The Doughnut Man

by Paul Kelly

  “Have I done it O.Ks?,” he asked shyly.

  “You’ve done it O.Ks my friend . .a wonderful job Bertie. I don’t know how or when, but it looks marvellous.”

  Joe walked round the car to admire the shine. He was pleased until he got to the back and then he saw the broken light cluster.

  “I’ll have to get that fixed soon, but I guess I’ll have to wait till pay-day. I think I can get on with the interior meanwhile . . Yes, I’m very pleased Bertie . . I really am.” He hesitated for a few seconds . . . “I’ll ask Maggie to cook a mince and potato pie for dinner this evening,” he said and Bertie jumped in the air gleefully and showed his pink tongue in appreciation, but in his joy, he dropped a malteser . . . then another and another. A few rolled under the car and came out under the back wheel. Joe bent down to pick them up and when he stood up again, the light cluster was new and gleaming . . . Bertie pointed a thin, scraggy finger towards it and it went on and off several times.

  “Just testing dear boy . . just testing,” he shouted and popped another malteser into his toothless orifice.

  “I’ll have to let you loose on the interior at this rate Bertie . . I can see that,” said Joe and Bertie clapped his hands.

  “Yes . . yes . . and we’ll have it looking wonderful. I’ll make all the four seats very comfortable . . . for you and Maggie and Freddie . . . and the shopping, eh?” he said and his voice began to fade, but Joe slapped Bertie on the shoulder.

  “I didn’t know you knew anything about car mechanics . . or electrics Bertie,” he said as the old man produced a screw-driver from behind his right ear and some fuse wire from behind the other.

  “A wee bitty . . . “ he said and vanished into a powder blue cloud.

  Chapter Ten

  “I think we should have a bottle of bubbly to start her off Joe . . don’t you?” said Maggie, totally impressed with her posh car and proud that the neighbours should see it standing , gleaming outside her front door . . .well, all the neighbours except old Mr. Chesterfield at number 83. He had already mumbled his comment that it was only souped up and that the insurance would shake Joe when he went for a quote . . . but then, neither the Insurance Company nor the late vendor had ever met an old man who once sold doughnuts, outside the Sandforth Wanderers Football Club . . . . had they now?

  ***

  The family joy was short lived however. Joe got the Fiat insured, Third Party, Fire and Theft of course, road taxed and M.O.Td. and it passed with flying colours, first time . . when only four days later, when he woke up one fine bright, sunny morning, the car had gone.

  “Maggie . . am I imagining it . . or has the car gone for a run on its own?”

  Maggie looked out of the bedroom window, wiping the sleep from her eyes and peering down into the street in confusion over what Joe had said, but sure enough, the car wasn’t where it was the night before and they looked at each other in total bewilderment.

  “Oh! Joe . . it can’t . . it can’t be stolen . . can it?” said Maggie, as Joe stared into space, afraid to ‘think’ because of the consequences, but anxious nevertheless to know if a certain old man had anything to do with his loss and a lump came to his throat as Maggie put her arms around him.

  “East come . . easy go . .” he joked but his voice was sad. “It has stood out in the road, in sun, wind and rain at number eighty-three for months and nobody bothered about it. Old Chesterfield couldn’t even get a buyer . . . and now . .”

  “I know Love . . . the holiday . . well perhaps we might be able to think of some other way to go. There’s always the coach, isn’t there?” Maggie suggested trying her best to commiserate. “Although I had hoped this year . . .we’ve never had a car before,” she went on,” and now when we eventually managed to get that old wreck and do something with it, to make it look so nice . . someone comes along and helps himself. They don’t have a conscience, that’s for sure. Could you steal a car Joe?”

  Joe hung his head . . He wanted to say “Yes . . he jolly well could,” but he knew he couldn’t.

  “No Maggie . . I’d be worried about what the person was going through when he woke up and found it had gone, but then lots of people don’t think that way, I suppose.”

