...And no one noticed. A more innocent era or just plain stupid? Bit of both, I guess.
Time to prepare for Roz. I went into Boots, looking for a likely candidate. Got her, a middle-aged assistant... okay, my age. A Rasta was ahead of me, so I stood patiently. It had to be her. He had dread-locks all down his back and kept bursting into giggles, near convulsed with hilarity. Eventually, he shuffled away without a purchase. But she was good, didn’t lose it.
I got right to her, said, ‘I’ll have whatever he’s taking.’
And she hesitated, then smiled, said, ‘I don’t think that’s on prescription.’
Okay, I began: ‘I wonder if you could help me. My daughter, she’s twenty and due to come outa hospital. She’s coming to recuperate at my home and I’ll obviously need all sorts of things for her... you know, like women’s stuff.’
A moment...
‘And her mother?’
Coup de Grace time.
I lowered my eyes, said, ‘Her mum was taken from us... I...’
Then she took over:
‘I understand. Shall I presume she needs a little of everything?’
I looked at her name tag, said:
‘Thank you, Betty.’
It took some time so I tested the men’s aftershaves. By the time she was ready, I was smelling good enough to eat. She handed me a huge carry bag, said, ‘I think that’ll do the job.’
‘You’re so kind Betty, you put the B back into Boots.’
‘B?’
‘Beautiful.’
Awful shit I know, especially as I had to run the same gambit in British Home Stores for the clothes. Then I hailed a cab, took it to Balham.
Our warehouse is situated near the rear of the Argosy store. They do mail-order and so do we. It’s roomy with boxes piled high to the ceiling. An Arthur Daley wet dream. Best of all, you could scream your head off, no-one’s going to hear.
I fixed up the camp-bed, laid out the parcels, then looked round. If I swept the floor, put up some chintz or, even better, gingham curtains, it would be downright cosy. Instead I thought, Fuck it, and got out of there.
Reed did his surveillance; Leon normally left round two in the morning. A minder walked with him and Roz to their car, which was parked a little down from the entrance.
Okay.
Danny got the CS canisters, the van and the balaclavas. The van was a transit, beat up and dirty.
I asked, ‘Does the engine stall?’
‘Nope, it’s in good condition.’
Reed tried on the balaclava and said, ‘Shee-hit, dis mutha be hot.’
Amazing, you put one of those on anyone, they immediately turn sinister.
He asked, ‘How I look?’
‘Evil.’
I wondered how Betty from Boots would fit one. Give a whole new agenda to the business.
11
We decided on a Thursday, not too busy, but not slow either. In there was a safe mix and we hoped this was
I gave Jack a bell.
‘We’re about ready to roll, you’ll have her back by Friday.’
‘Oh, thank God.’
‘You want us to bring her straight to Dulwich.’
‘That would be best, I sure appreciate this fellah. You’ll find Jack Dunphy is a good man to be on the right side of.’
‘So I hear.’
‘She won’t be hurt, will she, I couldn’t bear that?’
‘You have my word, Jack.’
‘I’ll remember you said that. Good luck then.’
Bit of bad luck the moment I put down the phone. The door bell rang and I figured Reed.
Figured wrong.
Nolan and his Sergeant. They barged straight in and Nolan said, ‘Put the kettle on, there’s a good boy.’
I didn’t need the aggravation, so I went to the kitchen. I could hear the bastards poking round. The CS and gear were in Balham. I brought two mugs of scalding tea into the sitting room.
Nolan said, ‘What, no bikkies?’
‘All out, I’m afraid.’
He gave the big smile.
‘Hey, don’t be afraid, Tone, least not of that.’
I thought about San Francisco. Maybe before I left, I could pay Nolan a visit. The Sergeant didn’t bother me, just one more asshole but Nolan got off on the game.
I said:
‘You’ll get yer money, what’s the problem?’
‘Problem, there’s no problem... this is a social call. Cultivate good community relations.’
‘Oh, is that what this is?’
Nolan stretched out on the sofa, his size nines up on the cushions, said, ‘Not sure I care for that tone... eh, there’s a good one. Tone’s tone!’
The Sergeant gave a laugh. Like I said, asshole.
‘You don’t want to play cheeky buggers with me, son... oops... oh dear. What have I said? He’ll have me up before the Gay Rights Board, eh...?’
I said nothing.
Then he swung his legs off the sofa, stretched and stood up, said, ‘I hear you’re tight with Jack Dunphy. Now there’s an interesting friendship. One thing puzzles me though, mebbe you can evalidate for me...?’
‘What?’
‘Oh Jack, bit o’ work he is, but he’s noted for his homophobia. Lemme translate that: Nancy boys, pooftas, they get right on his tit.’
‘So?’
‘Good answer boyo, front it out. Thing is, how’d he be if he got a call, heard his new mate is light on his feet, eh?’
‘Go ahead, see if I give a toss.’
Nolan prepared to leave, said:
‘Word to the wise, me old china: you get some biscuits cos I’ll be round and I do hate tea on it’s tod.’
After they’d left, I took their mugs out to the yard. Beat the be-jaysus outa them with the bat. Childish...? Sure, but it felt good. I debated telling Reed about their visit and decided not to. We’d enough players as it was. He’d worry and I needed him focussed.
Back inside, I turned on the radio, Golden Hits Show. Here were the Tremeloes with ‘Silence is Golden.’
Now there was yer omen right there. So it was in falsetto and real hard on the ears but you took what you got...
My old Mum, she’s talked some shite in her time but everybody has a moment, except for Mark Thatcher of course.
Before she died, I heard her lament into her bottle of milk stout, ‘Once, just once, I’d like to have a blessing that’s not in disguise.’
Cri de coeur.
I have no problem collating information. I can retain it but I have an uncanny knack for misusing it. ‘The Bell Jar’ by Sylvia Plath. Not exactly light reading but she lived on the same block of desolation as me. In the novel, she describes the concrete tunnels leading to the room where they strapped you down for ECT. Her descriptions were truly horrific. But, she warned, on the morning you were due, you didn’t get breakfast.
So I was forewarned. The first time they put me away on a section, I knew what to watch for. A Tuesday morning, no breakfast today. For hours, I shat and shivered... waiting. Come lunchtime, no show. Steeling myself, I asked a nurse and she laughed out loud.
‘Good Lord, no, dear. We just forgot to feed you.’
Course later, they came and often, breakfast or not. True too that I got to appreciate, if not relish, the voltage. After, you’re nobody... you remember nothing; it’s like being mentally stripped. There is a comfort to be had thus.
Show Time!
12
We met at the warehouse. Reed looked round, said: