Paul McCartney's Coat Page 38

  “What’s going on?” she shouted, staring at both Ted and Ray suspiciously. She ran to the front door and saw that the car park was entirely devoid of ice cream vans. “Who has been mis-using the intercom?” she demanded, but Ted and Ray just stood there, doing their very best to look innocent. Ray even managed a casual, tuneless whistle. Ted saw in the car park a small van had pulled up directly outside the main door however, and after it had stopped several people dressed in Salvation Army uniforms opened up the rear doors of the van and began to unload numerous different musical instruments. Ted and Ray noticed the total absence of ice cream, though.

  By now the two men and Wilma had noticed that both of the lifts had suddenly sprung to life and began to ascend from the ground floor, heading upwards. From the upper floors a dull, ominous rumbling could be heard. Outside the Salvation Army had by now stacked up several drums and tambourines into a neat little well organised pile and they were presently carefully lifting several delicate looking brass instruments from the van. Ironically, one or two of them appeared to be cornets.

  As the first lift hit the ground floor and the doors sprung open, Ted noticed out of the corner of his eye Wilma go a very wan shade of white and, after considering her options, ducked down behind the counter, from where a low whimpering sound could be heard. Taking this as a warning, Ted and Ray quickly got out of the way and also stood behind the counter just as the second lift arrived and its occupants spewed out into the lobby.

  “Don’t forget me Mivi!” shouted one of the old people as she was carried along with the unruly mob now heading straight for the Salvation Army van. “You didn’t get me one last time, even though I gave you the money you robbing get!” The lifts both ascended once more, the sounds of shouting and worse coming now from the upper floors.

  The sound of the approaching mob was suddenly brought to the attention of a tall man dressed in a Salvation Army uniform who stood at the side of the van, carefully handling a large trombone. Ted often thought, many times after what happened next had happened, that if he could have had a photograph taken of that man’s expression at precisely that moment then he would probably treasure it forever. The Salvation Army man’s face moved from surprise, to realisation, to shock before finally switching to abject terror. All in about one second. Ted and Ray both gulped and looked at each other.

  “Oh bugger.” said Ted.

  “It’s only a bloody ice cream van.” said Ray, “What’s wrong with them?”

  He said this as the vanguard of residents trampled noisily over the collection of drums and tambourines. The impact made them sound out a brief attempt at music, and then they were crushed. The Salvation Army officer holding the trombone disappeared under a flood of ice cream hungry old people, shouting loudly.

  Ted thought it pretty bad timing for the Salvation Army all in all, but also noticed Ray had the Dictaphone out of his pocket again, seemingly erasing it. He looked a little worried. Ray reflected on the resident’s reaction to the ice cream van. What he had not reckoned on, however, was their reaction when they got to the car park and found out that the ice cream van wasn’t actually there. As the lifts arrived once again, numerous old people falling out of them, he reckoned that he was about to find out.

  ***

  Sometime later the second ambulance departed, carrying the last wounded Salvation Army member off to hospital. Dorven swept the large (well, much bigger than him, but that wasn’t difficult, really) brush across the car park, trying to collect the various bits of crushed metal, wood and broken drum skins into a corner. Having been assured by Mr Boniface that they would deal with the matter, the police departed relatively early on. This was mostly down to the fact that the Salvation Army personnel seemed to have decided to turn the other cheek and therefore did not want to press charges. They did however decline an invitation for a rescheduled concert the week after. After all, they quietly and ever so patiently explained, they did not actually have any instruments any more, for a start.

  Along a narrow white painted corridor that they had never noticed before, Ted and Ray sat on a long bench outside a door that was marked, “Managers Office”. From the other side of the door loud shouting could be heard, most of it in the strange Germanic and Welsh voice of Mrs Vanderbilt.

  “I can’t believe we’re both in the naughty seat.” said Ted.

  “It’s like having to sit outside of the Headmaster’s office when you’ve been caught misbehaving!” agreed Ray. The pair of them had been reported by Wilma even before the mayhem was over, though both of them had refused to say which one of them had actually used the intercom.