  “The thieves are usually young yobbos who wouldn’t do a day’s work if you paid them treble time to do it. It makes me sick. Lazy little blighters.” Maggie took out her handkerchief and dried her eyes.

  “Never mind Darlin’ we’ll have a nice cup of tea, eh? Unless the thieves have pinched the tea-pot as well . . .”

  Joe laughed as he took his log book and insurance documents from the top drawer in the dressing table. “I’ll just pop next door and ask Mrs. Whatsername if I can phone the police, but I’ll have a look up the road first, just in case someone’s moved it for a laugh,” he said and at that moment a Voice spoke nearby.

  “I’m so sorry Joe . . but I did warn you to get a telephone of your own, remember?” It said and Joe kicked the leg of the bed before he went into the bathroom, nursing a sore toe.

  “Golly . . you don’t care where you appear, do you? Have you anything to do with this Bertie?” he asked and the old man fidgeted beside his young friend as his nose twitched.

  “I’m surprised you asked me that Joe,” he said with his mind, “You know I loved our little car and was looking forward to going on holiday with you and Maggie and the children . . . and Sammy, of course.”

  Sammy raced upstairs when he heard his name mentioned and Joe wondered how it was that an animal could hear . . . when human’s couldn’t. . . but he dismissed his thoughts on that score for the moment and turned towards the Voice.

  “I suppose you’re standing near me somewhere, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Too right you are dear boy . . at an angle of about twenty-five degrees, I would say.”

  “Oh! Would you now, clever clogs? and who told you that we were going on holiday and who suggested that you were coming with us?” Joe asked and Sammy whined as Bertie shuffled. “Don’t shuffle about there in silence . . . answer me,” Joe demanded and Bertie made his appearance most apologetically and stood still at precisely the angle he had said.

  “Well, I thought you were going to ask me when I said I didn’t mind sitting on the roof and . . . .”

  “What rubbish you come out with Bertie. What utter stupid rubbish. How could you sit on the roof if I was travelling at thirty miles an hour. That car could do about seventy miles an hour . . maybe . . and how could you sit up there. You’d be freezing and Oh! . . . you’ve got me talking as much nonsense as you do. Now I have no car . . no holiday and no money either, so what do you think of that? Oh! Go and jump in a lake somewhere, will you?”

  Bertie swallowed hard and his throat wobbled. “Oh! Don’t be like that Joe . . It’s not the end of the world, old chap,” he said and then he went quite pale as he added, “I hope not. . .”

  Joe got dressed and had his breakfast before he went out to look for the car and before he made his telephone call to the police, as Freddie went off to school, utterly sad that his beloved car had been stolen, whilst Maggie sniffled around the kitchen. Everyone seemed to have a stake in the new car by this time. It belonged to each of them in a strange but different way. Even Sammy licked his snout and made funny noises as he stood up on the window ledge to find his car had gone. Only John Paul kept his cool . . . and gurgled through the event with more interest in his toes than in the Fiat and Bertie blew bubbles at him as he passed the pram in the front garden and the baby burped back and grinned as the pram began to rock gently, of its own accord.

  “Bertie . . Leave that alone, will you?”

  “Only trying to help, Joe. I do sometimes when I hear little John Paul cry.”

  ***

  Maggie did her housework that morning with a lethargic mood that was so unlike her normal way of working and she kept loo
king out of the window . . hoping. Hoping that they had all made a mistake; that it was just a bad dream and that the car had been there all the time, but the more she looked the more convinced she became, that some unholy person out there had taken a shine to it. Her moods swung from hope to despair as she put on her coat to go down to the village for the shopping and she had got John Paul ready for the trip which she knew he loved. Again she looked into the street before she started out . . . just in case. . . It was 10.30 when she went out and she didn’t return until nearly one o’clock. Her tread was weary and she knew she had forgotten most of the things she had gone out for, in her anxiety, but the baby had fallen fast asleep, shortly after she had returned home and after his midday ‘lunch’ and she looked forward to putting her feet up for a little while in the afternoon, without disturbance . . or so she thought.

