Jack of All Trades Box Set: books 1 to 3

by DH Smith

  ‘A star,’ he said, pointing to a space in the carapace. ‘Could that be Jupiter?’

  Mia peered at the lone star. ‘It’s in the wrong place. And it’s gone.’

  ‘Let’s pack up,’ he said. ‘No viewing tonight. A dud.’

  ‘What we doing tomorrow?’ she said.

  ‘I’ll take you into the school where I’m working. It’s got a library, loads of computers, playing fields and a beautiful lake with swans and ducks.’

  ‘That sounds amazing.’

  Chapter 19

  The big house was a flurry of activity. Immediately she’d got in, Ellie put all her clothes in the washing machine, including her trainers which she put into a pillow case, and wandered about barefoot and naked under a dressing gown. Cathy, a little slower, was peeved she’d missed out on the washing machine, but on reflection went for hand cleaning of her shoes, tights and skirt. Any mud, faeces, all traces of their expedition she scrubbed vigorously away. Vicky hosed out the wheelbarrow and washed the plastic sheet that had lain on the sofa. She crawled over the carpet searching for tiny drippings, soaping and watering them away.

  Ellie grabbed the shower first. The others followed. And at last all three sat in dressing gowns, drinking hot chocolate in the sitting room.

  ‘He’s well and truly dead now,’ said Cathy.

  ‘Shut up,’ exclaimed Ellie.

  ‘We might as well get used to the pattern of the rest of our lives, Ellie.’

  ‘I’m not proud of what we did, Cathy.’ She raised her palms to stop Cathy saying why she should be. ‘But I understand the necessity. It’s just, I’d rather you didn’t crow.’

  ‘I am not crowing, but the future has happened.’

  ‘How banal.’

  ‘Shut up the pair of you,’ said Vicky. ‘Let’s think where we are.’

  ‘Here, drinking hot cocoa as if nothing has happened,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Oh, that damned caretaker!’ exclaimed Cathy. ‘Catching us like that. I almost jumped out of my skin when I saw that dog.’

  ‘I saw him coming,’ said Vicky. ‘There was nothing I could do.’

  ‘He caught us in the act,’ said Ellie. ‘Daddy facedown, wheelbarrow on its side, and our muddy shoes and legs. He had us bang to rights.’

  ‘Another few minutes and we’d have been gone,’ said Vicky.

  ‘Then he might have found Daddy and dragged him out…’ said Cathy. ‘Mouth to mouth and all that. And the corpse might have come to life.’

  ‘Not the worst of outcomes,’ said Ellie.

  Cathy held up her hands. ‘Don’t get me started.’

  ‘The caretaker forced us into making a deal,’ said Vicky.

  ‘We do need a caretaker,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Do we need that one?’ said Cathy.

  ‘We do for the time being,’ mused Vicky. ‘Let him have his job back, his house. Keep him quiet. Besides which, he’s implicated anyway. For how can he say he saw us, without admitting he left your father in the lake himself.’

  ‘I don’t like having him around,’ said Cathy.

  ‘Well, say, this term, we keep him on,’ said Vicky. ‘Once the autopsy is all over, and your father is cremated… Then we can give him notice.’

  ‘He could still talk,’ said Cathy.

  ‘Unlikely,’ said her mother. ‘And if he did, who’d believe a caretaker who’d been given notice? And I dare say we can find some bad workmanship to make him look simply vindictive.’

  ‘Can’t we simply leave him in his job?’ said Ellie. ‘Fulfil our part of the bargain.’

  ‘And face him every day for the next twenty years?’ said Cathy. ‘Knowing he knows what he knows.’

  Ellie had no response. She didn’t think George and his family deserved loss of job and home. But this was her family. Her legacy. And George had seen the unseeable.

  ‘This room is clean,’ said Vicky. ‘I’ve done the carpet, wheelbarrow, all our clothes have been in the machine…’

  ‘One of us needs to look at the garden path when it’s daylight,’ said Cathy.

  ‘And your car,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Oh, what a stink shop! I’ll do it first thing in the morning…’

  ‘One other thing,’ said Vicky. ‘A priority. The wheelbarrow tyre-prints by the lake…’

  ‘Oh God,’ said Ellie. ‘What on earth are we going to do about them?’

