Bye Bye Baby Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Fiona McIntosh
sister again. She often did this — thought of something almost immediately after saying goodbye and rang directly back.
‘What about Jack and Jill,’ he said, ‘if it’s one of each?’
‘Sorry?’ It wasn’t Amy. ‘Is that Mr Hawksworth?’
‘Yes, it is. I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.’
‘This is Traute Becker. I’m on the floor below you — apartment two?’
‘Ah, yes, of course.’ Jack heard the German accent that no amount of living in Britain could eradicate. ‘Is everything alright?’
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr Hawksworth, but I need some help. My husband is away and it seems there’s been some sort of power failure. I’ve rung the power company and it’s not the grid, you see. It’s something local they’re saying.’
‘What does that mean?’ Jack might bake but he was no handyman. None of his lights were on to check, he only now realised, but the fridge was humming quietly and the phone worked.
‘Something in the basement, I presume. A switch we throw back on.’
He liked the singsong nature of her voice and the way ‘something’ came out as ‘somesing’ and ‘throw’ sounded more like ‘srow’.
‘Oh, like a trip switch?’
‘Ja, ja, that’s the word he used.’
‘Would you like me to take a look?’ Sounded like the right thing to say even though it would be the blind leading the blind.
‘Ja, I would. I don’t want to go down there alone, if you please.’
‘No problem. But I don’t think it’s the basement, Mrs Becker, more likely your own circuit box, because I can hear my fridge so I’ve got power. Give me a few moments and I’ll be down.’
Jack met Mrs Becker outside her door and she let him into her apartment, using a torch to light their way.She made polite apologies, which he tried to wave away. He wondered if the other apartments were still powered. He knew old Mr Claren was staying in Scotland for a few weeks with his daughter because Jack had agreed to clear his postbox. Damn , he thought, I must do that .
Mrs Becker seemed to read his mind. ‘Mr Claren’s post needs clearing. He’s not back until the end of this week. Here we go, is this what you mean?’ She pointed to a box on the wall.
‘That’s it,’ Jack said, hoping that his basic knowledge would bring light back to Mrs Becker’s place. ‘I think we flick this switch.’ He did so and her apartment flickered instantly back to life.
‘Ah,’ they said together and congratulated one another.
‘Oh, thank you, Mr Hawksworth. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ he said, feeling quite the hero. ‘Any time.’
‘Can I offer you something?’
He tried not to smile at that word again. ‘No, really, Mrs Becker, I’ve just returned from work and I’m ready to call it a day, if you don’t mind. I was just heading into the shower when you rang,’ he fibbed, eager to be on his way upstairs.
‘Okay, come visit sometime when Mr Becker is back.’
‘I’ll do that.’ Jack walked to the door.
She bustled behind him. ‘By the way, have you welcomed our new neighbour yet?’
Jack felt instantly ashamed again. ‘I haven’t.’
‘Ja, you should. Nice lady, shame about the chair.’
‘Sorry?’
She shrugged in that European way. ‘She has the chair, you know, with the wheels.’
‘Oh.’ He understood.
‘Ja. Should we go and check, do you think?’ Mrs Becker wondered aloud. ‘Perhaps her lights have gone too. A good chance for you to say your hello’s before a welcome feels awkward, no?’
‘Er . . .’ Jack scratched his head. He really didn’t want to, neither did he think it was necessary, but Mrs Becker looked determined. She was the building’s obligatory busybody and clearly about to use him as her battering ram into the new tenant’s property. But without her, Jack wouldn’t know much at all about the little bits of cooperative administration he should be involved with from exterior
‘What about Jack and Jill,’ he said, ‘if it’s one of each?’
‘Sorry?’ It wasn’t Amy. ‘Is that Mr Hawksworth?’
‘Yes, it is. I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.’
‘This is Traute Becker. I’m on the floor below you — apartment two?’
‘Ah, yes, of course.’ Jack heard the German accent that no amount of living in Britain could eradicate. ‘Is everything alright?’
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr Hawksworth, but I need some help. My husband is away and it seems there’s been some sort of power failure. I’ve rung the power company and it’s not the grid, you see. It’s something local they’re saying.’
‘What does that mean?’ Jack might bake but he was no handyman. None of his lights were on to check, he only now realised, but the fridge was humming quietly and the phone worked.
‘Something in the basement, I presume. A switch we throw back on.’
He liked the singsong nature of her voice and the way ‘something’ came out as ‘somesing’ and ‘throw’ sounded more like ‘srow’.
‘Oh, like a trip switch?’
‘Ja, ja, that’s the word he used.’
‘Would you like me to take a look?’ Sounded like the right thing to say even though it would be the blind leading the blind.
‘Ja, I would. I don’t want to go down there alone, if you please.’
‘No problem. But I don’t think it’s the basement, Mrs Becker, more likely your own circuit box, because I can hear my fridge so I’ve got power. Give me a few moments and I’ll be down.’
Jack met Mrs Becker outside her door and she let him into her apartment, using a torch to light their way.She made polite apologies, which he tried to wave away. He wondered if the other apartments were still powered. He knew old Mr Claren was staying in Scotland for a few weeks with his daughter because Jack had agreed to clear his postbox. Damn , he thought, I must do that .
Mrs Becker seemed to read his mind. ‘Mr Claren’s post needs clearing. He’s not back until the end of this week. Here we go, is this what you mean?’ She pointed to a box on the wall.
‘That’s it,’ Jack said, hoping that his basic knowledge would bring light back to Mrs Becker’s place. ‘I think we flick this switch.’ He did so and her apartment flickered instantly back to life.
‘Ah,’ they said together and congratulated one another.
‘Oh, thank you, Mr Hawksworth. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ he said, feeling quite the hero. ‘Any time.’
‘Can I offer you something?’
He tried not to smile at that word again. ‘No, really, Mrs Becker, I’ve just returned from work and I’m ready to call it a day, if you don’t mind. I was just heading into the shower when you rang,’ he fibbed, eager to be on his way upstairs.
‘Okay, come visit sometime when Mr Becker is back.’
‘I’ll do that.’ Jack walked to the door.
She bustled behind him. ‘By the way, have you welcomed our new neighbour yet?’
Jack felt instantly ashamed again. ‘I haven’t.’
‘Ja, you should. Nice lady, shame about the chair.’
‘Sorry?’
She shrugged in that European way. ‘She has the chair, you know, with the wheels.’
‘Oh.’ He understood.
‘Ja. Should we go and check, do you think?’ Mrs Becker wondered aloud. ‘Perhaps her lights have gone too. A good chance for you to say your hello’s before a welcome feels awkward, no?’
‘Er . . .’ Jack scratched his head. He really didn’t want to, neither did he think it was necessary, but Mrs Becker looked determined. She was the building’s obligatory busybody and clearly about to use him as her battering ram into the new tenant’s property. But without her, Jack wouldn’t know much at all about the little bits of cooperative administration he should be involved with from exterior
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