Jim's Revenge, page 6
“Done what?” the whole room responded.
Faced with a unanimous denial, Urnwood ripped the defaced image of his beloved from the side of the cabinet. He downloaded Ashley’s image from his phone and ordered the office printer to make another colour image.
Once he’d reinstated the new print, he began issuing threats, “If anyone touches Ashley’s photograph again, there will be trouble. I’ll tell my uncle.”
“Okay,” Tupal said. “Ashley’s photograph is out of bounds from now on, so keep your shirt on.”
Satisfied with Tupal’s assurances, Urnwood went back to the mind-numbing task he’d been set, but his thoughts soon wandered.
Glancing at Tupal, he said, “My uncle has invited Ashley along.”
Tupal grinned and began arm pumping, “You’re in there, lad.”
Sandra popped her head around the door with some news, “Mr Flinnett has just called in. He’s unlikely to be in today.”
Replan said, “Why not?”
“Some sort of accident,” Sandra replied. “He said he’d call me back shortly.”
Urnwood’s eyes lit up. Flinnett wasn’t coming in. “Doesn’t the new go-fer start today. It’s joke time.”
A snigger went around the room. If Flinnett wasn’t coming in and Fleecem’s nephew was involved in any japes, there was little likelihood of any comebacks.
~*~
Jim arrived at 10.15 carrying two bags clanking with the crockery he’d been instructed to buy. He’d also purchased tea bags, coffee, milk and some biscuits.
After exchanging greetings with Sandra and Moira, he went to the tea-point and began making preparations. As the market vendor who’d sold him the new cups hadn’t looked very salubrious, Jim put the new cups into the dishwasher and turned it on. He smiled to himself happily; gone was the boredom of retirement; he had a part-time job and a purpose in life.
While the dishwasher chugged and the antiquated electric water boiler girded its loins, Jim began working his way around the offices taking orders, writing them down on a small notepad he’d bought.
Entering a rear office, Jim’s eyes locked onto Rheingold’s face. He knew him. He’d seen him before; but where? A look of recognition also appeared on Rheingold’s face.
Then Jim recalled where he’d seen Rheingold. He was one of the men Adrian Drinkwater had accused of being a drug dealer.
Rheingold recovered quickly, “Well, well, well; if it isn’t the duck feeder. You must be Jim. I hope you aren’t going to accuse me of being a drug dealer again.”
“I never did,” Jim replied. “That was my friend and he’s going a bit doolally. I apologise for what he said.”
“Apology accepted.”
Jim swiftly moved on, “I’m taking orders. Tea or coffee?”
“White coffee,” Rheingold said, “No sugar.”
~*~
Once Jim had left the room, Rheingold depressed an intercom button. “I’ve just met Jim Godwin,” he told Tupal.
“And?”
“He’s the guy who fingered us in the park,” Rheingold said, “The guy who accused us of being drug dealers.”
“He can’t prove anything,” Tupal replied.
“He could start spreading rumours,” Rheingold said. “We need to get rid of him, pronto.”
“Like we got rid of Michelle, the cleaner who found our stash?” Tupal replied.
“Yeah,” Rheingold said.
As he’d just had a snort in the toilets, Tupal giggled, “Pity I’m out of white rats.”
Rheingold was not amused, “Forget white rats, you idiot. This is serious. Give him the run-around. Make his life difficult. We need to get rid of Jim Godwin before he can start spreading rumours.”
~*~
After Rheingold had hung up, Tupal glanced in Urnwood’s direction and gestured for him to come over. Tupal lowered his voice to a whisper.
“You know how we agreed to play a joke on Jim?”
When Urnwood nodded, Tupal said, “As Mr Flinnett won’t be in today, it would be a good time and I’ve had an idea.”
After a hasty conversation, Tupal said, “Sure you can handle it?”
Urnwood grinned, “Ace. Leave it with me.”
~*~
By the time Jim entered Replan’s team office, he had at least eight drinks on his list.