  “I’m no grass.” Ray had said, solemnly.

  “I don’t think it’s quite that serious, Ray.” sighed Ted, but Ray didn’t look convinced.

  “Try telling that to The Wobbly Biker.” he said, wincing. “I saw where that drumstick went.”

  Ted sat there in silence for what was only a couple of seconds before the pair of them collapsed with laughter. Unfortunately they were still howling when Mrs Vanderbilt opened the office door and beckoned them in. They were both still snorting with laughter as they were led into the small office.

  Behind the desk Mr Boniface sat, his baby like face blushing crimson in an attempt at a scowl as he watched the two men enter. The scowl unfortunately, just made him look as if he needed feeding a bottle. Mrs Vanderbilt slammed the door behind them and Boniface practically shot into the air.

  “Take a seat.” he said shakily, indicating two plain wooden chairs arranged in front of his desk. Vanderbilt bristled as she sat down on a chair alongside the home manager.

  “I think you will not be laughing long.” she said stonily, which just set Ted and Ray off once again, though Ted thought that she didn’t look convinced at all.

  “Jesus!” gasped Ray between tears of laughter, “Everyone’s a critic!”

  “Gentlemen.” said Boniface in a vague attempt to regain control. “Your reluctance to indicate which one of you interfered with the intercom gives me cause for concern. That it was indeed one of you there is little doubt. Yet there are no witnesses.” Ted noticed Vanderbilt was growing redder by the second. “No evidence. And even worse, nobody wishing to pursue justice, as it were. The Salvation Army, thankfully for you, are willing to take no further action.” Vanderbilt shuffled in her chair and Boniface tried to look even sterner. The end result made him look as if he had wind.

  “Make no bones about it though, gentlemen. Any more... ah...” he seemed lost for the exact word he wanted, before settling on, “Misdemeanours, and your feet will not touch the ground. There is a long waiting list for this home gentlemen, and I would advise you to remember that.” He stood up. “For now you may go.”

  Vanderbilt scowled at them as they left, for now on their best behaviour. Once they reached the common room however they both burst into gales of laughter again. They were still laughing as they reached the foyer, where a sheepish looking Wilma sat behind the reception desk.

  “Grass!” said Ted, pointing at her as they waited for the lift. Wilma just hissed back at them, making a warding hex sign with her hands. Once they were back in the lift they fell about with laughter once again.

  ***

  Ted was browsing the rock sponges and odd coral shapes section of the Thrift and gift shop whilst simultaneously fending off owner Dave’s attempts to show him the “special customer” section when Ray appeared behind him carrying a small piece of paper. It had been a week or so since the incident with the Salvation Army and they had both been keeping a low profile, with the possible exception of Ray naming even more of the home’s residents and staff with Dockers nicknames. The only other consequence had been the banning of the ice cream van from the home grounds, which had seen both Ted and Ray being sent briefly to Coventry by all of the other residents before Mr Whippy got around the ban by parking on the main road just outside the home, as well as investing in even louder bells, much to Ted and Ray’s amusement.

  Ted and R
ay had been sitting under the large, solid arms of the oak tree in the garden the previous week waiting for the “heat” on them to die down. Dorven would wander past from time to time. Ted thought that he seemed to spend an awful lot of time burying piles of leaves and what have you about the grounds, and he made a mental note to ask him about it. One day however he saw him wander past carrying an unfeasibly large axe, and he decided that it was probably a good idea to leave him to whatever it was he was doing. He always waved a cheery “Hello!” however, and Ted and Ray always made a point of waving back.

  “It’s a sturdy old tree this.” said Ray one day.

  “I’m not climbing it.” said Ted, now that he had a stronger idea of how his new friends mind worked.

  “Never even crossed my mind.” said Ray, smiling. Ted knew that it had. “My tree climbing days are long past.”

  “Mine too.” agreed Ted. “Sad isn’t it?”

