Michael Casey Birmingham England: Celebrate India 15 August 2023

Celebrate India 15 August 2023

here is In search of an Indian Princess

the climax to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker

10 years ago a Low Budget. Film Producer took a look at this

It did not happen

But Jeff Bezo, you are a Big Man in Film now

so take a gander, 2000 other short stories too

you can turn me into a cult

IN SEARCH OF AN INDIAN PRINCESS ©

By Michael Casey

Film Pitch

Chapter Ten…..Worth More Than Money

***************************************

Paul woke up feeling rough, he would have spat out his tongue

if it was possible, it tasted so bad. Paul felt under his pillow for his

wallet, most men scratch their, well they scratch, Smiling Paul feels,

feels for his wallet. Smiling to himself he rolled over and was going to

go back to sleep, he stroked his Asterix style moustache and yawned

before putting his tongue out, that way he couldn’t taste the horrible

thing. Suddenly Smiling Paul sat bolt upright in bed, biting his tongue

in the process.

“I’m rich, I’m rich !” he screamed with a mixture of joy and pain, his

tongue was bleeding a little.

He then danced around the bedroom, such was his joy . His joy was

undiminished when he banged his t£ against the leg of the bed , as he

reeled back in pain and shock he banged his coxic on the filing cabinet he

kept next to the bed. So it was that Smiling Paul was doing some form of

Red Indian dance around his bedroom when the window cleaner started on his

windows….

Patrick woke up too, his wife lay beside him, Patrick smiled,

he was a rich man, a very rich man. If he was a poet he would have

cried , to be married just when he was about to give up hope of finding

somebody. Patrick sighed, he could have ended up with a compromise wife.

Though some would say that it was because he’d compromised June that he’d

married her, but he knew different, she was the one he’d always hoped

for. Such happiness was worth more than money, the poets’ had the words

for it, all Patrick could do was gaze at his sleeping wife, soon she’d

make him a father, they’d be a family. From emptiness to being married

with a child in a few short months, life was like a game of roulette ,

only you have to be careful when your number comes up. Patrick kissed

June hoping not to wake her.

“At least brush your teeth first,” was June’s romantic reply.

Smiling Paul was in no mood to brush his teeth, he had overslept

enough already, he had to go to town to collect his winnings. The money

was losing interest, the sooner he had the winnings in the bank the

sooner he’d be making money on it. So grabbing his wallet Smiling Paul

raced to Birmingham to collect his winnings. It was while he finished

double locking the last of his many locks that the thought struck him ,

what if he was spotted while in town. He wanted to keep his big win a

secret after all. So he caught a bus into Birmingham, the 120 stopped at

the back of The Midland Hotel just by Ladbrokes underground betting

palace.

There was a tramp outside begging, Smiling Paul gave the tramp

a pound in exchange for the tramp’s baseball cap: it’d be his disguise

so that the bookies couldn’t trace him, they could have his name but that

was all they’d get. Smiling Paul didn’t believe in smiling winners

photos , he hated winners in fact because normally that meant he was

paying out. So Smiling Paul sneaked into Ladbrooks in Stephenson Street

just by the bridge at the back of New Street Station, he had the baseball

cap pulled down low, the security cameras wouldn’t get him either.

Half an hour later after giving several hand writing samples

Smiling Paul was giving a cheque for £250,000: not even the promise of

champagne over the road at The Midland Hotel could persuade him to allow

Ladrokes to take a publicity photo, the only photo they got was one of his

two raised fingers on security camera. He couldn’t resist it, so he’d

given the fingers as he left, the cheek of them, asking for a free

publicity photo.

Smiling Paul then went over the bridge turned left down Hill

Street , crossing the road at the junction with Station Street he then

went under the Hurst Street underpass and walked past the nightclub,

just before the Hippodrome he ducked into William Hills the bookmaker.

Spread your risk business men were told, Smiling Paul had spread his

winnings. In William Hills he collected his second cheque, this was for

£250,000 too, or about two weeks takings for that particular bookies ,

estimated Smiling Paul.

As Smiling Paul left the bookmakers he was startled to see the

same tramp outside , it was raining so Smiling Paul handed back the

baseball cap, and another pound note. He was feeling good, he had half

a million pounds in his pocket after all. Smiling Paul looked over at the

Arcadian, his Chinese friend had said that the family was going to open a

restaurant there, Birmingham’s own Covent Garden it was called. Perhaps

he’d go and take a look, but no, he had to put his winnings into the

bank first.

“Hello, Smiling Paul how are you?” a voice said.

Smiling Paul spun around, it was Do Quan, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s only you, I’m not really used to Birmingham I prefer the Black

Country any day,” said Smiling Paul wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Why you in hurry, you no glad to see me?”

“I want to catch a taxi home, then I have to go to bank, ” explained

Smiling Paul starting to relax.

“I hope it better than our bank, it go bust, we have nothing , the

family have no money now. Me I stay happy, being sad only make you die

from the inside,” said Do Quan.

“But what about your plans, for the biggest and best Chinese restaurant,

right there in the Arcadian? ” Smiling Paul pointed past the tramp now

wearing the baseball cap, towards the Arcadian.

“My sister is telling them that we no buy now, the whole family is there

to tell the Ardacian solicitors right now, ” it was Do Quan’s turn to

point now.

Smiling Paul looked at the tramp in the street, the rain dripping off

his cap and onto his toes which stuck out from his old worn shoes.

“I give you lift in my car, next week I sell it so family will have some

money again. You will be my last passenger,” Do Quan smiled at Smiling

Paul.

A man thrust a leaflet in Smiling Paul’s face, it read “Are You

A Good Samaritan”, it then invited him to attend a fellowship meeting.

Half a million in his pocket and all he had been thinking of was getting

the money in the bank fast so as not to lose interest. In front of him a

tramp who’d sold him his hat for a pound, for a fiver he’d have sold his

soul. Beside him a stranger who’d become a friend , a good friend. All

his life Smiling Paul had taken advantage of fools and soon he had parted

them from their money. He’d even lost the one chance of love because he’d

loved gambling more than his girl, he felt dizzy, his head felt heavy.

“NO , ” screamed Smiling Paul , stamping the floor like

Rumblestilskin.

“You ok, shall I call a doctor?” asked a concerned Do Quan.

“Take me to the Arcadian NOW,” insisted Smiling Paul.

So they ran through the rain towards the Ardcadian, bumping into several

members of the Birmingham Royal Ballet as they ran, they had to get there

before it was too late.

“Stop, stop, stop, ” screamed Smiling Paul. In his mind he

could hear the words of the girl he had lost all those years ago , “you

don’t love me, you don’t love anybody not even yourself all you love is

money and gambling”.

The solicitor for the Ardacian looked up from beneath his half moon

Glasses ,”What’s going on, this is a private matter, how dare you !”

Smiling Paul slapped the two cheques down on the table, money talks after

all . And so it did, when £500,000 sit’s in front of you it certainly

talks loudly , it screams in fact. Mr Brookes the solicitor for the

Arcadian smiled.

“Forgive me for my rudeness, I do apologise,” he grovelled.

“Smiling Paul say he want to help,” explained Do Quan.

“Look 25 years ago I could have married a nice girl only I lost her

because I loved money more than her. I have had some luck, so I’d like

to share it with you. Please let me help ! ” Smiling Paul’s eyes were

pleading.

“But we cannot accept, we could never repay you, if you were family then

maybe it would be different , but you are not even Chinese,” explained

Do Quan Ping.

Smiling Paul did not know what to say, he’d held out the hand of

friendship only for it to be rejected. Do Quan began to argue with his

family. All Smiling Paul could do was watch their faces, he could not

understand the Chinese language, and now he could not understand the

people. An anxious Mr Brookes looked on, all that money and nowhere for

it to go. After ten minutes fierce argument Catherine, Do Quan’s sister

the accountant spoke.

“When we moved to Birmingham I did not like it, I used to hide in the

Catholic Church that is why I have adopted the English name of Catherine.

It was because I advised you that we put our money in that foreign bank ,

now the bank is bust. So it is my fault. I now say we take Smiling

Paul’s money, even though he is not Chinese. And I say we make him a

partner too, I will teach him Chinese so that he will feel more at home

with us, I will teach him our ways too. “

“Yes, yes, yes,” Smiling Paul was as excited as a child at Christmas.

More argument arose in Chinese, when it subsided Catherine spoke

again.

“In olden times, the girl child would sacrifice her honour for the sake

of the family. So if he wills it, I will marry Smiling Paul.”

Smiling Paul nearly fainted, Catherine was a beauty to say the least.

“Look, look , look, Do Quan and the rest of you have made me welcome,

he even carried me in a chair to Old Forge and Singing Anvil Council House

when my home, my business was under threat. I am only returning the

favour, friendship and love are worth more than money. I will risk my

£500,000 , because it is money, but I will never risk friendship and

love , I will always be single I will never marry and I will never know

the joys of children, but in you my friends I have friendship which makes

up for being all alone. On my knees I beg you, take my money, it is a

mere token of friendship.” Smiling Paul sounded like Percy, for him his

Road to Damascus had been a rain soaked street in Birmingham’s Hurst St..

Catherine listened to his words, they were clear and loud like the bell

of Saint Catherine’s which rung over the green dome of the church .

Something stirred within her, if only he were younger and Chinese , he

was a funny little man looking like Asterix the Gaul, but on that rainy

morning in Birmingham he had become a noble man, an honourable man , a

man worth knowing.

“Yes, we will take your offer, partner,” said Do Quan Ping .

Smiling Paul cried, he was not alone any more, he had family now , a

Chinese family, but still they were family, his new family. Mr Brookes

took charge of one of the cheques, the other he returned to Smiling Paul.

“Here, you are the accountant you better have this one, ” said Smiling

Paul handing the cheque to Catherine.

“Which bank shall I put it in?” she asked.

“Why not try a Building Society instead, how about the West Bromwich ,

it’s good and reliable and it has a Billion in assets,” suggested Smiling

Paul.

“Certainly, it is your money,” said Catherine.

“Look it’s the restaurant’s money, NOT mine,” insisted Smiling Paul.

“Anything you say,” she replied.

“One favour I will ask, please teach me Chinese, starting with numbers

then betting phrases,” asked a coy Smiling Paul.

“It will be an honour,” she smiled.

Smiling Paul smiled back, learning Chinese and having friends was worth

half a million any day.

Percy was waiting for Smiling Paul when he got back to the

street, Percy looked calm but his eyes gave Smiling Paul laser looks.

“Was it you who bet on the outcome of the election? It’s been on the radio

a mystery man won £250,000 from Ladbrokes,” Percy’s eyes were ablaze.

“Yes,” said a sheepish Smiling Paul.

“That’s all I wanted to know, ” Percy sounded disgusted, he started to

walk away.

Catherine looked at Smiling Paul, he just looked at is feet, he knew

that he might lose his Chinese friends now.

“Wait, please wait Sir,” said Catherine grabbing Percy by the arm.

Percy waited to hear what she had to say, Smiling Paul wished he’d never

had made the damn bet.

“I’m sorry Percy, it was too good an opportunity to miss, I wish I never

made the damn bet, ” Smiling Paul sounded like a child pleading with his

father not to beat him.

“Smiling Paul is an honourable man, a noble man, this morning he meet my

brother Do Quan, he gave all the money to my family. He saved us from

disgrace, he saved me especially. We have lost our fortune, we work

hard for years so that we can open a restaurant of our own, then we lose

everything when the bank go bust. Smiling Paul is an honourable man, he

save my family,” Catherine began to cry.

“It was on her advice that the family put their money in that foreign bank

you know the one with connections to the drugs barons,” explained Smiling

Paul as he handed his handkerchief to Catherine.

“But Amjit only took his money out of there weeks before it collapsed ,

it’s terrible he could have been ruined,” Percy looked shocked.

“He is an honourable man, he say friendship is worth more than money, he

insist we take his money, he has saved my family, ” said Catherine

before dissolving into tears.

“You know I lost my chance all those years ago because of my love of

gambling, it was just that when I heard what had happened to my Chinese

friends I had to give them the money, I just had to, ” Smiling Paul’s

eyes were pleading with Percy.

“You gave £250,000 away,” Percy was incredulous.

“He won two bets, he gave us £500,000. We insist he become a partner or

we no take his money. He is an honourable man, it was my fault that the

family is disgraced, now he come like a White Knight to save us , “

Catherine’s eyes were pleading now.

“You gave £500,000 away to save your friends from ruin,” Percy looked at

Smiling Paul unbelievingly.

“Yes , I did it I have no regrets. I’m sorry that I used inside

information , I’m sorry I’ve upset you Percy. But I’ll never be sorry

that I helped my Chinese friends in their hour of need, ” Smiling Paul

was beginning to sound his normal self.

“He is an honourable man, he saved my family, him not a greedy man,”

Catherine was springing to Smiling Paul’s defence beneath Percy’s

unbelieving looks.

Percy sighed, this was a day to remember, that was for sure.

“And the mark of the man is not what he says but what he d£s, seeking no

reward, just the knowledge that he has done the right thing. Out of the

dark came the light, it banished the shadows and made the burden light,

it made doubts certainties, it turned the greys and blacks into colours.

The old dog has turned into a cat, the cat has changed into a noble lion

and the lion has begun to roar and roar and roar, ” said Percy quoting

from a long forgotten poem.

“D£s that mean you forgive me? ” asked Smiling Paul who could never

understand poetry.

“Shake hands for we are friends, and yes Catherine, Smiling Paul is a

noble man,” Percy held out his hand.

“It’s nice to get one over the bookies for a change,” said Smiling Paul.

“He is a man in a million,” gushed Catherine.

“Or half a million ! ” replied Percy before walking back to his

undertakers.

“So you know the full story now, ” said Smiling Paul shrugging his

shoulders.

“The past is over, let the present begin,” smiled Catherine.

Smiling Paul smiled back, he felt a weight, a worry had been lifted from

his shoulders , he had a family now, a Chinese family.

Patrick now had a family too, in the shape of the growing form

of June. Patrick knew that married life meant changes but he was happy

for them to happen all around him, it was always calm at the eye of the

storm after all.

“When did you last decorate this place? ” asked June looking around the

flat with a critical eye.

“Not long ago,” said Patrick .

“How long is”not long ago” in years?” asked June tilting her head.

“Not long really, a few years after my dad died, ” replied Patrick

looking up from a three year old copy of”The Kingdom” which he’d found

under a cushion.

“Can you stop reading about Kerry and the Spillane brothers and answer the

question please,” demanded June putting her hands on her hips.

“Not long, this is interesting, Pat Spillane’s leg’s playing up he might

not be able to play next week,” mused Patrick.

“Patrick !” said June raising her voice.

Patrick was still immersed in the three year old paper, he wasn’t paying

too much attention to June. Patrick would learn the hard way that you

always have to pay attention to your wife. June got a pair of scissors and

cut a hole in the paper, then she spoke to Patrick though the hole.

“About this room, the whole flat in fact, don’t you think it’s time to

decorate?” she fluttered her eyelids at him.

“Yes if you say so, now give me back that piece I was reading it , “

Patrick held out his hand.

“You can have it when you tell me how many years it is , ” said June

holding out the piece of paper she’d cut out.

“Maybe ten years,” said Patrick holding out his hand.

“If you want this you’ll have to get it, ” with that June put the piece

of paper in her pocket.

Patrick got up from his chair and put his hand in her pocket, only his

hand got stuck, so June put her hand in his pocket.

“What have you got to say about that then?” she teased.

“Nothing but this, ” replied Patrick putting his other hand in her other

pocket.

“Think you’re smart do you, you forgot that I have a free hand,” said a

triumphant June as she started to tickle Patrick.

Patrick wriggled but he couldn’t get away as both his hands were in her

pockets, so they moved back and forth like mating crabs across the living

room till finally they fell to the floor. June was lying on top of

Patrick tickling him as he tried to get his hands form her pockets when

Mrs Murphy came in.

“Glory be to God, what kind of game is this,” wondered Mrs Murphy.

