Magnificent Joe by James Wheatley Page B

mightily.
    â€˜Christ. It’s been a while.’
    â€˜Three years. Geoff’s wedding.’
    â€˜What are you doing here?’
    â€˜Working.’
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜No, I just travelled two hours for a cup of fucking tea. Yes, really. There’s six of us; the rest’ll be here in a minute.’
    â€˜Fucking hell. Well, it’s good to see you again.’
    Barry grunts and lights another cigarette, but Geoff smiles brightly. ‘Aye, it’s going to be just like old times.’ Barry shakes his head and looks out of the window.
    â€˜Anyroad, are you lads going to show me the ropes or what?’ Mac takes a long drag on his cigar and pauses expectantly.
    Geoff and Barry look at their cigarettes and continue to smoke without moving from their chairs. Mac keeps looking at us.
    I sigh. ‘All right, Mac, I’ll give you the fucking tour. Just let me get my boots on.’
    â€˜Good lad.’
    I sit down to change my shoes. Being called ‘good lad’ by Mac is a bit rum, since he’s only a year older than me. On the other hand, he’s probably earned the right. He stares down at me from beneath his thick black eyebrows. ‘Been keeping yourself busy?’
    â€˜Not really. Just the same old shite.’ I finish lacing my boots. ‘You must be, though, judging by that fancy motor.’
    â€˜Aye, business is good. I’ll need a fucking secretary soon.’
    Barry snorts loudly.
    Mac grins. ‘Do you need a tissue, Baz? You should keep one up your sleeve, like your granny used to.’
    â€˜All right, Mac,’ I say. ‘Let’s go.’
    We walk out. The mist is gone, but the sky remains grey. I lead Mac over to the jagged building. ‘This isn’t my job, but anyway, there it is.’
    Mac stands with his arms folded and takes in the view. Judged solely by his constituent parts – the timeshare tan, the belly, the moustache, the tremendous eyebrows – Mac should look ridiculous, a Mexican bandit gone to seed – but he doesn’t. He just looks like Mac, and Mac is solid and reassuring.
    â€˜Well, let’s see now.’ He strides to the hole in the wall that will one day hold the side door and extends his head into the darkness within.
    â€˜The leccy’s just inside, to your left,’ I say, and Mac is swallowed up. I hear the scraping as he swings his foot over the floor, feeling for the distribution box, and a heavy clunk as he connects with it. There is a brief fumbling and the temporary lights flicker on. I follow him in, but he just stands there amid the dust and assorted mess, looking around him quite casually.
    â€˜Geoff and Baz were saying this is a fucking shambles.’
    â€˜It’s just the usual bollocks – you know, one thing after another. There were four other brickies to begin with, but they fucked off weeks ago. They found some replacements, but they were coming all the way from Wales and buggered off the minute they got something closer to home. Then it rained for a week and the site flooded.’
    â€˜Jesus. Well, I’ll soon get it shipshape.’ He gives me a wink.
    â€˜Fucking hell, don’t take that attitude with Barry – he’ll kick off.’
    â€˜Don’t worry. You stick to your walls, my lads’ll take mine, and I won’t interfere.’
    â€˜Good, because you know what he’s like when he thinks he’s got something to complain about.’
    We hear the sound of vehicles drawing onto the site.
    â€˜That must be my lads,’ says Mac. ‘I’d better go and let them know the score.’
    We splash through the mud back to the cabin and find it suddenly a lot more crowded. Mac is true to his word – six men – and though there are enough seats for everyone, the seats in question are small, very close to one another, and bolted to the floor. Things look pretty cosy. I slip onto the seat next to Geoff, opposite