  “Not if you don’t think about it.” said Ray helpfully, and Ted sighed. “Mind you, I was never one for tree climbing. Not really. Not good with heights, you see.” and they had left it at that.

  Ted’s thoughts wandered back to the present.

  “Just got this through the door.” said Ray, handing the piece of paper to him. “You’ll probably have one too when you get back.”

  “What is it?” asked Ted.

  “Marion Hayrick Home forum committee.” he said, “Looks like some kind of meeting where you can put forward ideas about what you want the home to do. Entertainment and the like. I imagine that they will also tell us what they are up to with the place. Plans for the future. That sort of stuff.”

  “Do you think they will put in a bar if we asked nicely?” said Ted, though he didn’t hold out much hope. Ray laughed.

  “Could be a chance to get some decent entertainment though.” said Ray.

  “When is it?” asked Ted. Ray consulted the piece of paper.

  “Wednesday night at eight.” he read. “Lasts about an hour it says here. Also says they will be outlining future plans for the garden.” The pair of them thought about that for a while.

  “Perhaps they are putting in a swimming pool.” laughed Ted.

  “No good to me.” said Ray. “Can’t swim.”

  The two of them stood there for a while considering this then seemed to reach a mutual decision. “We’ll definitely have to go.” announced Ray and Ted nodded in agreement.

  ***

  Wednesday night came and after tea Ray knocked for Ted and the pair of them took the lift down to the ground floor. There were still small pockets of animosity towards them from the other residents due to the ice cream ban, but by and large it had all but blown over, now that Mr Whippy had made alternative arrangements. A man got in the lift on the second floor however, and seeing it was them muttered, “Bunch of clowns” under his breath just loud enough for the two of them to hear him. When they reached the ground floor they let him out first.

  “The Ringmaster.” winked Ray, tapping the side of his nose and Ted laughed. They left the lift and entered the common room, where it seemed almost every resident was present. It certainly seemed that way. Across the crowded common room they could see The Wobbly Biker, Fork Handles and The Sherbet Lemon Kid (he never seemed to be without a bag of boiled sweets in his hand), as well as The Zookeeper, Lord Nelson (a resident who had innocently asked Ray to “keep an eye out” for the ice cream van), The Pacamac Kid, who never seemed to leave the home without a rolled up plastic mac, and many others. The common room was full to bursting. Ted and Ray took a seat off to one side. There were two chairs placed at the head of the crowd, and as eight o’clock approached Vanderbilt and Mr Boniface appeared from the office and took their places there.

  Ted could not help but notice the dirty looks that Vanderbilt was casting in his and Ray’s general direction, but he ignored them whilst what was apparently a usual report on the shop and cafe takings was read out, along with reports on several entertainment nights that had taken place in the last three months. Ray noted that these meetings seemed to take place quarterly as the meeting continued. Eventually the entertainment was discussed, and Ray suggested a few things that surprised Ted as they were actually quite sensible suggestions. There was a show of hands and a few suggestions were let through, though some weren’t. So far Ray had managed to secure some Monopoly board games, a table tennis set and a few boxes of Scrabble.

  “Whoop ee - de - doo!” he whispered under his breath to Ted’s amusement. Eventually, as nine o’clock approached they came to the plans for the garden.

  “Finally, ladies and gentlemen.” said Boniface, referring to the notes he carried with him, “The garden.” He paused. “And in particular the oak tree on the east lawn.” Vanderbilt nodded in agreement, though as to what, Ted found hard to follow. “As I am sure you are aware, ladies and gentlemen, we have had to cut the oak tree back continually over the last few years to stop it spreading any nearer to the home. It still however, continues to grow year on year.” he paused for a moment, taking a sip of water from a glass on a table near to hand, “So therefore we propose to cut it down. We have plans to place a nice little gazebo there in its place. Perhaps a water feature or two.”

  There was a wave of mumbling throughout the crowd of residents. Boniface began to look a little perturbed and Vanderbilt scanned the audience, as if looking for the source of trouble.