Patrick scrambled to his feet, as did June. However in all the fun and

what with June’s hand in Patrick’s pocket his trousers fell to the

ground. As for June she was left with a torn pocket revealing the top of

her left leg. June looked at Patrick, Patrick looked at his mother and

his mother looked at June. Then the three of them laughed.

“I did knock only you were busy, well you were busy, ” explained Mrs

Murphy before laughing afresh.

“What did you want? ” asked Patrick holding his trousers and his dignity

in place.

“I brought you a new Sacred Heart picture, it has plenty of room for all

my future grandchildren,” Mrs Murphy began to laugh, another would have

been conceived if she had not arrived on the scene , and June wasn’t

pregnant already.

“Oh that’s great. By the way we are thinking of decorating the place, “

said June by way of small talk.

“It’s about time too, Patrick has turned this place into a pigsty , “

said Mrs Murphy casting her eye around the place.

Patrick bit his lip, but for his mother he’d have redecorated years ago.

Yet every time he mentioned the subject his mother had accused him of

wanting to waste money, besides did he want to wipe the memory out of his

father?

“Yes, mom it is about time it was redecorated,” said Patrick pulling a

face.

“Save your face pulling for your children, don’t cheek your old mother

or I’ll give you a slap in the puss, ” said Mrs Murphy heaving her

chest indignantly.

“We could do it ourselves it’d be fun after all,” ventured June.

“No you shouldn’t strain yourself, and as for him I wouldn’t trust him to

paint the old shithouse,” said Mrs Murphy matter of factly.

June laughed aloud, Patrick moaned and readjusted his trousers.

“If you want the place decorated then send for Winston and Curley, they

are the best,” advised Mrs Murphy.

“I didn’t know they did that, I thought Pirate Radio was their thing ,”

said Patrick.

“You don’t know everything, well I must be going then,” said Mrs Murphy

as she kissed June goodbye.

Patrick moved forward to see his mother out, only he let go of his

trousers so they fell to the ground.

“I’ll see myself out, you two can carry on whatever it was you were

doing before , ” Mrs Murphy left exchanging a twinkle with June her

daughter-in-law.

The next day Winston and Curley came to take a look at the

flat. They stood in the middle of the flat and looked all around, then

they moved to the next room and so on. There were no words just a few

sighs, Curley tapped the walls in places and shook his head.

“Do you want a top class job, or a cheap job?” asked Winston.

“How much is this going to cost?” asked Patrick almost wincing.

“We want a top class job,” interrupted June, using the Royal We.

“Then you are talking about 700 cans,” began Winston.

“What seven hundred cans of paint !” screamed an alarmed Patrick.

“No, Red Stripe,” replied Winston with a smile.

June and Patrick looked totally baffled.

“Let me explain, we always give a quote in cans of Red Stripe. When we

first got started we only did little jobs so we got paid in cans of Red

Stripe. So we’ve kept the tradition and give quotes in cans, even though

we are a professional team now, ” Curley smiled and scratched his bald

head.

“Sounds ok to me,” said June.

“What size cans of Red Stripe are we talking about , ” asked Patrick

wondered what the Pounds and Pence cost was.

“Never you mind that, if your mother says they are the best then they are

the best then they are worth the money, or cans of Red Stripe, ” said

June deciding the matter for Patrick.

So Winston and Curley got to work on the flat, to the sound of

Radio Three on the ghetto blaster. Winston said he needed to stay calm

while he worked but once work was over that was another matter ! Winston

and Curley had only become painters and decorators by chance. When they

had started on the Pirate Radio they worked from friends spare rooms at

first . Now a spare room usually has more junk in it that a dentist’s

waiting room, and about the same style of decor, 80s yuck. So to keep

their sanity Winston and Curley decorated the room they were operating the

Pirate Radio station from. As they had to move about a bit to avoid the

Home Office detector vans they left a trail of decorated spare rooms

behind them so that soon they were known as “Paint brush” and

“Polyfiller”, in fact they adopted those names as their radio names. On

the odd occasion that the Home Office seized the equipment Curley and

Winston became full time decorators to raise money for new kit. So fate

had made the best Pirate DJ and engineer in Old Forge and Singing Anvil

into the best decorating team too. And now Patrick and June were reaping

the benefit’s.

Nothing ever happens on the street without everybody getting to

hear about it. Percy was walking past when he heard Mozart floating down

from Patrick’s flat, along with lots of paint fumes. So Percy popped up

to take a look, he was impressed by what he saw.

“When you’ve finished here come along and see me, I think it’s time we

decorated . That Mozart just hit’s the spot d£sn’t it? ” added Percy

before he left.

“He’s cool,” was Winston’s reply as he finished off a skirting board.

Big Sid arrived cleaver in one hand, a lady customer on the other.

“This lady is looking for a painter and decorator, could you two help her

out?” boomed Big Sid.

“Certainly, just leave a name and phone number, we’ll be in touch later

tonight,” said Curley.

“Thanks,” said Big Sid as he left a note next to a can of paint.

Patrick and June’s flat was nearly completed when an urgent

message reached Winston and Curley, the Pirate Radio station was going to

be raided by the Home Office. So still clutching a paint brush and a

packet of Pollyfiller the duo raced off to save their station. Half an

hour later they returned with a trunk in the back of the van , it

contained their equipment.

“We’ll have to put it somewhere safe, so safe the Home Office man won’t

think of looking ,” began Winston.

“Yes but he has Xray eyes man,” replied Curley.

The pair edged backforwards in Patrick’s yard, the trunk swinging between

them. They looked like Pirates in search of a place to hide the treasure,

Curley with his huge earring looked the part. Hairy Amjit appeared, he

sniffed around the trunk, perhaps there was something in it for him.

“I’ve got it, we’ll put it in Amjit’s shed, it’ll take a brave man to

look there,” said a relieved Winston.

So dragging the trunk and Curley behind him Winston headed for hairy

Amjit’s shed. Winston grabbed Amjit’s blanket and threw it over the trunk

to hide it. Amjit began to growl softly. Curley acted quickly to save

the situation, reaching into his pocket he found half a tube of Rolo.

“For you, my man, but guard this with your life,” said Curley tossing

the Rolos to Amjit.

Amjit could have cried, Rolos were his favourites, or one of them at any

rate. So letting out a howl Amjit jumped on top of the trunk, he’d guard

it with his life, besides if they wanted their trunk back it’d cost them

a full tube of Rolos, he was no fool after all.

“Thanks Amjit, give me five,” said Winston shaking hands with the dog.

“He’s a sweetie really,” observed Curley as they climbed the stairs and

went back to work.

“Yes, he’s a sweetie, sometimes he reminds me of the nodding dog I used

to have in the back of my car,” said Winston.

“No, he looks like that pair of chalk dogs your mom used to have on the

old high brown mantle piece,” corrected Curley.

When the Home Office man raided the Pirate Radio station all he

found was a paintbrush and a packet of Pollyfiller. He knew who he was

after only he’d missed them again. So turning to Sgt.Mullholland he

shrugged his shoulders then readjusted his thick black frame glasses, he

wasn’t a happy man, he looked like a sulky Harry Palmer.

“We’ll go for a bit of lunch then, there’s a nice cafe near my station or

you could have a pub lunch at the Trader,” ventured Sgt. Mulholland.

“I suppose we could,” replied the Home Office man swinging his briefcase

dejectedly.

Curley happened to look out the window, and what did he see

only the Home Office man and Sgt. Mullholland going into the Trader. Like

greased lightning the duo scampered down the flat stairs, they nearly had

Amjit’s shed door off it’s hinges such was their haste. Only they made a

fatal mistake, they forgot to knock. Hairy Amjit howled as the Hound of

the Baskervilles howled. Curley nearly fainted, over the road in the

Trader the man from the Home Office spilt his beer down his front with

fright.

“Oh it’s only hairy Amjit,” advised Annie.

“Just being a naughty little dog, he’s as good as gold normally,” added

Betty as she wiped the Home Office man’s shirt with a towel.

“But , but but, it sounded like a wolf ! ” said the Home Office man

rippling with fear.

He took a sip of his drink to steady his nerves.

“A very accurate description to be honest, ” observed Sgt Mullholland as

he finished his pint of lime.

The Home Office man dropped his glass into his lap, he had bad memories

of dogs.

“Here wipe yourself down, ” said Annie throwing the towel into the Home

Office Man’s face.

“We don’t do laps,” added Betty with a grin.

Outside hairy Amjit was running up and down the street like a

happy puppy, he’d got a Bounty Bar plus a Crunchie out of the Pirates .

Well he didn’t come cheap did he, he offered a good guard dog service ,

so he had to be paid, besides he didn’t like being taken for granted. So

Curley had dashed over to Amjit’s store to get hairy Amjit his chocolate

reward , then and only then did hairy Amjit cease his guard duties .

Meanwhile Curley and Winston had carried the trunk up the road to Percy’s

undertakers, they left the trunk in the preparation room, closing their

eyes while Andy held the door open for them.They hoped the trail would go

dead there, as far as the Home Office man was concerned.

The Home Office man had recovered his composure by now , so

shaking his leg he stepped out into the street. He just caught sight of

Winston and Curley going back into Patrick’s flat, he smiled his wicked

smile , so that’s where they were, and that’s why they were called

Paintbrush and Pollyfiller. Rubbing his hands together he crossed the

road and climbed the stairs of Patrick’s flat.

“You are not trying to avoid me lads are you? ” said the Home Office man

in his best patronising voice.

Sgt .Mullholland rolled his eyes, what a pillock he was landed with, only

he had to assist the “Home Office Man”.

“Do you want some decorating done Sir?” smiled Winston.

“No, but I do want your transmitter !” said the Home Office man sounding

like the Sherriff of Nottingham.

“We are humble decorators Sir trying to make an honest living , ” said

Curley looking like a cornered Pirate wishing he hadn’t put his cutlass

down.

“Do you mind if I take a look around?” asked the Home Office man.

Sgt. Mullholland shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “sorry lads but I

have to assist this wally”.

“We don’t mind at all, but it’s Patrick and June’s flat, nothing to do

with at all,” explained Winston.

“I’m sure they won’t mind,” smiled the Home Office man.

So he looked around but drew a blank. He was sulking as he left. Winston

and Curley smiled their goodbyes, another close shave. They stood at the

top of the stairs and watched him go. The Home Office man looked up at

them, he couldn’t hear but he could lip read,” the shed”. So he made a

beeline for it. Winston and Curley watched from their grandstand , how

could he have heard them, not unless he could lip read !

“Now lets see what’s in this shed,” said the Home Office man with glee.

“Woof, woof, woof, howl, howl, howl,” went hairy Amjit.

Nobody came into his shed without knocking first, it wasn’t too bad if it

was a friend who gave him chocolate but a total stranger , he wasn’t

having any of that. So hairy Amjit flew out of his shed like a rocket ,

knocking the Home Office man flat. Hairy Amjit sat on the man and howled

and howled and howled. Winston and Curley laughed till they cried . As

for the Home Office man he wished he’d kept his desk job, this was too

much.

“I think you should give him some chocolate , ” said Sgt. Mullholland

trying hard not to laugh.

“I’m a diabetic I don’t eat chocolate,” squirmed the Home Office man.

“Then you’re in trouble,” said the Sergeant warming to his work.

“Can’t you drag him off?” asked a panic stricken Home Office man.

“I’m not very good with dogs, I suppose I could ring the R.S.P.C.A. and

ask for advice , ” the Sergeant began to scratch his head as the

Sergeant’s traning manual said he should in situations like these.

By now all the street had come to a halt, what with hairy Amjit’s howls

and Winston and Curley’s laughter , something worth watching was

happening. Big Sid, Wayne, Betty and Annie, Percy, Frank, Peter and

the rest all came out of their shops to watch.

“He’s angry isn’t he,” said Big Sid winking to Wayne.

“Do you want a cup of tea while you’re down there,” ventured Mark.

“Well when he gets up he’ll need a new pair of trousers , ” observed

Betty with a smile.

“Perhaps underpants too,” added Annie.

After ten minutes Big Sid thought it was time to end the Home Office’s

discomfort, so handing a bag of pork scratchings to Jaswinder he whispered

in her ear.

“Go on, we’ve had our fun,” said Big Sid with a wink.

Jaswinder walked over towards the still barking hairy Amjit.

“If you don’t shut up I won’t give you any of these, ” Jaswinder took

the bag from behind her back so hairy Amjit could see the pork

scratchings.

Hairy Amjit stopped in mid bark.

“It’s not polite opening doors without knocking first. Say you are sorry

to Amjit,” Jaswinder shook her hand at the Home Office man.

The Home Office man closed his eyes and said he was sorry . The crowd

applauded, Winston and Curley laughed even more.

“Catch,” said Jaswinder throwing a pork scratching high into the air.

Hairy Amjit leapt high into the air catching the scratching . Everybody

applauded, everybody except the Home Office man who’d decided to get his

desk job back.

That night Curley and Winston were back on the airwaves ,

blindfolded they broadcast from Percy’s preparation room, they didn’t

want to see the inside of an undertakers preparation room till they were

dead and then it’d be too soon. So with the Home Office in the dark as to

their whereabouts they broadcast their usual lively show, surrounded by

the trappings of the dead.

The trouble with decorating things is that usually there is mess,

well if you do it yourself there is. Patrick and June hadn’t decorated

themself so there was no mess, but the contrast between a clean flat and

old furniture made the furniture look shabby, a mess. Patrick decided to

surprise June by ordering new furniture.

“So you see Frank now that the place is decorated the furniture

really shows it’s age,” began Patrick.

“Are we talking Formica or quality replacement?” asked Frank.

“Well quality of course, now that I’m a married man and I’ll be a dad

soon,” replied Patrick.

Frank smiled with relief, he hated the Formica end of his shop, he had

to provide what people could afford, though perhaps of dubious quality

the Formica end was appealing to some. Still smiling Frank led the way

to the back of his shop, lovingly touching a piece here and a piece there

as a father touches his children’s heads.

“We’ll have a drink first, ” said Frank opening up a bureau to reveal a

fine collection of wines.

“I haven’t seen this before,” said Patrick.

“My best customers deserve a drink, it eases the pain when I tell them

the price, quality costs after all, but it lasts forever, just as a

good wine lingers on the palate. Your furniture will still be good when

you have grandchildren !” explained Frank as he passed Patrick a glass.

“Oh, this is great stuff, where did you get it from?” asked Patrick.

“From my home village of course, on the banks of the River Po, we call

it the Dom Camillo, drink it and you will believe that your dreams will

come true,” Frank closed his eyes and savoured his home village wine.

“God it’s so good I’m sure I’ll have to go to confession, ” joked Patrick

“Then so will Fr. Shaw, I gave him a bottle !” laughed Frank.

Patrick looked all around the quality end of the shop, somehow

he was drawn to one three piece suite, or was Frank guiding him? So he

sat down on it, Frank sat down next time him.

“This seems very strong,” said Patrick patting it.

“You won’t need any superglue on this,” said Frank with a smile.

“God don’t remind me, I’m the laughing stock of the whole of the street

and probably India if I’m any judge of Amjit, ” said Patrick shaking his

head.

“We liked the story too, in Italy on the Po Valley,” said Frank with a

twinkle in his eye.

“Alright, anyway, I’ll have this one. Can you deliver it today, I’d

like to surprise June, ” said Patrick changing the subject before he’d

start to blush again.

“But my van is elsewhere, will tomorrow not do?” asked Frank.

“I suppose so,” said a slightly crestfallen Patrick.

Just then Mathew came skipping past the shop, Mathew liked to skip it

made him feel free, free as a deer.

“Mathew, Mathew come here, ” yelled Frank running to the front of the

shop.

“Listen Mathew we will carry Patrick’s new furniture up the road to his

flat, it will be a nice surprise for June,” explained Frank.

“I’ve got to give Big Sid the list from mom though,” explained Mathew.

“Alright lad, you give Big Sid the list then come back,” said Frank.

“So I will get the delivery today after all,” said Patrick smiling.

Mathew returned still skipping , Big Sid ambled after him.

“Well many hands make light work,” said Big Sid.

