He called Russ’s PA, Clarice, and explained he needed to take some more time off work to collect his tools. He also admitted he’d finished work early on a couple of other occasions. Embarrassingly, Clarice knew all about his accident and gushed that a couple of the girls in the office had been talking about him admiringly. Russ knew about his extenuating circumstances, and they came to an arrangement where Mitchell would use part of his annual holiday allowance to cover his impromptu time off, including the collection of his toolbox.
After escorting Poppy to school, Mitchell made his way across the city toward the address sent to him in the mysterious text message. He wondered why the person had reported their own brother.
Trash rustled along the street and pressed against his ankles as he walked to the house on Whitby Street. On a brown patch of ground, two mongrel dogs tore around a broken pram.
This was an area in the city Mitchell never ventured to. There was a pressure building up behind his eyes that he attributed to the change in the weather. He rubbed the space between them and read the message on Barry’s phone again to make sure he’d got the right address.
Pop music blared from inside the house. Mitchell rang the doorbell and waited until the door opened a little. A safety chain tugged tight across the opening and an eye appeared at the gap.
“Yeah?” a woman demanded.
“Um, I’m Mitchell Fisher,” he said. “I’m here for my toolbox.”
“You on your own?”
“Yes.”
The chain rattled and the door opened fully. “Follow me. The culprit is on the sofa. He can get real nervy about strangers.”
Mitchell followed the woman along a red carpet that was specked with grit. She wore hoop earrings with the circumference of small saucers and supermarket style Ugg boots. The white walls of the hallway were full of scuff marks and cheap framed pictures.
“I’m Margie, and Petey is very sorry.” She raised her voice as she entered her front room. “He’s very sorry. Aren’t you, Petey?”
Mitchell didn’t hear a response.
“Come in, love.”
They entered the crowded sitting room, which was covered in piles of objects. He spotted a full-length mirror, a large shiny lamp and a stainless steel shovel. He wondered if they were ready to be taken to a charity shop or car boot sale. A teenager sat slouched in an armchair, scratching his arm and watching an Australian soap opera on the TV. Mitchell took a second look at him. He recognized him from Redford, carrying a shovel, just before Yvette fell.
Margie swiped his hand away. “Stop picking your skin. What have you got to say to the man, Petey?”
“I dunno.”
“You’re very sorry, aren’t you? Very, very sorry.”
“I’m very sorry, Margie.”
“Say it to ’im, not me.”
The young man gave Mitchell the briefest look. “Sorry.”
“For what?” Margie shouted at him.
“For taking your toolbox, mister.”
Mitchell followed Petey’s sheepish gaze to where his toolbox sat in the middle of the floor. On top of it were a pizza cutter and a chunky necklace made out of plastic gems.
Margie picked up a silver sequined skirt and tossed it off the sofa so Mitchell could sit down. “He’s got this thing, you see,” she said. “He collects shiny stuff, can’t help it. It was okay when he was a kid, funny even. But now he’s an adult...” She shook her head. “Had a busy one, that day, he did. Came back with a right load of gear I’m trying to trace and return, a flippin’ shovel included.”
Petey looking longingly at Mitchell’s toolbox.
“Eyes off,” Margie snapped. She moved the necklace and pizza cutter off the top of it. “You’ve caused enough trouble, you ’ave.”
Mitchell heard the strain in her voice. He had originally thought she was in her forties, but now glancing at the dark circles under her eyes, he could see she was much younger. “It’s okay,” he said softly.
“No. It’s not.” She rubbed her face with both hands and held them there for a few moments, as if she was counting during a game of hide-and-seek. When she let them fall away, her eyes glistened with tears. “Look. Can I make you a brew or something?”
“A cup of tea would be good.”
As soon as she left the room, Petey turned up the volume on the TV even higher. Australian voices boomed around the room.
“Turn that down now,” Margie yelled.
Petey stuck his bottom teeth over his top lip and stared at the TV, before switching it off. Then his face appeared to morph into a child’s and he flashed the sweetest smile at Mitchell. “Sorry, mister.”
Margie set a cup of brick-orange tea on a glass coffee table, in front of Mitchell. “No biscuits, sorry.”
“It’s fine, I’m just relieved to have my tools back. I need them for work.”
“Look through the box before you take it. Make sure nothing is missing. I didn’t tell Petey you were coming or else he might ’ave vanished and took your box with ’im.”
“How did you find me?”
“My boyfriend, Malcolm, saw a note on the bridge, and then he saw Petey’s new toolbox. Put two and two together, I did. Petey told Malcolm he’d got a job, and the tools were for that.” She tutted loudly. “I told ’im our Petey can’t concentrate on work. Had a fall when he was a kid that damaged him.” She tapped her temple. “Never been the same since. I was supposed to be looking after ’im that day. One minute he was sat on the bed and next thing he’s on the floor, crying ’is eyes out.
“As he got older, we could tell things weren’t quite right with ’im. Ma blamed me.” Margie wiped at her nose. “She couldn’t deal with ’im being different so she scarpered and left us to it. So, I got ’im. Had to be a flippin’ ma and a sister to ’im after that. He’s a nice kid really, but can’t resist shiny stuff. Walks around the city with sticky fingers.” She leaned forward and squinted at Mitchell. “You gonna tell on ’im or what?”
Mitchell shook his head. “No. Please don’t worry. I’m pleased to get this back.”
“You’ve got to be honest, don’t you? Luckily the police have been good with ’im. ‘Petey up to his old tricks again?’ one said when I took a necklace to the station. He just gets obsessed with stuff.” She raised her voice again. “Did you steal this man’s toolbox from the bridge, Petey?”
“He left it there. Jumped off, he did,” Petey replied.