“Could be.” he smiled. Wilma frowned.
“He was having trouble with his toggles or bobbles or something so I told him to go and sort himself out in the car park where I can’t see him, the dirty sod.” she said, and returned to whatever it was that she was reading.
“Great.” Sighed Ted, and left through the home front doors. Off to one side of the car park stood a tall man dressed in what was obviously some sort of scout leader’s uniform. His vast number of badges sparkled brightly in the weak sunlight as Ted crossed over to him. Ted felt slightly embarrassed for what was obviously the scout leader. He had a long pair of khaki shorts on that somehow or another still managed to expose his knees, as well as a battered hat and a large neck tie around his khaki shirt that he was obviously having some difficulty with. Ted thought for a moment that he was extremely glad that Ray was not with him. He peered at Ted as he approached through a small pair of wire framed round glasses that were obviously of a very strong prescription. Ted thought that he looked like an owl in a hat.
“Mr Wigall?” asked Ted politely as he approached the man, holding out his hand. The man reddened as Ted and he shook hands.
“Awfully sorry.” he said in a high pitched, squeaky voice. Ted bit his lip instinctively to prevent himself from laughing. The scout leader continued. “I seem to be having a little trouble with my woggle.” Ted bit his lip much harder.
“Trouble with your woggle?” he managed to get out, whilst at the same time checking with his tongue that no blood was running down his chin.
“Indeed.” said Wigall. “I caught it in the car door.”
“Mumph.” said Ted. “I’m sorry to hear that Mr Wigall. Your woggle seems okay, though.” he paused. “Despite the car door that is.”
Ted thought that this meeting was taking a very strange turn. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take without bursting in to laughter. “Shall we go and look at the tree?” he asked, striding off in the direction of the oak, leaving the scout leader bobbing along behind him as he crossed the lawn suppressing the urge to laugh himself stupid.
“Quite!” he heard the scout leader behind him say but did not dare turn around to see if he was following him. As Ted neared the tree with Wigall in hot pursuit he saw Dorven climb down from the lower branches of the oak and descend to the ground. Several small lopped branches lay around the base of the tree. Ted marvelled once again at Dorven’s dexterity. Despite his lack of height he had managed somehow to knock several pins into the trunk of the tree, and by using these almost like a ladder he managed to ascend and descend the tree. Ted noticed that he also had a large saw strapped to his back. Ted was not surprised to see that the large (in fact, huge) axe that the short man had embedded in the rock at the base of the tree was still there. Dorven had told Ted since the night he put it there that even he could not move it. Ted and several other residents had tried to remove it from the rock but it hadn’t budged an inch.
“Afternoon, Dorven.” he greeted the short man, who replied with a brief nod of his head. At that moment Wigall caught up panting loudly, and stood beside Ted staring up through the by now thinned out branches of the oak.
“Dorven, this is Mr Wigall.” said Ted, introducing the scout leader.
“Why’s he dressed like a wood elf?” scowled Dorven menacingly.
“Sorry.” said Wigall, though he was not at all sure why he was apologising. “I am the scout leader for the local scout group.” he said, and held his hand out for Dorven to shake. Dorven however, just stood there glaring.
“Not a wood elf, then?” he asked, his arm staying steadfastly at his side.
“Not a wood elf.” said Ted, and Dorven brightened slightly and shook the scout leader’s hand.
“What’s that about your neck, then?” he asked as Wigall winced at the ferocity of the short man's grip.
“It’s my woggle.” Grimaced the scout leader as Dorven finally released his mangled fingers. Ted thought he actually saw Dorven’s eyes cross at that point.
“Wigall’s woggle.” he said quietly, and the scout leader nodded just once.
“Excuse me just a moment.” said the short man and almost sprinted across the lawn and disappeared behind the wide trunk of the oak tree that towered above them. Ted and Wigall stood there in silence as loud laughter erupted from the other side of the tree, along with several loud exclamations of mirth.
