The Space Between Page 13

  “[Strong little bugger, ain't ya.]”

  Keeble watched half the morning and Colin didn't even fix one of the vehicles. After a while a dwife came in. She babbled for a while, gave Keeble a strange look, then moved quickly out of sight.

  "You allow dwives in your workshop?" Keeble asked. He suddenly understood why the engineer was so slow. If he had to put up with women nattering inanities at him all day he wasn't likely to get anything done.

  When the strange bell started ringing, Keeble was bored enough to go and have a look.

  Down in the back corner of the workshop he found a fading plywood door, and when he pushed it gently, he was offered a view of a small office. The dwife, her floral dress trying to compete with the drab but not having much luck, sat at a desk with a black thing nestled between her shoulder and drooping head. She was speaking into it rapidly and didn't see him watching.

  She talked, nodding and punctuating long silences with "Uh huh, uh huh," as if she were holding a conversation with the thing. As she talked, the dwife wrote in a large notebook. She wrote. Keeble was sure she was writing. Random squiggles wouldn't be so uniform and neat. But how could they let a dwife learn to write? Finally it was too much for him. Allowing women to work was one thing — Ari had always wanted to work, and he had reluctantly let her — but to let them write? Keeble pushed the door the rest of the way open and marched across the room. It wasn't a very big room, and his short legs covered the ground quickly. The dwife didn't look up until the last moment. When she saw him she surged back, and the thing fell away from her ear.

  “[Get away from me.]”

  Keeble snatched the stylus from her, fending away a weak blow with his metal arm. "Women aren't allowed to write," he said, as if she'd understand. He was about to find Colin and tell him what had happened when the engineer grabbed him on the shoulder.

  “[What's going on here, Mona?]”

  “[He barged in here and grabbed my pen. I was talking on the phone and... Oh, God.]” The dwife grabbed the black item off the floor. “[Mister Dennis? Mister Dennis? God, I wouldn't be surprised if he is calling the police right now.]”

  Keeble used the stylus to gesture at the book. "She was writing, Colin. I saw her." They ignored him.

  “[Do we need the police?]”

  The dwife shook her head. “[I don't think so. He's a bit soft in the head, isn't he? Not all there?]”

  “[Can't rightly say. Seems sensible and friendly enough for the most part, except for that gobbligook he speaks.]”

  “[Well, sensible and friendly don't mean right in the head.]”

  "What?" Keeble asked, pointing at the black thing.

  “[That's a telephone, lad. Telephone. Christ, he doesn't even know what a phone is.]” Colin took his arm and led him from the room. “[Come and watch me fix the car.]” Over his shoulder he said, “[Mona, why don't you ring a couple of hospitals, see if they know anything.]”

  But Colin didn't work any quicker after that, though he did name each part as he removed it, then again as he put it back in. Sometimes, when Keeble asked, he would try to explain the use of the parts with words and gestures.

  By late morning, Keeble hadn't learned much about cars. But he had learned how to make coffee, and he'd learned what a cream biscuit was. Those discoveries were almost worth the morning's frustration. With his latest brew in hand he moved away from the engineer to look around the workshop. There was a wide array of tools, some of which Keeble had never seen, and most of which appeared to have been exactly where they were for a long time. For the most part, Colin seemed to make do with an adjustable spanner, two screwdrivers, and a hammer.

  And then, wonder of wonders, he found a book. Normally books didn't excite him much at all, but this one contained pictures of a motor, with all the parts separated as if they'd been dismantled. Sitting in a corner, his coffee forgotten on the oil-stained concrete floor, Keeble searched the pages until he found a picture of a part he knew, then worked out from there. He examined each part, trying to imagine what it might do. The air filter was connected to the carburetor. That was where air was mixed with the fuel. Keeble asked Colin about the name of the next part, and followed the steps until he reached the end. Then he looked at the radiator.

  Keeble ate fish and chips for lunch, sitting at a table with Colin and Mona. He drank some more coffee, listening to the two of them speak. He understood little of what they said but wasn't worried. He had the book open by his side and was still reading.

