said with a shrug to Eric before sliding the huge side door back. “Wow!”
Eric agreed, but was quiet wary. Inside were 4 leather seats, all had armrests, and the front passenger seat had been swiveled around to face those behind it.
Tom hopped in, plonking himself down in the one behind Mr. Jackson “Come on mate, it'll be fun, and it’s better than walking.” He added to the fun part by bouncing his bottom about in the chair, finding a comfy spot.
“OK.” Eric agreed, reluctantly, and got in to the seat next to Tom. He knew he had to go, just to look after his friend, but was also intrigued by the sudden appearance of this man who knew the truth about his father's demise.
The door shut electronically.
"That's so cool." Tom enthused. "I want one of these when I'm old enough to drive."
“Seat-belts lads.” Mr. Jackson watched them through the rear mirror. “Right, let’s go.”
As they set off the boys heard the central locking activate and they looked at each other in panic.
“It’s OK guys, the car does that to stop anyone getting in the car once we’ve set off.” Mr. Jackson had seen their expressions in the rear view mirror. “There’s a button in the centre console in the ceiling to unlock them whenever you want.”
Tom started to reach his hand up.
“But they’ll instantly lock again.” Mr. Jackson continued. “As we’re still moving.” He smiled into the rear-view mirror at the lads. “It will stay open once we’ve come to a halt.”
Tom sat back in his seat, comfortable with the explanation.
Eric, on the other hand, was a little wary.
“Any of you guys fancy a shake, or something?” Mr. Jackson asked nonchalantly as they approached a roundabout half way along Brownside Road.
“If you’re paying, too right.” Tom chirped up from the back, and then turned to Eric to wait for his reply.
Eric’s brow was furrowed and this concerned look startled Tom.
“You can’t tell me you would refuse a free shake.” Tom said.
Eric was still worried at what was going to happen, but he finally gave in. “OK then, but we’ll have to be quick because I’m off out with my mum to get some summer clothes.” He added a smile to make it look genuine.
“But you’ve just got loads the other week when you went on holiday.” Tom added. “If you don’t want any of the old stuff, then I’ll have a root through and pick out some stuff I want.”
Eric’s face dropped as Tom blew his story out of the window. He glanced at the drivers mirror and saw Mr. Jackson smiling back at him.
They turned right at the roundabout, and headed down the bypass towards the retail park.
Tom was nosing around everything, pushing buttons, pulling on levers, merrily testing every one of the car’s gadgets in sight as if he was a kid with a new toy.
Eric sat in silence, worried.
Friend or Foe?
“So you moved here from North of the city when you were 8.” Mr. Jackson asked Tom who slurped noisily on a huge strawberry milkshake they’d purchased from a well-known burger chain..
“Yeah, Dad got a job in Leyland and it was easier traveling to work from here.” He replied between heavy draws on his straw. “And they said that the estate we were on had been getting a bit rougher over the previous few years.”
Mr. Jackson smiled in the rear view mirror as he watched Tom trying to suck the plastic container into the straw he was trying so hard. “That’s very true, it didn’t help when they’d moved in families being kicked out of other cities.” Mr. Jackson shook his head apologetically. “They brought in the big city mentality and that dragged everyone around them down to their level.”
“Yeah, Mum was saying the other day that it’s now rife with drugs.” Tom added. “She was reading it in the Evening Post about how another gang leader had been caught by the police.” Another slurp. "But she said that he'd just be replaced by the next one, then the next, and the next, and so on."
“It’s a shame when that sort of thing happens.” Mr. Jackson agreed. “Don’t you agree Eric?”
Eric had sat in silence the whole time they’d been in the diner, having only said “thank you” for the chocolate milkshake. “Hmmm.” He now added, agreeing with the question, taking his total of words used to 3. There was something about all of this friendliness and familiarity that put Eric on alert. The man who had arrived at their school and interviewed them had a completely different personality to the chatty person who was sat in the front of this car.
“I do miss the Ills-n-ollers though.” Tom broke the silent battle unwittingly.
“Ills – and – Ollers?” Mr. Jackson questioned.
