Page 50 of The Midnight Bakery
‘It’s still pretty cold though,’ cautioned Tam. ‘I hope you’ve got plenty of layers on.’
‘I feel like the Michelin man. I reckon I’ll be okay.’ He paused. ‘Actually, I don’t care if I’m not, we’re doing this anyway.’
‘Then we’d better crack on,’ said Tam. ‘The sooner we make a start, the sooner we can find out whether this will work, or if it’s just a really,reallysilly idea.’
Jack stopped as he reached the kitchen and spun around. ‘It has to. If it doesn’t, Beth is going to kill me. And you, for that matter.’ He raised his eyebrows at Tam, who laughed.
‘And don’t I know it. Come on then.’
One of the first things Tam had done during his last visit was to sweep up and clean the yard. The area immediately outside the back door was fine but, as Jack had already discovered to his detriment, the further you went towards the barn and the boundary fence, the muddier it got. Run-off from the field, that’s all it was and, understandably, Beth had never seen the need to clear it. Neither she, nor Jack, had ever expected him to venture that far. Now, at least, Jack’s wheelchair could cross the yard and enter the barn without becoming stuck.
According to Jack, the barn had been a neat and orderly place a few years ago, but you’d never know to look at it now. Since Jack’s accident it had become a dumping ground for anything which no longer worked, which they had no need of, or which they had no room for in the house. As such, it was now home to a wonderful assortment of things which Tam was hoping to cannibalise – old bikes, a metal bed frame and a chair which used to be in the kitchen, but which had been moved to give Jack more space to manoeuvre. It was also home to the quad bike which Tam had spied on the day he’d helped bring Jack inside after his little ‘adventure’.
Tam was already poking around inside when he realised that Jack was no longer with him. He turned, and then smiled whenhe saw there wasn’t a problem at all. Jack was simply sitting with his face turned up to the sun, a gentle smile on his lips.
‘I’ve denied myself this for so long,’ he said. ‘I must have been mad. Why did I do that, Tam? Why haven’t I ever just come outside simply to soak up the day?’
‘I think you know why,’ replied Tam softly. ‘Because we try to protect ourselves from the pain of what’s been lost.’
Jack nodded. ‘And in doing so, become so fearful of what might hurt that we stop living. Then after a while we forget how to.’
‘It’s human nature,’ replied Tam. ‘One of our fundamental flaws – we close ourselves off to the slightest reminder of what we can no longer have.’ Hadn’t he done exactly the same in his own life? Sold everything he owned to appease his guilt when his business failed and, in doing so, denied himself all hope of ever owning one again? Denied himself hope, actually. It was a hard lesson to learn, and even harder, perhaps, was finding the courage to ask for help.
‘We might be flawed,’ added Tam. ‘But we’re also capable of doing extraordinary things.’ He grinned, looking back at the barn. ‘And on that note, point me at your toolbox.’
The design had been in Tam’s head for a while now, his thoughts of it a good way of eating up the hours when he was too cold to sleep. But the vision he had of it, and his ability to create that vision, didn’t necessarily match up. There had been tweaks to the design, complete alterations to it and a good deal of swearing but, as he wiped a filthy hand down his jeans, he was pleased with what he saw.
Having removed the quad bike’s original seat, what Tam had made most resembled something he remembered from his mum’s bike when he was a child. Effectively a metal ‘cage’, it bolted onto the quad bike allowing Jack to sit inside where he would be supported by means of several cushioned pads whichalso protected him from the hard metal sides of the cage. Another cushion secured in front meant that Tam could sit and drive. Pretty, it was not, but effective? Only time would tell.
‘What do you reckon?’ he asked.
Jack looked frozen, having essentially sat still for several hours while Tam worked, but he still grinned. ‘I’m going to feel like a child at a play park. You know, in one of those swing seats for toddlers with bars round it.’
Tam wrinkled his nose. ‘Yeah, there is that – sorry. Or…you could see it like a howdah, a stately noble sitting atop his elephant…?’
‘Let’s go with that, shall we?’ replied Jack, a broad smile on his face. ‘Either way, can we just try it, please?’
‘I think we should.’ Tam grimaced. ‘Are you sure you’re ready for this? And, just as importantly, will Beth still be asleep?’ At his answering nod, Tam continued. ‘This might be a teensy bit undignified.’
‘I lost all dignity years ago,’ said Jack. ‘Just manhandle me into it. I’ll shout if it hurts.’
Manhandle was definitely the operative word to describe what happened next, but, with much puffing and panting, plus assurances from Tam that they would find a way to do it more smoothly, Jack was installed on the quad bike. He looked around, then down at his ‘seat’, before snorting with laughter.
‘Definitely more toddler than stately noble,’ he said, ‘and, I’m happy to confirm, complete loss of dignity…Apart from that, I can’t quite believe it.’ He grew more serious. ‘This is incredible, Tam. What you’ve done is…’ He looked away for a moment, blinking hard. ‘Way beyond what I could ever have imagined or dreamed of. I don’t really know what to say, except thank you, and that doesn’t begin to cover it.’
Tam nodded, feeling a surge of something approaching happiness. This was what he used to be good at – solvingproblems, making things work. Running his business hadn’t been easy – there had always been something to fix, or a solution to come up with. Mother Nature herself threw up all kinds of hurdles, but he had truly enjoyed every minute. He turned his thoughts back to the matter in hand before his own emotions got the better of him. He needed clear vision for what came next.
‘Don’t thank me yet,’ he added. ‘Not until we’ve had a test drive. I need to make sure this thing doesn’t unbolt itself after ten minutes.’ He stared at the gate which led out of the yard and into the wild unknown. Then fussed over the cushions supporting Jack, pushing them firmly down each side. ‘Are you sure you’re ready for this?’
‘As I’ll ever be.’ He signalled ahead with his hand. ‘Let’s go!’
‘Oh, wait, hang on a minute.’ Tam dashed back inside the barn and returned carrying a cycling helmet. ‘Safety precautions,’ he said. ‘And no arguments.’
By the time Tam had helped Jack on with the headgear and clambered aboard the bike, his heart was beating wildly. This could well be the most stupid thing he’d ever done, or the most genius. Either way, they were about to find out. With the entirety of Jack’s wellbeing resting on his shoulders, Tam started up the bike.
He turned a couple of slow circles in the yard. So slow, in fact, that anyone walking alongside them would have had trouble keeping their speed in check, but Tam wasn’t taking any chances. Once he was satisfied that both the bike and Jack were stable, he scrambled off again and opened the gate. It would be the first time Jack had been through it in nine years.
Progress was slow, and not just because of the uneven ground. There was so much to see, and so much to say, that Tam had to keep stopping in order for Jack to relay what they were looking at. From what he’d said before, Tam knew that the farmneeded a lot of work, but nature had been running riot for the last decade or so and she hadn’t held back.