  “You can’t cut the tree down.” said Ted, getting to his feet. He felt, and probably looked surprised to be standing, and repeated himself before continuing. “You just can’t. It’s beautiful. It wouldn’t be right.” Ted noticed Ray getting to his feet in support beside him, though as of yet he did not say anything. Ted scanned the crowd, ignoring the laser beam glare of Vanderbilt at the head of the audience.

  “Oh, I think you’ll find that we can. “ She growled.

  “All we need is a majority vote.” simpered Boniface before smiling sweetly as this, and Ted felt like ramming a dummy in his mouth and putting him back in whichever cot he had presumably crawled out of. “In fact, we don’t even need that. In the absence of another scheme we could just replace it anyway. I don’t see any other suggestions being forthcoming. Do you?”

  Boniface grinned and sat down, leaving Ted and Ray standing on their own. There was still a low mumbling rippling about the room. Out of the corner of his eye Ted noticed Dorven enter the common room, before disappearing amongst the crowd and then re-appearing once more as he pushed his way to the front. A large handle of some kind seemed to be strapped to his back, jutting into the air, and crossing his arms did nothing. He did, however bow his head very slightly to Ted and Ray, who nodded back to him.

  “Has anyone else got any idea about what to do with the tree?” pleaded Ted, but nobody came forward. The mumbling did increase however.

  “Let’s have a look at it another way, then. Who wants a gazebo?” said Ray, and there were several low calls of “No!” and, “Shame!” and one last one of “They can stick the gazebo up their bloody arses!” Laughter ran around the room. Even Dorven seemed to smile, though it was difficult to say what was going on behind his large bushy beard.

  “Good.” said Ted. “Fighting spirit. That’s what we want!” he paused as several of the residents began to puff themselves up, a lot of them sitting bolt upright in their chairs now. Boniface began to look quite pale, and Vanderbilt turned an entirely new shade of red. “Show of hands.” said Ted. “How many want a gazebo?” There was an even louder mumble around the room. From the back a lone voice called,

  “Is a gazebo a breed of cat?” and a chuckle ran around the room. Ted explained exactly what a gazebo was and called for another show of hands. About ten people put their hands up.

  “Now how many don’t?” he asked and every single one of the rest of them stuck their hands into the air.

  “Right.” said Ted. “No gazebo. So what do you want?” The room descended into chaos, everyone talking at once as ideas were thrown around. The general idea
s tossed about were along the lines of a rockery, or a pond, or the like. Ray felt he had to bring their attention back to the problem.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” he called. “Order!” when he had it, he continued. “You’ve forgotten something! All of those suggestions would still require the cutting down of the tree. I suggest we concentrate on a plan that leaves the tree in place?”

  A low deep voice rose from across where Ted and Ray stood as Dorven stepped forward. “May I suggest that we go and look at the tree?” he suggested. “It may help the laddies and lasses make up their minds.” he finished, and left the room, apparently leading the way.

  “Erm. Good idea.” said Ray as the room began to empty into the garden. Following the by now rapidly increasing exodus of the common room into the gardens outside, Ted and Ray crossed the lawn.

  “This is most irregular!” shouted Boniface after them but he and Vanderbilt were forced to follow them too and make their way to where the tree stood. Eventually they were all gathered there. Ted looked up at the stars through its great arms, moonlight streaming down on it. It seemed almost majestic. The crowd had silenced now. Boniface and Vanderbilt stood in front of Ted and Ray at the head of the gathering of residents angrily scowling at anyone who would catch their eye. Most of their eyes were on the tree, however. Dorven just leaned against the tree trunk itself, almost as if waiting.

  Ray moved forward and stood on the small rock that stood in front of the oak, trying to gain their attention. Standing on it he was surprised to find that it was much higher than he had originally thought; some three feet or so. “So what do we do?” said Ted, and receiving no replies just stared back at the tree once more. “Just look at it.” he said. “Is it not just beautiful?” There were several sighs of agreement from the crowd but no suggestions.