A relieving January feeling trespassed Rob’s twelve figure calculations as his business was retrieving new wings.
Sat at one of those new characterless franchise terrace cafes, he enjoyed that pleasant recalling of last year’s life-changing events.
No need to pull out his hat nor to charm his way to get a sheltered seat- the rain had started to embarass the locals again- for those memories could beat a Netflix action film playing loud in a dark hotel room.
Those increadible twenty minutes under an impertinent heatwave in this same square at the coast town saved his son’s vibrating destiny.
I’ll narrate the events once more….
He was waiting for his coffee to cool diwn just to concentrate better on the a phone conversation with one of his suppliers, when there was a collective outbreak of shouting.
He had to follow the joy/fright to be able to distinguish what the turtle was going on there, when he was soaked with iced water at the medieval corner.
” Leave them, they’re thirsty!”
A pipe had burst on the road. As he whipped his eyes to see, a pullizter-prize like scene staged a very mixed-feelings atmosphere. He couldn’t even smile, for the joy that rushed through the people was explosive and brief.
The youngsters had already set their phones to video mode to capture the grateful yet very dishevelled foreigners who were drinking water.
”Heck! The ducks have just found a petrol well under their feet!
” I don’t think they even know what petrol smells like…”
Ranging from their late teens right into middle age, and dirty, almost toothless and dressed in dark worn eighties’ garnments, the brave men were trying to hide the fact that they were crying. The way they were drinking from the spree showed that this was their accostumed way of drinking, for all their bodies were shaking except for their strong hands.
The divine welcoming of overabundant civilisation was not what they had pictured all their lives, but they liked it.
Rob was now trying to profile them in origin and deeds, but these folks panther-like features along with a melodic way of expressing themselves made him fully sympathetic.
He thought that wherever they came from- that place would definetly become his family’s next holiday destination.
As the growing crowd mingled in that spontanoeous style that curiosity and wonder fuel easily, a couple of kids joined the water party. A bitter woman close to Rob ordered
„ Don’t get too near guys, they might have something contagious!”
That’s when the businessman’s spare brain locker popped open. He went on guard. His grandfather had fled war.
A desperate strange growl made silence around the square. One of the folks held a damp family photograph, and the rest started checking all their pockets for their own ones.
In no time at all two eastern european builders offered some napkins they had angrily snatched from the luxurious sandwich bar where that unscrupulous mother was sat, and as ever so grateful as these men were ,their most feared nightmare was threatning to come true- losing the photos.
As the builders efficiently showed them the snaps hadn’t been ruined, some media student asked her friend,
”Is the film crew here yet?”
That was enough. Reaching to his pocket for cash and then waved it to the smuggled, thirsty men -with no concerns over the the notes getting soaked, their eyes met for a lengthy second, enough for Rob to taste their dangerous and exhausting journeys.
Those eyes were as eloquent as a drunk nutter’s.
”No, Dollars? Dollars? They didn’t reach for the money.
A TV van was approaching down the hill.
But Rob had already texted a mechanic he knew around:
“Bring a large van fast thanks. “ and the young mechanic was there, buffled and not understanding a thing.
Rob’s potentiel friends or ennemies- he didn’t know yet- were still staring at the money with a question-mark twist when he attempted his best to save their lives from an unexpected disaster.
Pointing to the lorry and seeing there was the mechanic’s shopping bags still inside at the rear, the builders joined to convince them to hop on.
Rob hadn’t even noticed that one member of the group was a female who’s friends urged to jump in first.
The film crew lost sight of the van, its men and their four saviours and were asking questions to the dissappointed passer-bys.
Half amused and half scared, the immigrants were not repeating “Dollars” anymore but “Job” as they opened the groceries with curiosity and no greed.
It was later known that the peculiar group fled a serious humanitarian situation and gained passionate working force strength once recovered from the journey.
* * *
The guys’ leader and his wife were employed as keepers at Rob’s mansion, but there was still a tricky task to complete.
They had to ask to remove the screening of a short documentary a reckless reporter had shot.
Rob’s always resourceful wife suggested to pass this work to Michael, their rebellious son, who had only been asking to drop school for the past two years.
If there do exist synchronicity events in some people’s lives, this could be another example: the media company got so fed up of Michael’s determination that they became somewhat intrigued by him…. and called him up for an interview.
But as he worked his new life through, distrust from the media drew him to study part- time,aiming for photography restoration course.
Since then the mechanic always keeps an extra large box of sandwiches, drinks and party baloons inside the van.
Rob’s family is looking forward to a six week break at the foreign workers’ village. Never has a holiday been planned so enthusiastically!
But Michael has kept this information very secret at work…. and taking only his new camera to the trip!
Thanks for sharing!
More humour here.