“Do you think there’s anything we can do?” asked Mr Parker.
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I think we’ve lost him.”
“Well, get me off here, could you, please?”
I took the opportunity to let go of his hand, which was starting to feel rather warm, and retrieved the floating buoy. After that I began paddling back, while Mr Parker strove to maintain his footing. I helped him from the raft onto the jetty, at which point he murmured ‘Thank you’ and quickly headed for dry land. Then he turned and stood for a long time regarding the lake.
“Dear oh dear oh dear,” he said when I joined him. “This would have to happen now, wouldn’t it? Just when Deakin had found a job he liked.”
I gave no reply but simply shrugged and looked in the same direction, aware that the water now appeared to be much darker than it had before. In the distance a group of seabirds wheeled and turned.
Behind us waited the ice-cream van, with engine running and refrigerator unit whirring loudly. It was a very unnatural noise compared to the wild rushing of the elements, and eventually it succeeded in drawing Mr Parker’s attention away from the lake.
I saw him glance round at the vehicle once or twice, then finally he asked, “Now, what’s supposed to be wrong with these chimes?”
“They keep jamming,” I replied. “That was one of the things Deakin wanted to talk to you about.”
“Well, all he had to do was push the reset button. Let’s have a look.”
He climbed into the back of the van, which was now free of milk crates, and reached up to a panel. Then I heard a faint ‘click’.
“Try it now, can you?” he said through the serving window.
I leaned into the cab and pressed the control switch. Instantly, the horns on the roof played ‘Half a pound of tuppeny rice’. Then there was silence. I pressed it again and got a repeat of the same tune.
“That’ll do,” said Mr Parker.
“What about the other bit?” I asked.
“What other bit?”
“‘Half a pound of treacle’. Shouldn’t it play that as well?”
“Oh no,” he said. “You can only have one or the other. Not both.”
He emerged from the van carrying a bottle of red-topped homogenized milk.
“This was in the fridge,” he announced. “It must be for Bryan Webb’s Uncle Rupert.”
“Oh, right.”
“Could you run it round there quickly?”
“Er…if you like, yeah.”
“That’s good,” he said. “It’s the least we can do under the circumstances.”
“Yeah, suppose.”
“Ever driven an ice-cream van before?”
“No,” I said. “Why, are they different from other vehicles?”
“Not too bad, but you’ve got to watch them on the curves. They can be top-heavy in some conditions.”
“OK, I’ll remember that.”
“Maybe you’d like to familiarize yourself with the controls.”
He said this in the form of an order, so obediently I climbed into the cab, from where I watched him wander back towards the water’s edge. He went to the end of the jetty and once again stood gazing out over the lake, a motionless figure surrounded by grey, churning waves.
I allowed a suitable length of time to pass, then called through the window, “Right, I’ll get going then!”
Still with his back to me, Mr Parker raised a hand in acknowledgement.
Putting the van into gear I headed off between the trees. The pale afternoon light was beginning to fade already, so when I got to the road I switched on the headlamps. Craning my neck and leaning out of the window I saw that the roof-lights had come on as well. There seemed to be nothing I could do about this, and I had no choice but to drive round to Bryan’s place fully illuminated. Despite Mr Parker’s warning about top-heaviness the vehicle seemed to handle OK. As a matter of fact it pootled along very nicely, although the steering wheel struck me as being unnecessarily large. On the approach into Millfold it was tempting to set the chimes going, but I had second thoughts when I realized that people might come rushing out to buy ice-creams. Instead I passed through the place in a sedate manner so as not to attract attention.
As I neared Hodge’s shop I noticed a large, new sign in the window. I slowed down to have a look.
“SPECIAL OFFER,” the sign said, “BAKED BEANS REDUCED TO HALF PRICE.”
Continuing on towards Bryan’s it occurred to me that I hadn’t actually seen or spoken to him since my ban from the Packhorse, and that he might not appreciate me arriving out of the blue like this. After all, he was captain of the darts team I was considered to have let down so badly. What if he’d taken against me like the rest of them, then what would I do? For all I knew he might have been harbouring a serious grudge. Suddenly it didn’t seem such a good idea to go turning up on his doorstep, especially as he had all those sheepdogs he could set on me.
Still, I could hardly go back now, so I decided to press on. I pulled into Bryan’s yard just as he came out of the house, and was relieved when he gave me a sympathetic smile. As usual he was wearing his cardboard crown.
“Tommy rang up to say you were on your way,” he announced as I got out of the van.
“Oh, right,” I said. “Did he mention, then…about?”
Bryan nodded. “Yes, he did.”
“Oh…right.”
“And you’re manning the breach.”
“Yeah, suppose I am. I’ve brought this.” I handed him the bottle.
“Thanks very much,” he said. “It’s for my Uncle Rupert.”
“Thought so.”
“He likes his homogenized every week.”
“Yes, I remember you saying.”
“In his tea, like.”
“Yes.”
Bryan placed the bottle on a shelf inside his doorway, then turned to me.
“By the way,” he said. “Tommy asked if you could leave the van here and take his pick-up back.”
“OK then.”
“Save him coming for it.”
“Right.”
This was easier said than done. The Dutch barn which had previously housed Mr Parker’s lorry was now home to Bryan’s own pick-up and tractor. The other pick-up was parked behind them, and getting it out involved a good deal of manoeuvring. We spent the next five or ten minutes busily forwarding and reversing various vehicles, swapping them all round until the ice-cream van was at the back of the barn and Tommy’s pick-up in front. Then the two of us stopped for a bit of a chat.
“Got those boats finished yet?” Bryan asked.
“Well, all the preparations are done,” I replied. “As soon as I find a spare moment I’ll get a start on the actual painting itself.”
“What? You haven’t started yet?” He looked quite surprised.
“No, but as I say I’ll be getting going very soon.”
“So you’ll have them done by Christmas, will you?”
“Oh yes,” I said. “That should be no problem at all.”
“Be a bit of a push though, won’t it? December’s almost on us.”
“Well, it hardly matters really. They won’t be going back on the water ‘til Easter.”
“Maybe not,” he said, giving his crown a significant tap. “But it’s Christmas that counts, isn’t it?”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by this, so I just nodded and said, “Yeah, suppose you’re right.”
He looked at me for a long moment before a grin slowly appeared on his face. I grinned back and then he laughed and slapped me on the shoulder.
“Good on you!” he said. “You had me there for a minute!”