Mirror Man by Jacques Kat (ereader for textbooks txt) 📗

noticed they had become knobbly, as though extra bones had started to grow on the knuckles. His thin skin stretched over them like tissue paper, and he couldn’t straighten his fingers anymore, which only made it more difficult to hold his tools.

I visualised in my mind what he’d been trying to accomplish. Each fin around the flywheel was grooved. I figured it was designed that way to catch the air to cool the cylinder as it turned to stop it overheating. If the nut travelled the same direction while it was running, it would come off. I knew then the nut had to be turned anticlockwise, and it appeared Grandad had been trying to turn it clockwise.

To get it off, I put one hand over the socket and ratchet, then grabbed a hammer to give the handle a knock. Before I tapped it, I paused. The back of my neck felt heavy, as if someone was watching me.

A sweet whistle.

I glanced over my shoulder to find a robin peering up at me from the ground just within the open garage door. It tilted its head, then flew back out the door. A vision of Dad swept through my mind with it. If he were alive now, it would have been him doing this task, and I’d be stood behind him, watching on. I’d come in here less and less since he died.

I looked back at the flywheel and hit the ratchet. It vibrated through my hand and the sound echoed around the garage, though it didn’t budge. I hit it harder, and it immediately loosened, then I worked on taking it the rest of the way off.

When I examined it closer, I noticed it was threaded on the inside of the flywheel, so it must have needed an extractor. I scanned the tools on the floor that my Grandad had left out to see if I could do the next part.

‘What’s going on?!’

I toppled onto my backside with surprise and turned to see Grandad’s slippered feet stood in the doorway; he’d clearly headed out here in a rush. His hand extended, and he leaned against the wall.

‘I thought we were being robbed,’ he sighed.

‘Sorry, Grandad,’ I said, getting up and brushing the dust off my jeans. ‘I thought I’d see what you’d been doing and help you out.’ There were no mirrors or many reflective surfaces in here, so I kept my eyes downcast on the grimy floor. He still had his dressing gown on, which looked more paisley-patterned smoking jacket, though he never smoked.

‘Blimey, are you trying to finish me off, or what, lad?’

‘I didn’t mean to get you out of bed,’ I said, twisting the ratchet I still had in my hand.

He exhaled slowly. ‘Alright, not to worry, son. Now, shift out of the way. I want a gander at your handy work.’

I moved out the way as he shuffled past me to inspect the scooter.

‘You’ve got it off!’ he exclaimed.

‘Yes. I pictured it in my mind, like how I picture all the watch components to see how they work. I figured it had to turn anticlockwise, and you’d been trying to turn it clockwise,’ I told him.

He slapped his hand against his forehead. ‘Damn it. I should have remembered that. Not worked on one of these for a while. Only doing it as a favour for a mate, as he didn’t know how to get it off and I thought I could do it. You’ve done a good job here, lad,’ he said, his voice full of praise.

‘Thanks. Do you want me to help you remove the rest?’ I asked him.

‘Nah, I’ll handle it from here, son. You’ve done a grand job, though. Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome. How about I tidy up a bit for you?’

‘Aye, you can do, lad. I’m off to get dressed, and I’ll meet you back in the kitchen.’

Grandad lumbered off slowly. The happiness I’d woken up with remained, as he’d been glad of the help. The task had been easy too. I knew then I should start to help him out a bit more. After all, he wouldn’t be able to take any handouts from Tina once she’d had the baby.

I straightened things up and put all the tools where they belonged. Grandad wasn’t particularly good at making sure they were put away, said he couldn’t find them again. Though I knew he only couldn’t find them when he hadn’t put them away, so I returned them all to the correct places in the system I’d created for him. Then I switched off the light, pulled the door to, and locked it up. You couldn’t be too careful. Even though it was getting light, it didn’t stop people from robbing you. Times were hard. Long gone were the days when you could trust your neighbours.

In the kitchen, I washed my hands with washing up liquid and sugar (the only mixture guaranteed to get grease off your hands), then scrubbed my nails with the nailbrush. I always liked to have clean hands; there was no excuse for dirty nails, no matter what job you had.

I filled the kettle and set it to boil. Just as it started to whistle, Grandad came down the hallway. It took him longer to get going in the morning these days.

‘Cup of tea, Grandad?’ I shouted.

‘Yes, son, thank you,’ he said as he sat at the table, slapping the morning’s paper down with his glasses.

‘You’ve really helped me out with that scooter.’

‘I’m glad I could help. And I’ve put all your tools back where they belong,’ I said, looking at his reflection. His eyes grew wide, then after a moment, his mouth pulled up into a grin.

‘Have you really, lad?’

I nodded back at him.

‘By heck, son, I hope I can find them all again.’ He laughed. ‘Especially with my hands the way they are now.’

I placed a mug of tea before him. ‘It’s really quite a simple system, Grandad, once you use it as I instructed.’

‘Aye, suppose it is. Though