The Doughnut Man

by Paul Kelly

  Joe scratched his head. He wasn’t sure himself how he would be able to do it, without first telling Freddie and he didn’t want to do that. NO, he wasn’t sure at all . . but he knew a man who did . . . and he was sure.

  The works foreman was a red-faced, pop-eyed, bald short creature, according to the men who

  worked under him, with a rear and a tummy like a rhinoceros . . . and as Joe approached Shifty pants, with his cap in his hand, all humble-like . . as his mate Taffi Ruskin had advised, he felt rather nervous and lost for words. The foreman was never known for his understanding and sympathetic ways . . and in particular . . towards anyone who wanted time off . . for any reason and he knew there would be an explosion of views as soon as he opened his mouth to make his request. Nevertheless he made his approach and strategically looked for the nearest exit as he coughed nervously.

  “Mr. Hislop, Sir . . .” Joe asked softly but there was no answer and the foreman continued to write something at his shabby old desk in the corner of the workshop; the desk with his name written on a plaque at the front of it . . It read B.H. Hislop, Esq. Works Foreman. Joe asked again, a little louder this time and the ogre turned to face him with the expression of a constipated bulldog.

  “What d’ya want?” The creature barked, but before Joe could utter a word, he felt a strange tingling sensation in his right ear which made him poke his finger into his hearing orifice and wiggle it about.

  “What issit? . . . . It’s Osborne, innit?” The foreman snapped and Joe stared at him as his red face became paler by the second and his eyes didn’t seem to pop any more, nor did he appear to be a short, bald creature with the rear and tummy of any kind of an animal . . . He looked almost normal.

  “What can I do for yuh, Joe lad?” he asked and Joe stuttered out his request, quite stunned as to how he could actually find the words, with very little fear, but there was a faint wind blowing down his right ear as he spoke. A strange wind that seemed to lend him courage, as a pale blue cloud ascended slowly to the ceiling behind the foreman’s head.

  “Of course you should go and see your nephew at school, Joe. I like a man to take his parental and family responsibilities seriously and effectively for his children. Take your time and we’ll see you when we see you, eh?” said the reformed foreman and Joe stood still, twisting his cap in his hand and wondering what to say next as B. H. Hislop, Esq. continued. “No need to sign any chitty, Joe and I’ll see that you don’t lose your pay. Off you go now, just whenever you want . . Bye.”

  Joe left the shop floor not daring to look right or left until he was out in the street again, suspicious of everything and everyone around him.

  “Joe . . Joe, dear boy.”

  Joe recognized the Voice but there was nobody to be seen.

  “Don’t talk . . don’t say a word Bertie . . not until we’re well clear of the factory . . do you hear,” he murmured, “Or they might call me back and have me locked up.”

  “Well . . we can talk with our minds if you like Joe . . and there are some decent people in this world you know, after all, it was me who suggested you visit Freddie at school, wasn’t it? You should trust me to see everything through once I’ve started things, Joe.”

  Joe ignored the Voice until he had turned the corner and Frankham’s was out of sight.

  “Left or right? where are you this time Bertie? Which way should I look?” he asked furtively and the Voice answered him.

  “Just above your head, dear boy. I’m floating for a while to give my old feet a rest and to keep my toes warm..” He sneezed as he spoke, “To help get rid of this wretched cold . . Achew!” He sneezed again and Joe could hear him blow his nose loudly as he hastened his step and tightened his mouth.

  “If you stay up there, you won’t need to complain any more about not keeping up with my pace then, will you?” said Joe and he could hear a wheezing sound coming from above his head.

  “No Joe, but I think you had best talk with your mind from now on, dear boy and join me in a quiet stroll. That old lady who walked by just a little while ago, nearly jumped out of her dress when you passed her.”

  “What . . Oh! no . .No, you haven’t, have you? Oh! yes, you have . .” shouted Joe as he looked down at his body, but it wasn’t there. “Why did you do this to me Bertie . . after all this time. I feel so strange,” he barked, but Bertie ignored the complaint as he strolled on towards the school.

