Jack in a Boat - a short story set on the English canal system.
Jack raised the binoculars to his eyes and focussed in tight. He had a clear view of the marina service buildings from the side hatch of his narrowboat, but it was dark, and the three men he was tracking were dressed to blend into the night. The only sound was the wind through the trees. Nothing else moved. The gravelled track from moorings to buildings passed under lamps set at regular intervals, but the men avoided the pools of light created.
There. Movement. A flash of white as one of the men turned his face to check no-one was following. No-one except Jack. But he knew this game. All the lights in his boat were out, and he was moored at the farthest end of the visitor moorings. He could see them, they couldn’t see him.
Having clocked them when the man turned his face, Jack now had no trouble following their progress. They were definitely heading toward the shower block.
The block was a rectangular, wooden building that looked a bit like one of those granny-flats posh people put in their gardens, but without any windows. There were two doors facing the water and two on the other side of the building. Jack knew this because he’d been showering in that block for the last five weeks. He’d used three of the four cubicles (each with toilet, sink and shower), but the fourth had a laminated A4 sign taped to its door which read SHOWER OUT OF ORDER. That door was the target of the men now creeping across the marina.
Jack had been watching them for a while. Several days ago, he’d got back late from a bus trip into the nearby town and run into one of the men standing to the side of the block. The man had been friendly enough but was clearly nervous about Jack being there. He’d told Jack that he was waiting for his washing to finish, even though Jack hadn’t asked. That’s what had got his journalist’s antennae quivering.
He’d stopped working that job four months ago because he hated dealing with the worst side of humanity. Drug dealers, corrupt politicians, scam artists. Jack had investigated them all and the grey sludge of that world had gradually crept into his private life. He saw potential criminals everywhere. Started suspecting almost everyone around him of… something. Moving onto a narrowboat and embracing the slower pace of life on the canals had seemed like the perfect antidote. But then that night at the shower block made him doubt that decision.
The man had still been there when Jack came out. He’d made some inane comment about how inaccurate the timings were on the washing machines. Jack had simply nodded and headed back to his boat. But then he’d opened the side hatch and watched.
They were there every evening. Sometimes it was one shift; sometimes they would leave but then come back again later. Usually it was the same man acting as lookout, while the other two entered the supposedly out of use shower room. Sometimes Lookout-Man would go in, while one of the other two watched. Never more than two visits in an evening, but always well after the marina office had closed and the other boaters were safely tucked up for the night.
The men were moored in the marina. He’d seen them around during the day. Walking a dog in the field, pulling a trolley full of rubbish and recycling to the waste area. He was pretty sure they were residential. They had that look of knowing where everything was, and he’d occasionally seen Lookout-Man chatting to other boaters.
Jack had kept himself to himself since arriving at the marina. Given the choice, he’d still be out on the canal, cruising the network as best he could around the winter maintenance works being done. But his gearbox had other ideas. It had given out at the beginning of November and by the time he’d managed to get it fixed, locks both behind and in front of him had been shut for repair. It was either stay moored on the muddy towpath for several months or come into the handily placed marina and have all the necessary facilities on hand. It was a no-brainer.
Finally, tonight’s men inside the shower room emerged and all three made their way back towards the mooring sites. Jack lost them as they went behind the first of the jetties, where the lampposts gave way to the less-bright lights on the top of the electric and water points. They gave enough light to see your way down the jetty to your boat, but not enough to disturb your sleep. Or show your presence to anyone spying on you.
Jack put his binoculars down and leant out to grab the hatch to close it. He was unprepared for the shriek that greeted this movement.
“Oh my word, you frightened the life out of me!”
It was Jenny, the lady who lived on the boat moored next to his. She was a residential moorer but currently on the visitor moorings while her jetty was being repaired. She had lived in the marina for years and knew everyone. She also knew everyone’s business. Except his, of course. But she could be useful. He should have thought of that before. He was slipping. But then, maybe that was a good thing. Maybe the relaxing pace of his new life was having the desired effect after all.
“You alright Jack? Lost power or summat? I’ve got a battery light somewhere.”
The lights! Or lack of them. He thought quickly. “No. Just keeping them off until I close up for the night. Don’t want insects being attracted inside by the light.” He hadn’t quite lost it, after all.
Jenny made the wheezy sound that passed for laughter. “Not many mossies around in November.”
Jack laughed with her. “True. Just a habit, I guess. There are worse ones to have.”
The light on the jetty was bright enough that he could just make out Jenny scowling. “One what?”
