Jack of All Trades Box Set: books 1 to 3

by DH Smith

  She dipped a shortbread in the tea. The idea excited her. There were opportunities. It simply required vision. And patience.

  Chapter 46

  With only two eggs in the fridge, a couple of slices of bread and a scraping of margarine, Jack was just able to make scrambled egg on toast. Normally he’d have two slices himself, but he had a guest. There was just enough milk for tea. There was the Indian meal leftovers, but hardly breakfast. Tonight’s dinner.

  As he cooked, he thought of the conversation he and Ellie hadn’t had. Her sister cleaning up by the lake. How to start?

  He tidied the sitting room table by moving all the crockery and mess from last night’s meal into the kitchen. He’d sort it out when he got back from work. Close the door on it, while they ate breakfast.

  By the time he had the frugal meal on the table, Ellie had showered. He didn’t usually bother to have one himself in the morning. A wash would do. He’d shower after work to wash the day’s dust off.

  Ellie was chirpy. She’d caught up on sleep and the shower had invigorated her.

  ‘You need a new toothbrush,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll put it on the list.’ He took a sip of tea, then said, ‘Were you at your mother’s place the night before last?’

  She gave him a glare. ‘I’ve told you already, I went home.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me.’

  ‘I did.’ She sighed heavily. ‘And what conspiracy are you constructing now, Jack?’

  He ignored her, he’d gone too far to not push on.

  ‘So it was just your mother and Cathy with your father?’

  She slammed down her knife and fork. ‘Stop it, Jack. First it’s George. And now Mummy and Cathy… All involved in drowning Daddy. What sort of warped mind have you got?’

  He didn’t want to tell her what Mia had seen, feeling guilty enough that his own daughter had somehow got down there to find the body.

  He said, ‘It’s easy enough to drown a drunken man.’

  ‘And you think my mother and sister did that? Or was it the caretaker and his wife? How about his dog too?’

  ‘The police obviously don’t think it’s that simple…’ he began.

  ‘The police are the police,’ she shouted. ‘That’s what they do. They are not some fly by night builder with a pet theory… Don’t you ever think? What effect do you think this has on me, implicating my family? On and on, you go. Can you never stop?’

  She rose and ran into the bedroom.

  Jack was deflated. Though what had he expected? She was right. He was putting her family in the frame without telling her what evidence he had. But if he told her what Mia had said… That wouldn’t work either. This was crazy. Ruining the best relationship he’d had in ages. He must shut up. Tell the police of his suspicions, not test them out on Ellie.

  He went into the bedroom. She was sitting on the bed, her back to him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  He put his hands on her shoulders. She shook them off.

  ‘I talk too much,’ he said.

  She turned about. ‘I don’t mind you talking, Jack. In fact, I love you talking. But not about this. It’s my family. Don’t you see? It’s where I’ve spent most of my life. You’ve been at Bramley just a few days…’

  He sat beside her and took her hand.

  ‘Your scrambled egg is getting cold,’ he said.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ she said. ‘You can talk about my egg.’

  ‘And you have a lovely nose,’ he said. ‘It fits so beautifully between your eyes.’

  She slapped him on the thigh.

  ‘And you have a lovely tongue,’ she said, ‘and when it’s not talking nonsense, it fits so neatly in my ear.’

  They embraced. As he held her and kissed, he thought he’d best not apologise again. It would only remind her. Lips still on hers, he began peeling off her t-shirt.

  She pushed him away. ‘No. Not now. I’ve too much to do.’ She rose and straightened her clothing. ‘Come on, let’s get in to work. Or people will talk.’

  He said, ‘What about your scrambled egg?’

  ‘It’ll be congealed,’ she said.

  They went into the sitting room. The egg didn’t look that appetizing, but Jack, without sitting down, rapidly finished his. She demurred on hers. So he ate that too. And washed them down with a swig of tea.

  ‘I’ll have completed the work this morning,’ he said.