  “[Did you find anything out from the hospitals?]”

  “[No. They don't seem to know anything. And, with everything else going on, they don't really care.]”

  “[Right. Excellent.]” Colin turned in Keeble's direction for a moment, and he took the opportunity to interrupt.

  "Excuse," he said. "What?"

  Colin looked at the picture he was pointing at, but at that moment the telephone rang in the office.

  “[I'll get it, Mona,]” the engineer said. “[You finish your lunch.]” He rushed into the office, leaving Keeble and the dwife alone together.

  Mona leaned over the see what he was pointing at. “[That's the clutch plate,]” she said, giving a slight smile. "Clutch plate."

  Keeble eyed her suspiciously. "Clutch plate?" She was only a dwife, how would she know?

  "That's right."

  But he didn't trust her. He flipped back through the pages and pointed at another part that Colin had named earlier, covering the name with his thumb so she couldn't read it. "What?" he asked.

  "Thermostat."

  She was right. Keeble turned some more pages and pointed again.

  "Fuel pump."

  She was right again. Keeble went back to the picture he'd started from. "Clutch plate?"

  "Yep."

  Keeble grunted and gave a slight nod of his head. He said nothing more as he started to work away from the clutch plate. He didn't know what it did, exactly, but he would ask Colin later. He was not going to ask Mona.

  * * *

  Keeble watched the ticking hands of the machine on the wall. They'd kept a constant beat all day long. He decided the machine was a timekeeper, one more accurate than any he had ever seen. When the two biggest hands formed a straight line from top to bottom — six hours past noon, he guessed — Colin packed away his spanner, screwdrivers, and hammer and removed his work clothes. He washed up in a sink near the shit box at the back and came out wiping his hands on a dirty towel. Mona had left some time ago and the telephone had rung several times and remained unanswered.

  “[Time to go, Keeble.]”

  Keeble guessed that meant quitting time but wasn't keen on the idea. The box he'd slept in across the alley didn't seem all that welcoming. He loitered as Colin started to pull the chain that rolled down the big door.

  “[You coming?]”

  Keeble stayed where he was. He wound the gears on his hand, clutching at nothing.

  “[You don't have anywhere to go, do you, lad?]”

  Keeble shrugged.

  “[Where do you live?]”

  He shrugged again.

  “[Jesus.]” Colin scratched at his grease stained neck. “[I can't take you home. Shelly'd kill me.]”

  Keeble stood where he was and wound his hand in and out. In and out.

  “[Jesus. How 'bout you stay here? Can I trust you in here? I can't believe I'm doing this.]”

  The engineer led the way back to the office where Mona had spent most of the day. Keeble followed close behind.

  “[Once I leave, you'll be stuck for the night, though. Understand?]”

  Keeble didn't understand and said so.

  “[Jesus. I saw you looking at the clock out there. You know a clock don't you.]” He pointed to one of the timekeepers on the wall.

  "Clock?"

  "Yes, clock." Colin nodded. “[Well, you'll be stuck in here for twelve hours, until the little hand has gone all the way around and come back to the six.]” He drew a big circle in front of the clock a
nd Keeble understood what he meant.

  "In here for..." He stumbled through half the sentence in the strange language, but didn't need to go any further.

  “[Twelve hours. Yeah, that's right. You okay with that?]”

  Keeble nodded and smiled.

  “[Yeah, I suppose you would be. This couch was always too small for me to sleep on, though I done it often enough. Probably about the right size for you though.]” He led Keeble to a big, soft, shiny chair against one of the walls. “[And there's a bit of food and drink in the fridge. But you know where all that is.]”

  Keeble remembered the fridge. It was the box that hummed and rattled and kept things cold.

  “[And there's coffee.]”

  "Coffee." Keeble liked coffee.

  Colin stood where he was and looked around. “[Well...]”

  "Thank you."

