The Odd Jobs Man Decides

And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.

~ C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair

It was hunger that woke Scrubb that night…or it might have been the moonlight slanting through the window, because moonlight was an anomaly in Devon. The sun and the moon were such rare visitors to that part of the world that people would line the roads and cheer when they passed by. Generally, Dartmoor had a thunderous brow and looked overcast as if it were thinking about Something Else. At the Experiment House, it rained.

Scrubb promptly rolled away from the moonlight and attempted to go back to sleep. He shared the room with two other boys, one of them Spivvins, who snored.

"For heaven's sake, shut up, will you?" Scrubb whispered urgently. Spivvins snored on. Scrubb liked Spivvin's very well when he could observe him by the light of day, but at night, snoring into the silence and destroying an honest chap's rest was a bit thick. Scrubb was momentarily transformed into what-he-had-been-before-he-Changed as he considered what would be the most satisfying; emptying the bathroom jug into Spivvin's open mouth, or poking the offender's feet with a knitting needle purloined from the Matron.

And then, quite suddenly, Scrubb remembered the Rabbit.

After only a short encounter with the Other Place (and forgive me if I don't go into detail about the Place where he had gone on an Adventure with his cousins, as you would never believe me if I did), Scrubb's appreciation for Animals had changed in a dramatic manner. It was true that animals here were not quite the same as animals There, but he still had a deep love for them and a wish to protect them all. In his mind, the Rabbit needed his help and pouring a bedroom jug full of water over Spivvins's head wasn't going to help anyone. Not even the snore.

And that was why a robed and slippered Scrubb was creeping down the back stairs a few minutes later. He had promised himself after the encounter with Pole that he would slip down to the kitchen to see if there was anything that Rabbits can eat. Scrubb wasn't a farm boy; as far as he was concerned Rabbits lived off bread and jam. His stomach growled. He could use some bread and jam.

The collision occurred in the door of the Dining Hall and despite the moonlight, Scrubb hadn't seen it coming. With a stifled yell, he fell in a heap, jumbled up with someone who had Elbows…and a Chin…and hang it all, Teeth!

"Of all the low down, rotten…!" Scrubb's hand stung. "Don't bite! Get up and fight like a man, you coward!"

"Is that you Scrubb?" a frightened voice wavered out of the shadows.

"I'll say it's me and that was my hand! No thanks to you that it isn't bleeding!"

"I'm most awfully sorry," Pole sat up and at the sight of her drawn, frightened face, all of Scrubb's anger melted away like quicksilver.

"No, it's my fault, really," he said gruffly.

"I suppose we're both down here for the same reason?"

"The Rabbit?"

Pole nodded.

Scrubb thought for a moment, there in the moonlight, "Nothing for it, then," he said, "Shall we proceed together?"

Pole nodded again, her eyes wide. There thing they meant to do was so dastardly, so heinous she couldn't even imagine what would happen if the Head found out. Stealing food during Wartime, Skulking at Night and forming Plans against Them. It couldn't get any worse.

"What if we're caught?" she murmured, not because she was afraid, but because she wanted to know what Scrubb would do.

"No matter what, we can't breathe a word about Spivvins…even," he paused, "even if it comes to torture."

Pole shuddered. She still didn't trust Scrubb…but if he was willing to keep his word, even under torture, she at least had to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The door to the larder wasn't locked, even though they half expected it to be. The knob squeaked with springs, the hinges protested softly in their rust, and a moment later, the door swung open, letting out a sheet of moonlight. Scrubb entered first; Pole was close behind him.

"Do you suppose a Rabbit would eat bread?" Pole whispered.

"I-"

But Scrubb never finished his sentence, because just at that moment, the unspeakable happened. A hand…far larger than Carter's…descended onto his shoulder; he struggled, would have bolted for the door…but the hand was too strong, and from Pole's small protesting noises beside him, she had been caught, too.

"What's all this, then?"

The voice that spoke was large, but not loud, and out of the corner of Scrubb's eye, he saw a large, monstrous shadow and a nose that might have been barrowed off the Neanderthal in his Natural History book. There was hope then. This wasn't one of the masters, or even the Head…this was the Odd Jobs Man.

The Odd Jobs Man was one of those characters that ought to be frightening, but isn't. He was about the same height as Big Ben and had shoulders broader than London Bridge, but he was so gentle and soft-spoken that nobody ever paid him much mind. He was about forty and walked with a limp…something to do with the Great War, Trenches and a German Potato Masher.