  ‘Then how about a picnic at lunchtime?’ she said. She clapped her hands. ‘We could go onto the island. There’s a little shelter on the hill. We could eat – and who knows what might follow?’

  She took his hand and dragged him to the door. A last mouthful of tea, and he left the cup on the side as they exited the flat.

  Chapter 47

  Everything was as Jack had left it the day before. The broken door was lying in the corridor. The smashed piece of doorjamb neatly sawn out to leave an oblong for a new piece to fit in. Ellie was in her classroom just a little way up. They’d left on good terms after their breakfast squabble. In the drive over, he’d taken care to keep off the forbidden. He’d told her about life with Alison, how they met and how the marriage had broken down due to his drinking. These days, sometimes they got on and sometimes quarrelled like children in a playground. He told her about his mother, about what he recalled of their break, too much lost in his addled state. And about making it up yesterday with Mia in tow. It would never be a close relationship. She was too churchy, too judgemental. Maybe he was too. A family trait. But she was his mother.

  Ellie had told him more about her continuous feud with her sister. It went way back into earliest childhood. So much of what she’d done at school, she’d done in reaction to Cathy. Playing hockey instead of lacrosse, not having anything to do with science or maths. And often vice versa – Ellie learnt piano, Cathy would have nothing to do with any musical instrument. Or acting, which Ellie did at school and then at University, playing Lady Macbeth in her final year, a part that got her a mention in The Times with a comment about her ‘devious joy’ in her manipulations of her husband. Cathy, instead, took up archery. And got cups for it which she flaunted before Ellie when she came back with her press cuttings.

  Nothing, it seemed, was ever done for itself.

  Jack thought about his and Ellie’s relationship. Was he there because Cathy could never stomach someone like him? A bit of rough to be shoved under her snobby nose. He hoped not, but the pettiness of the twins forced him to see that element must be there. Cathy would never in her worst nightmare consider an affair with a builder, so Ellie must have one, just to slight her.

  So what did that reduce their relationship to? Perpetual point scoring. No, he would not believe it of Ellie. She couldn’t be so callous, so self serving. They were genuinely attracted to each other. She hadn’t come over last night to have a go at Cathy, but because she wanted to be with him. It was not as if Cathy was watching them through CCTV.

  Then again, maybe she was. With Ellie as her camera.

  Work, the antidote to this circular thinking. Get busy, saw and chisel. He needed to bring the new door and wood from the basement. Get on with it, and stop this she loves me, she loves me not rubbish.

  Weren’t twins supposed to be best mates? Always in each other’s company. Dressing the same, phantom pregnancies. He couldn’t still his head. That should be a warning. A flare should go up when you can’t get someone out of your head.

  He set off down the corridor, walking rapidly, passing Ellie’s classroom. She was busy typing into her laptop. He would not distract her. Too easily they could end up in the stockroom cupboard – and really, he had to get this job done. He was near penniless.

  Love schmuv.

  He took the stairs to the basement and switched the light on. The basement had a low ceiling with an assortment of pipes running across. There was a series of interconnected rooms, he had no idea how far it extended, possibly under the whole school. This section was quite full
with old desks and tables, cupboards, paint and timber and the doors he was after. There were the computers that George had brought down yesterday, piled on each other, quite a hurried stacking. What went on there, he could to some extent work out. A faked robbery. There had been George openly bringing in the computers to stop the cops finding them. But what did he intend doing with them? He recalled Cathy watching him pile them on his barrow, and George seemingly not giving a hoot. Was it an insurance fraud, with maybe some or all of the DeNeuves in on it?

  Oh, what was it to him? Let George make a few quid.

  And then he saw the wheelbarrow.

  Upside down, immaculately clean as if it had just come out of the factory. It was by the door he’d come down to get – and he knew that the wheelbarrow hadn’t been here yesterday when he’d gone down to get a door for Ellie’s classroom. So why had someone put it here since?