  “[You're welcome, Keeble. I suppose. Just don't touch anything. Understand?]”

  Keeble nodded. "Don't touch."

  “[That's right. Jesus, what am I doing?]” He sighed. “[Just make sure you turn the lights off before you go to sleep.]” As he went back out into the workshop, Colin paused by the door and flicked a little white switch a few times.

  Keeble jumped to his feet as the light in the room came and went with each flick. He rushed over to the switch to try it himself and was still playing when Colin locked the workshop's outer door.

  12: Coffee and Cars

  Keeble tried not to touch. He sat at the desk in the office, feet swinging above the cold plastic tiles of the floor, and flipped through another book. He made a coffee, with no milk or sugar to dilute the taste. He opened one of the plastic packets and ate the crunchy potato slices inside. He lasted until the little hand on the clock was pointing to the seven.

  The cars were just outside, but he avoided the temptation. Instead he pulled apart the little music maker on the desk. A radio, Mona had called it. There were all sorts of things inside. He started at the power switch, following wires to each component, trying to work out what they might do. After that he pulled apart the computer.

  But while we worked, the cars waited, crouching in the dark like dragons. It wasn't long before he screwed the computer back together, made himself some more coffee, and went out into the workshop. He spent a few minutes searching for the light switch. He realized, eventually, that it would be by the door. When he could see, Keeble chose the car closest to the bookshelf, so he could read the name on the badge of the car and look at all the books at the same time to see the ones that matched.

  Morris Minor. He couldn't read the letters, but found a match and pulled it from the shelf.

  "Yes." Five minutes later Keeble had pulled the covers off the ignition. He was examining how the key fitted and what happened after that. He knew where the starter motor was. He knew where the electricity holder was: the battery. He shook his head at the thought and smiled. "A little black box to hold electricity."

  In a little diagram near the back of the book, he saw how they were linked and he followed the path on the car.

  Then he reverently took the key, closed his eyes, and turned.

  The whole car lurched forward. Keeble almost panicked.

  He released the key and everything was still again. He got out to make sure nothing had been damaged.

  "The motor's still connected to the wheels," he muttered once he was back in the driver's seat. "I need the clutch." He found the appropriate page in the book. He looked at the pictures. He looked at the pictures that connected to those pictures. He did need the clutch, a little pedal on the floor that he could hardly reach. He also needed the gears, which were controlled by the lever, by his side. He perched on the edge of the seat and pushed the pedal while he put the gears into the neutral position. He also found the lever that controlled the brakes. He tried the key again.

  Keeble listened as the starter motor whined and tried to get the engine started. It rumbled into life but died just a second later. "More fuel," he said. "I need more fuel." But how did he get more fuel into the engine? He remembered seeing a picture that might explain how it was done, but that was a long time ago. He started going through the book. "Another pedal," he said eventually. "Of course."

  So he pumped the pedal while turning the key. The engine rumbled into life, speeding up every time he pumped, and continued to go even when he climbed out. Keeble cheered and did a little jig.

  But the engine didn't run very smoothly. Not as smoothly as some of the others he'd heard. There was also a scraping sound. He turned the car off again and started to examine the pictures in the book.

  The strange Song from the magical door between worlds started to fill his mind with its shifting rhythms and dancing flows. He tried to make the sounds out loud, clicking and humming and Singing. He fitted it around his work.

  The 'Morris' caused problems, but when Keeble finished that, two hours after midnight, he moved forward at full steam. He repaired the bit between the wheels of a 'Toyota' in a couple of hours and then started work on a 'Ford'. He was almost done with that, but before he could get the hood reattached, Keeble heard the rattling of keys outside the door and knew Colin had arrived. The song of the magical gate faltered for the first time. He worked faster for a few moments, before returning to his regular, steady pace. He needed about five more minutes and a mad dash now wasn't going to help. He was tightening the first bolt on the last hinge of the hood when the engineer finally came through the door.

  “[Keeble, how are you lad?]”