So Big Sid and Mathew carried the settee down the street with Frank and

Patrick carrying a chair apiece. Jaswinder was standing outside her dad’s

store feeding hairy Amjit pork scratchings when she saw the fun she made

her father take her over the road. Once over the road she sat on the

settee so she could be carried while Big Sid and Mathew moved the settee,

it was just like being a queen of Egypt. Her father cleared the pavement

for the workers, it was almost like a carnival procession. Paulo one of

the lorry drivers en route for Mark’s cafe hooted his horn , he’d have

another tale for the folks back on the Po valley. When they reached the

stairs to Patrick’s flat Jaswinder reluctantly got off the settee , then

with Big Sid in the lead he and Mathew carried the settee up the stairs.

Amjit was joking with Patrick about him being some form of shoplifter ,

literally. Jaswinder had by now clambered up the stairs behind Mathew,

as he and Big Sid jiggled the settee to get it through the door.

“Jaswinder !” screamed Amjit.

Jaswinder had fallen over the top of the stairs. Frank and Patrick looked

on in horror. She’d be killed for sure. Mathew threw the settee into the

air, he’d seen her fall.

“That’s it we’re thought now,” said Big Sid from inside the flat.

With his hand free Mathew grabbed for Jaswinder, she seemed to be getting

away from him, Mathew fell to his knees he was leaning backwards like a

limbo dancer. Patrick closed his eyes, he felt sick.

“Jaswinder !” screamed Amjit.

Frank made the sign of the cross, then closed his eyes.

“Daddy !” screamed Jaswinder her voice seemed distant.

Mathew bounced back to his feet, his one hand pushing the settee forward,

in his other held tight was Jaswinder. She was safe, Mathew had pulled

the rabbit from the hat. Mathew and Jaswinder disappeared into the flat

such was Mathew’s forward momentum, they sent Big Sid flying . Amjit

raced up the stairs followed by Patrick and Frank.

“My baby, my baby,” Amjit scooped up his daughter in his arms.

“What’s going on,” asked Big Sid getting to his feet.

“Jaswinder fell over the edge of the stairs under the rail , but for

Mathew she’d be killed,” explained Patrick, his heart still pounding in

his ears.

Big Sid looked on incredulous, he just thought Mathew was jiggling the

settee , he was stunned, so he sat down on the settee . His Indian

Princess could have been killed.

“It was a miracle, Mathew bounced back to catch her, then forward so

she’d be safe, I saw it all,” explain Frank.

“Thank God she was wearing that Arran jumper your mother knitted otherwise

we’d all be crying now,” said Amjit as he kissed his daughter’s head.

“And I said it was silly for an Indian to be wearing an Arran jumper , “

Patrick licked his lips, they felt very dry all of a sudden.

“I’ll take Mathew for a milkshake, can you manage on your own now , “

asked Amjit.

“I’ll come too,” said Big Sid, he’d have one himself.

Frank and Patrick were left to bring the armchairs in , it felt like

tidying up after a wake, but thankfully Jaswinder was alive thanks to

Mathew.

“So but for Jaswinder wearing an Arran your mother had knitted

she’d have been killed,” repeated a wide eyed June.

“God knows how Mathew managed to do it, it was like something Bruce Lee

would do, a back reach then a forward leap, Sid was sent flying under

the weight of the settee and Mathew’s forward momentum.

June instinctively felt the growing bulge inside her, she looked up at

Patrick, a question on her lips.

“What if it happens to our baby?” she looked accusingly at Patrick.

“It won’t, I was safe wasn’t I?” said a defensive Patrick.

“Accidents do happen, and this flat is only big enough for one baby ,

what about the rest, when they come, ” June had locked her eyes on

Patrick’s he could not get away from her.

“I thought you liked this flat, this street,” Patrick glared at her.

“I do, but I think we should have a house now, a house with a garden and

a cherry blossom tree at the bottom of the garden,” said June all in one

breath.

“Yes, but if we have a house we’d have to move away from here, I don’t

want to move to bloody Harbourne what with your mother nearby, she’d drag

us into her lair with her spider’s webs,” retorted Patrick.

They stood silent, this could develop into their first real fight, only

June had other ideas for she’d glanced out of the window. Jumping forward

she kissed Patrick and put both her hands in his trouser pockets , he

couldn’t escape her now. She smothered him in kisses and edged him

towards their new settee, it was time to see if Frank was right, no glue

would be needed, after all she’d picked out the furniture the day before

Patrick had, she was no fool after all.

“Patrick it’s a big yard outside isn’t it? ” said June as she

played with the hairs on Patrick’s chest which stuck out from his shirt.

“Yes,” replied Patrick mentally thanking Frank, he really wouldn’t need

glue on this settee, ever.

“It’s must be big enough for a few houses, it’s worth a lot of money isn’t

it?” said June before kissing Patrick again.

“Yes but we’re comfortable, so it’s pointless selling it,” said Patrick

in between kisses.

“I wasn’t thinking of selling it, I was thinking of something else,

something much more, well something constructive,” June sat up and got

off the settee , she paused to look at Patrick then she went to the

window.

“There’s a lot of land there,” June spoke slowly.

“You sound like a Kerry woman already, ” laughed Patrick getting off the

settee and going to the window.

“Well we, could do something constructive, ” June’s eyes locked onto

Patrick’s.

Patrick had to give in now, he couldn’t argue with her, it’d be like

arguing with himself.

“Go on, what is it?” Patrick was smiling.

“We could build a house right there,” June pointed.

“So you have turned into a Kerry woman, mom will be pleased, ” Patrick

laughed aloud.

“D£s that mean you’ll build me a house, a home? ” June was issueing a

challenge.

“Of course, you didn’t have to bribe me with kisses,” Patrick smiled.

“If I didn’t kiss you first, I’d never get any kisses, ” said June

putting out her tongue.

“Come here you and I’ll show you what kind of Kerry man I am , ” said

Patrick as he grabbed June and put his hands in her jeans pockets.

This kind of silly childlike behaviour was the kind they enjoyed the most

and they were glad that Frank’s settee would never need superglue.

The next day they consulted with David, he was able to recommend

an architect, so they went to see him over in Langley. June decided that

she wanted four double bedrooms and two bathrooms with an extra shower

room thrown in for good measure. She was thinking to the future after all

or she was no Kerry woman in the making. When the architect smiled and

asked when they wanted the plans she replied “Yesterday” , patting her

stomach . So the architech set to work, a week later the plans were

ready.

“So you see Percy the council planning department laughed in our

face , they say this is a business zone, no housing , ” explained

Patrick biting his lip.

“It’s the Albert Pratt O. Bloody B. diehards. Give me those plans I’ll

stick a bomb under them,” fumed Percy.

Patrick went and fetched the plans and handed them to Percy.

“I hope you can do something it’s just that David is free at the moment so

he could start building straight away. It could be built in six weeks ,

all we need is the go ahead, ” Patrick looked like a kid who’s kite was

stuck up a tree, he hadn’t a clue what to do, adult help was needed.

“You’ll have planning permission in ten days or I’m no undertaker,” said

Percy shaking Patrick by the hand.

In his study Percy got out his diary, he looked up the phone

number for Mr Stone, Mr Stone M.P. for Old Forge and Singing Anvil.

“Hello, can you put me through to Mr Stone please, ” said Percy as he

sat down.

“I’m afraid he’s very busy, what with being new to Parliament and so

forth,” said a very business-like secretary.

“Just tell him it’s Percy Frost, the undertaker, he’ll speak to me, “

said Percy quietly.

The secretary jumped to attention, she ran down the corridors of

Westminster, Percy Frost was a famous name in the corridors of power.

In fact the day Mr Stone arrived the first thing he said was that Percy

had immediate access, so it was no wonder that the secretary ran, that

and Percy’s voice, he sometimes sounded like a Vampire willing people to

do things.

“What can I do for you?” asked Mr Stone.

“Patrick’s been refused planning permission for a house next to his

bakery, I think it’s the old Albert Pratt diehards,” explained Percy.

“Send me the plans and so forth, I’ll do my best,” answered Mr Stone.

“How’s Parliament then?” enquired Percy.

“I’d sooner trust a navy laying hard core than some of them, but I’m sure

I’ll get used to it. Though if this is a building matter perhaps it’s the

Freemasons you should be asking to help,” joked Mr Stone.

“I thought all Politicians were Freemasons,” mumbled Percy.

“Not this one, anyway send the plans and I’ll do my best, ” said Mr

Stone before he hung up the receiver.

Percy smiled perhaps a little encouragement would speed Mr Stone’s work ,

after all he was a Freemason and so was Mr Kemp, so if Frost and Kemp

combined then an invite to a Freemason function could be arranged for Mr

Stone.

The next day a large envelope arrived for Mr Stone, inside was

a letter marked “for your eyes only”. The large envelope contained the

plans for Patrick’s house, the letter was an invitation to a Freemason

function in Harbourne, a personal invitation from Percy and Mr Kemp. When

Mr Stone read the invitation he jumped into the air, Percy was a real man

of mystery: so he just had to do his best for one of his constituents.

“Where’s that idle American researcher of ours, if he’d doesn’t solve this

problem today I’ll personally kick him out of Westminster and onto his

plane for Boston,” growled Mr Stone.

The researcher materialised, he was told to examine all the bye laws for

Old Forge and Singing Anvil, find a loophole, or the only loop he’d be

seeing was the noose Mr Stone would hang him with. Duane was suitably

impressed so he set to work. Late that night he found the loophole, the

workers had to be provided with a place to live, and as Patrick was one

of the workers albeit in his own bakery, but since he was a worker a

place to live had to be found. It was a byelaw dating back to 1874, it

had not been repealed. Armed with all the information Mr Stone went into

the Chamber, he wanted to say a few words on the subject.

“And so my fellow members and honourable members it really is a case of a

council trying to intimidate the humble worker , a case of wanton

obstruction on the part of the council, and to what end? Just to flex

muscle against the humble worker, just for the sake of it. Are we not

here for Government Of The People by The People and FOR The People , NOT

AGAINST THEM, ” blustered Mr Stone, having picked up the technic from a

certain Tory member.

He went on for a further five minutes, then bowing to the Speaker he

left the Chamber, he wanted to ring Percy with the good news.

A few days later work began on Patrick and June’s new house,

hairy Amjit had cocked a leg over the chalk marks, which were to guide

the JCB digging the foundations.

“X marks the spot, ” laughed Mrs Murphy full of smiles. She remembered

her home at Kerry Head, what fun they’d had in 1934 when the new one was

built , the old one being handed over to the cattle. Yes today was a

happy day, nearly sixty years on a new family home was in the making ,

but this one in Old Forge and Singing Anvil.

It was also a happy night, Percy and Mr Kemp took Mr Stone

with them to a Masonic Meeting. Not much can be said about the Masons ,

except that they really do know how to enjoy themselves . Mr Stone

insisted on selling at cost all the building materials for Patrick’s new

house to Mr Kemp. Mr Kemp was pleased to accept, he knew Patrick would

not accept such a gift himself, but Mr Kemp was a business man, so he

did. Percy smiled wasn’t being an M.P. all about building community and

so forth, even if this was somewhat literal example. Together with arms

over each other’s shoulders they staggered down Harbourne High Street ,

Michael was passing so he stopped to give them a lift before an over

anxious bobby might arrest them, they were very drunk after all.

“I’d get thousands for a photo of this,” mused Michael.

“It’s o.k. he voted for you too,” reassured Percy.

“We’ll I’ll take you home first Mr Kemp seeing as you live the nearest ,

but God knows what your wife will say, ” Michael pulled off shaking his

head ominously.

David was finishing off cutting the foundations when the first

lorry arrived with bricks and timber.

“I didn’t order this from you, ” shouted David above the noise of the

JCB.

“Well it’s all paid for compliments of Mr Kemp, ” explained the lorry

driver.

At that moment Percy showing no sign whatsoever of wear and tear appeared

to explain, ” I was out last night with Mr Kemp and Mr Stone our M.P. ,

it was decided to help things along a little,” Percy waved his hand just

as another lorry appeared.

“You mean everything is coming, the whole lot?” asked David.

“In a word, yes, ” with that Percy bowed and started to walk away ,

undertaking was his business, not building.

“But do they know? ” David motioned in the direction of the flat above

the bakery.

“Well it’s a family matter, ” said Percy touching his nose, with that he

was gone.

Not far away in Smethwick, in a damp flat lived another couple,

they had a connection with the Street but they were far from happy . The

man switched the radio off, he wanted to scream, so the local M.P. was

able to resolve the situation, so bloody what. He’d been onto a good

thing with Danny, he’d always been an easy touch, now he was lumbered

with a fat girl getting fatter. A pregnant girlfriend and a damp flat ,

what a comedown from the days of wine and roses, now all he had were the

whines from the girl. If only Danny hadn’t been sent to Israel, he’d be

in clover now. Now all he had was a whining fat girl, and Danny had the

cheek to send him a postcard, and boast about this girl he’d met , a

soldier in the Israeli army. God it made him sick, he’d like to punch

Danny on the nose.

Mathew, Mark, Luke and John stopped by the Trader for a drink

things were looking bleak for sure. They’d have time on their hands soon.

“Why not help David build Patrick’s new house,” ventured Annie.

“Look what happened when you helped put this place to rights , ” added

Betty.

“The pair of you sound like Mrs Murphy,” laughed Mathew.

“No, this is Mrs Murphy,” began Annie switching to a Kerry accent.

“Ok we give in, just give us another pint first,” said John.

So Betty gave them one pint with four straws in it, girls will be girls

after all . Not to be outdone the boys took a straw each then drank ,

these men could still be boys after all, then they blew the froth from

the pint at the girls.

“Good job you’re Uncles or we’d tell or dad on you, and hairy Amjit, so

there, ” said the twins putting their tongues out, before starting to

laugh.

So it was that Mathew, Mark, Luke and John joined the

plastering kid, David, in building a house. After four weeks they were

ready to put the roof on, five men working fourteen hours a day makes

light work of house building. Patrick and Mathew helped out too, just so

as not to feel left out of it, besides Patrick wanted to tell his

children that he had built it.

With the roof on Winston and Curley moved in to decorate the

place , June personally deciding the “look” of the house , she’d also

negotiated the “Red Stripe” price. So to the strains of Mozart, Curley

and Winston the house was decorated: Percy would take a break from

embalming a body to have a chat with Winston about the various merits of

Mozart , then after half hour he’d stroll up the road back to his

undertakers a smile on his lips. It was nice to get some serious

conversation after all, the dead not being too talkative at the best of

times.

It didn’t take long for Curley and Winston to finish the house

as it is always easier to decorate a newly built house, so now it was

time to carpet the place. June consulted with Frank, it would be easier

to do the whole house with the same design. Patrick had remarked that

bedroom carpet was impossible to vacuum as it was too “fluffy”, so why

couldn’t they have living room carpet in the bedrooms, then at least it’d

be easy to clean. Frank rung his contact in Kidderminster

“Oh you’ve saved my life, we’ve got a surplus of carpet. You see they

changed the design of the hotel at the last minute, they added a ballroom

instead of so many extra bedrooms, ” explained the flustered man from

Kidderminster.

“So you want me to take it off your hands,” said Frank.

“Well if you could,” said the Kidderminster carpet man.

So June went to Kidderminster with Frank to see if she liked the

design, she smiled when she saw it. The carpet design was based on the

Book of Kells, it was for the Irish Suites of an international hotel’s

Birmingham hotel. If it was good enough for a Five Star Hotel it would be

good enough for a Black Country home. The purchase agreed June phoned

Patrick to get him to tell everybody they were having a carpet laying

evening.

“A what?” asked Patrick.

“A carpet laying evening, get everybody to come then we’ll all go to the

Trader afterwards, when the carpet is laid,” explained June.

“Ok I’ll tell everybody,” said Patrick putting down the phone.

An hour later the lorry arrived with the carpet, Frank had it in

two sections, one for the upstairs and one for the downstairs. Leaping

from the lorry Frank ran up the road his eyes like flames, he hadn’t done

a whole house in years, it was going to be fun. Frank collected his

tools then ran back to Patrick’s and June’s new house. Big Sid, Wayne,

Roger, Mathew, Winston and Curley, Mathew, Mark, Luke and John not to

mention David and the rest were all ready. Standing on the back of the

lorry Frank explained the plan.