  It was quite a flimsy thing. It wouldn’t last a day on a building site. Lightweight, as if for an elderly gardener.

  Chapter 48

  At the edge of the car park, Jack could see down to the lake where a policeman was taking the tape off the stakes. A second policeman was following him and pulling out the stakes. It was clear they had finished, and would be going soon. He thought of going down to them and telling them his suspicions, but no – they would just be junior officers. The stripes had long gone.

  He watched them a while and wondered what they’d found in their searches. Cathy had been cleaning up yesterday morning, but had been interrupted when Mia came. Might Cathy have missed a bit of wheelbarrow track? Not much point looking now, it would be well trampled.

  It was a beautiful day, the sun shining in a clear blue sky, sparkling on the vibrating lake surface. Two majestic swans were by the island, while a family of coots swam in a line along the reeds. So peaceful, with the body cleared away, and the cops soon to be gone.

  Jack continued to the gatehouse. As he went up the path, he saw the front door was open. It had never been closed since he’d come. Maybe at night. The hallway was less full of boxes and paraphernalia.

  ‘Hello,’ he called in.

  George came out of a side door and gave him a broad smile.

  ‘Hello, Jack. Nice to see you. Come in for a cuppa.’

  He ushered Jack in, and as he passed the sitting room he noted the shelves had been filled. They went through the kitchen.

  ‘Go and sit in the garden. I’ll put the kettle on.’

  Jack went outside. Instead of sitting down at the patio table, he went to the vegetable patch at the rear of the garden. At the front were two chest high rows of tomatoes, the fruits from green to deep red. Behind a line of bean poles dripping with runner beans. And there at the side was the wheelbarrow, the reason for his visit.

  They had a heavy one, a builder’s type. Inside were drying out weeds, a hoe and a watering can.

  ‘Hello, Jack.’

  He turned about. It was Jenny coming across.

  ‘I’m admiring your vegetables,’ he said.

  ‘They’re doing so well,’ she said. ‘Would you like some tomatoes?’

  ‘Love some. Home grown always taste best.’

  ‘Drop in when you’re leaving.’

  He accompanied her back to the patio.

  ‘Things have changed round here,’ he said. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but you seem to be unpacking.’

  ‘Oh, isn’t it wonderful.’ She gave a full smile of relief. ‘You wouldn’t believe how miserable I have been the last few weeks.’

  ‘So what brought it all about?’ said Jack.

  They sat down at the garden table.

  ‘George went to see Mrs DeNeuve yesterday. On the off chance. And to our amazement, she did an about face. Re-employed us, house back. And I’ll tell you what was funny, when George first told me. I wasn’t happy at all. I was just thinking of all the work we’d done and all the unpacking we had to do. If anything, I was even more depressed. It was a couple of hours later, it filtered in. It was over. This is ours again. Our home.’

  She seemed ten years younger, thought Jack. The stress had gone, plus a good night’s sleep. She was actually quite attractive. The last time he’d spoken to her she’d been so gloomy, so non-stop critical of the DeNeuves, that it wearied him listening to her. This morning, she was a different person.

  George brought out the tea things on a tray. He set it on the table: three mugs, the teapot, milk and some chocolate biscuits.

  ‘I’ve got to let the cops out,’ he said. ‘They’re leaving.’ And he ran back into the kitchen.

  ‘Getting back to normal at last,’ said Jenny.

  ‘I’m very pleased for you,’ said Jack. ‘I could see how unhappy you were the other day.’

  ‘I was so low, Jack…’

  He let her run on, just half listening. He’d seen what he’d come for. The Groves had a wheelbarrow in their garden. They certainly didn’t need another, so it was clear who the one in the cellar belonged to.

  Jenny poured out the tea.

  ‘George never gets plates,’ she said, and was about to go in and get some.

  ‘Forget it, Jenny. I’m not a DeNeuve.’

  She laughed.