  ‘Scrape them away,’ said Cathy.

  ‘When?’ said Vicky. ‘And who?’

  ‘I am not going down to that lake,’ said Ellie. ‘Oh no!’

  ‘Are you volunteering me, sister dear?’ said Cathy.

  ‘I am not going down there.’

  ‘One of us has to.’

  ‘Not me.’

  ‘He is well and truly dead,’ said Cathy.

  ‘Oh shut up, you grave snatcher.’

  They were silent a while. Ellie thinking of the tyre-prints and too many footprints by the lake where they’d done their work. All too close to their father’s body. Could she do it? Erase them. But she’d just washed all her clothes. And her father would be floating there, accusing. In daylight maybe… but at one in the morning?

  ‘I’ve got my car to do,’ said Cathy, ‘so it’s not fair if I have to clean up the lakeside too.’

  ‘It has to be done now,’ said Vicky. ‘Right away.’

  ‘Why?’ said Ellie.

  ‘Who knows what will happen in the morning,’ she said. ‘We must clean that area before anyone comes. And it has to be one of you two doing it.’

  Ellie looked at Cathy who smirked back at her, knowing she could do it, but why should she?

  ‘I’ll toss you for it,’ said Ellie grimly.

  ‘I don’t have to do it,’ said Cathy with a sigh, ‘but one of us has to. So, OK. A single toss. And I’m heads.’

  ‘Mummy to toss.’

  Vicky went to her handbag and sorted out a coin. She put down the bag, and placed the coin over her thumb and first finger. ‘Ready?’ she said to them both. ‘I’m not much good at this, so you’ll have to accept however I do it. A single toss.’

  She flipped. The coin spun poorly and fell to the carpet.

  ‘Tails,’ called Cathy gleefully.

  ‘Me then,’ said Ellie reluctantly. ‘What am I going to wear?’

  ‘I’ve got some shorts, a bit baggy for you, but they’ll do,’ said Vicky, ‘a T-shirt too.’

  ‘You’ll need a plank or something to brush out the marks,’ said Cathy, ‘a bucket if the mud has hardened… In fact, I’d best come with you.’

  ‘Why?’ said Ellie.

  ‘I don’t want you doing it badly.’

  Ten minutes later, both of them in ill-fitting shorts, t-shirts, flip-flops, and with various bits of gear in the wheelbarrow headed down to the lake.

  Chapter 20

  Jack drew into the car park at the front of the school building. There were three other cars there. The Head’s in his marked parking place. One of the others he knew as Ellie’s, while the third had its four doors wide open and a pair of legs in tracksuit bottoms poking out of the back seat. A bucket and a bowl of water lay nearby. Someone was obviously having a good clean out.

  ‘What do you think?’ said Jack once he’d locked up.

  They were looking at the red brick building, the high windows and gothic ornamentation about the eaves and windows, and at the pillared portico. Victorian classical, built to impress.

  ‘It’s alright,’ said Mia with a shrug, refusing to be impressed.

  The person in the car came out on hearing their voices. It was a woman in ill-fitting clothing, in her hands a large sponge. Over her hair she had a shower cap and was wearing yellow plastic gloves.

  ‘Good morning,’ called Jack.

  The woman frowned. ‘Good morning,’ she said. And returned to her work, ducking back into the back seat of the car.

  Ellie’s sister, thought Jack. Even in her oversized clothing he could see they were remarkably alike. On another occasi
on he might have easily mistaken her. Though she had rather dressed down for the occasion.

  He’d left some of his tools in the classroom and brought out another toolbox with extras. He had a last think what he might need. It was a nuisance to keep going backwards and forwards just for a screwdriver or chisel. Satisfied, they climbed the steps to the main door and went in a small side door to which the caretaker had given Jack the door code.

