yet tae confirm we’ve won the contract,” Tony interrupted her.
“That’s part of the problem,” Abi snapped back. “The architect has been... well... a bit slow getting round to things. Which is why Brian phoned you. To confirm the contract in person and get things moving. Surely that’s enough until you receive the official letter.”
Attagirl! Brian mouthed as he plugged in the kettle.
“Aye, suppose,” Tony grunted, sounding miffed.
“Right,” Abi began again. “As the invitation to tender specified, we’d like all the work carried out as quickly as possible. I think the architect put in something like six weeks, which I know may not be doable with Christmas and New Year coming up. So what we’d like to do tonight is agree a start date and a finish date with each of you for your part of the contract.”
While Abi paused there for a reaction, Brian left the kettle to boil and joined her in the living room. There wasn’t a peep from the trio. All three simply shuffled their feet and seemed to study the bare floorboards.
“Okay,” Abi continued. “We’re well into November now. Ideally, we’d like the building, joinery, plastering and tiling work completed by the end of January. That’ll give us about a month to get the place decorated and the carpets laid before we move in at the beginning of March. We’re in rented accommodation at the moment and paying through the nose for it, so you’ll appreciate it’s vital for us to meet that March deadline.”
Hands in pockets, still studying the floorboards, the trio remained silent for some moments longer. Then Tony spoke up.
“The thing is wi’ ma work, I cannae get a start oan it till Deke and his boys dae their bit. Once I do get started, though, it’ll only take me a couple o’ weeks, three on the ootside. But it’s really up tae Deke tae say when he can start and finish.”
“Aye, it’s the same wi’ me, hen,” said Zebedee, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in time with his head. “I’m the tail-end Charlie, if ye ken whit I mean. I’ll need tae wait till Tony’s done, but it’ll no’ take me long efter that.”
All eyes were on Deke, who stroked his weasel chin before taking the folder from under his arm and placing it on the windowsill above the radiator. What followed for Brian was one of those surreal incidents in life he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. Deke’s hand slid into a side-pocket of his jerkin and came out holding a Blackberry. Like a pair of gunslingers, Tony and Zebedee also reached down into their pockets and produced their own Blackberries in a flash. Then, with thick, calloused fingers, all three proceeded to swipe and stab at the small, fragile screens.
“What date is it we go back efter the holidays, eh?” asked Tony.
Brian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Going back after the holidays? Are they fucking schoolboys or what?
“Monday, the seventh of January,” said Deke.
“The seventh?” queried Zebedee. “I make it the ninth.”
Tony snorted. “Aye, that’s cos yer lookin’ at the wrang year, ya tumshie.”
Zebedee took another look at his Blackberry, shrugged and put it back it in his pocket.
“The seventh of January,” Deke repeated to Abi and Brian, who stood with their mouths open. “That’s when ma boys’ll get started oan the job. An’ we’ll easily have everythin’ done afore the end o’ January.”
“An’ Les an’ me’ll be oot o’ here long afore the end o’ February,” added Tony. “Gie ye plenty o’ time for decoratin’ an’ such.”
Zebedee simply bobbed his head in agreement.
Brian was suspicious. Looks like the fly bastards rehearsed this, he thought.
It took a wee while for Abi to recover. Brian noticed that her cheeks were growing red.
“January?” she stated eventually. “What happened to December? We’re not even out of November yet, for goodness sake.”
Deke shrugged. “Aye, the problem is ma boys ur fully booked right up tae Christmas Eve. Naw, immediately efter the holidays – we’ll be freed up tae make a start then,” he said, returning his Blackberry to his pocket as if that were an end to the matter.
Tony followed suit. “I’ve got a wheen o’ work oan the now as well,” he boomed. “I cannae just down tools an’ start here. At least no’ till efter the Year.”
Trying to look innocent and hoping the blame for any delay would be attributed to the other two, Zebedee smiled and said nothing.