  “You wanted to see Freddie, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, of course I did . . that’s why I got the time off from old Shifty pants.”

  “Funny old name, that gentleman has . . and anyway, you didn’t want Freddie to see you . . or so I understand.”

  “Yes, that’s right, but there are other ways, you know. Other ways that are not so drastic,” added Joe as they came to the school gates and Bertie stuck his fingers in his ears.

  “Oh dear, such a lot of noise in this place. I don’t think I like it Joe . . Ouch . that big oaf of a boy punched me in the . . . .well never mind.”

  “The naughty bits,” added Joe . Serves you right . . What do you expect when they can’t see you . . Arrgh. I could do without that sweaty arm in my eye,” Joe gasped as he stuck his hand up to his head and screwed up his face in pain, but Bertie giggled . . “Just wait a wee bitty Joe . . I have to get these things straight.”

  “Got our knickers in a twist then, have we?” Joe asked Bertie sarcastically but he got no answer . . . for a few seconds.

  “These shoes I’ve got are too tight, but they fit alright when I take the laces out, “ he said and Joe scratched his head.

  “When did you buy the shoes? Was that one of your midnight shopping sprees? Talk about idiots? Well, I ask you.? With all your intelligence I would have thought you could buy yourself a pair of shoes that fitted your big feet . .” said Joe, just as he could hear a rustling sound to his left and he turned to see what it was.

  “No . . not there dear boy . . HERE.”

  Joe looked to the sky for patience and it was then he saw the blue cloud and within a few seconds, Bertie was standing before him, sporting his toothless grin.

  “Well . . what do you think of them then . . the shoes, I mean.”

  “Bertie . . Bertie . . I’m visible again . . and so are you. Why have you done this?” asked Joe and Bertie did a little dance, kicking his heels together in the air.

  “Well I wanted you to see my new shoes and how could you see them if you couldn’t see me. Look at the feet . . aren’t they simply gorgeous in these shoes?”

  Joe stared at the feet as he had been instructed, but he looked in confusion.

  “Those are not new shoes, Bertie . . Someone’s worn them before you got them. Did you know that?”

  The old man lifted his right foot and examined the heel of his shoe.

  “Well of course I did. I didn’t BUY the shoes. I’m not an idiot, you know. I picked them up in that room over there. That room near the playing fields.”

  Joe looked to where the old man pointed and then he began to laugh.

  “You must be mad Bertie . . You can’t wear those shoes. Take them back straight away . . That’s the shower room. They belong to one of the boys . . .” he called out, but Bertie did another little dance and spun round twice.

  “There . . you see . . we’re normal now and you can see me clearly, can’t you? . . but I’m keeping the shoes Joe. Nobody has their name on them. They’re mine now. Finders keepers, that what I say.”

  “Don’t let me hear you talking about being ‘normal’ Bertie. You don’t know the meaning of the word,” said Joe, but the old man threw his head back and looked down his nose.

  “But Joe . . we are normal. Look! I can see you and you can see me, can’t you?”

  “Yes . . but. .”

  “But nobody else can see either of us . . you see . . n
ormal . .” added Bertie with a grin, as Joe looked down at his body to confirm that he was normal , although nobody could see his normal body except Bertie, who was skipping in the air with a little jig-like movement in triumph of his achievements.

  “Perfectly clear,” he acquiesced, “What now then?” he smirked as he raised his thick white eyebrows and stared at Joe.

  “Bertie . . get those shoes back where you got them . . I’ll buy you another pair, but you can’t just take somebody else’s boots. What will they do when they come back to the showers and find their boots are no longer there.”

  “Shoes dear boy . . not boots, but if you insist . . alright then, I’ll take them back, but I’ll have to walk on air, because I’m beginning to get corns, with this having no shoes business.”

  As Bertie spoke, he screwed up his face in pain, showing two narrow slits for eyes and stretching a wide, thin dark hole of a lipless mouth from one ear to the other.