Ted raised his eyebrows at Wigall, who just stood there waiting, as if this was a usual event. Eventually Dorven emerged from the other side of the tree and approached the two men once again. Ted could not help but notice he was wiping tears from his eyes.
“Well met.” said Dorven, desperately not trying to catch Ted’s eye. “I take it you’ve come to see the tree.” Ted agreed that this was indeed the case, and led the two of them around the tree trunk, marvelling at the width of its base, and the large, long branches that rose above their heads.
“It’s certainly a very impressive tree.” said the scoutmaster in his usual squeaky voice. Ted noticed that Dorven’s face was unmoving, almost as if it were set in stone.
“The plan is to trim the smaller branches so that the remaining larger ones form almost a hand.” said Dorven, explaining the construction to the scoutmaster. “We’ll build the tree house floor onto that, and that will also in turn be supported by a ring of wooden pillars we will mount around the tree. They will help with the construction of the winding stairs too.”
“Perfect tree for a tree house.” sighed Ted. “Though I suspect we may need a hand in building it. Which is where you come in, Mr Wigall.”
“Well, I think it best to say here and now that we are scouts, not construction workers, Mr Rogers.” Ted smiled.
“I know that.” he said. “We’re not asking you to do that. Our plans on that front are not quite set in stone as it were. But I thought that not only would it be a good experience for your scout group, but that you could help us out by moving materials to where they are needed. Help with ropes and the like.” Wigall looked up at the tree and smiled as if in agreement.
“That would be true.” he said, considering the proposal, before finally coming to a decision. “I think we could help out with that.” Then he seemed to have a particularly exciting idea. “We could even have a special tree house badge made.” he said excitedly. Ted thought he may have even been about to clap his hands together. To his relief he didn’t. Ted shook Wigall’s hand and leaving Dorven to his branch lopping he escorted him back to his car, promising that he would be in touch.
As he went back inside the home he passed Ethel, or Fork Handles as Ray had dubbed her, who was just coming out of the lift. “Tree house all set for my birthday?” she asked, with a wink, before finishing, “End of February.”
“It certainly will.” said Ted as he got into the lift. “It certainly will.” Ethel seemed consoled by this and went on her way. He sighed slightly under his breath. He certainly hoped it would be ready in time, anyway!
***
The end of September had arrived before the planning application was approved. Ted was nearly in despair by now, and was on the phone nearly every day until it passed, apparently with flying colours. It seemed to Ted that planning departments seemed to move at their own pace, and nothing could be done to put a rocket underneath them. He had even tried phoning Oliver Nudshall, but although the council officer had said that he would do his best it didn’t seem to make the slightest bit of difference at all. Nevertheless, Ted was as good as word, and when Nudshall called him on the day the application passed to say that he had managed to secure almost all of the materials required to complete the build from local businesses who would, for a small amount of publicity also help build it, Ted caved in and allowed Nudshall to come around and have his picture taken pointing at the tree. It appeared the next week in the local free newspaper and Ted was battered with phone calls for a full three days, lots of which were from local people who were keen to get involved.
Ted began
to realise that the entire project was in danger of running away with him, and decided to appoint people with more experience than him to run the build. It turned out that Sherbet Lemon as well as having experience as an architect had also run his own construction company at some point in his life, and so Ted and the committee gave him the role of project construction manager. The Pacamac Kid (apart from his collection of rainwear) had some experience as an accountant, and so Ted persuaded him to run the role of quantity surveyor on the build, determining how much they needed for each material, how much they had so far, and so on. Dave from the shop decided he would help him out with this, though Ray had expressed the opinion that this was only in case there was anything left over at the end of the build that he could “do something with” as he put it.
