Going Underground

Chapters Thirty-one to Thirty-five

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

I’M ONE

                 “A stroke of luck you managing to come by this polish like that, eh?” said Jonathan, make shift duster and tin in hand.

                 “Wasn’t it just?” Mickey P. replied.

                 However, even aside of his mate’s tell-tale grin, Jonathan had already guessed he’d probably stolen it from one of the hospital store rooms. Although on this occasion he did decide he could forgive his friend this one transgression, in view of it all being in a good cause. Not that the end always justifies the means, he further acknowledged, but in the bigger scheme of things he didn’t suppose a single canister of shine spray was something the National Health Service would exactly miss.

                 “Pretty much as good as new, wouldn’t you say?” Jonathan carried on, re-adjusting the last of the Vespa’s mirrors before stepping back to admire their on-the-spot repair job.

                 “I’d say so,” agreed Mickey P.  “Definitely as good as new.”

                 The hospital doors slid open and Jonathan looked up to see The Ace Face, at last, exiting to join them. 

                 “And all we need now is a round of applause by way of a thanks for all our efforts,” he said, ready to show its owner what they’d achieved.  “And then we’re good to go.”

                 He eagerly waited for that all important response, yet it seemed The Ace Face was struggling to come up with the same degree of enthusiasm.  In fact, much to Jonathan’s chagrin, it appeared the best he could muster was a rather disappointing, half-hearted smile.

                 “Cheers lads,” he said – a rather luke warm response if Jonathan had ever heard one, especially considering all the work he and Mickey P. had just gone to.

                 “Surely you can do better than that?” he said, thinking at least a bit of appreciation wouldn’t have gone amiss.

                 “No, it looks great.  I mean it,” The Ace Face feebly replied.  “Honestly.”

                 Jonathan looked at the casualty’s heavily bandaged hand, telling himself that this definite lack of interest was probably down to one of two things.  Either the poor man was still in agony thanks to the extent of his injury, he decided; or the doctors had pumped him so full of drugs to get rid of the pain, that they’d actually dulled all his other senses in the process.

                 Of course, he knew neither of these things bode particularly well for a good time at the scooter rally; an event that he, himself, was really looking forward to.  One of the reasons why, in having managed to forget all his own woes for now, he thought it was only right he help The Ace Face put his misery to one side as well.