Abi’s cheeks had grown redder. Her eyes were flashing. “Look,” she demanded, raising her voice, “we have to give three months’ notice where we are. We were planning to do that at the end of this month. But we can’t do it if this place isn’t going to be ready by the beginning of March. It would mean having to pay rent for another three months. Or going and living in a hotel. Either way, that would amount to thousands of pounds, do you understand? Thousands of pounds that you lot would cost us because you can’t organise yourselves.”
You’re on a roll, Abi, Brian tried to encourage her with his eyes. Go for it, gal!
“No, it’s just not acceptable,” she continued, her voice even louder. “You were awarded the contract in good faith to get the work done as soon as possible, not just when it suited you. There were others who put in a tender that we could go back to, you know.”
Zebedee was studying the floor again. Tony began to say something in response, but a glance from Deke silenced him.
Deke picked up his folder from the windowsill, opened it and took out a copy of the work schedule he had submitted as part of the tender.
“Let’s have a wee look here,” he muttered as he examined the schedule.
It seemed again to Brian that the scenario had been rehearsed. Plan A was rejected, so now they’re going for Plan B.
“Right,” said Deke, looking up at Abi and Brian. “Ma boys are needin’ tae knock through four slaps...”
Brian looked puzzled. What the fuck’s a slap, then?
“Do you mean holes in the walls?” asked Abi.
Ah, holes in the walls! Thanks, Abi.
“Aye, that’s correct. One in this room tae widen that windae. One in the kitchen fur the patio doors. Then one fae the kitchen through tae the dining room. An’ the one tae widen the windae in the bedroom above the kitchen.”
“The study,” Abi corrected him.
“Aye, the em... study. Anyway, afore we knock through the slaps, we’ll need tae erect supports tae prop up the ceiling in every case. Tae make sure the ceiling disnae cave in, right? Then the supports’ll stay there until we put the new lintels in. Does that make sense so far?”
Abi and Brian nodded.
“Well, what I wid propose is fur the boys tae come in afore Christmas an’ get the supports up. What they should also be able tae dae is knock through the first slap, the one in this room. That’ll gie us a heid-start fur the work in the New Year and should guarantee us finishin’ by the end o’ January.”
It was Abi’s turn to look puzzled. “Yes, but won’t that leave a gaping hole in the wall over Christmas and New Year? We wouldn’t want the place exposed to the elements – or anything else – for all that time.”
“Naw, naw, we’ll board up the hole afore we go. It’ll be very secure. It’s somethin’ we dae a’ the time.”
“Okay,” Abi said slowly, obviously interested in Deke’s proposals.
Before Abi had the chance to ask any more, Tony said his piece. “Aye, come tae think o’ it, there’s quite a few joinery jobs I could be gettin’ oan wi’ that are no’ affected by the building work. Probably two or three days’ worth I could get done afore Christmas.”
Zebedee piped up at that point. “Ditto fur me, hen. There’s a fair amount o’ plasterin’ that disnae need tae wait fur the other work. I’ll be able tae spend a few days afore Christmas on that. Mibbe even come in between Christmas ‘n’ New Year. That alcove, fur instance,” he added, pointing to the recess behind Abi and Brian.
It was when Brian turned round to look at the recess that he remembered the kettle. He promptly went off to the kitchen to fill the teapot. When he returned, the living room was empty. Like the pied piper, Zebedee was leading Abi from room to room and pointing out the places that could be plastered first. Deke and Tony had gone upstairs to examine the state of the ceiling directly above the spot in the living room where the first “slap” would be knocked through. The meeting was over.
Ten minutes later, Abi was showing the visitors to the front door, all of them having declined a cup of tea. As she closed the door behind them, Zebedee smiled reassuringly at her and said, “Dinnae worry, hen, we’ll a’ pull thegither an’ make sure you’re in by March.”
The notebook was still in her hand, the page it was opened at still blank.
Well, that went well, Brian was about to say to her, but thought better of it. He decided to go and pour the tea instead.
Out in the night, Deke and Tony took up the width of the pavement. Zebedee bounced behind them. “March, my arse,” he sniggered.