  “We’ll have to do something about these boys Joe. I know they can’t see us, but they could use their initiative, couldn’t they. That little . . er gentleman kicked me in the . . . the what do you call it, Joe? The naughty bits?”” said Bertie, grabbing his crotch in his hands.

  “It was your idea to go invisible Bertie . . you can’t blame the kids.”

  “Well now that you’ve seen my shoes and you don’t approve , we’ll go invisible again and get on with the job we came to do here . . and then get out as quick as we can.

  I hope we’re not going to have to put up with much more of this kicking nonsense, Joe,” Bertie said aloud and not with his thinking voice. “How long are these young hooligan creatures allowed to scream their heads off from their shoulders, tell me?

  “Playtime usually only last about fifteen minutes, that’s all.”

  Bertie looked pained and his mouth dropped with disappointment.

  “Dodge about then . . . keep dodging about or they’ll kick us to smithereens. I was right Joe . . You see, idiots all . . Idiots everywhere.”

  “You put the shoes back Bertie whilst I look around for Freddie,” said Joe with a nod of his head and Bertie snapped his fingers on his left hand and the shoes disappeared . . No doubt returned to their rightful owner as he blew out his cheeks and made a puffing sound with his lips.

  “He’s been sitting over there all the time we’ve been talking. Look, over there by the bicycle shed.”

  Joe looked to where Bertie was pointing and saw Freddie coming towards them, limping as he walked.

  “What’s he limping for . . Hey Freddie . . what’s wrong? Why are you limping,”

  Joe called out but Freddie didn’t hear or see Joe as he walked right passed him.

  Bertie blinked and swung his long, thin, pink tongue over his purple lips.

  “That’s what I wanted you to come and see dear boy. That’s why I didn’t want Freddie to see us . at least not right away. Keep your eyes on those two young brigands . . to your left there . . . see them?”

  Joe saw the two boys that Bertie pointed out to him, but he could not see the connection.

  They were big, strong looking lads, about fourteen or fifteen years of age, he guessed and one of them looked as though he could have done with a good shave, with dark stubble around his heavy chin. The other was a ginger haired boy with unruly hair and thick muscular arms that hung low at his sides as he walked like an ape. It was then that Joe found the connection.

  “They’re running after Freddie . . Look Bertie. . . Bertie they’re gonna hit him. I’m sure they’re gonna hit Freddie,” shouted Joe but in that moment, Bertie flipped his pink tongue between his lips, like a snake about to spit and the two bullies suddenly halted in their tracks. They stood motionless, hands in the air like a pair of statues and Freddie looked terrified . . .but only for a few seconds, before his face softened and he began to laugh, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. The two bully appeared in pink tulle ballet dresses, which stood out from their thick waists and each had a matching ribbon in his hair, tied in a large bow. Their hairy legs were obvious as they stood in their hob-nailed boots. Teachers and pupils alike stood aghast at the sight for a few seconds until very soon, the whole playground was a sea of laughter and no-one could control it. The bullies stood rooted to the ground with only their eyes moving to take in the scene until Bertie flipped his tongue again, when they ran across the nearby fields to hide their embarrassment, with their frilly lace dresses flying wildly in the wind.

  Joe turned to Bertie but the latter had gone and as a gust of wind hit his cheeks he could hear his friend chuckling happily.

  “Bye dear boy,” he heard the Voice, “See you again soon.” and then it tapered away into silence.

  “Joe . . Joe, what are you doing here?” Freddie called out and Joe knew that his invisible spell had been broken . . at least for the present and an invisible hand stuffed a small parcel into Joe’s hand . . coming from nowhere.

  “Oh! You forgot your lunch Freddie . . and as I was passing, I thought I might as well bring it in to you.” said Joe, as amazed by his remark as with the parcel of sandwiches in his hand and Freddie was still laughing when he thanked Joe for his thoughtfulness.

  “Did you see those guys in the pink dresses, Joe?” he asked, but his uncle acted innocently as he shook his head.