“Oh!” Tom realised his colloquial name would be misleading. “Hills and Hollows, sorry.” He apologised. “It was the valley at the back of the estate, and there were old trenches down there that you could play some great games in.” Smiling as he reminisced. “Then again, I’d not have met Eric if I’d have stayed there, cus I would have probably gone to Temple.”
“Temple?” Mr. Jackson smiled wondering if this was some religious sect.
Tom smiled back. “Archbishop Temple, the High school”
“Ah!” Mr. Jackson now understood. “That’s so very true.” His eyes hadn’t left Eric’s, as they were locked in this silent battle of wits, yet he continued his conversation with Tom. “They’ve put some nice paths through there now, since they closed the old tip and ran Eastway through it.” He added having cycled along those paths whilst out training.
His knowledge of the local area was beginning to amaze and also concern Eric.
“Although I bet you used to have some fun on Willow Farm though.” Mr. Jackson continued.
“Oh aye.” Tom sat back in his chair. “It was great at pre-season, because the players would all turn up for practice, and it was also the summer holidays, so we could go and watch.” He laced his fingers behind his head and looked up to the ceiling, lost in memories of his not too distant childhood heroes.
“You don’t trust me do you?” Mr. Jackson asked Eric directly, making Tom leap back to reality.
“Nope.” Eric replied, a determined look on his face.
“And why’s that?”
“There’s just something about you.” Eric scrutinised the man ahead of him. “You know Preston very well, even knowing local names for areas, which even I had never heard of, yet your accent is slightly Scottish.”
“Very observant. Please continue.”
“But you’ve been away from there for so long, you now have a neutral tone, in fact it’s slightly posh.” Eric added. “You’ve had a good quality education, probably a boarding school.” He paused for a second. “How can I tell? Well, my Mum had elocution lessons, so I can tell the posh side very easily and I like listening to basic regional accents and mimicking them.”
“Excellent.” Mr. Jackson leant forward, a serious look on his face. “You’re a natural.”
“Thank you.” He replied, returning the hard stare, not understanding what had been meant, but accepting the compliment.
“I admire how resourceful you’ve become.” A fleeting smile came and went. “Much like your Father had been.”
Eric’s face dropped, his stern attitude gone in an instant to be replaced by a mixture of shock and anger. “What do you mean?”
“Oh Nothing, just that I know a few things.” Mr. Jackson sat back again.
Eric was confused and angered, but his Dad had always told him to control and use the feelings, not let them get hold of you. He knew he had to keep as calm as possible and learn more about what Mr. Jackson meant by his statement of knowing a few things, what few things?
“Why did you surf the Olhos lightning death?” Mr. Jackson asked.
“What?” Eric was truly amazed at what he was hearing. “How do you know….” He didn’t finish his question as his thoughts were racing away, his imagination f
illing in the blanks very easily, and accurately. He grabbed the door handle. “Tom, were off.”
“Eh?” Tom replied, trying to keep up with the strange conversation. “But were miles from home.”
“We’ll walk.” And tugged on the door. It didn’t budge, and Eric pulled harder on the handle. “What?”
“Here, allow me.” Mr. Jackson leant forward and pressed the button in the centre of the roof. A click heralded the unlocking of the doors.
Eric tugged once more, and the door slid back with ease. He headed through the door, with Tom in close pursuit.
Mr. Jackson pressed the button to close the door and sat back, carefully watching them cross the retail park car park they were sat on, before he started laughing to himself.
Tagged.
“What just happened?” Tom asked, slightly out of breath as he’d had to dash to catch Eric up, who was walking away from the car at a fast, and very determined pace.
“Nothing.” Eric’s head was down again, in deep thought as they passed the front of the branded Gym.
Inside it’s clean and colourful lines were many cyclists pedaling furiously, and many runners sprinting hard, yet none of them ever moved anywhere. From the comfort of the air conditioned glass box, they watched the boys pass by, personal music players kept them oblivious to the conversation and troubles that were only metres away.
Eric knew the way home and headed out of the retail park and over the former farmer’s bridge that crossed the narrow tributary to the River Ribble. The bridge always reminded Eric of the one on the St.