  “It can’t be . . . it simply can’t be . . . IT IS . . .” she shouted excitedly as she glanced out of the living room window and saw the Fiat standing proudly at her front door. She rubbed her eyes, thinking it must be some sort of mirage, but it was still there when she looked again and in her excitement she woke the baby up and he started to cry, but Maggie’s joy was complete.

  She couldn’t . . wouldn’t even think of putting her feet up now, she thought, as she literally raced out of the front door and was just in time to see the man from the British Telephones coming to see her.

  “Mrs. Osborne? Is that you, Love?”

  “Oh! please come in. You’ve come about our telephone, I suppose . . haven’t you?”

  She was out of breath as she spoke but she didn’t want to take her eyes from the gleaming car in front of her as she nattered away. “I’ll let you in, but can you please wait for just a minute? I have to phone my husband at work. I have some very important news for him, you see and I just want to get my baby . . .” The telephone engineer held the front door open for her as she rushed inside again to get John Paul in his pram as quickly as she could. “I’ll just nip next door . . if you don’t mind . .”

  “Well . .er . . Mrs. Osborne . . if you don’t mind hanging on for ten minutes or so, you can talk to your husband on your own telephone, in your own home . . I won’t be long fixing it up.”

  Maggie was thrilled as she returned to the house, pushing the pram back again and thinking how daft she must have seemed to the telephone engineer in taking John Paul in his pram, when she only wanted to visit her next-door neighbour, but she was nervous of ever leaving her little son ever on his own . . She left John Paul just inside the front door where she could keep an eye on him before she took Sammy on his lead into the front garden and tied him to a fence near the car.

  “Watch it Sammy . . . . there’s a good boy. Guard it with your life until your daddy gets home, will you?” she said and the little dog barked and squatted comfortably to take up his guard just as a strange hand stroked his head.

  “Good boy . . . Good boy . . . Your daddy will be pleased.” the Voice said . . . and Sammy seemed to smile with his wet tongue flapping around his fanged teeth, drooling with delight with his new charge.

  Chapter Eleven

  Joe ran his fingers over the car boot with pride. It was a complete mystery to everyone where the car had gone and an incomprehensible miracle that it had been returned soon and without the slightest mark or dent on it. What puzzled Joe even more, was the fact that the milometer recorded exactly the same mileage as the recent MOT certificate . . . but he was beginning to get used to unusual and unexpected surprises, even if Maggie insisted that it was the judgement of God on the wicked sinner who stole it in the first place. Joe opened the door to check the milometer again, but the reading was the same. It hadn’t recorded even a single part of a mile and yet he knew he had driven the car from the garage which was about three miles away. Joe sat in the driver’s seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he closed his eyes to concentrate on this great mystery.

  “Nice to have it back then, isn’t it? Joe?”

  Joe didn’t move, nor did he open his eyes as he spoke solemnly to the Voice beside him.

  “How did you manage it Bertie? I knew, of course that you were behind this . . but how do I explain it to the others

  “No need . . no need at all dear boy. You have the car back, which is rightfully yours. You paid for it and you put all the work into it to make it look like new again . . well, with the help of a few friends . . . so why should any old Dick, Tom or Harry take it away from you? It’s not right . . that’s what I say . . It’s not at all right . . Not one little bitty, it isn’t.”

  Joe sat quietly and folded his arms, with his eyes still closed.

  “Tom, Dick or Harry . . . Bertie. That’s how we idiots say it.”

  “Eh?”

  “Thanks anyway Bertie. I don’t know how you did it and I know it’s best not to ask, but I am very grateful and I want you to know that.”

  Bertie grinned and licked his lips.

  “Will you open your eyes and tell me that, then . . and we can all go on holiday as planned . . yes?” said Bertie, but Joe ignored the request and kept his eyes tightly closed.

  “Yes . . We can all go on holiday Bertie and you won’t have to sit on the roof either. I think you’ve earned your place in the fourth seat.”