Deke’s weasel eyes glinted in the light of a streetlamp. As he placed the spare set of house keys Abi had given him into his folder, he allowed himself the tiniest of smiles.
“Better watch oor time, boys,” he said. “We still huv tae size up the work for the next contract bid. It’s just roond the corner. An’ they’re lookin’ for an early start, tae.”
“Aye an’ they’ll be lucky, tae,” Tony laughed.
“It’s a wee bit warmer in here,” said Abi, leading Deke into the living room, which, like the rest of the rooms in the house, was bare and lit by a single, uncovered light bulb.
Deke and Abi joined Abi’s husband, Brian, to stand close to the only radiator in the room. With his small face, long neck and narrow, darting eyes, Deke always reminded Brian of a weasel. Tonight the weasel was wearing an immaculate sheepskin jerkin, freshly ironed jeans and pure white trainers. He’s dressed as if he’s going out on the town, thought Brian. And looking more like a boss than a builder. The manila folder tucked under Deke’s arm added to that image.
“Would you like some tea?” asked Abi. “Brian was just about to put the kettle on when you arrived.”
Not waiting for Deke’s reply, Brian headed off to the adjoining kitchen. Even if none of their visitors wanted tea, he and Abi certainly did. Having spent the last couple of hours stripping wallpaper in the freezing rooms upstairs, they needed something hot inside them. He had only half-filled the electric kettle when the next visitor knocked at the front door.
“I’ll get it,” he shouted through to Abi, turned off the tap and placed the kettle in the sink.
“Bloody parky oot here,” growled Tony, the joiner, when Brian opened the door.
Tony was a big, heavy man. In contrast to Deke’s pristine appearance, he was as dishevelled as ever. His long, woolly jersey with the holes in the sleeves had obviously seen better days, the massive belly that protruded from it resembling a camel’s hump. And his baggy jeans were slung so low down his hips they would have been the envy of any aspiring hip-hop kid in the town. Brian figured that if ever there was a competition for best builder’s bum – best joiner’s bum, he corrected himself – he was certain Tony would win it hands down.
Brian was on the verge of closing the door behind Tony when the third visitor materialised out of the night.
“Sorry I’m late,” grinned Les, the plasterer and tiler, before bouncing into the house.
That was the thing about Les: he not so much walked as bounced along, his head bobbing up and down, as if there were springs on the soles of his shoes. Little wonder that all his workmates called him Zebedee. Tall, with silver hair, rosy cheeks, a ready smile and friendly, sparkly eyes, Abi regarded him as a sort of kind uncle figure, whom she had taken to immediately. The same couldn’t be said for Tony, whom she thought of as a bit of a bully, and Deke, on whom the jury was still out.
While Zebedee bounced through to the living room, Brian returned to the kitchen to resume the tea-making. He intended to take a back seat at the meeting. This was Abi’s show, after all. And she was far more capable of project managing the contract than him, especially since his illness.
Abi had already organised the major repairs that were needed to their dilapidated dream home, the place having recently been damp-proofed, the roof fixed, the plumbing and electrics brought up to scratch, and a new central heating installed. She had gone on to hire an architect to draw up plans for a range of structural improvements, organise all the necessary planning permissions and let out a contract for the improvement work. Now there she was, notebook in one hand and pen in the other, determined to coerce the successful contract team into agreeing a timetable for the work.
“Thanks very much for coming along at such short notice, gents,” Brian heard her say. “As Brian mentioned when he phoned you, time is getting on and we’re very keen for the work to start as soon as possible. So what we wanted to do tonight...”
“Yer architect hasnae sent a letter oot yet tae confirm we’ve won the contract,” Tony interrupted her.
“That’s part of the problem,” Abi snapped back. “The architect has been... well... a bit slow getting round to things. Which is why Brian phoned you. To confirm the contract in person and get things moving. Surely that’s enough until you receive the official letter.”
Attagirl! Brian mouthed as he plugged in the kettle.
“Aye, suppose,” Tony grunted, sounding miffed.