After taking the Replan office order, he turned to leave. Urnwood cocked a thumb towards the open fire doors, “Hey Jim! Don’t forget them in there.”
Jim moved towards the door and gasped. He cursed Flinnett under his breath. His new boss had told him there weren’t many members of staff, but it was obvious there were shed loads.
Undeterred, Jim stepped over the threshold. As he proceeded to move around talking to the students, Urnwood began rolling around uncontrollably.
Fearful of intervening in case he was banded a bad sport but embarrassed and unable to watch, Replan left the group office and instinctively looked towards the mirror stripe window.
Sandra put him out of his misery, “Don’t worry, he’s just rung in again; he’s had to go home because of the family crisis.”
“What sort of crisis?”
“Michael, one of his children, had an accident and has been taken to hospital. Knocked off his bike by a hit and run driver.”
Replan was surprised, “I didn’t know he was married.”
“I don’t think he gets on with his wife,” Sandra replied. “He never seems happy when she telephones, and he doesn’t go home much. Someone told me he has a fancy woman tucked away somewhere on the edge of town.”
When Replan didn’t respond, Sandra added, “He’s a bit like you. Having a fancy woman on the side, I mean.”
Replan glanced in Moira’s direction and hissed, “Not here!”
He then deliberately changed tack, “So how is Flinnett’s boy?”
“As far as I can make out, he has a broken arm and is badly bruised.”
“Is Flinnett likely to be off for long?”
Sandra shrugged, “All he said to me was that you’re in charge while he’s off. He’ll give you a call later.”
Deepening her voice suggestively, Sandra added, “Didn’t you hear me? You’re in charge. Is there anything you want me to do, boss?”
“Like what?”
Sandra gave him a lustful wink, crossed and re-crossed her legs suggestively and whispered, “I thought you might want to give me some dictation; if you catch my drift.”
She then glanced towards the interview room. It was the only room at Slobend, Fleecem & Skinnem, other than the toilets, with a lock on the door and no vision panel.
Fearing she about to push the boundaries too far, Replan killed the moment by blurting out, “Urnwood has sent Jim into the education centre.”
“He’s done what?”
“The door was open and Urnwood told him they all worked for us. Jim’s busily walking around taking orders.”
Sex momentarily forgotten, Sandra said, “Oh! I’ve got to see this.”
“Got to see what?”
Both shot a glance at Rheingold; dubbed the brothel creeper because he managed to sneak up on people without being noticed.
“Got to see what?”
“Urnwood has sent Jim, the new go-fer, into the education centre. He thinks they’re staff members and he’s going around taking orders. There must be at least thirty-five people in that room.”
Rheingold couldn’t help but smile. He’d told Tupal to give Jim the run-around and it was apparent he’d come up trumps. It wouldn’t be long before Jim decided he couldn’t handle the numbers and leave.
Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Rheingold disappeared as silently as he’d appeared and swiftly returned with five other members of staff. Crowding into Replan’s group office, they peered through the door at Jim.
Urnwood became annoyed. He was in charge of the practical joke and they were about to spoil it. “Don’t stand there. He’ll see you.”
Despite his youth, the other members of staff took note of his annoyance and moved out of the doorway. The noise level also dropped as the Rheingold group retreated and began hiding behind filing cabinets waiting for Jim’s return. But then the noise levels began to rise again.
Urnwood hissed, “Shut up! I want to see if he actually makes them drinks.”
A snigger ran around the room.
Urnwood snapped, “I said, keep the noise down.”
The sniggering stopped and everyone waited expectantly for Jim to return.
~*~
Jim moved between desks jotting down what the education centre people wanted to drink. Several gave him strange looks and declined his advances, but others didn’t. When he came back, he’d taken additional orders for ten cups of tea and eight cups of coffee.
Being slightly deaf and pre-occupied by the momentous order he had to fill, he was oblivious to the hum of noise and amused faces in Replan’s group office. He certainly didn’t notice the members of staff who’d squeezed into tight corners so they wouldn’t be seen.
