Chapter Eleven

 

Joe ran his fingers over the car boot with pride. It was a complete mystery to everyone where the car had gone and an incomprehensible miracle that it had been returned soon and without the slightest mark or dent on it. What puzzled Joe even more, was the fact that the milometer recorded exactly the same mileage as the recent MOT certificate . . . but he was beginning to get used to unusual and unexpected surprises, even if Maggie insisted that it was the judgement of God on the wicked sinner who stole it in the first place. Joe opened the door to check the milometer again, but the reading was the same. It hadn’t recorded even a single part of a mile and yet he knew he had driven the car from the garage which was about three miles away. Joe sat in the driver’s seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he closed his eyes to concentrate on this great mystery.

“Nice to have it back then, isn’t it? Joe?”

Joe didn’t move, nor did he open his eyes as he spoke solemnly to the Voice beside him.

“How did you manage it Bertie? I knew, of course that you were behind this . . but how do I explain it to the others

“No need . . no need at all dear boy. You have the car back, which is rightfully yours. You paid for it and you put all the work into it to make it look like new again . . well, with the help of a few friends . . . so why should any old Dick, Tom or Harry take it away from you? It’s not right . . that’s what I say . . It’s not at all right . . Not one little bitty, it isn’t.”

Joe sat quietly and folded his arms, with his eyes still closed.

“Tom, Dick or Harry . . . Bertie. That’s how we idiots say it.”

“Eh?”

“Thanks anyway Bertie. I don’t know how you did it and I know it’s best not to ask, but I am very grateful and I want you to know that.”

Bertie grinned and licked his lips.

“Will you open your eyes and tell me that, then . . and we can all go on holiday as planned . . yes?” said Bertie, but Joe ignored the request and kept his eyes tightly closed.

“Yes . . We can all go on holiday Bertie and you won’t have to sit on the roof either. I think you’ve earned your place in the fourth seat.”

He turned the key in the ignition and the car purred into life. It was as soft and as gentle as the wind as he tested the windscreen wipers and the lights. All the electrics were perfect.

“Bertie?”

“Yes dear boy?”

“Bertie . . please tell me . . that is if I can remember correctly.”

“Yes . . yes. “

“Well when I first met you, years and years ago . . . .”

The old man laughed and settled himself into his fourth seat, crossing his legs complacently.

“Yes Joe . . What about that . It was a lovely time for me . . I remember it so well.”

“And you were selling doughnuts outside a certain football ground?”

Bertie shuffled happily where he sat and scratched his right ear before poking his finger in and wiggling it about.

“Yes, yes . . Go on. I’m hearing much better now . .”

“And you lost your barrow in the storm and I helped you to get it back again and you took me to tea and . . . .”

“Oh! Yes, dear boy . . . What a wonderful memory you have.”

Joe opened his eyes and stared at his friend.

“How is it that at that time, you couldn’t get your barrow back for yourself and yet now you can get this car back for me?”

Bertie flashed his pink tongue again as he wet his lips nervously.

“Do I have . . . I mean . . . do I have to answer that question Joe?”

Joe nodded very slowly and deliberately and Bertie swallowed, showing his large Adam’s apple.

“Well Joe . . You know, of course, that I’m . . . I’m a wee bitty different from most . . er. . humans, don’t you?” Bertie stammered and Joe nodded.

“You can say that again,” said Joe as he stared into Bertie’s eyes.

“I’m a wee bit different from most other humans,” Bertie repeated, “ Joe . . Joe , I think it’s your hearing that might be . .”

“There’s nothing wrong with my hearing Bertie . . Nothing at all . . Just explain to this idiot .Will you please?”

“Well . . well, you see Joe. I can only do things for other people. I can’t do very much for myself, you see.”

Joe turned and glared at his old friend.

“No . . . I don’t see, Bertie. I don’t see at all. It doesn’t make sense to me and I’m sure there’s a whole lot of people who would agree with me. Now what exactly is going on? I’ve got to know Bertie.”

Bertie shuffled again and looked out of the car window with a sad face.

“Doesn’t make any sense to you?” he asked.

“No . . not at all.”

The old man sniffed and wrinkled his nose.

“Well then . . it don’t make any sense to me, whether it’s Tom, Dick and Harry . . or if it’s Dick, Tom and Harry or if it’s Harry, Dick and . . ..” he complained, but Joe cut him short before he could say any more.

“Don’t change the subject Bertie. We’re not talking about Tom or Dick or . . or stupid Harry . . . I’m talking about you . . . understand?”

Bertie pulled his shoulders back and sat bolt upright, looking very dejected and misunderstood.

“You see Joe . . Whenever you make a special wish . . I mean, for something that human’s don’t ordinarily wish for . . . like you, for example when you wanted to become invisible . . . .not all the time,” he hastened to add . . . . “But a wish like that . . well, there’s always a price you have to pay . . . .” Bertie looked tenderly towards his young friend, almost apologetically.

“Go on,” said Joe, sucking his teeth.

“The price you paid Joe . . was ten years of your life, if you remember.”

Joe slammed his fist down on the steering wheel in anger and sounded the horn, as Bertie jumped.

“No . . I don’t remember anything at all of those years Bertie . . Nothing at all in fact. I remember being ten and meeting you and the next thing I knew I was a young man of twenty.”

“But that’s what you wanted Joe. That’s what you asked for . . if you could be a man. If only you could have been a man . . remember . . ? Those were your very words.” Bertie lamented sadly and Joe banged his fist on the dashboard to avoid any more hooting noises.

“And you . . . what did you ask for? How many years of your life did you give? Tell me . . tell me . . I want to know?” snapped Joe as Bertie reached for the door handle, but Joe put his hand out and held him by the arm. Their eyes met in silent conflict.

“Bertie . . you’re not leaving this car until you tell me what I want to know,” Joe demanded, but Bertie had other ideas and didn’t need to open a door to make his exit.

 

***

 

Freddie was delighted that the Fiat had come home again as he sat polishing the dashboard, singing happily to himself and thinking about the holiday plans ahead.

“Wish I could drive, Wish I had a car . . just like this one,” he muttered to himself as he pulled the steering wheel from left to right and back again, but he did not notice the impression on the seat beside him, that suddenly became visible and seemed to move as if it were breathing. Nor the weary sigh that said. “I wish people would be content and stop wishing . . . and then maybe I could have a little rest.”