When the boy had turned seven, Allan decided he was ready, and one afternoon he said to him, "Come down the shed and give me a hand for a bit, can you?"
"Sure" replied the youngster, without enthusiasm, and slowly followed the old man through the summer heat to the wooden shed that was both a haven and mystery to the boy. His slower pace meant that Allan was already seated on the old bar stool with the cracked vinyl seat and rusty legs when he came in the door. He sat, hands on his knees, squinting into the daylight as the boy entered. "Shut the door, I can't see a bloody thing!"
In the sudden semi-darkness, the boy was half-blind for a moment, but before his eyes could adjust, Allan had switched on the old naked bulb that hung from an extension cord tied to the roof. Then he snapped on the light he used to illuminate the workbench when he worked. The smell of oil, both linseed and machine, mixed with the scent of wood-shavings and dust, suddenly became stronger, the closed door cutting down the ventilation, and the feeling of the shed brought everything around him into sharper focus. He wasn't often allowed in this place, except to help with specific jobs, and while he was not exactly forbidden to come here on his own, the old man had made it clear that he didn't approve. So this invitation, without a clear objective, made him curious and a little nervous.
He stood at the end of the bench, the old man seated half-way along it, his profile showing sharply to the boy in the glare of the naked bulb. "I want to show you something," Allan mumbled, the gruffness of a moment before suddenly gone. He fumbled in his shirt pocket, an old Army shirt that he preferred because it had "bloody decent pockets a man can keep things in", and withdrew a silver object, which he weighed in the palm of his hand. The boy stepped closer, curious.
Allan glanced sideways at him and smiled slightly, "Have a look at this"
In his palm, shining in the electric light, lay a silver pocket watch, plain and unremarkable. The boy had seen them before, and thought they were terribly old-fashioned, but something in the old man's tone told him it held meaning for him, so he asked "What is it?"
"This watch was given to me by my father." Allan said, "He bought it when he got married, and he gave it to me, so it has seen the best part of a century in this family. One day it will be yours, but not today!" and he suddenly smiled with a rare warmth, that made the boy smile in return. "Today I want to show you something special about this watch." the smile vanished and he looked expectantly at the gangly figure in front of him;"You ready?"
The boy nodded, aware now, that something significant hung in the air around them. The Summer afternoon noises seemed muted now, and he concentrated on the old man. Turning the watch over, he opened the front cover with a click of a button, and regarded the white face, black Roman Numerals, and the slightly filigreed hands that showed twenty past three. "Here," he said, "Look at this" Inside the front cover were two sets of initials, engraved in the upper portion. "My Father's initials, and mine," he said, gently passing his finger over each as he spoke. "And one day, yours will be here too."
He watched silently as Allan fumbled in the wooden tool carrier he kept on the bench and found a tiny screwdriver. Allan shut the case, turning the timepiece over once more, and examined the back. The boy watched the old mans hands, leathery and stained from decades working in the shunting yard, suddenly become nimble and deft, as he pried open the watch and set it gently in the pool of light cast by the workbench lamp. "Come closer," he almost whispered, "I want you to see this."
Using the tiny tool as a pointer, Allan explained the movement of the watch as it worked before their eyes. "See this little one? That's working the seconds, and see how this lever moves this one more slowly? Well that's the minutes wheel, and when the seconds wheel does a rotation, this wheel moves one tooth." Suddenly fascinated by the new world he never knew existed, the boy pressed closer. "So what makes it work? A battery? I can't see one!"
"No battery!" Allan scoffed, "This is real mechanics! Look here, see this?" He jabbed the screwdriver at a dark spiral almost hidden behind the network of cogs and levers, "Do you see? That's the main spring. That's the heart of all this motion. Without that spring, nothing in here would work. When I wind the watch, I put tension on this spring...that gives it energy, and it transfers that energy to all these wheels, cogs, and levers, to make the watch work. But you have to be careful. Do you know why?" He looked intently at the boy, who, with an insight older than his years, didn't answer, but looked at the lined, serious face before him, and simply shook his head. Allan turned back to the watch..."Because if you put too much pressure on the heart....on the spring, it can get over-wound and stop the clock...or if there's a flaw in the metal...some weakness, then the spring can break, and nothing can be done to make it work again.." He stopped and drew a deep, suddenly shaky breath. There was silence as both man and boy contemplated the workings before them, both listening to the soft ticking in the warm, still air.
Finally the boy spoke; "That's what happened to Dad, isn't it? His heart had something wrong with it."
After a moment, "Yes" said Allan, "Yes, mate, that's what happened." And as if a gate had been opened, he spoke steadily, never taking his eyes off the watch. "There was some problem with his heart. We didn't know. No-one knew, not even your Dad, I think. But one day he didn't come home from work, and your Mum discovered he was at the hospital. They said it was very sudden, and no-one saw it coming." Then, his voice trembling slightly, he continued, " Your Mum was heart-broken, and she has done her best. I know she won't talk about it, but I think you need to know. She still has trouble sometimes, I know, and it's good that you come and visit us to give her a rest, and let us see you".
In the silence that followed, the boy leaned closer to the old man's side, both of them watching the wheels turning in the silver enclosure of the timepiece.
"Grandpa," he said, finally," before you give that watch to me, I think we should put my Dad's initials inside with yours. After all, he was supposed to have the watch, too. He was your son"
Allan's eyes glistened in the bright light, "That's a good idea, mate. Let's do that"