  They came into the marble floored vestibule. Directly in front was a wide curving staircase. To the side a glass cabinet full of silver cups and plaques. At head height around the walls were a series of wide school photos. They each had the same composition. The youngest students sat on the grass, then a rank of students sitting on chairs, behind them older students standing, and finally, presumably standing on benches, a row of the oldest students. The photos began in black and white and in the 70s colour began. On one side, above the photos, was a large portrait in a gilded frame of the current headmaster in a mortar board and holding a scroll. Directly opposite was one of his father, similarly attired.

  Their footsteps echoed in the corridor.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ whispered Mia.

  ‘On holiday,’ said Jack. ‘Some teachers might be in later.’

  ‘How come they trust you here on your own?’

  Jack laughed. ‘You have to trust a builder.’

  ‘You could be a crook,’ she said.

  ‘You can’t go about not trusting everyone,’ he said. ‘Otherwise nothing would get done. Cleaners have to come in too, plumbers. Besides, anything valuable is behind locked doors.’

  ‘Spose so.’

  They’d come to the classroom where he was working, the door open. Some of his tools lay on a dirty sheet on a table. He took his toolbox in. Mia followed.

  ‘I’m working here,’ he said. ‘So this is where you’ll find me.’

  Mia went to the window.

  ‘This is where the burglars broke in,’ she said. ‘Then smashed the classroom door to get out…’ She followed the crooks’ trail into the corridor. ‘Then broke that door to the computer room.’

  ‘It all makes work for the working man,’ he said.

  ‘Why weren’t the burglar alarms on?’

  Jack laughed. ‘You should be in the police force.’

  They went down the corridor to the library. Ellie had said she’d open it for him. Had she remembered? She had.

  They went in. It was as large as a medium hall with bookshelves round most of the sides, and aisles of them running parallel. Here and there were tables with computers.

  ‘All yours,’ he said.

  ‘It’s massive,’ she said.

  ‘There might be one or two books you haven’t read in here,’ he said.

  ‘DVDs, all along there,’ she said, and turned a computer on. It rapidly sprang into life.

  ‘I’ll leave you,’ he said. ‘You know where I am. We’ll have tea at 10 o’clock.’

  He left, a little worried at leaving her on her own. But there were loads of books and movies. He was concerned about a whole day of this for her. Could he finish today? Not if he had to entertain her. He’d need at least tomorrow morning then. And you never knew with building work. Something you didn’t expect came up, or a part you didn’t have.

  Jack returned to the classroom. He had to put the lock in. He took the new one out of its plastic. And began measuring and marking up the door where it would go.

  Chapter 21

  Jenny was emptying drawers on the bed, packing the clothing into plastic bags. She’d already done the bookshelves, there was the wardrobe still to do, the under-bed drawers, and all the toys left about which she’d distinctly said tidy up before you go to Nan’s. Though more in hope than expectation.

  Ten days she’d had of this. She was utterly sick of it. Destroying the life they’d had here. This morning she’d begun work in tears. Another room to be stripped clean. The place they were going to only had two bedrooms. It was poky, the wallpaper horrible. The kitchen too small, the garden a pocket handkerchief and a dirty one at that. A stopgap, she hoped. But then they had to find work… She could see nothing bright ahead.

  It was like digging your own grave before they shot you. There were no benefits. As if it were a punishment for a sin known only to a god who didn’t respond to mortals, simply scourged them.

  She emptied the last drawers from the chest of drawers. Some of the socks were hardly worth keeping. She threw a torn vest on the floor.

  George came in with two cups of tea. He handed her one and sank onto the bed with his own.

  ‘You haven’t done anything this morning,’ she said, ‘and you look shattered already.’

  ‘I can hardly put one leg in front of the other,’ he said.

  ‘You were tossing and turning all night.’

  ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

  She sighed. ‘This does get you down. But there’s no help for it, George. We’ve got to do it. And you can’t leave it all to me.’

  ‘Leave it,’ he said, a hand on her arm.

  She looked at him as if he had sworn at her. ‘What?’

  ‘I said leave it.’ He held her arm more tightly.

  ‘The house has to be ready when the furniture van comes on Saturday,’ she said. ‘Let go of my arm.’

  ‘He’s dead,’ he said.

  ‘George, what are you talking about?’

  ‘Mr DeNeuve is dead.’