“Habit,” he said. “I could be a druggie, or an alcoholic.”
“Ah. Or an over-eater like me.” She patted her ample midriff.
“Do you get many here? Drugs, I mean.” He held his breath while he waited for her reply. It didn’t take long.
“No.” She certainly sounded adamant. “Manager wouldn’t stand for any of that sort of thing. They’d be out on their ear, winter closures or no.”
“But he wouldn’t know – if they were careful.” Or did their trading after hours and out of sight. Say in an out-of-order shower room.
“Not worth the risk. This is a nice marina. Better than most. And a good community. The waiting list to get in for residential is as long as yer arm.”
Well, that seemed to count out drug dealing. Jack wished her goodnight and closed his hatch.
Over the next few days, Jack wracked his brains. The only other likely explanation was stolen property. The manager probably wouldn’t approve of that either, but it was less obvious and surely quite likely in such a transient community. Narrowboats were always breaking down or needing something new, and plenty of boaters had chosen the life for financial rather than lifestyle reasons. They would be a perfect market.
The more he thought about it, the more reasonable the idea sounded. He decided the only way to find out was to search the room. It would have to be late at night, after the men had finished their evening comings and goings. So he set an alarm for 2am and looked out his darkest clothing.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The alarm didn’t wake him – he was too wired to sleep. He dressed quickly and set off, making sure not to bang the metal door to his boat as he shut it. Sound travelled over water, although no-one would be sleeping with their windows open at this time of year.
The smell of woodsmoke assailed him as he walked up the jetty. He’d heard of boaters keeping their fires going all through the night but hadn’t had the nerve to do it himself as yet. The idea of waking up to find his home on fire was too much for him. The idea of not waking up, much worse. But most people here seemed to do it without a second thought.
He banished the images from his mind and made his way to the shower block, using the light from the lampposts as a guide but keeping well clear of the pools of light they shed. He wasn’t going to make himself obvious to any insomniac watchers.
He got to the supposedly out of order room and took out the small flashlight he’d brought along. As expected, the door was locked. However he knew they were simple privacy locks – easy enough to open from the outside in an emergency – and he’d also brought a multi-tool that would do the job in a flash.
He slipped inside, opening the door as little as possible. The light inside was on a motion sensor. It would be obvious to anyone watching that someone had gone in. Hopefully he’d left it late enough that everyone else was asleep.
Once inside, he blinked several times as his eyes gradually got used to the blinding light. The floor had a light coating of dried mud, which Jack’s boots were just about to add to. A mop was kept outside for boaters to clean up after themselves, but it had clearly not been made use of in here.
There weren’t many places to hide things. Jack felt up into the large toilet roll holder but there was nothing. Except toilet roll of course. He took the lid off of the toilet cistern, but it too was hiding nothing. He was looking round for anywhere he might have missed when a banging at the door made him physically jump a few inches off the ground.
“This one’s out of order mate,” said a female voice. “Easy to miss the sign in the dark, but no-one’s managed to get clean in there for weeks now.”
Jack took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heartbeat. What on earth was a woman doing roaming the marina at 2am? He quickly stripped off his jumper and t-shirt then opened the door and stuck his head out.
“That explains why I can’t get any water,” he said. “I didn’t see the sign in the dark.”
The woman nodded sympathetically. “Easy to do. The others are all working fine.”
She looked to be in her thirties. Young to be daring a nighttime stroll, but maybe the large Alsatian sitting patiently at her feet gave her some peace of mind.
“Are you insomniac too?” she asked. “Or shift worker?”
“Oh, insomniac.” He hadn’t thought about shift workers. Maybe he should have brought a bag to supplement his cover story – the one he hadn’t thought up before leaving the boat.
“Well, if you ever need company, some of us meet up in the boaters’ lounge. There’s usually someone in there at this time of night.”
“That’s nice, thank you.” It genuinely was. Of course he wasn’t actually an insomniac, but it was kind of this stranger to offer help to someone she’d only just met.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” she said with a smile and turned to walk away.
Jack now felt obliged to visit one of the other shower rooms, just in case. He made a point of running the shower and wetting his hair. Only then did he realise the paper towel dispenser was empty. He dried his shoulders off as best he could with his t-shirt then put on his jumper. He gave his hair a light blast with the hairdryer – just enough so it wasn’t dripping wet but still looked like he’d washed it. Then he headed home.
After a sleepless night – how ironic was that? – he decided goods stolen to order was more likely and that the shower room was simply a handover point, not a storage unit. He waited until he heard Jenny climbing off her boat and onto the jetty, before loudly rummaging around in his stern storage locker.
