'Why do you want
to know where she lives?'
'I have to present
to the Council.' Barkus gestured to the briefcase -the papers were
returned safely- and then towards the door Annie had just left by. 'I
need to meet with Sheryl to make sure that I get everything straight
and that she's okay with the changes I propose.' Lynn put her head on
one side.
'Okay, I've a
better idea then,' she said after a few seconds. 'I go get her and we
all have lunch together while you two discuss it.' She looked around
while Barkus' stomach growled its agreement with the plan. 'You get
that round table with the red flowers and we'll be back in ten.' And
she was gone.
Barkus obediently
moved his coffee cup and the briefcase to the new table, then glanced
around for the washrooms. Mary, the smiling owner pointed for him as
she retrieved the used crockery.
On the way back,
Barkus noted the framed pictures along the walls. Someone liked Jazz,
that was for sure. You couldn't tell from the background music. He
sat down at the new table and noted with a smile that the waitress
had not only added a large jug of water and several glasses to the
table, she had also replaced his half-empty, half-cold coffee cup
with a new, full one. He sipped at the fresh coffee and looked around
for more pictures. In so doing, he absently noticed that his seat
gave him a perfect view of the entire interior.
In fact, he
mused. If anyone were to come in from any point of entrance, I'd
see them and I could leave through 3 other points of exit He
thought for a moment, then switched seats so that he sat at an
oblique angle to the first seat. He had barely gotten comfortable
when Lynn entered, just ahead of Sheryl. The woman was pale, but she
seemed determined.
'Good morning.'
Barkus stood, but didn't move around the table as they walked over.
'Good morning,'
Sheryl replied, not quite looking at him. She gravitated to the
'perfect view' seat as Lynn moved to the
one opposite Barkus but near enough to Sheryl to give moral support
if necessary. They all sat down.
'So, Lynn tells me
you need to modify my design.' Sheryl said it in a matter-of-fact
way, but Barkus saw her white knuckles.
'In minor ways,'
he replied soothingly. He slid the papers out of the briefcase again
and spread the relevant pages in front of her.
Lynn sat back and
looked for Mary, but she was already on the way over with a fresh jug
of coffee. She made small talk and asked for menus, then looked at
the other two. Barkus was using a capped pen to illustrate whatever
he was saying. Sheryl was engrossed in the discussion and was waving
her own pen in time to her comments.
'There you go
Lynn,' the waitress handed her some menus.
'Thanks Mary.'
Mary nodded and went to see to a young family that had just walked
in. Barkus looked up.
'Good idea Lynn,'
he said and took the menu that she offered. 'I am starving.' He
checked his watch. 'Oh wow, no wonder. Its past 11 o'clock and I
haven't eaten anything yet.'
'You haven't had
breakfast?' both female voices asked in unison, then they looked at
each other and laughed.
'You two are
definitely best friends,' Barkus observed. 'But to answer your
questioning, no I have not. The motel doesn't exactly run a 5 star
kitchen.'
'You're at the
Motel?' Sheryl sounded surprised. 'Oh I think you can do better than
that, don't you think so Lynn?'
'Absolutely, Mary
rents out the apartment upstairs, I think its empty at the moment.'
They turned expectant eyes on him and Barkus coughed to hid the
sudden laugh.
'Thank you ladies,
I must say that the thought of having breakfast here in the mornings
does appeal to me.' He meant it, the place had a certain charm about
it.
'Ready to order?'
Mary bustled up.
'Well, I know what
I want,' Barkus began as both Lynn and Sheryl scanned the menu
guiltily. 'I'll take the Big Breakfast, over easy, ham, home-fries,
whole grain toast.' He waited while she jotted that down. 'And Lynn
and Sheryl tell me that you have a room to rent.'
'Oh yes, do you
need a place to say?' Mary asked, in the act of taking back the menu.
'He's at the
Motel,' Lynn supplied before Barkus could say anything. 'And I'll
take the muesli and yoghurt, and some peanut butter please.'
'Ugh, gotta get
you out of there. What'll ya have Sheryl?'
'Soft boiled egg
with whole grain toast and fruit preserves please Mary.'
'Sure thing,
honey. Well,' Mary paused after writing the order and looked at
Barkus. 'Come see me today when we both have time and I'll show you
the place, deal?' The door bell tinkled as more customers came in.
'Deal.' And with a
smile she was off.
Barkus stared at the ugly, weed-filled flowerbeds and his creaking stomach sent him a prophecy of what would happen if he even thought of trying to clear them himself. Well, what was the point of being a self-made man if you couldn't take advantage of it? He looked around and sighted on the gang of teenagers sprawled in the sun just off the square.
They exchanged
sullen expressions and started pulling their various items together
in preparation for being yelled along as he walked towards them.
'Hang on, hang
on,' Barkus called out. 'I'm not gonna tell you to push off, I want
to ask you something.'
'Oh yeah,' said an
apparent leader non-concomitantly. 'What's that?'
'How'd you all
like to earn some money?' Only after saying it did Barkus realize how
dodgy that sentence could sound. But the teenagers didn't turn and
flee. The leader regarded him impassively.
'And how would we
be earning it, exactly?' Barkus pointed back towards the dreadful
flowerbeds.
