The Walk Home by Rachel Seiffert

Author:Rachel Seiffert [Seiffert, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-90882-7
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2014-07-07T16:00:00+00:00

Marek did the calculations on his mobile over breakfast. They’d put the big table in one of the first-floor rooms, and the others joined them as they arrived, bringing rolls and coffee. Stevie was late down, coming in as Jozef dealt out the morning’s jobs; he came in the door all thin T-shirt and narrow shoulders, with a deep sleep-crease across his cheek. Tomas gave him a nod:

“Good morning.”

And then:

“Looks like our boy-thief has been out half the night again.”

He said it in Polish, but it raised enough knowing smiles to have Stevie shifting, casting a nervy glance around the assembled workers. Jozef motioned to Marek to give him his orders, and then kept on handing out tasks, moving things along, aware any move he made in Stevie’s favour might be reported back to Ewa.

He waited until all the men were standing before he pushed his way through to the boys.

“Use the back room, but stack everything neatly, yes?”

One of the trucks would bring all the copper pipes and fittings for the new central heating.

“We’ll need them for every room, so keep them to hand.”

Stevie nodded, short, aware he’d been the butt of a joke, and then Marek kicked at Tomas’s boot as he was passing, holding out his mobile so he could see what the heating order came to.

“Look how much you spent.”

Marek tapped the screen in emphasis, but he only got a shrug from Tomas:

“Now you know what things cost here. See why I get at you for cutting pipes too short? Measure twice, cut once: no waste.”

“Right, right.”

Marek turned away, but Jozef frowned at him to listen; high time he knew how these things worked. He told him:

“We’ll sell on what we don’t use. Claw some money back.”

“From the supplier?”

“Wherever we get the best price. Maybe I’ll get you to find out.”

He wanted Marek kept on his toes now.

Jozef sent the boys down to work, thinking he’d most likely just pass on any leftover pipes to Romek. Fit them in his van, along with his boxes, drive them down to London en route to Ewa and Gdańsk.

He only went downstairs just before lunch, to check the goods were all in, and stored properly.

He heard the boys from out in the ground-floor hallway: still in the back room and sorting, but Marek’s mind already on the weekend.

“I’m out tonight. With Tomas, maybe a couple of the others.”

He wanted Stevie along, but the boy didn’t sound too keen on the company. Even when Marek told him:

“Tomas is all right.”

“Naw, the guy’s out tae drive a wedge. Cannae be daen wae that shite.”

Wise before his time, Jozef thought, coming to a stop by the door; the boy still sounded tired too, not in the best mood. There was the clank of pipes, so Jozef knew they’d arrived, and then Marek asked:

“Who’s best to sell to up here, then?”

But Stevie just shrugged the question off.

“What you askin me for, pal? Ask around the pubs when you go. I havnae lived here for ages, not since I was a boy.

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