“Lost summat?” she asked, as he knew she would.
“My windlass,” he said. “I think I left it on the roof after the last lock and now I can’t find it.”
“Oh, somebody will have nabbed that. Never leave good stuff on your roof.”
Bingo. That was what he wanted to hear. “I’ll need one when the locks open up again.”
“The wharf has some, though they’ll charge you an arm and a leg.”
“But I can’t get there without going through the locks. Catch 22.”
“Speak to Bill.”
Yes! Jack pricked up his ears in excitement. This was it.
“He goes that way to work. He’ll give you a lift.”
Or maybe it wasn’t. “Hmm. I’m a bit short of funds at the moment. Maybe a second-hand one?”
“Try in the book swap. People often leave stuff in there for anyone who needs it. Or there’s the ‘too good to throw’ shop at the local dump. They sometimes have boating stuff. Tell you what, I’ll ask Jim to take a look for you. He’s doing up his boat so he’s pretty much a regular there.”
“That would be great,” said Jack in defeat. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Always happy to help out a fellow boater. All part of the community, innit.”
It was no use. Either Jenny didn’t really trust him, or she knew nothing. He would just have to catch them in the act – whatever the act turned out to be.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
That evening, Jack headed to the shower block just after the office closed. He made sure to carry a bag with a towel poking out of the top, just in case anyone spotted him. He chose the shower room beside the ‘out of order’ one and stepped inside. Unless they had someone watching the block all afternoon and into the evening, he could simply settle in and wait. If someone did notice him go in, they’d hardly wait to make sure he came out again. The worst-case scenario was that they did have someone watching and would simply call off that night’s activity.
It turned out to be pretty boring keeping watch from a room with no windows. Especially as the lights were on a motion sensor. Any movement would turn them back on, and light suddenly shining from under the door would definitely be noticeable once darkness fell. His first action had been to reach up and unscrew the lightbulb, then he simply sat himself on the toilet and waited. In the dark.
He was woken by a noise beside his head. It took him a few moments to realise that he’d fallen asleep leaning against the dividing wall. He could hear a steady hissing noise. They had arrived.
He silently cursed himself when he realised his mistake. Even without the light, Lookout-Man would surely notice the door opening. He should have picked one of the rooms on the far side, then he could have crept round the side of the block without being detected.
But he would be seen sooner or later whichever route he took. That was the whole point of having a lookout, wasn’t it.
Deciding to just go for it, he swung the door open and stepped quickly out. Only to find the space in front of the block completely empty. What was going on?
He moved to listen at the door and yes, there were definitely people in there. He could hear that hissing noise still but also voices. Low but excited.
He checked the privacy lock and was surprised to see the door was unlocked. He took hold of the handle and, in one smooth movement, turned it and yanked the door open.
“Ok, what’s going on in here?” he demanded.
Three shocked faces turned to stare at him. Then all three broke into wide grins.
“We fixed it,” said Lookout-Man, saluting Jack with the beer bottle he held.
Sure enough, steam billowed out from the shower cubicle. The hissing noise was running water.
“Took us ages, it did,” said one of the other men. “We thought we’d never manage it.”
All three clinked their bottles together then Lookout-Man turned and pulled another from a bag on the floor.
“Join us?” he asked.
“Wait,” said Jack, his brain straining to catch up with what his eyes were telling him. “You’ve been trying to fix the shower all this time?”
“Yup.”
“It really was out of order?”
“What did you think? They put the sign on so’s only residentials could use this one? Keep it clean from you dirty visitors?” All three men laughed at the absurdity of this.
“No,” said Jack, weakly. “That’s not what I thought. But why so late at night?”
“Ah,” said the other man. “We couldn’t let management know.”
“Why not?”
“’Cos the owner’s responsible. If we offer to fix it, it lets them off the hook.”
“Politics,” agreed Lookout-Man with a nod.
“Plus, we’re not insured. They wouldn’t let us touch it without. Rules is rules.”
“But now you have,” said Jack, confused.
The men all grinned again. “They won’t worry about insurance after the fact. So now we can put a bill in – for the parts at least. The shower’s fixed, the owner pays, everyone’s happy.”
“Canal community,” mused Jack, feeling slightly ashamed at his misreading of the situation.
“That’s right," said Lookout-Man. "Something needs doing. It gets done. Everyone’s happy.”
“Everyone’s happy.” Jack repeated, nodding thoughtfully. “I think I will have that beer, thanks.”
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