'Clear those
god-awful patches of weeds. Pick up all the trash, pull out every
single plant by the roots, prep the ground for planting then cover
them with tarps.' Barkus hesitated, every teen had turned a
thoughtful eye to the flowerbeds. 'Do you know how to prep ground for
planting?' The leader nodded.
'Most of us
prepped and planted those beds the last time they were done,' he
mused. 'Got a day off school for it.'
'Oh.'
'We knew they were
ugly as sin when we planted them,' said someone else. 'And they've
only gotten worse since.'
'So you're John
Barkus I take it then,' the leader continued, looking him up and
down. 'You're the one who's gonna decide what our town centre looks
like then?'
'No,' Barkus
replied honestly. 'The Town Council is.' The chorus of derisive
snorts and hoots let Barkus know their opinion on that.
'In this town,
that means the Taylors will decide it,' the leader informed him
solemnly. 'And that means Paul Taylor will be the one designing it.
Again.'
'Not
necessarily.' Barkus eyed the group, a strange idea growing in the
back of his head. 'How would you like to be a part of making sure
that doesn't happen?' Now he had their attention.
Ten minutes later,
Barkus was whistling his way into Jim's Place.
'Well aren't you a
happy fellow,' Jim said in surprise as Barkus sat at the bar with a
grin. 'Suspiciously happy I would say for a fellow who has to clear
all them beds on his own.' The statement had a curve in the end.
'But not for a
fellow who has just found people to do the work for him,' Barkus
replied. 'Turns out that teenagers can be motivated, you just need to
find the right way of presenting it to them.' And the right
account balance he mused as Jim placed a beer in front of him.
The leader of the teens, his name had turned out to be Gareth, was a
shrewd negotiator and Barkus had been forced into promising a bit
more money than he had bargained for. However, he had been assured
that it would be worth it.
'Oh yeah, and
whats that then, showing them the lounging options available?'
'You were a
teenager once, what was the single biggest thing you wanted to do?'
Jim sighed in nostalgia.
'Nancy Chase.'
Laughter. 'No, I think I see what you mean. So you've convinced them
that picking trash and weeding is gonna screw things up for 'Tha
Man'?'
'It can be if 'Tha
Man' is the chance that Paul Taylor is going to design the square
again apparently.' Jim paused.
'You're a smart
bastard, you know that?' Barkus grinned and saluted slightly with his
beer. 'So what, they get the beds cleared out and ready to plant and
then you present the design to the council and force an agreement on
a time-limit basis because Paul is gone for another 2 weeks?' Barkus
was surprised.
'You're pretty
smart too, you know that?' Jim smiled self-deprecatingly. 'But yes,
that's my devious plan to get the job done. Here's hoping it works.'
Barkus decided to leave Jim's before
closing time for once and strolled along the sidewalk towards Mary's
Cafe and where his suitcase now rested in the hallway of the flat
above it. He meandered, taking the long way around the square, eyeing
the lines and buildings and where people had made their own paths in
the grass verges, leaving some pieces of concrete walkway worn and
some like new. He strolled, enjoying the cooling evening air and the
2 beer buzz, not thinking of anything in particular. He idly wondered
when people stopped using the square as a gathering place and the
maintenance became a nuisance.
' “You see,” a voice rumbled out of memory. Barkus could see
him now, his father sitting in his big chair by the fire with his
friends. He, the second youngest son, between the chair and the dog,
afraid to move or make a sound in case he was spotted and whisked
away to bed. “What I think you're doing is mixing up a Unicorn and
a Draft Horse. A unicorn is this incredible, fantastical beast
representing purity and innocence and vast power to a select few
based on easily violated requirements. It's elusive, it's
awe-inspiring, it's fake. A draft horse is this huge block of hair
and muscle and it's got it's own wants and needs and it's real. You
dont get much realer than scrubbing down a draft horse after a long
day, I can tell you that. And they have thoughts and feelings and if
you can understand that and work with them, then they will give you
everything that they have. But if you start thinking otherwise they
can and will do anything, up to and including kicking your fool head
clean off.”“What's your point Dave?” said Jonas Brown, a neighbour.
“My point is that unicorns dont need
anything from us, they're a dream. They will always have waterfalls
and forests and happy times because we imagine them there. So we can
go along and do whatever we please, what we do in our real lives has
no impact on the unicorn. Now the draft horse is a whole 'nother
matter. It needs us. It needs us for food and water, shelter and care
and maintenance, doesnt it? They are hard work, they require an
investment from us not just in money but also in care and time and
love and responsibility. It is our duty and our actions and choices
that affect them. And at the end of the day, that long hard day, it
is our attitude that determines how drudgerous it all is.”
“So what are you saying?”
“Sometimes you gotta stand back and
look at a situation and wonder; Is it a unicorn or is it a draft
horse? Am I just thinking happy thoughts, pretending that things are
ticking over properly, that it doesnt have anything to do with me?
Or is it a draft horse where there are things to be done that need to
be done and maybe arent being done?” '
The headlights
of a truck cut into Barkus' thoughts and he realised that he was
staring out over the square, chewing on his shirt collar. His chest
hurt and his eyes burnt, but he smiled and blinked away the tears,
then turned and walked up the stairs to the flat.
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