  And they chatted about the house, about getting their jobs back. George joined them a little while later. Jack considered asking him about the computers in the cellar. But thought best not add a sour note to the occasion, but enjoy tea on the patio in the sunshine.

  Chapter 49

  A staff meeting in just over two weeks, reflected Ellie, when she must have all the curricular work completed. She had discussed it all with the English team at the end of term and through the email list during the holiday. Quite a bit was the same as last year, but some changes in set books, different demands from exam boards. And some scope for personal choice. Cathy was working at the house, so Ellie wouldn’t work there, couldn’t work there. Unavoidable meetings in the kitchen, flash rows and snide remarks that left her saturated with anger, stuck in what she should have said and hadn’t. Not that working here didn’t have its problems, with Jack only up the corridor.

  But not quite the same problems.

  She did like him. If only he wasn’t so nosy. This morning, she’d warned him off pretty heavily. Of course, that could have had the reverse effect. ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks’. Hamlet, Act 3 Scene 2.

  She’d better ease up. Try listening, as Cathy might say. Bitch. Or maybe just nod sweetly. Not always so easy.

  At least the police had gone. She’d heard them talking in the car park. Then the cars had driven away. And she’d popped out to look – and had seen that they’d gone from the lake. No longer a crime scene. No more of them crawling about in those white plastic overall things, looking for heaven knows what. And hopefully not finding anything much.

  To work. She was so easily distracted. She hadn’t used to be this way. At university, she could work through the night shutting the world out. It was her sister, being so close to her these days. Cathy always did this to her.

  Go away.

  Macbeth or Romeo and Juliet for Year 8? She preferred Macbeth. A good man gone wrong. She could sympathise. The Scottish play then. Pride and Prejudice or Great Expectations? She’d done Pride and Prejudice for four years in a row. Heaven save her from the Bennets. She’d give Pip a run out and release herself from three terms of drudgery.

  She was busy typing when Jack came in the classroom, pushing a wheelbarrow.

  She stared at him in surprise.

  ‘Why have you brought me my mother’s wheelbarrow?’

  ‘I found it in the cellar,’ he said.

  She scratched her head. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It wasn’t there yesterday morning when I was last down there.’

  She was wary now, wondering what was coming.

  ‘Meaning?’ she said.

  He sat on the front desk, a few feet from her.

  ‘You went home the other night,’ he began, ‘leaving y
our sister and mother at home with your very drunk dad…’

  ‘Don’t start again, Jack,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Hear me out,’ he said, holding up a hand. ‘The two of them dragged him out the house and ferried him along the path in this wheelbarrow…’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I’ve never seen a wheelbarrow so clean, except in a shop,’ he said. ‘And why’s it suddenly in the cellar?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because they were afraid the cops might see it.’

  ‘It doesn’t follow, Jack.’

  ‘So you tell me why it was in the cellar?’

  She could think of no reason to offer him. It was there for the reason Jack had guessed. To keep it from the eyes of the cops. And she couldn’t come up with an alternative.

  ‘Keen gardeners use their wheelbarrows in their gardens,’ said Jack.

  ‘Go on with your scenario,’ she said, her neck itchy. She shifted uncomfortably, knowing she must keep her temper.

  ‘Where was I?’ said Jack. ‘Right. From the house they wheelbarrowed him down the path. Then put him in Cathy’s car and drove down to the lake…’

  ‘How do you know he went in her car?’

  ‘Because we saw her in the car park scrubbing the car out as if she’d driven through a sewage farm. Your father was a stinky mess. I know, I wheeled him to your place. And Cathy wanted every particle of him washed away.’

  ‘She often washes her car at school,’ said Ellie feebly.

  ‘Coincidence on coincidence,’ said Jack. ‘Sometimes there’s just too many. Let me go on. When they got to the lake, they put him back in the wheelbarrow, pushed him to the edge and tipped him in. The perfect crime, until George turned up. Walking the dog, I suspect. Couldn’t sleep, stressed out about moving and losing his job…’