Chapter 8

After consultation with Anita and some practice at going up and down stairs at the hospital it was decided not to move Reg's bed downstairs to the dining room. Even so Daphne did give his room a spring clean just in case Eleanor went up there. She gave the kitchen and sitting room a good going over too. She was not going to let Eleanor see anything shoddy about her house.

Both of Reg's parents and Eleanor were waiting to greet him when the ambulance brought him home. It was the first time Ron and Eleanor had met and they took to each other quickly.

"It was good of you to visit Reg every day like you did," he said to her.

"I could hardly not after what he did for me," she smiled, "and I've made a friend into the bargain."

"That's good too and you've taken a weight off our minds by offering to baby-sit him too."

Eleanor chuckled. "You'd better not let him hear you say that. He's not getting it for free either. He's going to help me with the job I've been given at the moment."

"Not if he's got to read."

"Oh no! It's ideas I shall be using him for."

"Good luck, Eleanor!"

"Thanks, Mr Woolstencroft."

"Ron."

"Thanks, Ron."

The ambulance duly arrived and the driver said that they would be round in a couple of days to take him in for physiotherapy. Eleanor thanked him but said that she was happy to fetch and carry him. She hoped to pick up some tips from the physiotherapist.

Daphne went back to work after lunch and the two men settled down in the sitting room to listen to music. Ron wanted to listen to Elijah and some other choral works that Eleanor had lent Reg. Eleanor settled down at the kitchen table. It was not until the following day that she and Reg managed to begin to get into a routine when both parents were working again.

"How can I help?" Reg asked her.

"Well, how many trucks do we need and how big should they be?"

"Loads vary. Some are as low as twenty boxes which would weigh about a ton but generally we try to put together loads for several destinations in the same sort of area, say five or six in Liverpool and Birkenhead. If there's a run down to Southampton we try to include Portsmouth, Basingstoke, Andover, Didcot or Oxford. In that case we could be talking about a couple of hundred boxes which would be ten tons and about four thousand eight hundred cubic feet.

"What I suggest though is that you get hold of those dockets that you used against Dan. They give details of how the loads were made up and who they were delivered to. I'm sure you could dream up a spreadsheet that would give you all the information you need."

"OK, that sounds good but then what about the trucks?"

"Well, I've been thinking since we first talked. To buy our own trucks, construct a servicing bay and garaging not to mention paying drivers and fitters later on is going to be a socking great outlay and, if demand drops, we'd have idle trucks. So, although we'd be paying for them to make a profit, I think it would be better to hire from one of the big manufacturers who would do all the servicing and tyre checks and things. I'll bet they also have a scheme for return loads so that we wouldn't be paying for diesel and wear and tear for an empty truck."

"Reg! Where would have I been without you?"

He looked down at his hands and shrugged.

"Um, another thing is that there must be production details and they would show when production had to slow or stop because of lack of space in the warehouse."

"You're right! Of course there must be." She clapped her hands in delight. "I can collect both lots tomorrow while you're doing physiotherapy."

"You might also find out whether there's extra production capacity which isn't used because of a permanent warehouse bottleneck."

"Right. I'm going to see what I can do in the way of designing a spreadsheet."

"And I'm going to do my exercises."

"Do you want any help?"

"Not to start with but there's a push-pull one for my knee which needs someone to hold my foot while I do it."

"Shout when you're ready."

"Thanks, Eleanor."

He called her twenty minutes later. He was sitting on a dining room chair.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"Kneel in front of me on your heels and hold my foot. I'm going to pull at various different knee flexions; not very hard because it's not very strong and I'm a coward. I don't like pain."

"Don't blame you."

She did as he asked.

Her hands were warm on his foot and ankle. He pulled and she had to tighten her grip slightly. He increased the pulls until he said 'ouch' and then pushed. He did that three times and then asked her to move back a bit. He repeated the exercise in four or five different extensions of his leg.

"Thanks," he said. "Not only does that one strengthen my knee but it also exercises all the bits and pieces in my thigh."

With a mischievous glint in her eye Eleanor sniffed her hands. "I'll pass you this time but we're going to have to make sure you don't get smelly feet."

"I know," Reg replied seriously. "The trouble is I can't do them myself so they haven't been washed since yesterday morning. Sorry."

Eleanor smiled gently at him. "Don't be a poop," she said softly. "I was only pulling your leg. Would you like me to do them now?"

"Would you?"

"Of course I will but you'd better come into the kitchen. I don't want to spill water on the carpet."

She bustled about filling a bowl with warm water and collecting his towel from the bathroom. She put an apron on and then knelt in front of him. She took his slippers and socks off and placed his first foot in the water then soaped and gently washed it. She pulled the towel across her thighs and then equally gently dried his foot. She repeated the process with the other foot but this time dried each toe in turn reciting 'This little pig went to market... ' She was unable to finish as they were both helpless with laughter.

"Thanks again, Eleanor," he finally managed to get out.

"My pleasure, sir," she replied dipping a little curtsey.