  Keeble looked up. Obviously Colin hadn't seen him. He didn't really want to be there when it happened.

  “[What the hell? I thought I told you not to touch anything.]” The older dwarf hurried down to the end of the workshop where Keeble was holding the hood in place with his metal hand and his shoulder and tightening the second, and last, bolt with the other.

  “[Why are you removing the hood? Lucky I got here when I did.]”

  Colin took the spanner from Keeble's hand and quickly finished the job while Keeble watched and held the hood in place. When it was done, he jumped down to the floor and wiped his hand on a towel.

  "It's fixed," he said. Colin couldn't understand him, though, so the anger showing on the dwarf's creased face continued to grow as he moved about the workshop looking at various cars.

  “[What the hell else have you fiddled with?]”

  Keeble decided the only way to halt the dwarf's growing anger was to show him what he'd done. He went quickly to the 'Morris' and climbed in.

  “[What do you think you are doing?]”

  Making sure the car was out of gear, Keeble pumped the pedal a couple of times as he turned the key.

  “[Get out of there.]”

  The car rumbled into life and Colin grunted. “[I reckon that thing hasn't sounded so good in twenty years.]”

  He reached in and opened the hood. Keeble didn't know why when none of what he'd done was going to be visible. He turned the engine off and climbed out. When he joined Colin, the engineer was staring at the engine and muttering quietly.

  “[How did you do this?]” Colin shrugged his shoulders, and Keeble got the message. He pointed to the books on the shelf and received a shake of the head in reply. “[You read a book and fixed it?]”

  "Repair." Keeble said in Colin's language. "Work good." He pointed to the other two cars he'd done as well. "Them."

  “[What?]”

  "Them. Work good."

  Colin almost ran from one car to the other, starting the engine of each and sitting for a moment to listen to the smooth growl.

  Sitting in the last one he asked: “[You fixed them last night?]”

  Keeble looked at him. 'Fix,' he knew, but the rest...

  Colin went to the last car in the workshop and beckoned Keeble over with a long crooked finger. “[Can you fix this one? It needs a new gearbox.]” Colin showed him a part sitting near a bench, then pointed back to the car. “[Gearbox in there.]”

  Keeble smil
ed and set to work.

  The books remained on the shelf. Keeble saw enough engines during the night for the details to be indelibly inscribed across his consciousness. He worked for two hours and Colin stood close by watching his every move. When he was done, the engineer still didn't move. He stood and stared.

  “[That's amazing. Amazing. Bloody hell.]” He wiped his hands on a towel, though the closest he had come to work was handing tools to Keeble when he was asked.

  Mona walked in as he muttered.

  "Hi, Colin." The dwife nodded to Keeble as well.

  "Mona," Colin said in reply, though he hardly knew she was there.

  “[What's the matter?]"

  “[Keeble fixed them.]”

  “[Fixed what?]”

  “[The cars. Mister Henry's Morris and Jackie's car and Terry Dale's. And now he fixed this as well.]”

  “[What?]”

  “[He fixed them.]”

  “[When.]”

  Finally, Colin turned to look at her. He tugged at his beard. “[When do you think? Last night. This morning.]”

  Mona seemed about to say something else. She opened her mouth, gave it some thought, then snapped her teeth back together.

  Colin nodded. “[That's what I thought.]”

  Keeble wondered if they were done. He turned off the car and climbed out. He stood for a while, looking at them while they stood looking at the car. Eventually he went and made some coffee. He made two at first then thought he would probably make someone angry if he didn't make Mona one as well. So he collected another cup from the cupboard under the sink and carefully measured out the brown powder and the sugar. He took the cups out into the workshop where Colin and Mona were deep in conversation.

  “[He saved you about three days work, Colin, you have to give him something.]”

  “[I didn't ask him to do anything at all, though. I was doing him a favor, remember. Maybe he was just paying me back.]”

  “[He has no home, nothing besides what he has on his back, for all we know. A couple of tenners won't send us bust. Probably a good idea to offer him a job.]”