“Right,” Abi began again. “As the invitation to tender specified, we’d like all the work carried out as quickly as possible. I think the architect put in something like six weeks, which I know may not be doable with Christmas and New Year coming up. So what we’d like to do tonight is agree a start date and a finish date with each of you for your part of the contract.”
While Abi paused there for a reaction, Brian left the kettle to boil and joined her in the living room. There wasn’t a peep from the trio. All three simply shuffled their feet and seemed to study the bare floorboards.
“Okay,” Abi continued. “We’re well into November now. Ideally, we’d like the building, joinery, plastering and tiling work completed by the end of January. That’ll give us about a month to get the place decorated and the carpets laid before we move in at the beginning of March. We’re in rented accommodation at the moment and paying through the nose for it, so you’ll appreciate it’s vital for us to meet that March deadline.”
Hands in pockets, still studying the floorboards, the trio remained silent for some moments longer. Then Tony spoke up.
“The thing is wi’ ma work, I cannae get a start oan it till Deke and his boys dae their bit. Once I do get started, though, it’ll only take me a couple o’ weeks, three on the ootside. But it’s really up tae Deke tae say when he can start and finish.”
“Aye, it’s the same wi’ me, hen,” said Zebedee, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in time with his head. “I’m the tail-end Charlie, if ye ken whit I mean. I’ll need tae wait till Tony’s done, but it’ll no’ take me long efter that.”
All eyes were on Deke, who stroked his weasel chin before taking the folder from under his arm and placing it on the windowsill above the radiator. What followed for Brian was one of those surreal incidents in life he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. Deke’s hand slid into a side-pocket of his jerkin and came out holding a Blackberry. Like a pair of gunslingers, Tony and Zebedee also reached down into their pockets and produced their own Blackberries in a flash. Then, with thick, calloused fingers, all three proceeded to swipe and stab at the small, fragile screens.
“What date is it we go back efter the holidays, eh?” asked Tony.
Brian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Going back after the holidays? Are they fucking schoolboys or what?
“Monday, the seventh of January,” said Deke.
“The seventh?” queried Zebedee. “I make it the ninth.”
Tony snorted. “Aye, that’s cos yer lookin’ at the wrang year, ya tumshie.”
Zebedee took another look at his Blackberry, shrugged and put it back it in his pocket.
“The seventh of January,” Deke repeated to Abi and Brian, who stood with their mouths open. “That’s when ma boys’ll get started oan the job. An’ we’ll easily have everythin’ done afore the end o’ January.”
“An’ Les an’ me’ll be oot o’ here long afore the end o’ February,” added Tony. “Gie ye plenty o’ time for decoratin’ an’ such.”
Zebedee simply bobbed his head in agreement.
Brian was suspicious. Looks like the fly bastards rehearsed this, he thought.
It took a wee while for Abi to recover. Brian noticed that her cheeks were growing red.
“January?” she stated eventually. “What happened to December? We’re not even out of November yet, for goodness sake.”
Deke shrugged. “Aye, the problem is ma boys ur fully booked right up tae Christmas Eve. Naw, immediately efter the holidays – we’ll be freed up tae make a start then,” he said, returning his Blackberry to his pocket as if that were an end to the matter.
Tony followed suit. “I’ve got a wheen o’ work oan the now as well,” he boomed. “I cannae just down tools an’ start here. At least no’ till efter the Year.”
Trying to look innocent and hoping the blame for any delay would be attributed to the other two, Zebedee smiled and said nothing.
Abi’s cheeks had grown redder. Her eyes were flashing. “Look,” she demanded, raising her voice, “we have to give three months’ notice where we are. We were planning to do that at the end of this month. But we can’t do it if this place isn’t going to be ready by the beginning of March. It would mean having to pay rent for another three months. Or going and living in a hotel. Either way, that would amount to thousands of pounds, do you understand? Thousands of pounds that you lot would cost us because you can’t organise yourselves.”
You’re on a roll, Abi, Brian tried to encourage her with his eyes. Go for it, gal!