In the second week of October wood began to arrive from various sources, and Dorven gave precise instructions to the delivery drivers about where it was to be stacked. The Pacamac Kid even turned up with a clipboard, making careful notes as the materials began to mount up. Through all of this Boniface and Vanderbilt could often be seen squinting through the curtains of the home, scowling at the activity in the grounds of the home. To Ted’s considerable surprise, and no doubt Vanderbilt and Boniface’s great disappointment, he received a letter from the management company that ran the home, congratulating all of the residents on their enthusiasm for the project. Ray noted dryly that Boniface was off sick for about a week after the letter arrived, it now being placed in a place of great prominence on the noticeboard of the ground floor lounge.
The only other piece of gossip that ran around the residential home at this time was when Dorven came across two middle aged men clambering out of the home’s garden late one night with several garden ornaments under their arms. By the time the police had taken them away it appeared that they had met with a slight accident on several sets of stairs despite the lack of said stairs being anywhere near where Dorven had come across them. It seemed that they were almost relieved to be taken away in a police car. Upon searching their home many of the missing garden ornaments had been found and returned to the home. Boniface had insisted upon pressing charges, though Dorven didn’t seem that bothered at all. He did insist, however, the police kept hold of the statue of the wood elf. “As evidence.” He explained to them with a wink.
Finally the committee met and agreed that although the time of the year was not ideal, they had promised Ethel that the tree house would be ready by the end of February, and so they agreed to start work the next week. Ted contacted all of the local firms who had volunteered their services and the scoutmaster too. Having drawn up a rota of sorts everything on paper looked as if it would work. Dorven declared that the tree was trimmed and ready, and so work commenced.
Initially work proceeded slowly. Sherbet Lemon had liaised with the builders and it was decided that the best place to start would be sinking the wooden piles that would support the floor, and building the staircase around the tree. Work continued on and off on a five day rota to complete this with different people turning up all the time to take over from workmen already on the job. Ted thought it was odd that they all seemed to have considerable enthusiasm for the project, but Ray put him straight.
“It’s easy, really, Dusty.” he said, using the nickname he had started to call Ted a month or so before. “Every kid wants a tree house. Hardly any one of them will get one. Wish fulfilment.” he said, “plain and simple.” Ted thought about it and was forced to agree.
Time seemed to slow down as November arrived, and with fewer hours of daylight and frequent poor weather the build slowed to a halt. Eventually, however all of the piles were in and a staircase that at the moment went nowhere rose around the tree majestically, seeming to rise higher around the trunk of the oak almost daily.
Most of the workmen who arrived on the job for the first time were amazed to see Dorven’s axe standing a little way off from the tree, embedded in the large stone boulder a good six inches in to its blade. Without fail every single one of them tried but failed to move it. This went on for their first few visits to the site, and then eventually it became just another part of the scenery. Dorven took this in his stride, shouting encouragement as each one of them tried to remove the axe, but it was no big surprise when they failed completely.
“Never trust a man who, when left alone with a tea cosy, doesn’t try and put it on his head.” said Dorven one day darkly, as he, Ted and Ray were stood watching a workman straining at the axe, trying to remove it from the stone.
“Sorry?” said Ray.
“It’s just a human nature thing, laddie.” explained Dorven. “You’re all very good at it.”
As the weather worsened in December, the decision was taken to close down the build until after Christmas. To Ted it seemed a logical place to stop, and after a very wet day watching the build so far getting soaked by the latest downpour, The Pacamac Kid decided to cover the work so far with tarpaulins (he was forced to concede that even his collection of Pacamacs wouldn’t stretch that far, no matter how many he had) and wait until the next year to restart the building.
Christmas came and went, and Ted began to panic. By the second week in January they were ready to start again, but they had so much to do if the tree house was to be completed by the end of February.
“We’ll get it done, Dusty!” said Ray in his usual enthusiastic fashion. “Just a floor, a roof and a few walls to throw up.” he said.
“Well, we’ll be alright as long as they don’t do it in that order.” sighed Ted despondently.
