Dumb Waiters Part Three

Dee has done work in this building before and within seconds of us entering the bedsit he gives me the inside line.

"Wait till you see the lass who works in that shop across the road."

He raises his eyebrows and makes a face to show that this girl does indeed make Dee’s motor run. I step over to the window and sit down on its low sill. The window of the shop across the road features many shoes, boots and trainers, but no girl. I point this out. Dee looks at this watch.

"It’s half one, probably on her lunch hour."
I accept this as likely.

Given I never go to parties and do my utmost to avoid meeting new people, I’m never asked "what is it you do then?" But if I ever was asked so, the answer would be: "I drive a guy around while he fits carpets. If needed, I help him carry stuff and go to the shops to buy sweets and cigarettes."

I've been doing it for a few months now, only a couple of days a week while Dee’s regular partner is doing his community service. For a few hours of my time, I get £40 a week and occasional cups of tea and biscuits if we’re doing a job round some house where the lonely housewife appreciates a break from the Hallmark channel and the chance for interaction with someone other then the cat.

Dee (abbreviated from his surname ‘Kennedy’ due to his Ramones fixation) is a good man to work with. In other words, he never expects me to turn up before noon and agrees to let me choose the music while we drive. Occasionally I let him indulge in a blast of Blitzkrieg Bop or I Wanna Sniff Some Glue but the sight of an overweight man in his mid 30s bouncing around in a Transit, singing in a broad Geordie accent loses it’s appeal faster then you’d think.

The bedsit Dee is currently preparing to carpet is totally bare bar the basic stuff in the kitchen, though I'm being told this wasn't always the case. Dee has been told tales of horror from the landlord.

"He was telling me that when the previous occupants moved out, couple of smack heads apparently, they was all sorts’a needles and used condoms on the floor. Plus it was full o’ dog shite. Scruffy cunts. Had to get the place fumigated. The full works."

Lovely.

"How, check the kitchen out, make sure nothing needs shifting."

The tiny kitchen area has all the basics: fridge, oven, microwave and a few cupboards. I’m surprised the junkies didn't clean the place out. There’s a small bin in the corner. And then I spot...

"Aww... fucking hell."

A dead mouse lies right in front of me. Dee comes over to see what’s caused the repulsion in my voice.

"What?"
"What d'you mean ‘what’? There’s a dead fucking mouse there."
"Oh aye? Well, chuck it away then."
"Eh? Fuck right off. You pay me to drive and shift, not throw away dead pieces of wildlife."

Dee examines the situation. He’s hoping my sense of machismo will overpower me to prove myself the bigger man by throwing the late Mickey there away.

"Howay man, it's only a mouse. You can't call that wildlife."

He’s no chance; I don’t have a sense of machismo. I look down at it, no blood or signs of being mauled to death by the dog.

"No fucking way, Dee man. It could have 'owt. It could have..." Mind is racing trying to think of some clever disease. Can’t think of one. "... could have plague or something."

Basic but effective. Dee tries to think of a comeback, fails. He goes over to his toolbox and gets out his pliers. Carefully, his uses them to grab hold of the tail after which he marches out the room, coming back in with the look of a man satisfied after a job well done.

I ask what he did with it.
"Lobbed it out the landing window onto that field. Now he has returned to the earth which bore him."

Dee has an almost saintly look to him as he says this. Rather then get involved in some lengthy discussion about the nature of life, death and God that this would bring on if I had five pints of Guinness inside me, I instead go back to sitting on the window sill gazing at the window of the shoe shop opposite, hoping this girl will appear to add a bit of light to the day.

By the time the job is finished, she hasn't appeared and instead I’m relegated to hearing Dee give me a detailed explanation of what made her so appealing in the first place. It’s not quite the same.