Nested stories (part five of five)

UP ON THE roof, Jack blinked. What was this? Another charity worker? No, he was too thin and didn’t seem to be in much of a rush. A salesman? No; he’d got no product with him. This character, still a long way off, seemed to be walking very slowly, like a man without shoes on a stony road… And he seemed to have no coat, either. His hair was unfashionably long, with a straggly beard as well… but… could it be? He stood up and looked very carefully.

The figure had just come over the distant hill, way beyond the present extent of his farm, since he’d sold off those outlying fields.

Jack couldn’t contain his rising excitement that it might just possibly… He ran down the stairs, and, tucking his tunic into his belt, began to run, undignified, to see this approaching character. It might be Thomas. It might be. Or someone with news of him, at least. 

He ran at full pelt, shouting ‘Thomas! Is it you? My son!’
   
IT SURPRISED THOMAS that the outlying fields of Glamis farm were in such contrast to the ones nearer the farmhouse. The outlying ones were sad-looking, over tilled and unproductive, while the fields near the farmhouse were waving their corny greeting with generosity and fruitfulness.   

But what was this? Some madman was coming up the road, shouting and waving. Perhaps his father had sent a hired hand to scare him off. Perhaps he was just the first of a group of men sent to force him to leave… What was he shouting? ‘Go away! You’re not welcome here!’ No… it was hard to make it out, but it was more like ‘Commerce... In situ… bison…’ No, that doesn’t make any sense at all. 

As the apparently mad fellow drew closer, his voice became more distinct, even though he was getting out of puff. ‘Thomas… is it you? My son!’
 

OH, HE WAS sure now. It really was his long-lost son! He renewed his gallop, and eventually covered the distance. He ran to his boy – a hairy, skinny, smelly version of his boy – and threw his arms around him. He kissed him and greeted him with great warmth.

Thomas tried to say his speech. ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against…’ but Jack wasn’t listening. 

‘How did you get on? How did you survive? Why are you so thin? Have you not been eating? What happened to your shoes? And can you believe how happy I am to see you? Oh, how we’ve missed you! I love you, son!’

Jack and Thomas walked arm in arm towards Glamis Farm, and servants and hired men came running to see what all this fuss was about.

‘Quick, fetch some shoes for the boy,’ ordered Jack. ‘And get my signet ring from the dresser by my bed. And a coat – are you cold, son? – bring it anyway.’

When the servants arrived with the ring, shoes and coat, Jack put them onto his son. Tears streamed down his face, and Thomas was emotional as well.

The next day, Jack decided to have a grand celebration and invited everyone in the village to attend. 

‘What shall we eat, sir?’ asked one of the servants. ‘We can’t fob them off with meat pies or those awful sausages, can we? After all, you complain about them every morning, don’t you, sir?’

‘No, no, you’re right!’ laughed Jack. ‘Kill one of the fatted calves and we’ll have a right slap-up barbecue!’
 

And that’s what they did. 

One of the invitations went to the village elder who was Chairman of the Chamber of Commerce, and another to the founder and president of FASHION.