“Now a carpet is a thing of beauty, it makes us float after a hard day of

walking the hard pavements,” began Frank.

“You can say that again,” interrupted Roger.

“Now a beautiful carpet can be ruining by bad fitting. It also looks

better if it is seamless, so this will be seamless. In years to come when

Patrick’s grandchildren are born they too will say what a nice carpet this

is and wonder how did we manage to lay it so well ! ” Frank was sweating

he was so excited.

“The sooner we are finished the sooner we drink !” shouted Wayne.

With those words they began. Frank handed out carpet gripper and

ordered people to place it at the edge of every room and corridor . He

raced around like an excited schoolboy making sure it was in the exact

position. This took forty five minutes, then a team was sent upstairs to

do the same while the underlay was fitted downstairs. Putting underlay

down is an easy job you just spread it, then you run around like an idiot

with a staple gun sticking it to the floor. As Rodney was the nearest

thing available it was him who was given a staple gun, as far as Rodney

was concerned he was a Fairy spreading goodwill and harmony, just like in

his latest play. In place of a wand was a stable gun, but Rodney did do

a good job, a very good job.

Next came the carpet laying downstairs, Rodney King of the

Fairies was sent upstairs with his staple gun wand to fix the underlay

there . Meanwhile all the muscle available was needed to unload the

carpet.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph it’s like the Book of Kells,” said Luke.

“So bright and colourful, so detailed, it must have cost the earth too

what with all the fancy stuff on it,” added John.

“Will you stop the admiring for a second and get a move on, it weighs a

ton ,” said a practical Mark.

Ten men carried it in, though it looked as if they were fighting a

giant eel . Following Frank’s command to the letter they put one edge

down , this one edge was critical if it was out an inch then the whole

look of the carpet could be ruined.

“Let us begin then,” said Frank.

Frank brought out two lethal looking knives one he held in his mouth, he

looked like a Pirate ready to board a vessel, the other he held at the

ready . Let the cutting begin. To the sound of cutting carpet the men

pulled and tugged so that the carpet was in position. As the carpet was

trimmed it was dropped onto the gripper, the gripper was like so many

sharks teeth. It was waiting for it’s dinner, so the Pirate cut with his

knives throwing his victim to the sharks below . Patrick had been

delegated to press the carpet down onto the gripper, he was the Peter Pan

sending the reluctant carpet to the crocodiles . Once one room was

finished people were delegated to sit in the corners to act as counter

weighs just in case the carpet decided to unwind, not that there was any

chance of it. Soon the down stairs was complete.

“God this is stunning and it’s so comfortable, ” said Patrick lying down

on the carpet in the hall.

“No doubt we’ll find out how comfortable, when we’re alone, ” whispered

June.

“See we are half finished,” said Frank his eyes still ablaze.

The upstairs was next, this was more difficult as the stairs

had to be done too. Everybody pulled then following Frank’s commands to

the letter they found the leading edge, then acting as human paper

weights they sat on the carpet while Frank’s flashing knives trimmed

around them. Step by step and room by room the upstairs was being down.

Now for the final challenge, the stairs themselves. To a hail of cut

carpet falling like rain Frank came down the stairs, tuck and trim, tuck

and trim . People positioned on each step in his wake , human paper

weights. A twist of the carpet here a twist of the carpet there, it was

almost as if Frank was tying a tie on a stubborn boy, but Frank would

prevail, he’d nail the boy. Or grip the carpet, he had it cornered and

now finally as he did the last step and met the ground , he had it

floored. Frank stopped, he dropped his knives, the carpet had submited

to his will, it had been laid. People were sitting like Tody Jugs all

about, there was a trail of human paper weighs everywhere, there were

ten people standing on the steps of the stairs. Everybody looked around

in awe, it was seamless, even at the bottom of the stairs where the top

met the bottom. June kissed Patrick, everybody applauded , so June

kissed Frank too.

The front door opened Mrs Murphy came in , she looked at

everybody on the stairs and sitting around as paper weights.

“You’ll shame me Patrick making everybody sit on the stairs and on the

floor , you’ll have to buy some chairs,” she began.

“We will but first we’ll buy them all a drink,” replied Patrick .

Everybody filed out and headed for The Trader, Frank was last picking up

his knives before leaving, it ws only then that Mrs Murphy noticed the

carpet.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph did you steal this from the Three Lakes Hotel in

Killarney?” she whispered.

“No, Sheila, it’s ours, Frank and all the rest of them have only just

finished laying it. It was going to be used in a Five Star Hotel but we

ended up having it instead,” explained June.

Mrs Murphy walked all about, inspecting the work, then she went upstairs

to see that too.

“But it’s seamless and it must be two inches thick, it’s a pity to walk on

it seeing it’s so nice,” enthused Mrs Murphy.

“We’ll have to float then,” laughed Patrick.

“Don’t cheek your mother or I’ll give you a slap in the puss, ” said an

indignant Mrs Murphy.

“Come on Sheila we have to buy everybody a drink,” said June holding the

door open.

“Alright then , so long as Patrick’s buying but make sure you have a

Guinness, it’s good for your baby,” said Mrs Murphy as she followed June

out.

The next day Frank delivered all the furniture from the quality

end of his shop. The house was a showpiece, if you buy things you may as

well buy the best, they last longer anyway. Mrs Kemp had decided that

such a nice house needed something to make it even better , a burglar

alarm. So the man from the burglar alarm place came along, only hairy

Amjit wouldn’t let him out of his car. It was almost as if Amjit had

smelt a rival in the form of an electronic alarm. So Amjit jumped on the

bonnet like the lions do at a Longleat Safari Park, in fact Amjit was

just trying his luck, he might get some Cadbury’s chocolate , it was

handy it being down the road in Bourneville. However the man from the

burglar alarm company didn’t know about Amjit’s chocolate track mind .So

he quivering with fear and stayed in his van.

“Give him some chocolate then you’ll be ok, ” advised Jaswinder who was

watching all the fun.

So the man from the burglar alarm pushed some chocolate out the window .

Only it wasn’t one of Amjit’s favourites, worst still it wasn’t Cadbury’s

so as far as Amjit was concerned it wasn’t chocolate. Amjit spat out the

foreign chocolate, he was disgusted, not only was the man trying to

bribe him a nice honest guard dog but he was also trying to poison him

with something which wasn’t chocolate , couldn’t the man read or

something, if it didn’t say Cadbury’s then it wasn’t chocolate, was he

was stupid or something, he was only a dog but even he knew that. Amjit

began to growl, he wasn’t very happy.

“That wasn’t proper chocolate mister,” advised Jaswinder.

“But it was the best Italian chocolate,” stammered the man.

“Is Italian Cadbury’s?” asked Jaswinder.

“Look here get me some from that shop, ” said the alarm man passing

Jaswinder a pound note.

Jaswinder returned with the chocolate, “Daddy say’s thanky ou for your

custom, please come again,” she said with a smile.

Satisfied with his chocolate, his real chocolate, his Cadbury’s Amjit

let the alarm man get out of his van.

The alarm man spent the whole day fixing up an alarm , Patrick

and June thought it was a waste of time, hairy Amjit thought it was an

insult to his nose. When the man finished he pressed the test switch ,

only nothing happened as he’d forgotten to make the final connection .

Amjit showed what he thought of the alarm by peeing up the wheels of the

alarm man’s van. A few minutes later the alarm test sounded, hairy Amjit

barked in unison, was this man a devil or something, first he tried to

poison him with pretend chocolate, now he was trying to deafen him .

Didn’t the stupid human know that an Alsatian’s ears were at least a

hundred times more sensitive than any man’s, especially an alarm man’s.

Pleased with himself the alarm man waved goodbye to June and Patrick, he

just had to wave goodbye to hairy Amjit then he’d be off home. Pity that

hairy Amjit had other ideas, such as Cadbury’s Cream Eggs.

The Gavin Twins and David didn’t get any more work for two

months , things were looking bleak, but every dark cloud does have a

silver lining. A woman was one her way to Percy’s to pay off the last

instalment on her husband’s funeral, usually she got a lift but this time

she caught the bus and walked the last bit, so it was that she walked

past June and Patrick’s house. She mentioned it to Percy.

“I’ve never noticed that nice new house before,” she paused.

“Well Mrs Freeman that’s Patrick Murphy’s home, our M.P. Mr Stone had to

use his muscle before the Council let us build there, ” Percy paused ,

he didn’t have to be a mind reader to see what she was thinking.

“It’s only that my house holds too many memories, especially with it

being up by the Neurosurgery Hospital, where my husband died , so it

might be nice to have a new place,” she paused again.

“Excuse me, I just have to get you a receipt,” said a diplomatic Percy.

So Percy telephoned June from another room, it might put a little work

the way of the Gavin Twins and David after all.

“Here’s your receipt, I was wondering would you like a viewing of that

new house down the road,” Percy paused.

“Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?” replied Mrs Freeman.

“Not in the slightest, we’re all one big happy family here, ” assured

Percy , though to Mrs Freeman it sounded slightly odd , like Dracula

saying it.

June had the kettle boiled and a few sandwiches ready when

Percy arrived, so Percy made the introductions then left them to it. Mrs

Freeman didn’t realise just how big the Murphy house was, it was far too

big for her, yet if a smaller version could be built. Then if she sold

her nice house by Smethick Neurosurgery, she might perhaps have enough.

“Look give me your phone number, or your address even then I’ll get David

and the Gavin Twins to get in touch,” said June handing a notepad to Mrs

Freeman.

Two weeks later a deal was agreed, David would build the house

with the Gavin Twins helping out, Curley and Winston would do the

interiors , and if Mrs Freeman wanted furnishing then Frank was just up

the road . Percy was pleased to see the wheels of industry turning ,

perhaps he should give them another push. So he rang Mr Stone M.P.

“Hello it’s Percy here, I was just wondering about,” Percy began.

The next week the Liberals announced that in the spirit of meeting the

people Mr Stone M.P.’s constituency meetings would in future be held at

The Trader, and three other Public Houses. If people didn’t get any

satisfaction then they could always drown their sorrows. The real reason

was that if people came to The Trader then they’d see Patrick’s new house

and then perhaps some work would spin off for the builders , Mr Stone

being a builder himself jumped at Percy’s suggestion, besides Patrick’s

house was one of Mr Stone’s victories , it was good to remind people of

an M.P.’s results !

Little things do make a difference, so from Percy’s suggestion

a stream of work was found where one might not have even been thought of.

Little things grow too, Smiling Paul was growing in his love of Chinese,

he had mastered numbers after months of hard slog, so a trickle of

Chinese punters now appeared at his bookies. Catherine visited him three

times a week to help him learn the language, it was slow and laborious

but it was her duty after all, he had saved her family from disgrace .

Between then they decided that she should make language tapes for him, so

Smiling Paul started to wear a Walkman and mumble to himself, time after

time after time again he listened to the sound of her voice, he repeated

the phrases. It was hard, he had no ear, no flair for language, yet he

felt happy never the less, he was no longer alone, he had a family, a

Chinese family. He had a business too, what with the restaurant in the

Arcadian . Twice a week he was whisked away by Catherine to eat at the

table of honour in the restaurant: there were whispers in Chinese just

who was this funny little man with the Black Country accent , he was

important but why? Catherine and family did not care what the whispers

said, they knew he was a man of honour, he had saved them.

June’s time was getting near, in fact one Sunday morning the

baby decided to say”hello”, or whatever it is that baby’s say, perhaps

it’s”Hello I’m your son/daughter, feed me”. The time had come.

“I’ve got a tummy ache,” said June sitting bolt upright.

“I’ll get you a Rennie,” said Patrick sliding out of bed.

“I don’t think it’s that kind of tummy ache, ” said June her eyes wide ,

as if doing an impression of the Duchess of York.

“You want an aspro then? ” asked Patrick before scratching his bare

behind.

Patrick went away for an aspro, June just struggled to get out of bed.

“So you don’t want an aspro then?” said Patrick shaking his head.

“I want a doctor, I think our baby wants to say hello, ” said June as

she slumped in a chair.

“You mean it’s coming,” Patrick’s voice broke like a choirboy.

“Yes , so get your finger out or it’ll be born on this carpet, ” said

June wincing.

Patrick started to run about like a headless chicken, he felt cornered,

like with naked Nancy all those years ago on his milk round. Should he

get dressed or should he go downstairs and ring for a doctor . He just

went around in circles as if one foot was nailed to the floor.

“Get an ambulance, you’r as bad as Stan Laurel,” said June sickened by

Patrick’s behaviour , why were men so useless, or perhaps men were

useless so that woman would love them.

“What there’s no ambulance because of cutbacks, so can I drive her in

myself. You must be joking, ” Patrick dropped the receiver, he didn’t

wait for the controller to tell him if he waited a second he’d see if

there was an ambulance after all.

Patrick scrambled up the stairs, June was dressed and ready to go by now.

“There’s a delay with the ambulances or something, I’ll have to drive you

in,” he explained.

“Then help me down the stairs then, and bring my suitcase too, ” said

a calm June.

Together they went down the stairs, June thinking what a prat she had for

a husband.

“You stay there I’ll get the car,” said Patrick opening the front door.

“I think you’ve forgotten something, ” said June sitting on the chair

next to the front door.

“What the keys are in my hand, ” answered Patrick standing framed in the

open front door.

“You’re as naked as this baby will be, ” smiled June, before whincing

with pain.

Patrick looked down at his naked self then slammed the door shut ,

dropping the car keys he ran upstairs, tripping as he did so, he really

was like Stan Laurel now. Two minutes later Patrick fell down the stairs

literally, with his teeshirt on back to front and his laces undone .

Bruised he sprung back to his feet and dashed out the front door.

“Shit, shit, shit, the car won’t start, ” shouted Patrick from the

car.

June closed her eyes and blessed herself, it was that or strangle her

husband. Then June saw something, so putting her fingers in her mouth

she whistled. Michael’s taxi came chugging to the rescue. She had got in

and told Michael to go to the hospital before Patrick even noticed.

“Wait for me,” yelled Patrick.

Jumping into the moving taxi, the Murphys were on their way to the calm

of the hospital delivery room.

Michael stayed a couple of hours, it’d be nice to find out

what the baby was, the baby decided to tease them though, it decided not

to be born for a while. So Michael drove back to The Trader to tell

everybody the news.

“So Patrick was panicking, June just put her fingers in her mouth and

whistled me down, so I drove them to the hospital,” explained Michael.

“I always knew she’d be steady, Patrick needs a calming hand , June’s

just what he needs,” said Betty.

“That and a straightjacket,” added Annie.

“So it’s not born yet, keeping them waiting, so it’s bound to be a girl in

that case,” offered Wayne.

“That’s sexist that is,” screamed Annie.

“Girls don’t keep you waiting, it’s just a myth,” added Betty.

Wayne headed for the sanctuary of the back room, he didn’t his daughters

playing him up after all. Though with a baby on the way the girls did

have an idea . In the evening the pair of them wore nappies and had

enormous dummies dangling in front of them, they took it in turns to

wail too.

“God, I thought you grew out of that years ago, ” said Wayne as he put

some cotton wool in his ears.

“It’s in honour of Patrick,” said Betty.

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased,” laughed Wayne.

“Do you think he’ll let us babysit, ” pondered Annie as she rearranged

her nappy.

“I hope so, it’ll be an education for you, changing nappies and having

sick all down your back,” said Wayne with glee.

“We’d have to dress up as Swedish Au Pairs then,” retorted Betty.

Wayne closed his eyes at the thought, he silently prayed that Patrick had

a son.

The next day after a 22 hour labour Michael brought the news ,

June had had a daughter, Wayne consoled himself with the thought that

at least it wasn’t twin girls ! Betty and Annie on hearing the news found

their Swedish Au Pair look, and wore it. It was at times like these that

Maureen wished she had a shotgun, as for Wayne he was shocked and angry

for a moment, but then he laughed, what else could a father of such

girls do. A happy Big Sid wrote the birth weight up in his shop window,

12 pounds 6 ounces, little wonder that it was a 22 hour labour . The

whole street was happy, George and Brownie went about like worker bees

spreading the good news. It was a happy day for the street.