“No, it’s just not acceptable,” she continued, her voice even louder. “You were awarded the contract in good faith to get the work done as soon as possible, not just when it suited you. There were others who put in a tender that we could go back to, you know.”
Zebedee was studying the floor again. Tony began to say something in response, but a glance from Deke silenced him.
Deke picked up his folder from the windowsill, opened it and took out a copy of the work schedule he had submitted as part of the tender.
“Let’s have a wee look here,” he muttered as he examined the schedule.
It seemed again to Brian that the scenario had been rehearsed. Plan A was rejected, so now they’re going for Plan B.
“Right,” said Deke, looking up at Abi and Brian. “Ma boys are needin’ tae knock through four slaps...”
Brian looked puzzled. What the fuck’s a slap, then?
“Do you mean holes in the walls?” asked Abi.
Ah, holes in the walls! Thanks, Abi.
“Aye, that’s correct. One in this room tae widen that windae. One in the kitchen fur the patio doors. Then one fae the kitchen through tae the dining room. An’ the one tae widen the windae in the bedroom above the kitchen.”
“The study,” Abi corrected him.
“Aye, the em... study. Anyway, afore we knock through the slaps, we’ll need tae erect supports tae prop up the ceiling in every case. Tae make sure the ceiling disnae cave in, right? Then the supports’ll stay there until we put the new lintels in. Does that make sense so far?”
Abi and Brian nodded.
“Well, what I wid propose is fur the boys tae come in afore Christmas an’ get the supports up. What they should also be able tae dae is knock through the first slap, the one in this room. That’ll gie us a heid-start fur the work in the New Year and should guarantee us finishin’ by the end o’ January.”
It was Abi’s turn to look puzzled. “Yes, but won’t that leave a gaping hole in the wall over Christmas and New Year? We wouldn’t want the place exposed to the elements – or anything else – for all that time.”
“Naw, naw, we’ll board up the hole afore we go. It’ll be very secure. It’s somethin’ we dae a’ the time.”
“Okay,” Abi said slowly, obviously interested in Deke’s proposals.
Before Abi had the chance to ask any more, Tony said his piece. “Aye, come tae think o’ it, there’s quite a few joinery jobs I could be gettin’ oan wi’ that are no’ affected by the building work. Probably two or three days’ worth I could get done afore Christmas.”
Zebedee piped up at that point. “Ditto fur me, hen. There’s a fair amount o’ plasterin’ that disnae need tae wait fur the other work. I’ll be able tae spend a few days afore Christmas on that. Mibbe even come in between Christmas ‘n’ New Year. That alcove, fur instance,” he added, pointing to the recess behind Abi and Brian.
It was when Brian turned round to look at the recess that he remembered the kettle. He promptly went off to the kitchen to fill the teapot. When he returned, the living room was empty. Like the pied piper, Zebedee was leading Abi from room to room and pointing out the places that could be plastered first. Deke and Tony had gone upstairs to examine the state of the ceiling directly above the spot in the living room where the first “slap” would be knocked through. The meeting was over.
Ten minutes later, Abi was showing the visitors to the front door, all of them having declined a cup of tea. As she closed the door behind them, Zebedee smiled reassuringly at her and said, “Dinnae worry, hen, we’ll a’ pull thegither an’ make sure you’re in by March.”
The notebook was still in her hand, the page it was opened at still blank.
Well, that went well, Brian was about to say to her, but thought better of it. He decided to go and pour the tea instead.
Out in the night, Deke and Tony took up the width of the pavement. Zebedee bounced behind them. “March, my arse,” he sniggered.
Deke’s weasel eyes glinted in the light of a streetlamp. As he placed the spare set of house keys Abi had given him into his folder, he allowed himself the tiniest of smiles.
“Better watch oor time, boys,” he said. “We still huv tae size up the work for the next contract bid. It’s just roond the corner. An’ they’re lookin’ for an early start, tae.”
“Aye an’ they’ll be lucky, tae,” Tony laughed.