  “Oh! you missed it all. Oh! what a shame. Those two guys have been making life a misery for most of us younger boys here. I don’t know where they got the dresses from, but the sight of them, all dressed up, made us all laugh. I bet they’ll think twice before they bully any of us again.”

  Freddie and Joe laughed together and all the other boys too, but somewhere in the not too far distance, Joe saw another laughing face . . A face with a shock of white unkempt hair and a dark purple slit of a mouth, with a long pink tongue vibrating merrily against its lower lip . . like a mongrel little dog in happy mood.. . . . . . . as he left the school and returned to Frankham’s.

  ***

  “Had a nice day at school Dear?” Maggie enquired as she studied her nephew with admiring eyes. “You seem a bit brighter today,” she went on and Freddie wouldn’t stop jabbering about the incident with the pink tulle dresses as Maggie listened with amusement and surprise.

  ***

  “Joe . . I’d have a little talk with Freddie, if I were you, Love,” said Maggie as she studied her nails with arched eyebrows.

  Joe sat down wearily after his day’s work, feeling very tired and just about able to read the evening paper, when Maggie put forward her proposal.

  “Oh! Not again Maggie . . What is it this time?”

  “Well . . you know I told you he’s been very quiet of late, indeed for the past few weeks in fact.”

  “Yes Dear . .”

  “Well Joe . . . I don’t think the trouble is over John Paul at all.”

  “No Dear?”

  “No Joe . . .” she looked around to ensure that Freddie wasn’t listening. “I think it’s his age. . . . I think he’s beginning to take notice of the opposite sex, that’s what I think,” she whispered and Joe looked away from his paper and stared at Maggie with curiosity written across his face.

  “What? . . a lad of ten, Maggie?”

  “That doesn’t come into it,” She looked around again, surreptitiously, “Some boys mature earlier than others . . . and you know how our Freddie is well advanced . .educationally for his years. His I.Q is well above average . .”

  “Is that so Dear . . . go on.”

  Maggie smiled proudly and showed the dimples in her plump, rosy cheek, as she bent down to where Joe was sitting and cupped her hand around her mouth.

  “Well, Freddie knows a girl at school who wears a pink tulle dress and I think he fancies her. . . but don’t let on I told you, will you?”

  Joe laughed until his sides hurt, but he stopped suddenly
as he saw a haggard face at the kitchen window, scrutinizing the hot steaming mince and potato pie that Maggie had just put on the table . . . and a drip fell heavily, followed by another and yet another from a cool, pink, long tongue.

  Chapter Nine

  Joe took his cap from the hall stand and tucked his library book under his arm.

  “Want to come with me for a walk Freddie? I’m just going to the library to change my book and then I’d like to have a look at that old car that’s for sale. You know, the one at number 83. I think it’s old Chesterfield’s place.”

  Freddie jumped up enthusiastically when he heard about the car, but he wasn’t too bothered about the library book.

  “Oooh, are we getting a car then?” he asked and his eyes were bright. Maggie popped her head out of the kitchen window as the two men in her life were about to leave the house, by the front garden.

  “Depends on the price Freddie,” she shouted as Freddie looked back and frowned.

  “What about Frankham’s Joe? Surely they would be able to wangle a discount for you. You’ve worked there long enough. Couldn’t you get one from them?” he asked hopefully, but Joe looked unconcerned as he walked on.

  “That’ll be the day Freddie. You don’t get anything from Frankham’s less you work for it. They pay out in blood, they do. Even their second-hand cars are far beyond anything I could afford. That old Fiat of Chesterfield’s up the road is going for £60 and it might do us O.K.” he replied, but Maggie had overheard the conversation, of course as she strained, listening at the window.

  “It looked a bit rusty, when I last saw it Joe,” she called out after him “I passed there yesterday and the rear light has something wrong with it, I think. It looks a bit bashed up. The light on the left hand side. Make sure you check that Joe . . if that’s the same car as you’re talking about?” she added . . since she would most definitely have preferred to have had a new one.