Hairy Amjit had stood guard over his masters house, the door had

been left wide open such was Patrick’s haste, in a way hairy Amjit had

been glad of the opportunity to prove he was better than any electronic

alarm. Just why didn’t any burglar come along, that would have made his

day , but no burglar was that stupid. So hairy Amjit had to content

himself with being fed pork scratchings by Jaswinder.

“So Patrick has a little daughter, I hope she’ll hurry up and get big so

that I can play with her,” Jaswinder confided with hairy Amjit.

The whole street was happy even hairy Amjit, a new member had

put in an appearance. There was one unhappy person on the street though.

Martin had been to sign on the dole, only to be told he’d not be paid any

more as he had refused several jobs, his benefit would be stopped .

Cursing his luck Martin drove home, only road works had diverted him onto

the street. He hated this street, Danny had lived here , Danny had

always given him money, he’d been a soft touch. Now what did he see only

the whole bloody street celebrating. Martin could see that Indian girl

too , she was feeding that dog. He hated that dog, he’d have made

thousands if that bloody wog and that bloody dog hadn’t stopped him at the

fair. Martin cursed them, he’d like revenge. He was going to be a

father too, but they’d be nobody to celebrate, no bloody street parties.

Jaswinder had tied hairy Amjit to a lamp post so she could

lecture him while she fed him pork scratchings, her large Teddy, Patrick

the Teddy was also in attendance.

“So you see nice doggie you’ll have somebody else to talk to , another

girl to feed you and hug you,” Jaswinder stroked the dog.

Behind her Martin stopped his car and opened the door to speak to her.

“Hello, why is everybody looking so happy and the sign in the butcher’s

window, what’s it all about, little girl, ” Martin sounded like the

wolf from Little Red Riding Hood.

“Patrick’s wife has had a baby, when it gets big I’ll have a friend to

play with,” explained Jaswinder toying with her pig tails.

Hairy Amjit began to growl softly, he recognised the smell of that man,

he hadn’t yet remembered where he’d smelt him before but he knew the man

was not a nice man. Jaswinder smacked hairy Amjit across the nose.

“Don’t be rude, it’s not nice to growl at people,” she said.

Hairy Amjit contented himself with baring his teeth.

“Well get inside my car and I’ll take you to see your new playmate , “

said Martin smiling, showing his teeth.

“Oh that would be nice, to see June’s new baby,” Jaswinder moved a step

nearer the car.

Hairy Amjit had remembered who that man was, even if Jaswinder had

forgotten, so he barked.

“I’ll just tell mummy first, then it’ll be ok won’t it Amjit , ” she

looked at Amjit.

Amjit jumped forward, his teeth first, it was time to bite this man ,

he’d put a place to a smell. That man was bad, he needed biting. The

last thing Jaswinder saw was the leaping form of hairy Amjit. Sadly by

tying him up Jaswinder had unwittingly sealed her fate, her doom, Amjit

could not reach the car and the man driving it. The choke chain dragged

hairy Amjit to the ground. Quietly Martin drove away , a startled

Jaswinder next to him.

Hairy Amjit began to howl, he began to howl with all his might,

he wriggled to free himself from in his choke chain. After five minutes

he was free, he raced up the road after the car. Amjit came out of his

shop as soon as he’d dealt with his last customer.

“Jaswinder what are you doing to the poor animal, he’d wake the dead ,

Jaswinder where are you?” Amjit walked to the lamp post.

All he found was a choke chain still looped around the lamp post, next to

it a half-eaten bag of pork scratchings, Patrick the Teddy had fallen

over . It was strange, Jaswinder would never leave Patrick the Teddy

behind . Perhaps she’d gone to Big Sid’s for a fresh supply of pork

scratchings, scratching his head Amjit walked to Big Sid’s.

“Is Jaswinder here, she left her Teddy behind and hairy Amjit seems to

have disappeared too ,” asked Amjit.

“No, the last I saw of her she was feeding Amjit, Amjit,” said Big Sid

before bringing his axe down.

“Thanks I’ll try Franks,” Amjit looked puzzled.

“No, I’ve not seen her, I did see hairy Amjit racing up the road as if

his tail was on fire, something had annoyed him that was for sure, the

way he was barking,” was Frank’s reply.

“Fine, I’ll try the shoe shop,” Amjit was even more puzzled.

“No she wasn’t in today, she was in last week trying on the high heels

but today not a sign of her. Is anything the matter?” asked Tracy.

“No, nothing,” answered Amjit, though his heart was beginning to beat

faster now.

So Amjit headed for Mark’s next, he founded himself hurrying , but

Jaswinder was safe on the street, so why was he hurrying?

“Not seen her today, she was in here two days ago with Mathew , they

tried to see who could blow the most bubbles in their milk shakes. She’ll

pop up somewhere, she’s safe around here anyway,” explained Mark as he

poured cups of tea for his customers.

She was safe around here anyway, but what of hairy Amjit and why had she

left Patrick the Teddy behind. Amjit felt a breeze blow over him, though

the air was still. He’d go back to the shop, perhaps she was playing in

the storeroom.

“Balbinder, Balbinder is Jaswinder about, she’s left her teddy

in the street and hairy Amjit’s gone too, ” his voice was higher than

usual.

“She must be in one of the shops, Sid’s getting pork scratching for that

monster dog of Patrick’s,” reassured Balbinder.

“I’ve tried everywhere . Look you try upstairs , I’ll look in the

storeroom,” their was a shade of urgency in his voice and eyes.

Balbinder looked at Amjit, he looked away, she rushed to look upstairs.

There was no sign of Jaswinder.

“I can’t see her, ” Balbinder scoured Amjit’s face, was he hiding

something from her.

Amjit was trying to hide his fear, his misgivings, his gut feelings.

The phone rang, they ignored it. It rang again, they ignored it, they

stood staring at each other. They knew but they didn’t want to admit it,

not to each other, they couldn’t upset one another.

“I’m sure she’ll turn up, you better answer the phone, ” Balbinder was

trying to sound unconcerned only her eyes gave her away.

Amjit snatched at the phone, “Yes, what do you want.”

“Looking for your daughter,” a smug Martin said.

“Yes, have you found her !” Amjit sounded relieved, Balbinder smiled.

“Yes, I’ve “found” her,” teased Martin.

“Great, where are you? ” Amjit smiled to Balbinder, they could relax

everything was fine now.

“If you want your daughter, you’ll have to pay,” Martin had decided on

his revenge.

“Of course, I’ll pay for the taxi, just send her home, ” Amjit was

slightly flustered but he was relaxed, Jaswinder had been found.

“You don’t understand, if you don’t do as I say, then you won’t see your

daughter again,” Martin paused to let his message sink in.

Amjit’s mouth gaped, he felt as if he’d just received the knockout punch,

he went weak at the knees, he had to hold onto the counter to stop

himself falling over. Balninder watched, what had he heard, what had he

just heard, she sucked the end of her Sari. It was bad, she knew it was

bad, but what was it, she had to hear, but she was afraid of what she’d

hear.

“Amjit, what is it !” her eyes pleaded.

“Are you still there? ” asked Martin, he was smiling, he was pleased

with himself.

“Yes I’m here, just tell me that my child is safe, ” Amjit closed his

eyes, and gulped.

Martin put Jaswinder on the phone.

“Daddy, daddy, he said he was taking me to see Patrick’s new baby, “

said Jaswinder before Martin pushed her away from the phone.

“So you see, I have your daughter, and if you want her back you’ll do

exactly as I say,” Martin paused, he was beginning to enjoy himself.

“What is it, tell me, tell me,” Balbinder shook her husband.

“Jaswinder has been kidnapped, ” Amjit spoke softly, as if it’d hurt

his wife less.

“Yes that’s right,” said Martin from the other end of the phone.

Balbinder went screaming and wailing into the back of the shop.

“Of course, it wouldn’t be wise to say a word, and I mean a word to the

Police, that’s if you value your child’s, well you know exactly what I

mean,” said Martin gazing down at Jaswinder.

“I just want my child,” said Amjit tersely.

“I’ll be in touch,” with that Martin hung up.

Balbinder and Amjit’s parents came from the back of the shop .

Amjit explained the situation, they spoke in mother tongue, mother tongue

is always best in times of trouble, it was like “Mother” herself. Amjit

explained, he repeated everything he had heard ten times over. Each time

he explained was like stabbing his wife, his mother and his father to

death. But he had to explain, they had to know, they wanted to know and

he had to tell them. He felt like an assassin, he was just the messenger

but he felt like the man pulling the trigger. When Balbinder had come to

England he promised he’d never hurt her, he’d make her proud and their

children would be doctors and dentists, or anything they wanted to be ,

but they’d always be happy. Now he felt he had betrayed them, it was all

his fault, it was all his fault. His mother began to wail, Balbinder

whailed too, his father cursed England and the Black Country, the evil

country that had stolen his granddaughter from him.

Two customers came in, Balbinder and old Mrs Amjit fled to the

santuary of the back room, Amjit trying hard to smile served them.

“Have you some curry powder, our nieces are making us an Indian meal, we

said we’d bring the curry powder,” explained the first lady.

“A mild one though, we are not used to it,” added the second lady.

“Here this one should be ok,” Amjit handed them a packet .

“Thank you goodbye,” said the first lady.

With that they left the shop, they were content with their purchase.

Their voices drifted back into the shop.

“It’s good having a shop open when you need it, these wog shops sell all

manner of stuff,” said the first.

“Yes, they open all hours and even Sunday, they are not Christian you

know, their only religion is money,” said the second lady.

“Yes you are right, money is what they worship, they’re not decent

Christians like us,” said the first.

Amjit was angered by what he heard, ” It’s a white”Christian” like them

that has taken my daughter. I’d give anything , everything for her

return. I work hard to make a living for myself and my family and I have

to put up with ignorance like that. Do us “wogs” abandon our old ones

and shove them in a home. If these white “Christians” want success, then

let them work for it,” Amjit’s eyes were ablaze, banging the counter.

he began to cry, to cry like a baby, he just wanted his daughter back,

the love of family was always top of his list, never the love of money.

His old father leaning on his walking stick placed a consoling hand on his

son’s shoulder, they both prayed that Jaswinder would be safe.

jul99

Oct91

Chapter Eleven In Search Of An Indian Princess

*************************************************

The next morning dawned, the sparrows enjoyed the morning

sunshine, dancing in the air stopping only to sing while perched on the

telephone lines. It was going to be a nice morning, the sparrows could

tell, so they sung their morning song from the telephone lines . Amjit

pulled back the curtains, a pigeon fluttered off his windowsill, it was

a typical morning, like thousands of others. The sun was in the sky and

the birds were greeting it with their birdsong, Ken the postman was

weaving his way back and forth delivering the morning mail . The

streetlight went out, night had officially given way to day, it was a

typical day.

But it was not ! Amjit wanted to scream, behind him lay his

wife sucking at her sari. They had spent the night crying, holding each

other in their arms, by turns one was brave and the other was sad , by

turns one cried and the other comforted. By turns tears and brave false

smiles, by turns one died and the other offered hope, by turns one went

mad while the other offered a comforting hand. All by turns all the

night long till morning had broke, Amjit could cry no more but behind him

Balbinder was gently crying, a mother’s tears never know an end. Amjit

had to be brave for Jaswinder’s sake, he had to open the shop ,

everything must seem normal. So kissing his wife Amjit went and washed

his face, then he’d open the shop, he didn’t care that his clothes were

all crumpled, it did not matter, it did not matter.

Amjit had opened the shop when his old dad came down stairs ,

he’d not slept either, how could he tell his wife that her grandchild

might be dead, might never be returned. That’s what they were afraid of

but didn’t want to admit it.

“You have a shower and a shave, my son, I will watch the shop, you must

look smart at all times it is most important,” said old Mr Amjit.

Amjit didn’t have the strength to argue, so he did as he’d been told. It

was while he was shaving that old Mr Amjit cried, he had to be strong for

his son’s sake, he had to be strong, he couldn’t be weak. Decades of

hard work had sapped his strength, now in his old age he had to be

stronger than at any time in his life. Old Mr Amjit sighed and held his

walking stick tight, he heard his son coming so he quickly wiped his

tears away.

“It’s ok father, look after the women, I will mind the shop, ” said

Amjit.

So Amjit’s day began, upstairs he could hear faint wailing from his

mother and wife , he closed his eyes, he prayed he would be strong

enough to face whatever was to come.

About noon Patrick arrived all smiles clutching photos of his new

baby, his daughter Sheila.

“It was really great, so exciting, really good. Mind you I stayed at

the talking end of things,” gushed Patrick.

Amjit just looked at the floor.

“Yes, really great. Twelve pounds six ounces too, a real big un. Me a

father , I feel so proud, it must have been the same for you when

Jaswinder was born,” continued Patrick.

Balbinder who had come into the shop when she’d heard Patrick’s voice now

began to cry, all this talk of children. Patrick started to show the

photos to Amjit, Balbinder cried even more.

“I don’t blame her it is very emotional stuff having babies and so on ,

just between the three of us, I cried a little too,” Patrick continued.

Amjit pretended to look at the photos, only he had started to cry too.

“Yes it’s really great being a dad, but you know about that already. Mrs

Kemp hugged me, I could hardly believe it, she hugged me !”

“I am pleased for you,” said Amjit sounding as if in pain.

“We are calling the baby Sheila after my mother, Sheila Murphy, sounds

good don’t you think?” Patrick was admiring the photos of his daughter.

Tears began streaming down Amjit’s face, he made no effort to wipe them

away.

“Yes ,it’s really great being a da, ” Patrick stopped in mid-sentence ,

he knew something was wrong.

Balbinder opened her mouth as if to say something, a glare from Amjit

make her close her mouth again. Balbinder went into the family quarters,

there was shouting and arguing then Balbinder and Amjit’s parents came

out.

“We must tell him, for the sake of his own child, ” Balbinder looked

afraid but was defiant.

“No, think of Jaswinder !” shouted Amjit.

Patrick had never seen Balbinder and Amjit argue before, he was confused,

he began to put his photos away, he knew they weren’t interested.

“What’s this about “for the sake of my child” and”Jaswinder”, come on

tell me, you can trust me whatever it is,” Patrick sounded anxious.

“We don’t know who we can trust,” said Amjit the look in his eyes almost

calling Patrick a Judas.

“Your child is not safe on the street !” blurted Balbinder, a mother’s

womb speaking.

Amjit cursed his wife , a fierce argument broke out in Indian, Patrick

was ignored. After five minutes harmony was restored to Amjit’s family.

“Swear on your child’s life that you will not tell anybody outside your own

family, swear it on your child’s life !” Amjit was nearly shouting.

Patrick was confused, what was going on, just what was going on.

“I swear,” said a hesitant Patrick.

“Jaswinder has been kidnapped,” explained Amjit.

“J e s u s,” whispered Patrick, the wind had been taken from his sails.

“You must keep you child away from the street, just in case the man comes

back for your child, but you must tell nobody. Or Jaswinder might be in

danger,” continued Amjit.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. June’s coming out of hospital

tomorrow I think, I’ll get my mother to look after her. The street isn’t

safe anymore,” said Patrick shaking his head.

Balbinder began to cry afresh, she knew only to well that the street

wasn’t safe anymore.

“I’m a shit,” said Patrick closing his eyes.

“No, you are a friend, a good friend, ” said Amjit fighting back the

tears.

There was a noise amongst the canned foods, Amjit spun around, it was

George and Brownie, they’d not been noticed.

“Just the one tin of peas please, we don’t eat many of them , ” said

George handing over the money.

“Yes we don’t eat much peas,” echoed Brownie.

Clutching their peas the street’s gossips left Amjit’s store.

“The last people on earth I’d want to overhear me, and it’s them,” Amjit

began pacing back and forth, should he run after them or what?

“They’re old , they probably didn’t hear, ” said Patrick placing a

reassuring hand on Amjit’s arm.