  Suddenly she was alert, looking around the room, thinking of everything they had done, thinking there was a spark of a chance…

  ‘How do you know?’ she said.

  If he’d been less tired he might not have begun, but the first words had been said and he had to tell her that things had changed for them. And he told her about last night and his encounter at the lake while he was walking the dog.

  ‘I said give me the house back and our jobs – and I haven’t seen anything.’

  ‘They killed him? Mrs DeNeuve, Cathy and Ellie?’ she queried, eyes wide.

  ‘His missus and two daughters. Yep. Threw him blind drunk in the lake.’

  ‘Is he there now?’

  ‘I haven’t looked,’ he said, ‘but I can’t see how he wouldn’t be.’

  ‘It’s murder,’ she said. ‘And you’re implicated.’

  ‘You said you hated the old fart.’

  ‘I didn’t say kill him.’

  ‘I didn’t kill him.’

  ‘But you didn’t save him.’ She put a hand over his. ‘And you know who did kill him.’

  ‘So do you.’

  They were silent a while. Neither drank their tea. Jenny looked about the room, at the plastic bags filled, at the toys, at the wardrobe, shut and forbidding. She imagined the lake, the coots and swans, and something floating… No – not the lake. She would not see that.

  ‘And Mrs DeNeuve really said we’ve got the house back?’ she said.

  ‘She did.’

  ‘All this…’ she began, swinging her arm round to indicate the room and contents, ‘can stop?’

  ‘This is our house, Jenny. We live here again.’

  Her hands slapped to her cheeks. ‘My God, my God – I cannot believe we can stop packing.’

  Suddenly she was weeping. He pulled her to him and held her.

  ‘No more packing, love. But no unpacking for a while. We don’t know he’s dead. Get it? So if anyone comes, we are taking a break. That’s all.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said. All her attention had been on packing. On the move. And now there was no move. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

  ‘I’ll hoe the garden,’ she said. ‘Then give it a good water.’

  ‘Isn’t that a bit suspicious?’ he said.

  She smiled at him. ‘No, no, George. It’s what gardeners do. You leave the garden in good shape for whoever moves in.’

  Chapter 22

  Ellie left the school house with her laptop. She’d had another shower, shampooed again, the works, as
if to wash last night completely away. Her clothes were freshly clean. Her and Cathy’s shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops from their work at the lakeside were whirring in the faithful washing machine. Mother was along the garden path searching out any drippings.

  It was a lovely day. The sky a squinting blue, a few fluffy clouds left behind. She looked ahead, purposely not directing her gaze at the lake as she strolled along the path to the school. Not that she would likely have seen the corpse through the trees, but you never knew, things float on water. What was done, was now utterly done, but you don’t have to look and check. It wasn’t a dream. But it yet had to be revealed to people at large.

  This was limbo, the patch of time when they must pretend all is right with the world, and go on as if nothing untoward has happened. Until someone, none of the family of course, found the body and they could react suitably. Her current task was to prime the someone. If it wasn’t to be family or the caretaker, then all that was left was the builder. An innocent party. She would subtly persuade him to go down to the lake.

  In the car park, Cathy was cleaning the inside of her car. When Ellie came through, she was wringing out a sponge, wearing an ancient tracksuit of their mother’s.

  ‘This is the fourth change of water,’ she said. ‘Can you smell anything?’

  Ellie poked her head in the rear of the car and sniffed. She could smell detergent fragrance and that was all. She put her head down the gully between the front and back seats. No smell of shit, vomit or urine. No detritus of the human body.

  ‘Immaculate,’ she said.

  Cathy was holding a hand vacuum cleaner. ‘I’ll give it a last going over. And then that’s that.’ She pressed her lips. ‘Your builder’s in. And brought a little girl with him.’

  ‘His daughter.’

  ‘What right has he…’ she began.

  ‘I gave him permission,’ interrupted Ellie.

  ‘You would. Of course,’ said Cathy. ‘Him, being your builder.’

  ‘I am going to casually suggest he might go down to the lake for his tea break…’

  ‘Don’t make it too obvious,’ said Cathy.

  ‘I’m not totally incompetent.’