The Nightwatchman.  A short story by Bryan WIlson

Eddie parked the bike up in front of the hotel. Away from the city centre, it was an old establishment, but tidy, and he was to find out during his stay that it also retained the old world hospitality and customs that matched it's facade. One that especially endeared him to it was that the early morning wake-up call involved the nightwatchman knocking on the door with a cup of tea and a thin slice of buttered bread. This reminded him of his father waking him the same way for shearing as a young boy.

He met the manager, Tom, and arranged parking for his bike down a gated alley next to the building then lugged his bag up the stairs, heavy with his tools, and set up camp in the sparsely furnished room. Two beds, a desk with a pitcher of water, a basin, and a view over an industrial street with a double hung window that let in the traffic noise when encouraged to open.He flopped down onto the bed, stretched back and relaxed. It had been a long ride down from Taihape on the Norton. Brand new, it was a delight to ride, he hadn’t opened the 750 out yet, being early days on its running in, but already the Combat motor was showing its pace.

He had made a five day ride of it, crossing the Cook Straight on the ferry for the first time, taking in the views of the Sounds in the sun on the deck. Crossing west at the top of the South Island and following the West Coast as he sought out the tourist spots of the glaciers and big lakes, camping wherever he found a quiet spot. He had come east, across from Haast through the apricot country, stopping at a stall to fill any spare space with fruit, then back up into Dunedin where he was going to do his advanced welder training. He was looking forward to the ride home because the bike would be run in and the legendary roads of central Otago would be opening before him.

“Edward Garston, room three,” the manager's wife had said, checking him in, “That is the dining room there. We do a good breakfast and a dinner for a hungry man at a good price.”

“That will be good, I have to be at work at eight and I finish at five. Near the railway workshops, is that far?” he asked.

“Walking distance. Twenty minutes will easily do it, allow thirty on your first day to find it. Be at breakfast by seven and we will see you right.” she said.

He was pleased with his choice, the job he was on was ten days so a homely atmosphere and the good food would suit him.  He settled into the routine and by the end of the week he was a familiar face around the hotel.  On Friday evening the manager’s wife Margaret called out to him as he came in,

“Edward, can I have a word, please?”

“Yes of course.” He said going to the reception window.

“Tonight is a big night in town because of the game and we have found ourselves a room short. Can we get Jacob the nightwatchman to share your room just for tonight so that we can free up his room? He has been with us nearly three months. He is a good worker. We won’t charge you for tonight of course if you say it is ok.” she asked.

Eddie was well used to living in crowded flats and agreed without hesitation.

An hour or so later there was a knock on the door and Tom the manager formally introduced Jacob to him.

“Thanks very much lad.” Said Tom, “This gets us out of a bit of a pickle.”

Jacob carried an overnight bag into the room and dumped it down onto the spare bed.

“I am doing my duties from midnight onwards but before that I like to get a couple of hours kip. Then I finish at seven and put my head down until about midday, after that the room is all yours again.” He explained.

“That’s not going to worry me, once I am asleep I take a lot of waking up.” Eddie replied.

They then settled in to sharing stories and comparing interests for the evening.  Jacob was an avid racing and betting fan. He had a part share in a greyhound which he was very fond of and hoped to be able to keep when it finished racing. He would need digs of his own for that though but the opportunity for anything permanent seemed to elude him. Eddie formed the impression that he was a bit of a drifter, a restless soul as he heard anecdotes about all the different towns and jobs he had worked in.  For Eddie's part he found that Jacob had no interest in motorbikes but he was quite interested in Taihape, having never been there. He pressed Eddie to tell him about the town and surrounding area and the work, or lack of it around the area. He would occasionally chip in professing to know about this type of work or the other.

Eventually they both turned in and Eddie was quickly asleep.

“Saturday morning” Eddie thought when he woke up. “A leisurely breakfast and then get on the bike and take a ride somewhere maybe.”

He looked over to the other bed and was surprised to see it empty.

He slowly dressed and wandering downstairs and presented himself for breakfast. He did not get the cheery welcome he had come to enjoy so just ate his breakfast in silence.

“Where is Jacob?” He asked Tom when he came to collect the plate.

“Is that a joke?” Snapped Tom.

“No, he wasn’t in my room this morning.” Eddie answered a little surprised.

“We would like to know where Jacob is because he has disappeared with the nights takings. The ratbag. A thief in the night after I treated him really well.” Tom elaborated. “ It was a big night too. He would have taken a substantial haul.”

“Oh. He seemed quite a decent bloke. That’s terrible.” Eddie said, not knowing what to say to someone who has just been robbed.

“Have you still got all your stuff? Your wallet?” Tom prompted.

Eddie pulled out his wallet and folded it open. It seemed to have all his money intact but he noticed a slip of hotel notepaper in with the notes. He pulled it out and read aloud to Tom.

“Yes it’s all here. I wouldn’t do that to you lad. But I have taken your bike. I had a Norton International when I was younger so yours being there was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. I did rather urgently need transport. Don’t look for it, you won't find it. I hope your insurance covers you.”

Eddie sat looking at the note. Dumbstruck. He heard Tom saying some words of sympathy as he walked as if in a trance out to the empty alleyway.

“There is nothing emptier than an alley where your bike should be.” He thought.

Eventually he got himself together enough to call the police about it. He answered the questions and filled in the forms and then, and then nothing, there was nothing he could do, it may as well not have existed. He sat on his bed and let it all sink in for a while. There were three days of his course left on the following week which dragged terribly now that his enthusiasm for the town had been dampened. He occupied himself booking tickets on the railway bus and the Rangatira ferry, the grandeur of the art-deco-style bus garage not touching him in his doldrums.

On Wednesday night, his last night at the hotel, Margaret came into the dining room to summon him to a telephone call.

“It's your father.” She announced as they headed for the reception area.

“Hello, Dad?” He said picking the handpiece up.

“Eddie, thank goodness you are ok! It's your Dad. Your Mum and I were worried sick about you. Your bike turned up overnight. Just parked on the street. We thought you were somewhere nearby but you didn’t turn up and anyway, thank goodness when I rang the hotel they said you were fine. What has been going on?”

“It was stolen, dad. I will tell you all about it when I get home.” Eddie explained. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you with it until they either found it, or the insurance company accepted my claim.”

“That explains the note on it. It said. ‘Nice ride, lad. Sorry I inconvenienced you. J.’ ” His father added.  Eddie sat down as a wave of relief swept over him. The old rogue had a soft streak, eh!

He couldn’t wait to get home now and check out his prized possession.

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So it was just a story right?

Well not quite, a lot of it was true, the nightwatchman and stealing the takings and sharing the room were true. The bike being stolen was cobbled together out of three true events.

• An attempt being made to steal my bike from an alley next to a hotel overnight.

• The brake caliper being stolen off my bike when it was parked on the street overnight.

• My bike being stolen.

Did you know? That the Rangatira went on to be a troop ship in the Falklands war.

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