“I suppose you are right, they are old, they wouldn’t have heard ,

besides they can’t have been in the shop long, ” Amjit was trying to

reassure himself.

“I still feel like a shit, like a jester at a funeral,” sighed Patrick.

“No you are a good friend, together we will bring Jaswinder home , “

Amjit smiled though his tears, there was always hope, there had to be.

George and Brownie wanted to look back over their shoulders to

Amjit’s shop but they daren’t, they needed time to think. So standing

outside Bid Sid’s shop window pretending to look at the meat they mulled

things over.

“Jaswinder kidnapped and Patrick’s baby not safe on the street , it’s

terrible,” George pointed at some liver.

“Amjit shouted at his wife too, she looked in a terrible state , she’s

always so pretty but her eyes looked like muddy pools with all the makeup

running everywhere,” Brownie pointed at some chicken.

“We’ve got to help, we just have to, “George pointed to some pork chops.

“We’re old though, what can we do?” Brownie pointed to a rabbit.

“We must do something though mustn’t we? ” George pointed to a leg of

lamb.

“Yes we must lover, all for one and one for all,” Brownie kissed George

on the cheek.

“I’m glad you said that, I’d never be able to live with myself if we did

nothing,” George kissed Brownie on the cheek.

Together they went into Big Sid’s butchers , they felt nervous, but they

had to tell him, they just had too, they were old, they needed help,

Jaswinder needed help, lots of it.

“I thought you were buying the whole shop window the way you were pointing

at everything,” boomed Big Sid a smile on his lips.

“Can we go into the deep freeze, we couldn’t see what we were after in

the window,” lied Brownie.

Once in the deepfreeze George dropped the bombshell.

“No, no, no, no, not my Indian Princess !” Big Sid had to hold onto a

side of beef to support himself.

“And that’s about it, I really am sorry but we had to tell you, ” said

an apologetic Brownie.

“Come on please tell me this is some kind of sick joke and Jeremy Beadle

is outside, oh please tell me it’s a joke, tell me it’s a joke, come on

tell me your vegetarians or something, just tell me it’s a joke, ” Big

Sid slid down the side of beef till he was on his knees, holding his head

against the carcass he began to cry.

George and Brownie waited for his tears to stop.

“Sid nobody must know, it has to be a secret or Jaswinder will be in

danger , so no outbursts or anything, ” Brownie put her hand on his

shoulder.

Big Sid pulled himself up, wiping his tears away on the edge of his

apron.

“I’m sorry it was such a shock, I mean we’re all supposed to be

celebrating Patrick and June’s new baby, not a kidnapping, ” Sid blew

his nose.

“Are you ok now?” asked George.

“Yes I’m fine, you better go and tell everybody, we can meet in Mark’s

tonight to discuss it, just make sure you’re not overheard,” sighed Big

Sid.

The three of them left the solitude of the deep freeze , George and

Brownie felt like messengers of death, but they had to do it, the die

had been caste. Outside some teenagers with time on their hands had

decided to taunt Henry the road sweeper, they were dropping pieces of

paper and pointing to them, creating more work for Henry and sport for

themselves . Big Sid happened to glance outside , he saw what was

happening, he couldn’t stop himself his emotions had to be vented. Big

Sid stormed out of his butchers and caught the ringleader by the throat.

“Think it’s funny hey, teasing Henry as if he’s not got enough work to do

already. I’ll show you funny, do you want me to cut your bleeding head

off ? ” shouted Big Sid waving his meat cleaver under the spotty youth’s

nose.

“No, Sir, sorry Sir,” mumbled the spotty youth his eyes fixed on Big

Sid’s cleaver,

“Well start growing up sonny before it’s too late or you’ll never be a man

no matter how tall you get. And if you don’t clean the whole street up

I’ll CHOP YOUR BOLLOCKS OFF ! ” Big Sid shook the tall spotty youth, for

good measure he pressed the cold steel against the youth’s spotty face.

The youth nearly faint, his friends stood rigid and open mouthed.

“Well get on with it, clean up your mess, and if there’s just one sweet

wrapper left I’ll chop your head off ! ” screamed Big Sid before pushing

the spotty kid to one side.

Big Sid stood menacingly in his doorway while the teenagers grew up, and

fast . The teenagers scurried about like demented Wombles almost wetting

themselves with fear when they couldn’t get some chewing gum off the

pavement. Henry leant on his broom and had a fag, deliberately he threw

the match to the ground, the teenagers fell over themselves in their

haste to pick it up and put it in the rubbish bin. After fifteen minutes

the street practically shone, the teenagers were all sweating, a hint of

fear still in their eyes. Having a final drag on his fag Henry smiled.

“Well piss off then, I think you just about know what Keep Britain Tidy

means now, ” Henry felt like Clint Eastwood, totally in charge, he had

no magnum just a broom, and a very big friend with a meat cleaver.

George and Brownie went to see Percy next, Percy would know

what to do.

“Oh God no,” Percy just looked at them, hoping they’d made a mistake.

“What are we going to do? Big Sid thinks we should all meet in Mark’s

tonight,” continued Brownie.

“He’s right, we must think coolly, we must not let our emotions get the

better of us, for Jaswinder’s sake,” Percy began to show them out as if

he was unconcerned.

“We’ll see you tonight then,” said Brownie.

“Oh yes, tonight then,” Percy replied absent-mindedly.

Percy’s mind was on funerals, a child’s funeral, a friend’s child’s

funeral. He had to bear it in mind, as horrible a thought it was, he

had to keep it in mind. If the worst came to the worst.

At the Post Office George and Brownie slid in, trying not to

look suspicious, but looking suspicious in the process. There were one

or two customers in the Post Office so George pulled out a Passport

application form and started to fill it. As soon as the last customer

left Brownie bolted the door, they did not want to be overheard after

all.

“If I didn’t know you two better I’d say you were going to rob me , “

joked Wendy.

“Jaswinder has been kidnapped,” said George slowly, each word a pain.

Wendy looked from George to Brownie then back again. She began to tidy up

her counter, almost to Spring Clean.

“Yes, but what do you really want,” Wendy half smiled.

“Jaswinder has been kidnapped, we’re all meeting tonight in Mark’s to try

and see what we can do, but for Jaswinder’s sake no stranger must find

out,” explained Brownie.

Again Wendy began to tidy up her counter, to rub at the pencil marks, to

sharpen her pencils, to weigh a parcel, to reweigh it. She must be

hearing things, it couldn’t be true, she must get on with her work, she

couldn’t be delayed by idle chatter, the work of the Post Office must go

on. Brownie reached over the counter and clasped Wendy’s hands, Brownie

had been the same when her first husband had died, she’d tried to carry

on as if nothing was wrong, as if everything was normal.

“Wendy, be strong, we all have to be strong for Amjit’s sake , think

what he’s going through, think of Balbinder. Be strong for them Wendy,

be strong for them,” Brownie looked Wendy in the eye.

Wendy began to sob, she knew it was true now, Jaswinder was gone from

them. Brownie waited for the tears to stop, George stood about feeling

akward he started to fill in more of the Passport application.

“It’s ok, I’m ok now, it’s such a shock that’s all,” said Wendy dabbing

at her tears.

“We’ll be going then, chin up dear,” Brownie smiled.

Discarding his passport application George followed Brownie out , Wendy

still slightly flustered knocked all her pens and pencils over , after

first stamping George’s Passport application form.

Frank was the next to hear the news, he’d been polishing his

favourite peice, a small occasional table with a fancy inlay design on

the top. It was never for sale, it was a form of talisman for him ,

Frank sometimes talked to the table when the shop was empty, it was his

baby. Frank felt dizzy when he heard the bad news, so he sat down on the

table, the table gave way under the weight and Frank went crashing to the

floor.

“Are you ok?” asked a concerned George offering a helping hand to Frank.

“It was such terrible news, I was expecting a laugh, a joke or some kind

of story from you, you know the usual sort of gossip . But this is

terrible, really terrible,” said Frank as he dusted himself down.

“We’ll we’ll leave you then, we have to tell the others, don’t forget

not a word to anybody, everything must seem normal for Jaswinder’s sake,

so stay calm,” advised Brownie.

Arm in arm George and Brownie left Frank’s Furnishings, as for Frank he

kicked at the pieces of the occasional table. It has been his talisman

for nearly twenty years, perhaps he’d be able to glue it back together

again. But what of Jaswinder, she couldn’t be glued back together again,

Frank felt a shiver down his spin. He hurriedly picked up the pieces and

put them in a hope chest, perhaps when everything was resolved he’d glue

the table back together again. Right now though he wanted to get it out

of his sight, he began to polish the furniture in his showroom, if he

kept busy his mind would not dwell on Jaswinder, it was too much to think

about, too heavy, too dark a thought.

Brownie dashed into the clothes shop, then she waved George

in, then together they went all over the shop as if looking for a bomb or

something. Ann and Mary looked on bemused and slightly amused.

“Come on we give in, what is it?” asked Mary.

“Yes come on, you look like store detectives or something,” added Ann.

“Jaswinder is missing,” began Brownie.

“Got lost you mean?” asked Mary.

“Worst than that, kidnapped,” explained George lowering his voice.

Mary and Ann looked at each other, this must be a joke, but why had they

began to shiver.

“Say, say, s say, say that again ,” slurred Mary.

“Kidnapped,” said Brownie.

Ann screamed, then burst into tears, before running to the toilet at the

back of the shop.

“I’ll see to her,” said Mary.

“Just be at Mark’s tonight, and remember to act normal, nobody must know

about this or Jaswinder’s life could be in danger,” said George.

Brownie gave Mary a comforting hug before she followed George out of the

shop. Mary watched them go, this was terrible, it was like hearing that

a friend had been raped. It was so shocking, and why, and why oh why?

They decided to tell Mark next, he’d be the host after all.

Gillian screamed and dropped a tray, Mark reached under the counter and

poured some whisky into their teas. He looked at George and Brownie as if

to ask was it really true, but unfortunately their faces said it was true

it was really true.

“Can I make you a bite to eat?” offered Mark.

“I’m not hungry, what about you Brownie? ” asked George as he slumpted

in a chair.

“Me neither, lets go home,” Brownie got up.

“See you later then,” whispered Mark feeling suddenly so weak.

“See you later then,” said Brownie over her shoulder, as she linked her

arm into George’s.

Outside George and Brownie looked at each other, they felt like crows

picking the worms from freshly dug graves, but they had to tell, they

had too, Amjit needed help, and the street would help.

“I don’t know about you but I think I’ll have a good cry when we get home,

a cup of tea and a good cry,” said Browie her eyes filling with tears.

“Me too, I’m just so weak, so old, so useless, I just want to cry and

cry and cry,” said George sighing.

“Let’s get home first, lover, ” said Brownie giving George a consoling

kiss.

That evening the street gather at Mark’s cafe, they were in

sombre mood. Everybody looked, almost glared when Smiling Paul brought

Catherine along .Percy stood and welcomed her to the family , to the

street family, he said no more, he did not have too. Smiling Paul nodded

his thanks to Percy, Catherine could be trusted, she was one of them.

Big Sid brought a reluctant Patrick and Amjit to the meeting ,

sombre faces greeted them. Sid stood with his back to the door so nobody

could come in, nor could they leave.

“What’s up , you don’t want to see my photos do you, ” said Patrick

nervously reaching into his pocket.

Amjit looked at the faces, they looked away from his gaze, they looked

almost guilty, afraid to look him in the face. Patrick put the photos

back in his pocket, he looked uncomprehendingly at the people gathered in

front of him. Everybody stole glances at each other, waiting to see

who’d speak first, they were like children in a classroom, hoping that

the teacher wouldn’t ask them a question: they had to be there they just

wished they weren’t . Patrick noticed that Betty and Annie had tear

stained faces, and they were dressed plainly, Patrick looked at Amjit

opening his mouth as if to speak. But it was Mark who spoke.

“As it is my cafe, I’d better speak first, ” he paused and took a deep

breath,” we know.”

“Well Sheila is a nice name for a child,” Patrick’s voice croaked.

Turning to look directly at Amjit Mark spoke again, “we know.”

“Judas !” hissed Amjit before spitting in Patrick’s face.

Amjit moved towards the door, only Big Sid barred his way. George could

stand it no longer he jumped up from his seat, he had to say something.

“It was me, I overheard, I told everybody, ” George sounded like the

guilty schoolboy owning up.

“It was us, WE did it, WE only wanted to help,” added Brownie.

Amjit looked at the faces, all of his friends gathered there , all

wanting to help.

Percy stood up, strong words were needed,”Amjit you are amongst friends

not a word will leave this room. Please let us help. We respect your

decision, the Police will not be informed, but let US help, we are your

friends. Jaswinder is not our flesh our blood, but we love her as if she

was, please let us help. Let us prove the depth of our friendship, our

love for her and for you and your family. At the dark hour it is friends

who bind us, who give us strength, who lend us hope when our own is low.

Here is my hand, here is my strength, here is my hope, here is my love,

just take it and use it. Are we not friends, then lean on me, lean on

all of us, we are many the burden will be made light. Together we can

banish the shadows of fear, we have nothing to fear but fear it’self .

When I needed a friend Patrick was there for me, when Patrick needed a

friend we were all there for him and the home, when all our homes were in

peril we stood and fought. Have no fear for we are all friends, together

we have greater strength than our sum total, for we are united in

friendship and in love. We all have nothing to fear, there is always

hope, Jaswinder will be found, she will return to play on the street,

for we are united in love and friendship. Take my hand it is at your

command, shake hands for we all are friends, ” Percy held out his hand

for Amjit to take.

Amjit stood silent, again he examined the faces, they were pleading with

him, all they wanted was to be allowed to share the burden, the pain.

Big Sid was crying, like a teddy bear who’d been discarded for some

plastic toy, he’d always respected Percy but now, how could he put in

words , he was no Percy, no p£t. For five minutes Amjit stood and

looked at all the faces, like spring flowers waiting for the scythe.

“We are friends,” he whispered.

Big Sid put a fatherly hand on Amjit’s shoulder, the plastic toy was

banished, the teddy bear could return.

They talked for an hour in hushed tones, as if they were

talking in church, or at a funeral. It was decided that Patrick would

carry on with his hand holding exercise, though they dared not call it by

such a name. As for the rest, George and Brownie would keep people

abreast of events. If a helping hand was needed, all Amjit had to do was

whistle so to speak.

“But what about your daughter, your wife,” asked a concerned Brownie.

“Well I’ve been thinking all day, I thought I’d send them to my mothers

and get Mathew to babysit,” Patrick sucked his lip.

“They should be ok at your mothers, besides Mathew might give the game

away if he was about,” mused Mark.

“Ok , so it’s all decided, if the man contacts you then you let us all

know, we’ll do exactly what you tell us to do,” said Percy rounded off

the discussion.

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, any of you. But Jaswinder’s safety is

paramount,” Amjit sounded almost apologetic.

“We are all at your command, now go home and try to sleep,” said Percy

shaking hands with Amjit.

Leaving the cafe Amjit stumbled, he felt so weak, so humbled. He had to

lean on Big Sid as he walked back to his own shop. But at least he was no

longer alone, he had friends. Percy turned to Smiling Paul and Catherine

“Well I suppose that you now know what kind of people we are, you already

know what kind of man Smiling Paul is, goodnight, ” with that Percy

walked away, he had a corpse to prepare.

Patrick went back home, he’d better ring his mother to tell

her, to tell her everything. He got himself a can of lager first, then

putting it down after drinking nearly half of it he rung his mom.

“Hello it’s Patrick,” he paused.

“You’re not thinking of an excuse for why you didn’t visit your own wife

in hospital today, a fine father you’re turning out to be,” scolded his

mother.

“Mom,” Patrick paused again.

“Are you alright you didn’t have an accident,” butted in Mrs Murphy.

“Mom,” Patrick paused, he needed a sip from his drink.

“What’s up, did you set fire to the house or something, ” asked Mrs

Murphy a sense of urgency in her voice.

“Mom, just sit down I have some news,” Patrick gulped.

“What’s the matter? ” Mrs Murphy knew something was up, Patrick had the

same tone of voice as when he broke the glass in her Sacred Heart all

those years ago, she just knew something was up.