He'd seen war, and consequently, he wasn't entirely meek and mild-mannered; the Gang avoided him, because after grappling him once, they never tried again. Nobody ever breathed a word of What Had Happened, but there were rumors that one of the Garret twins had been held aloft before being dumped unceremoniously into the School Pond. The Head had not been amused…she had even considered sending the Odd Jobs Man away until she had discovered that there was no one else in the area to take the position.

Either way, there was hope, because, as Scrubb saw it, the Odd Jobs Man was on neither side, and might listen to reason.

"What's all this, then?" the Odd Jobs Man repeated, shaking the two children. No doubt, he thought he was being gentle, but they felt like decoys in the mouth of a Retriever.

Scrubb shot Pole a look. There was nothing for it, "We'll have to tell him."

"I should think so," the Odd Jobs Man stated.

Pole looked momentarily rebellious, then wilted. The Odd Jobs Man set them both down on packing crates full of potatoes like dolls at a tea party, and gave them a look. He wasn't like the Head, he was fair.

"I'll be Judge and Jury and Prosecution," he said slowly, drawing out his words. "You'll be the Defense. If the Jury finds you guilty, but the Judge rules the crime not worth punishing, that rabble upstairs need never know. Now then…tell it slowly."

Scrubb looked at Pole, and in the end, Pole told the story. She didn't name Spivvins…there was no need…she just called him one of the students. She told about the Rabbit in full, how it had been legally given to Spivvins and that they could prove it by asking the Man Next Door, and how she and Scrubb had come down to see if there was anything to feed it in the kitchens.

"Now, of course, we won't take anything," she said quickly.

"I should think not," the Odd Jobs Man said. "Now then, do the prisoners plead guilty, or not guilty of taking food from the pantry?"

"Not guilty," Pole and Scrubb said together.

The Odd Jobs Man reached a long arm over and prodded in the pockets of their dressing gowns, "Aye," he said. "In the face of insubstantial evidence, the Jury finds the prisoners not guilty."

"Can we go, then?" Scrubb asked eagerly.

"Nay," the Odd Jobs Man shook his head, "Bide here a while and tell me about this Rabbit. What did you mean to feed it?"

"Do Rabbits eat bread?" Pole burst out.

A slow smile spread across the face of the Odd Jobs Man and he chuckled. "Not a good, honest English rabbit, Miss."

"Actually, I think it might be Dutch…" Pole trailed off. "Spivs said so."

She froze, wishing she hadn't mentioned Spivvins. The least said, soonest mended.

"The Dutch are on the Right Side," Scrubb felt compelled to mention, and by the 'Right Side', he meant the right side of the War.

"A rabbit is a rabbit," the Odd Jobs Man said after a moment of contemplation. "I dare say they all eat the same." Slowly he stood, his joints cracking and creaking as he reached his full height. "Now then, you two nip back to bed; I'll take care of this."

"You won't tell?" Pole asked hesitantly.

"And why should I?" the Odd Jobs Man inquired. "If a boy wants to keep a Rabbit in this blighted, hopeless place, why should he not? There is nothing much else worth doing. But, I'll tell you this; I'll bicycle into town tomorrow and see if I can't get five pounds of Rabbit feed. Nobody will find it if we keep it in the gardening shed."

"Oh, I say," Scrubb exclaimed, then instantly lowered his voice. "You are a sport! Pole and I can scrounge up the money, I'm sure. I've got a sovereign."

Pole looked at him in surprise, "Lucky beast."

The Odd Jobs Man laughed and shook his head. "You two go back upstairs, and be in bed. Sharpish."

To Be Continued...

Author's Note: It's this time of year when all the leaves are off the trees and there's a scattering of snow, and the really beautiful winter sunsets haven't come yet, that I dislike winter the most. I recently read Surprised by Joy, and I was struck by C. S. Lewis' comment about the Idea of Autumn (which he never really explains…and perhaps doesn't need an explanation).

Strangely Autumn…and the foreknowledge of a long Winter, and finally of Spring…fills me with a longing that even the coming of Spring never fulfills (and somehow it doesn't need to). I think this is why Autumn is my favorite season, because it represents Giving Up Everything no matter what the Cost, in the certain Faith that Life is coming again.

We live through Winter because we must, and because if we had Spring all the time, we wouldn't know how beautiful it was...honestly, snowdrops are at their most lovely when they've just poked through a bit of melting ice to bloom.

~Psyche

PS: Sorry for the long wait again. I really didn't mean to leave it so long.