Back in the tea point, Jim found three battered trays and began counting cups and mugs. Bringing the dishwasher to a halt, he opened it, flapped away the belching steam and started counting again. Even with the new cups, he knew wouldn’t have enough to go around. There was nothing for it; he’d have to do shifts. He’d have to take the drinks round and then bring back as many cups he could retrieve. As the dishwasher cycle was painfully slow, he’d have to wash up by hand.
Re-entering Replan’s group office, Jim scurried into the education centre and began passing out cups. After waiting for the first drinkers to down their brew, he returned with a partially full tray of used cups, went back to the tea point and began washing the cups in a bowl of water.
Urnwood let out a chortle. “Let’s see how many times he does it before he finds out.”
~*~
When Urnwood saw Jim returning to the tea point with the last load of cups, he glanced at Ashley’s photograph again and moved away from his desk. He was pleased to note that no one in the room challenged him.
Knowing Flinnett was away, Urnwood pushed his way into the tea point and gave Jim a shy smile.
Being flustered, Jim was a bit short, “Yes. Can I help you?”
“I’m John,” Urnwood said. “But it’s a tradition in this company that male members of staff just get called by our surnames; so I’m just Urnwood.”
Falling in with the convention, Jim said, “So what can I do for you, Urnwood?”
Urnwood became tongue-tied. He knew what he wanted to say but it wouldn’t come out. He started giggling.
Jim said, “Look, I’m busy. Either tell me what you want or get back to work. I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”
“I have but ...”
“But what?”
Urnwood went red and his tongue stumbled, “Is it right that part of your job is ...er, er, er ... to go out for things?”
Jim glanced at the sink, “If I have the time. What d’you want; a sandwich from the shop down the road? They do a great toastie - sausage with brown sauce.”
Although Jim had nailed his eating habits, the colour on Urnwood’s face increased.
“Well?”
“It’s okay,” Urnwood replied. “I’ll leave it.”
Jim turned sharply, “What’s the matter with you? You want something or wouldn’t be here.”
Urnwood went even redder, “Could you get me some condoms?”
“Condoms?”
“Yeah,” Urnwood agreed. “So I don’t get my girlfriend pregnant.”
Jim was tempted to smile but just said, “Of course; if you give me some money.”
Urnwood swiftly thrust some money into Jim’s hand, “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
Jim tapped the side of his nose, “I understand. I’ll be popping out shortly. I’ll get you some. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Urnwood became thoughtful, “You couldn’t get me more in the future if I need ‘em.”
“If you pay me,” Jim said. “No problem.”
Urnwood gave Jim a grateful look and scurried away. Jim began talking to himself, “I wonder why he came to me? There are condom machines in most public toilets, and they are on display in supermarkets these days.”
Thinking on the topic, he added, “It just goes to show. All those sex education lessons they keep talking about haven’t changed things that much.”
Once he’d finished washing and drying, Jim was true to his word and went out to buy a few items. He’d barely had time to get back before Urnwood appeared again. Jim handed him a small brown paper bag.
Glancing inside it and realising Jim had done as he’d asked, he said, “You don’t mind getting them for me in future?”
Jim opened one of the cupboard drawers, “If you leave me a note and the money in there, I’ll get ‘em for you.”
“Thanks,” Urnwood said and scurried out of the room.
~*~
By the time the afternoon arrived, and Jim had started his second round of drinks, he was feeling exhausted. His years were catching up on him. In fact, he was ready to resign from his newly found job.
As he passed Sandra’s desk carrying a large tray, he glanced at her and said, “Is Mr Flinnett in?”
“He’s not in today,” Sandra replied, “Why d’you want to see him? Maybe I can help.”
Moira Buckle cut in, “His son was knocked off his bike. He’s gone back home. He’s gone to the hospital.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jim said.
“Was it important? Sandra asked, “Seeing Mr Flinnett?”
Sensing it was the wrong time to complain, Jim shook his head and carried the tray towards the Replan group office. Sandra sniggered but Jim didn’t notice.