“Are you sitting down?” asked Patrick quietly.

“You sound like Listen With Mother,” said a sour Mrs Murphy.

“Mom, I’ve got some bad news. Jaswinder has been kidnapped,” Patrick

paused and took another sip from his lager.

“Mother of God NO, she’d just a child almost a baby. Her poor mother,

I’ll be round straight away,” Mrs Murphy was reaching for her headscarf.

“No Mom you have another job, it’s not safe on the street, I want you to

look after June and baby Shiela. They’ll be leaving the hospital tomorrow

so I think it’s best that they stay with you, ” Patrick waited for the

news to sink in.

“Of course you’re right, but what about Balbinder and Amjit?”

“The street all knows, we’re going to help in whatever way we can, but

the Police must not find out, or Jaswinder could be in danger.”

“But what if the kidnapper knows about baby Sheila?”

“Just in case, I’ll get Mathew to stay with you. I’ll tell him to

protect you all, it’s the best I can do, not unless you want to go away

somewhere.”

“I will not, no kidnapper is going to frighten me away from my home, “

Mrs Murphy sounded defiant.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, God Bless,” Patrick hung up.

Mrs Murphy looked at the phone, Patrick never said “God Bless”

but now he had. Mrs Murphy stood next to the phone, should she ring

Balbinder and offer her support, and what about her grandchild , would

she be safe. She was about to move away from the phone but she was drawn

back to it, she dialled Fr. Shaw.

“Is this conversation covered by the seal of the confessional? ” asked

Mrs Murphy.

“Well, if you like,” replied a surprised Fr. Shaw.

“Can you start a Novena then, right away, ” Mrs Murphy sounded like a

conspirator.

“Who to,” Fr. Shaw was intrigued and a little concerned.

“Saint Anthony I supposed,” answered Mrs Murphy.

“What have you lost?” Fr. Shaw sounded on edge.

“Jaswinder, the little Indian girl has been,” Mrs Murphy looked around

her as if she could be overheard in her own home,” has been kidnapped.”

“I’ll start straight away,” Fr. Shaw was shocked.

“And if you can think of any other of the “lads” who might be able to

help then ask them too, ask some of the old saints too they might not be

busy they might have some time on their hands, ” added Mrs Murphy before

she hung up.

Mrs Murphy’s heart went out to Balbinder and Amjit, she wanted

to cry too but tears would get in the way, she had things to see to, she

had to get ready for June and baby Sheila and not to mention Mathew. But

first she had something important to do. She started her own Novena ,

they take nine days, but they never fail. Sometimes you don’t get what

you ask for , but you get what you need, as far as Mrs Murphy was

concerned they never failed, so she started hers. First she rooted about

looking for her favourite beads, the ones she used on special occasions,

the beads her mother had given her. Only she couldn’t find them.

“Are you teasing me, I’m going to be asking you important things , and

you hide my beads on me. What kind of mischief maker are you. Do I have

to pray to Saint Anthony before I can pray to Saint Anthony.”

Eventually she found the beads in an old shopping bag which she’d not

used in months, stiffly she got to her knees and blessed herself.

“Well you know what I’m asking for, so I’ll begin.”

So she began her prayers and then three rosaries, but somehow it didn’t

seem enough, praying normally left her full, like after a meal, full

and contented, but somehow she felt empty. She got up from her knees and

sat in her chair, she had to think, looking up at the Sacred Heart she

sighed.

“Only a mother could know what it’s like, how can a man even if he is a

Saint know, I’m not belittling you Anthony, it’s just that, well I just

wish you were a woman. The Virgin Mary knows what it’s like, just think

when her son went missing, only to turn up safe and sound in the Temple.

Poor little Jaswinder, the Little Indian Princess Big Sid calls her.”

Mrs Murphy’s gaze fell on an old magazine, a smiling face shone at her,

Mrs Murphy bent down and picked up the magazine , she smiled a

conspiratorial smile. Blessing herself she began to pray again.

“Well I know this is a bit of a cheek, as I’ve asked old saints and

established saints to help, ” she paused, ” well I’m going to jump the

gun, I’d like a little help from her,” Mrs Murphy held up the photo so

that the Sacred Heart could see.

“Mother Theresa Of Calcutta, or Saint Mother Theresa Of Calcutta can you

find Jaswinder, keep an eye out for her like you do all those children,

I know I’m being cheeky, the cheek of the Devil, but perhaps thats whats

needed to save a Little Indian Princess.”

Mrs Murphy felt contented now, she’d continue her Novena to Saint Anthony

and some of the other “lads”, but Mother Theresa was on the team now, so

everything would be alright. Mrs Murphy had no doubts, she didn’t know,

but she had Faith, and Mother Theresa on her side. After another three

rosaries Mrs Murphy stopped, she gave a smile of thanks to the photo of

Mother Theresa.

“Well if you pardon me, I’ll just go and make the beds, then I’ll have a

spot of tea, praying makes me thirsty, ” Mrs Murphy smiled, Jaswinder

would be ok so long as she kept on praying, and as she’d keep on

praying till Jaswinder was ok, so there was nothing to worry about.

Nodding to the Sacred Heart Mrs Murphy left the room, she had to prepare

the welcome for June baby Sheila and Mathew.

Amjit and family slept sound that night, exhaustion and relief

that their burden was being shared ensured they slept well, but when they

awoke they still felt tired, oh so tired. George and Brownie didn’t

sleep much that night though, they cried for Jaswinder, had they put her

life in jeopardy? Eventually still holding hands they fell asleep ,the

sound of letters falling through the letter box woke them. Brownie got up

and switched on the teas-made, a belated Wedding present from the street.

Quietly , without saying a word they had their tea. When the tea was

drunk they remained silent for ten minutes, almost in prayer.

“Well come on lover, we’re not John and Yoko having a love in, we better

get dressed, somebody has to hold Amjit’s hand while Patrick fetches his

baby from hospital,” with that Brownie pulled the blankets off George.

“You do think we did the right thing?” George sounded anxious.

“Of course we did, ” Brownie sounded certain, though inside she was as

uncertain as her husband.

“That’s a weight off my mind, can I have another cup of tea first ? “

asked George pulling the blankets back in position.

“You’ll certainly picking up so very continental habit’s since we’ve got

this teas-made,” joked Brownie.

George laughed, it was good to laugh, Brownie always made him smile

that’s why he married her.

Patrick nipped over the road to Amjit before setting off for

the hospital, he was full of apologies, saying he’d only be an hour or

two. Balbinder smiled weakly, she understood, she felt almost guilty

that she couldn’t share in Patrick’s joy. So saying sorry for the tenth

time Patrick left for the hospital. As he left George and Brownie

arrived to carry on the vigil.

Patrick was a few hundred yards from the hospital when he

noticed for the first time that Big Sid had been following him , Patrick

looked over his shoulder, he couldn’t believe his mirrors , but his

mirrors didn’t lie, he was being followed. Michael was waiting at the

hospital , his engine running and his doors open, Mathew was in the

passenger seat sitting next to Mrs Murphy.

“Well Mathew, I have a very important job for you, will you do it? “

Patrick spoke quietly.

“Yep,” replied an eager Mathew, he felt an adventure was in the offing.

“I want you to go and stay with my mother, and June and baby Sheila, a

kind of holiday if you like,” Patrick smiled nervously.

“Great, will I get milk shakes too?” asked Mathew.

“Twice a day,” promised Mrs Murphy.

“Mathew , there’s something very important you must do too, ” Patrick

paused, he lowered his voice before continuing , ” Mathew there’s a

man, a nasty man who might hurt mom, or June or the baby. So can you

look after them,” Patrick’s voice began to croak.

“Yep,” smiled Mathew, not understanding the situation.

Patrick looked at Michael, then at his mother before placing his hand

on Mathew’s arm.

“Mathew, if anybody tries to hurt mom, or June or baby Jaswinder , “

Patrick stopped, his thoughts had betrayed him, ” or baby Jaswinder I

mean, well if they try you must stop them.”

Mathew looked confused , he looked troubled . He was expecting an

adventure like when he helped the old lady move house, he didn’t really

understand what was going on.

“It’s an adventure Mathew, you look after the women, and if anybody comes

too close you growl, like “Jaws” in the James Bond film last night.”

Mathew smiled, he could understand James Bond.

“But, if anybody gets too close, you must hit them Mathew, you must hit

them so hard they won’t get up, ” Patrick smiled trying to make light of

G.B.H..

“Remember the nasty man in Wayne’s pub, the man you hit, ” Mrs Murphy

was coaxing now.

“Yep,” Mathew still sounded uncertain.

“Well it’s a naughty man like that, so you must hit him if needs be , it’s

ok. to hit naughty men, ” Mrs Murphy sounded like a priest giving

absolution.

“Ok , ” Mathew still didn’t sounded convinced, but if Patrick and Mrs

Murphy both said it was ok. then it must be.

Patrick got out the taxi and headed for the ward , Big Sid

followed two paces behind. As Patrick approached the ward from another

direction the Gavin twins appeared, standing shoulder to shoulder almost

blocking the corridor.

“We were just passing by, thought we might come and see the baby , “

explained Luke.

Patrick looked back at Big Sid, so that’s what he’d been up to. Inside

the ward June was ready to leave, all she had to do was pick baby Sheila

up from the cot. The doctor came to give June some vitamin tablets, he

raised his eyebrows at the sight of so many hulks.

“Friends,” smiled an unsuspecting June.

So gathering up Sheila in her arms she left the ward, Big Sid led the way

the Gavin twins grouped protectively around her, Patrick was at her side.

“It was nice for the boys to come and see me,” smiled June as she pulled

faces at her baby, her precious bundle.

“They are good lads, I think Big Sid insisted on it , ” explained

Patrick.

They reached the waiting taxi, Michael was revving the engine as if he was

driving a getaway car, June noticed Mathew and Mrs Murphy in the back .

And why had the Gavin Twins surrounded the taxi, and she was sure Big Sid

was fingering a meat cleaver inside that carrier bag he was carrying.

“Just get in the taxi, I’ll follow in my car, ” Patrick tried to sound

as if nothing was the matter.

Big Sid came forward and handed the bag to Mrs Murphy.

“You’ll need to keep your strength up,” he explained.

The carrier was full of meat, on top barely covered by another bag was a

gleaming cleaver, Big Sid had spent an hour sharpening it, you could

shave a man with it, or kill a man with it. Michael drove off , June

looked back at Patrick, something was wrong, very wrong.

“What’s up Sheila,” June knew something was up.

“Wait till we get to my house,” began Mrs Murphy.

“But aren’t we going home, and why is Mathew here , ” June looked

worried.

The Gavin twins’ lorry sailed past, they’d take the lead, Patrick was

behind in his car with Big Sid at the rear.

“Tell me,” June was insistent.

“The street’s not safe, Jaswinder has been kidnapped, ” explained Mrs

Murphy, everything was going wrong, June was frightened now, and Mathew

now knew too.

“Jaswinder !” shouted Mathew.

June held her baby closer to her, Mathew began to cry.

“Look everything will be ok, Mathew will be staying with us, and Michael

is doing to my house via the back streets. Mathew I’m sorry we didn’t

tell you but you have a very special job, you must look after me and June

and baby Sheila. Patrick and the rest will find Jaswinder, but you have

to look after me, here have a sweet, ” Mrs Murphy held out a bag of

sweets for Mathew to take one.

The rest of the journey was spent in silence, when they arrived

at Mrs Murphy’s Patrick went inside, the Gavins and Big Sid stayed

outside.

“We’ll mount a guard here, Sid, Mathew will be on the inside and we’ll

be on the outside. There’s four of us we can cover the 24 hours in the

day easily. Your place is back on the street, we know how much you love

children, but your place is back on the street,” Luke spoke gently like

a father to a son.

“It’s good of you to do this, I knew I could rely on you, it’s just that

if I lost my two favourites I think I’d go mad,” Sid blew his nose.

“Go on go back to the street,” said John trying to sound encouraging.

Inside Mathew had quietened down, he been told he had the most

important job, so he believed it. At least here Mathew wouldn’t spill

the beans accidently, guarding the woman would keep him out of harms way,

Patrick just prayed that harm didn’t come acalling. After a light meal

which Mrs Murphy insisted on making Patrick left after kissing June for

all he was worth.

“I’ll phone,” with that Patrick dashed to his car, it was beginning to

rain, he didn’t notice that the Gavin Twins’ lorry was parked a few yards

down the road.

Patrick relieved George and Brownie, it was his turn to hold

Amjit’s hand now.

“How’s the baby?” asked Amjit as if asking how much fun a funeral was.

“Fine, she’s got June’s hair, ” Patrick felt guilty talking about his

new born daughter.

They were both silent for a minute, they couldn’t look each other in the

eye,like when a doctor has to tell a patient that he is dying, nothing

can prepare you for situations like these, you just do the best you can.

Patrick decided to offer encouragement.

“Look everything will be ok, Percy said it’d be ok, it’s probably an

amateur, it’s just something silly, something well something . Anyway

Jaswinder’s safe you heard her voice, ” Patrick’s voice trailed off he

was digging his own grave, his mother would know what to say , she’d

laugh and joke, she’d spit in the face of fear, only he could find the

right thing to say.

An hour later the phone rang, Amjit jumped to answer it.

“Yes,” his voice was on edge.

“It’s me, I want money, I can’t afford to feed your little wog daughter,

she’s such a pain in the arse,” said a voice, the kidnapper’s voice.

“How much, when do I get her back? ” Amjit struggled to keep his voice

low, to stay calm.

“Just leave the money, then I’ll be in touch,” replied the voice.

“Where, where?” Amjit’s voice was getting higher.

“There’s a phone box at the junction of Haverly Street and Shorttree

Street in the Abbington area, leave £300 inside the telephone

directory,” explained the voice.

“Can I speak to my daughter? ” Amjit’s voice sounded weak now, he was

fearing the worst.

“No.”

“Just for a second.”

“No.”

The phone went dead, Amjit held the receiver tight as if Jaswinder would

come to the phone, he cleared his throat then looked at Patrick.

“£300 in a phone box, he wouldn’t let me speak to Jaswinder,” tears were

forming in his eyes.

“Percy was right then it’s an amateur, he’ll slip up and Jaswinder will

soon be home,” Patrick was trying to sound encouraging.

“Do you think so?” Amjit looked like somebody who’d been stood up ,

trying to believe a friends comforting words.

“I know so,” lied Patrick.

Martin put down the phone, he felt good, he had power now,

real power. With Danny he had to lie and boast and trick, but now all he

had to do was phone, soon he’d have £300, well worth the price of a 10p

phone call. This little wog was going to be a meal ticket. He went back

to the car, his girlfriend was waiting for him.

“We’ve got to collect our first instalment, just five minutes away,” he

smiled, he was pleased with himself, he should have taken up this line of

work ages ago.

“Do you think she’ll be ok on her own,” asked the girlfriend.

“Of course she will, besides you gave her a cushion to sit on when I

locked her in that cupboard, we’ll not running a hotel after all ,”

Martin leant over and kissed his girl, everything was coming up roses ,

it was if Spring was in the air.

Jaswinder was all alone, locked in the cupboard with just a

cushion for comfort, the girlfriend had whispered “sorry” as she locked

Jaswinder in there, but it was so confusing, she’d been promised that

she’d be taken to see Patrick’s new baby, so why was she in the cupboard.

Jaswinder hugged the cushion, it felt soft just like her big teddy, just

like Patrick the Teddybear.

“Don’t be afraid teddy, daddy will find me, then we can go and visit

Patrick’s new baby,” Jaswinder kissed the cushion.

Patrick drove Amjit to the drop off point, they had decided

that they’d try and find somewhere to hide, perhaps they’d be able to

trail the kidnapper. Amjit went and put the £300 in the phone book in the

telephone box, he noticed a bus shelter a few yards from it and a shop on

the corner over the road, they’d be perfect places to watch from.

“Ok , I’ll hide in the shelter, you can watch from the shop, ” said

Patrick.