  He turned the key in the ignition and the car purred into life. It was as soft and as gentle as the wind as he tested the windscreen wipers and the lights. All the electrics were perfect.

  “Bertie?”

  “Yes dear boy?”

  “Bertie . . please tell me . . that is if I can remember correctly.”

  “Yes . . yes. “

  “Well when I first met you, years and years ago . . . .”

  The old man laughed and settled himself into his fourth seat, crossing his legs complacently.

  “Yes Joe . . What about that . It was a lovely time for me . . I remember it so well.”

  “And you were selling doughnuts outside a certain football ground?”

  Bertie shuffled happily where he sat and scratched his right ear before poking his finger in and wiggling it about.

  “Yes, yes . . Go on. I’m hearing much better now . .”

  “And you lost your barrow in the storm and I helped you to get it back again and you took me to tea and . . . .”

  “Oh! Yes, dear boy . . . What a wonderful memory you have.”

  Joe opened his eyes and stared at his friend.

  “How is it that at that time, you couldn’t get your barrow back for yourself and yet now you can get this car back for me?”

  Bertie flashed his pink tongue again as he wet his lips nervously.

  “Do I have . . . I mean . . . do I have to answer that question Joe?”

  Joe nodded very slowly and deliberately and Bertie swallowed, showing his large Adam’s apple.

  “Well Joe . . You know, of course, that I’m . . . I’m a wee bitty different from most . . er. . humans, don’t you?” Bertie stammered and Joe nodded.

  “You can say that again,” said Joe as he stared into Bertie’s eyes.

  “I’m a wee bit different from most other humans,” Bertie repeated, “ Joe . . Joe , I think it’s your hearing that might be . .”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my hearing Bertie . . Nothing at all . . Just explain to this idiot .Will you please?”

  “Well . . well, you see Joe. I can only do things for other people. I can’t do very much for myself, you see.”

  Joe turned and glared at his old friend.

  “No . . . I don’t see, Bertie. I don’t see at all. It doesn’t make sense to me and I’m sure there’s a whole lot of people who would agree with me. Now what exactly is going on? I’ve got to know Bertie.”

  Bertie shuffled again and looked out of the car window with a sad face.

  “Doesn’t m
ake any sense to you?” he asked.

  “No . . not at all.”

  The old man sniffed and wrinkled his nose.

  “Well then . . it don’t make any sense to me, whether it’s Tom, Dick and Harry . . or if it’s Dick, Tom and Harry or if it’s Harry, Dick and . . ..” he complained, but Joe cut him short before he could say any more.

  “Don’t change the subject Bertie. We’re not talking about Tom or Dick or . . or stupid Harry . . . I’m talking about you . . . understand?”

  Bertie pulled his shoulders back and sat bolt upright, looking very dejected and misunderstood.

  “You see Joe . . Whenever you make a special wish . . I mean, for something that human’s don’t ordinarily wish for . . . like you, for example when you wanted to become invisible . . . .not all the time,” he hastened to add . . . . “But a wish like that . . well, there’s always a price you have to pay . . . .” Bertie looked tenderly towards his young friend, almost apologetically.

  “Go on,” said Joe, sucking his teeth.

  “The price you paid Joe . . was ten years of your life, if you remember.”

  Joe slammed his fist down on the steering wheel in anger and sounded the horn, as Bertie jumped.

  “No . . I don’t remember anything at all of those years Bertie . . Nothing at all in fact. I remember being ten and meeting you and the next thing I knew I was a young man of twenty.”

  “But that’s what you wanted Joe. That’s what you asked for . . if you could be a man. If only you could have been a man . . remember . . ? Those were your very words.” Bertie lamented sadly and Joe banged his fist on the dashboard to avoid any more hooting noises.

  “And you . . . what did you ask for? How many years of your life did you give? Tell me . . tell me . . I want to know?” snapped Joe as Bertie reached for the door handle, but Joe put his hand out and held him by the arm. Their eyes met in silent conflict.