Just the Job, Lad by Pannett Mike

Author:Pannett, Mike [Pannett, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Hodder
Published: 2011-07-20T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

As Sly as a Fox

‘There you go, cock-bod. Good as new.’ Soapy and I were standing some way back from Keeper’s Cottage, over by the gooseberry bushes where we could get a good view of it. My two weeks as acting sergeant were over and I was enjoying a couple of days off before going back to my regular beat. The weather had been kind and I’d managed to get a lot of tidying up done in the garden – in between taking some lengthy tea breaks with Soapy as he put the finishing touches to the roof, replaced a length of guttering and installed a downpipe.

‘Not bad,’ I said. ‘Not bad at all. I have to say you’ve made a fair job of that. In the end.’

‘How d’you mean, in the end?’

‘Well, let’s face it, you’ve taken your time.’

‘Aye, but you can’t be hurrying a craftsman, Mike. No good rushing the job. That’s how mistakes get made.’

I let it go. I could’ve mentioned the elementary mistake he’d made in telling us that the roof was sound, way back in the early summer, but what do they say? All’s well that ends well? And, fair play to him, he had made a decent job of it. The new ridge tiles were all cemented in, the chimney was standing tall and straight, freshly pointed up with the TV aerial back in place, and the new lead flashing was glinting dully in the September sunlight. As Soapy said, ‘To say your cottage is over two hundred years old, it looks as good as new.’ He nodded in the direction of the trailer where he’d just finished stacking the scaffolding, boards and ladders. ‘I’ll fetch Algy’s tractor down tonight and have them away.’ He grinned and rubbed his hands together. ‘Then it’ll be payday, eh?’

‘Aye. We all like payday.’

‘Specially when there’s a decent whack due. Nowt like a big fat envelope in your hand, is there, all crinkly like?’ Soapy smacked his lips and grinned at me. I’d last seen that look as he set about one of Walt’s sister’s cakes.

‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘but I thought Algy was paying you a regular weekly wage these days. Straight into your bank, like.’

‘He is, cock-bod, but this here’s one of your back-pocket jobs. Our little secret from the taxman.’

‘Are you sure I need to know that, Soapy?’

‘Well, no, but what I’m saying, like, is . . .’ He nudged me and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. ‘Nowt like the old folding stuff.’

‘I know what you’re saying, Soapy. You’ve made it plain enough. Cash in hand. The black economy. I did grow up in the country, you know.’

‘So, er, when you can you get down the old cashpoint, like?’

‘Just run that by me one more time, will you?’ I said.

Soapy had me mystified, but that was nothing new. The guy was always talking in riddles.

‘Well, you know – the old spondulicks, like. The readies. Friday night coming up, late-night shopping. Me and Becky have a wedding to plan, remember? Seven months and counting, cock-bod.

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