By the time he’d finished his second shift, Jim walked home slowly. Climbing the stairs to his first floor flat, he decided the new job was too much for him.
~*~
The moment Jim walked out of the office, Sandra put a call through to Rheingold, “He’s gone.”
“How did he look?”
“How d’you think he looked?” Sandra snapped, “Shattered. He’s been running around all day. That was a really mean joke to play on an old man.”
“D’you think he’ll come back in the morning?”
“Judging by the expression on his face, I doubt it.”
“Good,” Rheingold said.
“You didn’t want him here, did you?” Sandra said. “Why?”
“Let’s just say his face didn’t fit,” Rheingold replied.
“He’s only just got here,” Sandra protested.
“That’s tough,” Rheingold said. “Both Paul Tupal and I have met him before, and we don’t want him here.”
Buzzing Replan, she called him through. Once he’d entered the general office, she dropped her voice, “Did you know that Rheingold and Tupal don’t like Jim and want to get rid of him?”
“No,” Replan replied.
“I think sending Jim in the education centre was more than just a prank.”
Replan let out a sigh, “He looked exhausted when he left. My guess he’ll probably call in the morning and say he’s not coming in.”
Once Replan had gone back to the group office, Sandra turned to Moira and said, “You didn’t hear any of that, understood?”
Moira nodded meekly.
9. Thursday Afternoon and Evening
Once inside his flat, Jim began searching for a scrap of paper with a telephone number on it.
Finding it, he dialled and Flinnett answered, “Hello. Can I help you?”
“It’s Jim.”
Flinnett’s tone changed slightly, “Oh! Hello Jim. Sorry, I wasn’t in today, but my son was knocked off his bike.”
Jim suddenly felt disloyal. Calling in to resign seemed inappropriate when Flinnett had more than enough on his plate.
He said, “Yes, I heard. Is he okay, Mr Flinnett?”
“He’s recovering,” Flinnett replied. “How did your first day go? I hope they didn’t play any practical jokes on you. I meant to warn you. We’ve got an office full of jokers.”
“Practical jokes; what sort of practical jokes?”
“You know. Sending someone for a ‘long stand’ or something like that.”
“No,” Jim assured him. “They’ve not played any jokes on me.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Flinnett replied.
Flinnett had barely said the words before Jim’s brain suddenly moved through the gears, “Can I just check something, Mr Flinnett?”
“What’s that, Jim?”
“You know the big double doors,” Jim said. “Is the big room beyond one of ours?”
“No,” Flinnett said, “That’s an education centre. Why d’you ask?”
Feeling an idiot, Jim said, “Just checking, Mr Flinnett. I don’t want to do anything wrong.”
Despite the words coming out of his mouth, Jim mind flashed with anger and he hissed, “Bastards.”
“What was that, Jim?”
“Nothing, Mr Flinnett,” Jim said, covering his tracks by adding, “I just want to say that everyone in the office was sorry to hear about your son’s accident.”
“Well, thank you, Jim. Tell everyone I appreciated the call,” Flinnett replied.
Once he’d disconnected, Jim’s mood went back to being homicidal. Verbalising his thoughts, he muttered, “Right you bastards! Like practical jokes, do you? I’ll give you a few practical jokes.”
Leaving the room, he began searching in the medicine cupboard in the bathroom. Jim had acquired a large stock of most tablets and potions over the years.
Finding what he was looking for, he smiled, “Two can play your game.”
Slipping the bottle into a pocket, he said, “I’ll have ‘em; the whole lot of ‘em. There’s nothing to choose between any of them.”
His homicidal mood would have continued for some time, but his phone rang, and Sam came on, “Hello Grandpa Godwin.”
Jim realised Sam was being prompted because he heard a stage whisper and guessed Tommy was behind the call. “How did your first day in your new job go, Grandpa?”
Knowing that Tommy would feel vindicated if he admitted that his first day had been a total disaster, Jim lied, “It went very well, Sam. I’ve made a lot of new friends.”
