Opening Up
Getting to work when it’s still dark sometimes makes me feel sad. But I love coming to the auction yard and seeing all the people. It’s cold this morning though, and it’s making my ears hurt. I wanted to wear my woolly hat with the robin on it, but I’ve got this special cap that Dr Thistlethwaite gave me. He said I mustn’t take it off all day, even if my head gets itchy.
I’ve worn it before, but he said today should be the day it works. Well, it just feels like Wednesday to me. And I like Wednesdays. Mrs Baggley makes pie and all the men from the garages come in to buy the cars. There are lots of cars, and lots of people, which means loads of pie and even more cleaning up for me to do.
There’s Gibbo, opening the gates. I wave and shout “Hiya!”, and his big red coat makes a swishing sound as he turns round, waves back and says “Oreet Danny”. He makes his own cigarettes with special sticky papers, and always smokes them under the canopy before the bosses get here. I never tell them though, because Gibbo’s my friend.
He lets me in so I can get everything ready for Mrs Baggley to make the workers’ breakfasts. Gibbo says his team won last night, and he wanders off smoking and singing a football song while I go into the canteen. I like coming in first, when it’s all quiet and dark. There’s a lit-up fridge full of fizzy drinks next to the till, and I have to get across to it without banging into anything before I turn the lights on.
I hang my coat up and remember to leave the cap on. My head’s not itchy, but my back is because of the vest I’ve got to wear, which goes with the cap. Dr Thistlethwaite said they were made to play a game called Stock Market, which sounds really boring, but he says he’s trying to fix them so they can read my clever thoughts instead.
He says he knows I have them, but even I know I’m not clever. I was never as good at tests as the other boys and girls at school, and was rubbish at football and rounders. I’ve known Dr Thistlethwaite since they found out I was different from the other children, so he’s looked after me for a long time. He’s a nice man, and his wife made my favourite cakes for me when I was 18 and 21.
I make a brew like Gibbo taught me, one for him and one for me. “Brew” can mean tea or coffee, which is really annoying because it sometimes makes me forget which is which, but people usually smile and tell me not to worry about it. I know Gibbo always has tea, which helps me to remember. He told me the water has to go straight in when the kettle’s boiled, and it needs a good stir, otherwise it’s not proper tea. I usually rush and miss the cups a bit, which I have to clean up, but I trust him, and it tastes good! Mrs Baggley has the other type of brew - coffee - but she likes to make her own.
Once all the chairs are down off the tables, I wipe everything clean then put the salt and sauces out. Then it’s time to refill the little plastic shelves next to the till with the chocolate and sweets from the special cupboard in the kitchen. Mrs Baggley says the till has a way of counting everything to make sure nothing gets stolen. She’ll be in soon, so I put the oven on ready for the sausages.
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The door from the sales hall opens, and Gibbo comes in and puts his empty mug on the counter. I’ll have to wipe that again. “You make a damn good cuppa, Danny boy!” he says, on his way out of the other door and into the yard. That makes me proud, but also a bit upset, because cuppa is another word for brew, and we have too many of those already.
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