Without A Song

Chapter Eighteen: Sated because of it

"Are you sure?"

He glanced at me while he drove.

"Of course you are, I can see it in your face. There is that little look of cold determination about you now. That little organisation job back at Paul's had your stamp all over it. You did a good job, even if you made it look as if I had taken charge. I will make sure that Paul knows how much he owes you when he and his family are back on an even keel."

"Well it pays you back for that little errand I did for you down at East Road. You got me out of the doldrums without me realising it. If I'd been left on my own, I'd probably have wandered off who knows where and would've been playing a game of 'what-ifs' by the evening. Even then I'd probably have ended up losing to myself. Your hunch about East Road got me out of thinking about this business with Sue."

"That has still got to be faced Stephen."

When we arrived back at Huntly Mill, Rupert drove through the barn gates and parked inside one of the tall bale sheds instead of parking at the front of the house where I expected him to. Deep in the shadows surrounded by old pitchforks and twine he parked up in front of a black weatherboard shed indistinguishable from the rest of the old fabric. To all the world it looked as if this old barn had seen better times and would fall down at any time.

I've learnt a few things from being around you" he said.

"So I see."

To the unwary trespasser the door knob appeared to be hanging off the frame with its long arrow-like hinges bent out of shape. Its screws protruded, there hardly seemed to be anything attaching the hinges to the door jamb. What couldn't be seen was the solid steel door recessed behind the shabby exterior, also painted black. Rupert would later tell me that the screws that weren't screws hid electronic sensors, and that the single pendant lamp hanging from above also contained an infra-red sensor. I didn't see what device released this inner door but what was visible after the door opened was a visual delight.

"Come on in and see how I chill out. This is my one vice these days."

Where Rupert led me was a remarkable change from what he did for a living. As I stepped inside what I expected to be a threadbare room I couldn't have been more wrong about the appearance. Not for the first time within the Dawlish household did I realise that appearances can be deceiving. Rupert had been busy and his pride in his hobby was justified. The walls were filled with pots, bowls, goblets, candlesticks and plates. Each piece had been made of a different wood, polished and presented in an open cherry wood bookcase. At the flick of a switch the collection came alive with discreet mood lighting beset with simple chandelier crystals hanging from the ceiling.

"Brilliant Rupert!"

"I got the idea for the crystals from one of Leanne's organised craft fairs in the church. Saw them hanging against the stained glass. Works well eh?"

He turned, looked at me with a huge smile then led me to a large piece of sawn off willow stump, I guessed it to be seventy-five centimetres square.

"I get an old fashioned pleasure from working with wood and I actually love making new things."

"I only used to think in straight lines, intangible numbers and abstract descriptions. I was always looking for the truth, getting a good deal for my clients, doing the best I could for my family. Somehow curves never entered the pattern until I discovered wood. Working with it has given me a whole new outlook on life. I see curves, I see the way the grain turns and twists, comes together, how new colours appear out of the old. This stump will become a seat for a second chair I'm designing for St. Bartholomew's. The bishop is due to visit us when the new incumbent is ordained. We will need something better than faded cushions."