“Don’t worry, Mr Rogers!” said Ray in a mock military voice. “We shall be in a state of total readiness verrrry soon!”
“Very goot.” said Ted, laughing. “I thank you for your concern, Mr...” and he trailed off into silence.
“Ray!” he said, laughing. “I don’t know what your last name is.” Ray burst out laughing as Ted carried on. “Blimey. Never even noticed! What’s your last name, Ray?”
Ray winked broadly. “Just call me Ray, Dusty. Just Ray.” and the pair of them laughed aloud at this.
***
Scouts hung from ropes attached to the branches of the tree like small camouflage coloured Christmas decorations, their woggles blowing in the cold breeze like the wings of welly clad angels. Wigall stood nearby, supervising them, but his efforts to instil order (or at least to keep the scouts’ feet on the ground) were all in vain. As soon as he managed to persuade one group of scouts hanging on to a rope hung from the tree to stay firmly on the ground, another one nearby would suddenly be airborne. Red faced and squeaking, Wigall was a man in perpetual motion, running around the trunk of the tree as scouts whirled through the air all about him. He had the distinct look of a man caught in a snow globe of his own creation.
In the lower branches of the oak various carpenters and builders were dotted about the branches, catching the wood the scouts were mostly trying to hoist above to them, whilst at the same time laying it down to construct the floor. Ted knew that the tree house was going to be quite large in floor size, but it was only when he saw the actual size of it that he realised just how big it was going to be. As the floor slowly began to take shape, finally being attached to both the tree and the wooden pillars that would support it, Ted began to feel that they were now getting somewhere.
“Looking good, Dusty.” said Ray beside him. Ted had spent quite a bit of time over Christmas trying to find out what Ray’s surname was, but he still had no more idea of what it was than when he had first started. The only real lead he had of course was Wilma on reception who would have all of the resident’s details to hand as part of her job. There, however, he had drawn a complete blank. She had totally refused to help him.
“Data protection.” she said, turning him down flatly. “Apart from that, knowing someone’s name gives you power over them. Wouldn’t do at all.” then sniffing loudly, “Sorry.” which she didn’t sound. Not at all.
“Well I know your name.” Ted had shouted def
iantly.
“No you don’t.” Wilma had smiled.
“It’s on your bloody badge!” Ted had shouted. Wilma had looked down at the badge on her lapel as if she had noticed it for the first time.
“Oh that.” she had said, and Ted too had smiled.
“That’s not my real name.” he remembered her smiling sweetly. “I’m not that daft!” Ted then had wandered away from the desk, resisting the urge to hold his head in his hands.
“They’re all bloody nutters in here.” he had muttered to himself, but he was no more the wiser as to what Ray’s last name was.
“Yes.” said Ted. “I think we may just be ready for the end of February.” with that he noticed Ethel swathed in what looked to be several coats just by the home entrance. As he saw her she caught his eye and she gave him a big thumbs up. “Nothing like a vote of confidence” said Ted and Ray laughed. Dorven strode up to them, having given several flying scouts and one indignant scoutmaster a very wide berth.
“Going well?” he asked, eying the carpenters up above in the tree carefully.
“Seems to be.” said Ray. “Once the floor is in the rest of it should be a bit of a doddle, I would imagine.” he finished.
“It will be the hoist that will be the hardest bit.” said Ted.
“Lift.” corrected Ray. Dorven smiled at the disagreement over what to actually call it.
“Whatever you call it, it’s made of wood and rope.” said the gardener. “That’s good enough for me.”
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and by the time it was getting dark the carpenters announced that the floor was complete. There was a ripple of applause from the small crowd who had decided to brave the weather and everyone retired indoors to warm up.
January became February, and excitement began to show on the faces of the residents of the home. Tempers became frayed too with those more closely involved with the build, and Ray at one point declared that he was going to re-christen Sherbet lemon as “grumpy old sod” and The Pacamac Kid as “Doctor gloomy.”
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