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Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Jenny helps Mrs Collier peg washing onto a line. At the end of the garden, a spade appears
periodically, tosses mud and muck onto a heap at the side, then vanishes back down into the ditch. An
unpleasant smell drifts through the air, stagnant and foul. Undoubtedly some is from the sludge being
cleared from the trench, but….
“Who is he? Sometimes he’s here and sometimes he isn’t.”
“Old Jacob?” says Mrs Collier, speaking through a mouthful of pegs. “He’s just a tramp. He wanders
from one place to the next, doing whatever they’ve got by way of work for as long as it lasts. He’s not
the fastest worker in the world, but he’s happy enough to do the jobs others prefer to avoid.”
“Mmm,” nods Jenny. “He was helping Brett clean out the piggery earlier.”
“Yes, and I think he’s lined up to be clearing out the chicken house next week. Deep bedding’s good for
over-wintering the birds, but it’s a sorry job cleaning it out come the summer.”
“Doesn’t he mind doing those sorts of jobs? It seems a bit unfair to give him all….”
She trails off as Mrs Collier gives her a sharp look. “He gets paid extra because the work’s unpleasant.
And given that he doesn’t bother cleaning up or changing his clothes afterwards, I’d say he doesn’t
care.”
She tugs a shirt from the basket of clean laundry, shaking out the creases with unnecessary violence
before pegging it up. “He’s always offered the use of the bathroom after he’s finished the work, and I’ve
never yet known him take anyone up on it. They say he had a wife once. I’d guess his habits are the
reason there’s no sign of her now.” She sniffs. “If he wanted the more appealing jobs, he could work
more regularly. But he doesn’t. He comes in, gets well paid and we don’t see him again until he’s drunk
it all away.”
She eyes the flying muck without favour. “As it is, it’s beyond me where he gets all his money. I usually
have an idea where he’s working, and he always seems to have more to spend on drink than seems
reasonable to me.” She shrugs it off. “Maybe someone out there has more money than sense with what
they pay him.”
An unusually rancid surge billows over them and both turn their faces away, waiting for the breeze to
blow the air clean. Jenny screws her eyes up against the reek.
“Faugh!” Mrs Collier eyes her clean washing. “Perhaps I should have waited to hang these out.” This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.
*****
Chad scowls. “I don't like the way he looks at you.”
“Who? What do you mean?”
“I've seen him, Old Jacob. He watches you whenever he's around.”
Brett looks her up and down. “There's plenty of reasons for looking at Jenny.” He grins disarmingly,
making sure his joke is understood. Jenny pokes her tongue out at him.
Arms folded and scuffing the ground, Chad growls, “Well, I don't like it.”
Brett elbows him in the ribs. “I’ll let you into a secret, Chad. I don’t think Jenny is going to elope with
Old Jacob. At least not until he’s had a wash. So, if I were you, I’d stop worrying.”
*****
Seven Years Ago - Klempner
“So, how is our little bird progressing, Bech?”
“She’s doing very well, sir, by all accounts. Growing up into a real beauty, so I am being told. I’ll see if I
can obtain some photographs for you, but from the reports I’m receiving, you might want to think about
reclaiming her in the not too far distant future.”
Klempner sniffs. “What is the source of your information, Bech? One of ours?”
“Well, let's say, sir, that he is being induced to be one of ours.”
Klempner regards his captain with a cool glance. “And the nature of this inducement?”
“Carrot and stick, sir. He's being paid, but he also knows there will be consequences if he doesn't
behave.”
“That sounds fine, Bech. Keep me informed.”
“Of course. Do you want me to make arrangements to have her collected?”
“Mmm… Tempting thought.” Klempner tugs at his chin, then, “But no. I’m in and out of the country right
now, and for the next several months at least. I’d prefer to wait until I have the leisure to…. appreciate
her properly. It’s not as though she’s going anywhere, is it?”
Bech shrugs. “Where would she go?”
“Quite. Anything else for my attention?”
“Just business as usual, sir. We have a group of twenty or so coming in from the Middle-East next
month, mainly female….”
“How old?”
“Varying between about twelve or thirteen up to early twenties. It’s often difficult to get exact ages for
them from some of these third-world areas, but they’re between close-to-maturing and fully ready.”
“Fair enough. You can let Finchby run an eye over them when they arrive, especially the young ones.
He’s telling me he has some special requirements clients lined up. Any more?”
“Yes, we have two females and one male at Blessingmoors we could be moving along. The boy is a
looker, the two girls rather ordinary….”
“Fine. Again, let Finchby see the boy. Do the girls speak English?”
“No, sir. One is from Uzbekistan. The other is a Thai.”
“Excellent. I have a client asking for labourers on his fruit farm. I’ll forward you details.”
“Yes, sir.”
*****