Amjit picked up a basket and started to do some shopping, taking

his time, reading or pretending to read all the labels, just as a health

freak d£s. He could see the phone box clearly from his vantage point

inside the shop. A very pregnant girl went into the phone box and then

waddled away after making a call, she was the only person to use the

phone box in the thirty minutes Amjit was watching. Somebody had been

watching Amjit too, the shopkeeper had been watching.

“You a shoplifter or something? You’ve got five items in that basket and

you’ve been reading all the labels,” growled the shopkeeper.

“I’m careful about what I eat,” answered a defensive Amjit.

“Well it hasn’t made your eyesight very good, you were reading those last

two labels upside down, or are you an Australian ? ” sneered the

shopkeeper.

“I’ll pay now then,” said Amjit putting his basket down at the checkout.

“What’s your game, do you think I was born yesterday , I’ve been a

shopkeeper for ten years, ” the shopkeeper was very suspicious and he

didn’t like the look of the “Australian” in front of him.

“I’m a shopkeeper too,” smiled Amjit hoping that it’d clear the air.

“So that’s your game, you’re trying to undercut me, is your mate outside

in that phone box, you’ve got a walkie-talkie and your sending the prices

out to him,” the shopkeeper was biting at the bit now.

“Are you going to take my order or not?” asked Amjit.

“No,” spat the shopkeeper.

“Keep your basket then, ” Amjit threw the basket at the man, then ran

around the corner, away from the phone box, he couldn’t afford to draw

any more attention to himself.

Amjit just hoped that Patrick was having better luck, only he

wasn’t, nothing seemed to be going right. Patrick had hidden in the bus

shelter, he had a clear view of the phone box from there. However the

neighbourhood watch coordinator had a clear view of the bus shelter and

Patrick, from his house.

“I’ve been watching you why are you hanging around here?” said the old

army corporal.

“I’m waiting for a bus,” replied an irritated Patrick.

“No you’re not, three have past in the past 40 minutes and you haven’t

got on any of them, ” the old army corporal edged forward, perhaps he

could make a citizen’s arrest.

“It’s not the one I’m want, ” Patrick was getting pissed off now, this

old man was a right old fart.

“Liar, only the 65 stops here,” the self- styled hero tightened his grip

on his walking stick.

“Look , just mind your own business, ” Patrick turned his back on the

man.

“So you’re a kerb crawler then, this area wasn’t fit for woman to walk

until I started the Neighbourhood Watch, ” the old hero put his hand on

Patrick’s shoulder.

“Look I’m a married man, my wife’s just given birth,” Patrick hissed.

“So that’s why you’re kerb crawling, disgusting, you should be ashamed

of yourself,” the old hero still had his hand on Patrick’s collar.

Patrick was tempted to smack the old man in the mouth, Jaswinder’s safety

was at stake and the old fart was accusing him of being a kerb crawler.

The bus went by for the fourth time, Patrick leapt on it, leaving the

old man waving his stick at him. After two stops Patrick got off, then

using the side streets he went back to check the phone box. The money had

gone.

Patrick went back to his car, Amjit was waiting for him. They

both sighed, they’d drawn a blank.

“I’ve just checked the phone box, the money’s gone,” sighed Patrick.

“I checked it too, there was an old man there, he asked me had I seen

you, that’s judging by the description,” Amjit sucked his lip.

“The daft bugger thought I was a kerb crawler, a kerb crawler with a bus

pass. Those neighbourhood watch people should be trained, they’re worst

than rooky cops, God thinking that I was looking for a prostitute , “

Patrick shook his head.

“Well I was accused of being an industrial spy, the shopkeeper though I

had a walkie-talkie and was sending the prices to somebody hidden in the

phone box,” said a still indignant Amjit.

“I bet the old man is talking to that shopkeeper right now , ” said

Patrick as he headed off for the street.

And he was right, the shopkeeper rewarded the Neighbourhood Watch

coordinator for helping him foil industrial spying, the old soldier was

given a bottle of equally old wine, both of them were well past their

sell by date.

The pregnant girl was also on her way home , her driver

played his ZZ Top cassette at full blast, he was over the moon.

“See I told you it’d be taking sweets from a baby, we have to celebrate

there’s a great Italian restaurant just up the road,” Martin was like a

kid at Christmas such was his joy.

“It’s a bit early yet, can’t we go for a pint first?” asked Sue.

“Sure, anything you like, then we’re off to the Italia House in Three

Shires Oak Rd, ” Martin was beaming, almost as much as a mother holding

her new born baby.

Hours later they returned to find Jaswinder wet and hugging

her cushion, her pretend teddy. As for Amjit and Patrick they had gone

back to the street to break the bad news, their cover had been blown, they

hadn’t been able to spot the kidnapper. The whole street sighed, but they

were helpless to do anything else . One piece of news did lift all their

spirit’s , Percy had gone to collect a body, Bill was with him : the

family of the deceased decided to come with Percy to pray over the body

for a while, so the hearse was being followed by three or four other

cars, it was on the drive back that Bill spotted Jaswinder.

“Look, it’s Jaswinder,” yelled Bill.

Percy swerved slightly such was his shock,” are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure she’s holding a man’s hand, being dragged along almost ,

I’m sure it’s her,” Bill was excited.

There was a set of traffic lights ahead, Percy slowed down.

“Look I’ll get out and follow, you cann’t not with the deceased in the

back and his whole family following, ” without another word Bill slipped

out of the car.

Percy carried on back to his undertakers, he just hoped Bill wasn’t

seeing things, his eyesight wasn’t as good as it used to be.

“I followed at a distance for a few hundred yards, then a bus

came by, I wasn’t expecting him to jump on it, I tried to run after him

but my old legs couldn’t keep up with him. I tried to find a taxi, but

it was too late by then, I’m sorry, ” Bill was slumped in the chair by

Amjit’s counter.

“You did your best,” Amjit put a consoling hand on Bill’s shoulder.

“And we know Jaswinder is ok, ” Percy was trying to sound upbeat , but

they all felt like a mouse being teased by a cat, the odds were very much

against them.

“So we know he had a duffle coat, it’s not much but it’s a start,” Amjit

sighed, a duffle coat what a lead, if it could be called that.

Bill and Percy went back to the undertakers to comfort the

grieving relatives, Andy was minding the shop so to speak, but in death

people prefer an older person, a more mature person. Patrick watched

Amjit, he was like a lion tamer watching the cornered lion, when would

the lion snarl or lash out, if only he knew which paw to take the thorn

out from then the pain would go, all he could do was watch and wait with

his friend. Every now and then Patrick would smile, he couldn’t show how

sad he was, he had to keep up the facade, he had to try and keep Amjit’s

spirit’s afloat, but was just being there any use, if he could actually

do something then that’d be useful.

“Look lets play dominoes, I’ve got a set in my house, my mother bought

them at a jumble sale down the Blind Centre in Court Oak Road in

Harbourne, it’ll pass the time after all,” Patrick knew cards were out

of the question, because cards meant gambling and so on, so it’d be

alright to play dominoes after all.

Amjit smiled weakly, he felt he was being tickled, being tickled is nice

but when you are sick or weak or tired, then it’s like banging your

funny bone, it hurts but it’s nice too. He shook his head for no but

somehow the words came out,”yes.”

Patrick dashed over the road for his dominoes, in minutes the two of them

were playing, old Mr Amjit came from the back room to see what was going

on, he smiled only a child would think of dominoes, Patrick was wise.

“Don’t lose any money to him, ” joked old Mr Amjit before retreating to

the back room, he had to support the women that was his job , Patrick

would look after his son and he would look after the women.

They played for the rest of the evening, the dominoes for the blind have

raised dots on them somehow for Patrick and Amjit these dots gave comfort

like the touch of something familiar, just as for Mrs Murphy the feel of

her rosary beads gave comfort even without the actual saying of the words.

At about ten the shop door opened, Amjit had forgotten to lock up.

“Hello , are you still open, can I have a bottle of milk? ” said a

young voice.

Amjit and Patrick looked up, a teenager dressed in denim dressed like a

Status Quo fan stood looking at them. Only he wasn’t looking, he was

blind. Patrick dropped his dominoes, Amjit looked at the fallen dominoes

then back to the youth.

“Sorry, yes you can have some milk, we were playing dominoes, I forgot

to lock up,” Amjit rushed forward to serve the blind kid.

“Don’t rush I’m in no hurry, ” the blind kid stood there smiling , so

young and he seemed so happy, and he was blind.

“Here’s your milk,” said Amjit putting the milk in the kid’s hand.

“Here’s your money,” answered the kid.

“Your new around here,” said Patrick by way of conversation.

“Yes, I’ve just moved into the area, I was listening to my Status Quo

tapes, I forgot the time,” smiled the youth.

“So did we, I’d forgotten how much fun dominoes are,” said Amjit.

“They’re fun, though I prefer chess,” smiled the blond haired youth.

“Why don’t you have a game of dominoes with us, if you’re not in a hurry

my mother got them from the Blind Centre, ” Patrick felt he’d put his

foot in in by saying the word “Blind”, like saying “Mongol” instead of

“Downs Syndrome”, but his heart was in the right place, even if his

mouth wasn’t.

“Sure why not, it’ll be fun, besides it’s nice to meet new people , “

smiled the blind kid, it seemed strange that he looked so happy , how

could he be, he was blind.

So they played dominoes for another hour, Amjit went in the back for

coffee and samosas, they all really enjoyed themselves.

“Hey man I’m sure you’re cheating let me see your dominoes, ” said the

smiling kid feeling Patrick’s dominoes.

“He’s a bit of a cheat that’s for sure,” smiled Amjit.

“You can talk, just don’t let him give you any Calcutta Surprise curry,

not ever,” explained Patrick.

Somehow having somebody so happy with them cheered them up, here was a

blind beacon sitting next to them. laughing and joking , eating and

drinking and playing dominoes. As Mrs Murphy fingered her rosary beads

and almost blackmailed the angels and saints, Amjit, Patrick and the

blond blind kid fingered the dominoes, perhaps both equal prayers, equal

forms of relief.

“Well I think it’s time for bed then, ” said the blind kid, feeling the

numbers on his watch.

“I’ll walk you home, it was fun tonight, ” said Patrick getting up and

stretching himself.

“Come tomorrow, say at nine,” Amjit found himself saying.

“Sure, but no more cheating, I want to wash those dominoes first I’m sure

you marked them with chalk, it’s either that or you two can wear

blindfolds !” joked the blond blind kid.

“Anything you say,” replied Amjit.

Amjit watched Patrick and the blind kid leave, he felt better, he didn’t

know why but he felt better. He began to cry but not just for Jaswinder

but for the blond kid, so young yet so happy, and he was blind. But why

did he seem like a light to Amjit, like a night light for a child afraid

of the dark, he didn’t know, Amjit shook his head, he was so tired oh

so tired.

The next day came, the phone didn’t ring, no matter how much

they stared at it. Martin the kidnapper and his girl Sue were having a

lie in , ringing for more ransom wasn’t a priority , sleeping off a

hangover was. As for Jaswinder she was locked in a cupboard with just a

cushion for comfort, so she whispered encouragement to her pretend teddy

and blamed it for her being wet. It was one P.M. before the phone rang,

Amjit dived for the phone.

“Yes.”

“It’s me, you can afford more.”

“Go on.”

“I want £500, you can leave in Swans’ Book Shop.”

“Where exactly.”

“Behind the Bibles,” there was laughter in the voice.

“All right then.”

“Hurry, I’ve spent your £300 already.”

“I’ll be there.”

“You can talk to your daughter if you like, but no Wog talk.”

“Ok.”

“Daddy, is the new baby a girl?”

“Yes, ” Amjit closed his eyes and breathed out, it was so good to hear

his daughter’s voice.

“Patrick is here, he is afraid of the dark, I told him to be brave.”

“Patrick?” asked Amjit.

The phone went dead, Amjit put the phone down gently as if he was placing

a baby in a crib.

“Well?” asked an anxious Patrick.

“He wants £500 now, behind the Bibles in Swans’ Book Shop , ” Amjit

shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, when would it all end.

Patrick drove Amjit to the book shop, the £500 was placed

behind the Bibles as requested. Patrick and Amjit then tried to lose

themselves amongst the forest of books, perhaps this time they’d be able

to spot and follow the kidnapper. Patrick casually picked up a book, he

dropped it when he read the title, “Kidnapped”, so he went to another

section, it was the children’s section , he just hoped June and his own

baby were safe.

Mrs Murphy had decided that they shouldn’t stay locked up in

the house, they’d go to Mass, it’d help the Novena along, it was in it’s

third day now. So picking up the phone she rang for Michael , in ten

minutes he came , they all got in the taxi and headed for the church .

Behind the taxi the Gavin Twins’ lorry pulled out, they followed at a

distance, the four evangelists were riding shotgun for the Murphy family.

Once they got to the church Luke and John slipped into the church a minute

after Mrs Murphy had led her family inside, the lads winked at Michael

who was listening to Gordon Astley on his radio while he waited in his

taxi . Luke knelt in one corner, John in the other, Mrs Murphy had

chosen a bench in the centre next to a radiator, little Sheila had to be

kept warm after all. It was early yet Fr. Shaw hadn’t put the wine on the

altar yet , Mrs Murphy looked at her watch, not that early, what was

keeping the old priest. An answer came running towards her. A large man

came running out of the sacristy carrying a holdall, Fr. Shaw followed

him nursing a bruised lip.

“Stop, stop !” shouted the old priest.

Mathew looked up to see the man running away from the priest, but towards

Mrs Murphy and June and baby Sheila. Mathew did not know what to do, but

Fr. Shaw did have a cut lip, Patrick’s words came back to him “hit him

hard”. So Mathew got up and ran towards the man carrying a holdall, half

closing his eyes Mathew swung both his fists, then he caught the man in a

bear hug and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed.

“NO !” screamed Mathew. The man’s body went limp, Mathew dropped him to

the ground, the man lay sprawled there. Luke and John emerged from the

shadows.

“He was going to hurt June and the baby,” Mathew said defensively.

“You did right, son, he’s just a thief, look at the holdall, ” Mrs

Murphy pointed.

“He must be the one who’s been robbing all the churches, ” added Fr. Shaw

dabbing his lip with his handkerchief.

“It’s a good job Mathew was here, ” said June holding her baby close to

her.

“Do we call the Police?” asked Fr. Shaw.

“No, we’ll take him to the hospital, we’ll have a word with him too on

the way,” butted in Luke.

“If you are sure?” Fr. Shaw wasn’t quite sure himself.

So Luke and John went in Michael’s taxi to the hospital while

Mark and Mathew Gavin went inside the church for the Mass, Luke promised

that they’d be back before the Mass was over. He wasn’t the only one who

made a few promises, the burglar was persuaded to give up robbing

churches , or they would report him to the Police. As for Patrick and

Amjit they had been browsing in the bookshop, only everywhere Patrick

looked a children’s book or a book about kidnapping seemed to leap out at

him, it made him shiver.

Amjit felt just as bad, worse even, waiting for his own

child’s kidnapper. A little old lady accosted him, could he help her

find an atlas, her grandson was in Bogota on a language course , she

wanted to see where it was. The atlas was on a top shelf, so Amjit had

to reach on tip t£ for it, then he had to look for Bogota, he knew it

was in South America, but where exactly.

An eager sales assistant encouraged Patrick to buy some

children’s book, so he bought Picture books for Sheila and books with a

few words in them for Jaswinder. So it was while Patrick and Amjit were

all tied up that a man in a duffle coat came in, it was Martin, he felt

behind the Bibles and found his money. With a spring in his step and a

smile on his lips he was gone. Amjit peered through the shelves to steal a

look at the Bibles, they’d been scattered, the money had been taken .

Amjit rushed to the Bibles, Patrick was at his heels, the money was gone,

The Good News Bible was open at Revelations. Amjit swore , Patrick

swore too, a nun tut tuted. Still cursing under their breath they left

the book shop, the shocked nun had picked up The Good News Bible and was

smiling now.

“I think we need more people to help us observe, ” said Patrick as he

started the engine.

“You’re right, but not Big Sid he’d stand out too much, ” Amjit was

looking down at his shoes, where his spirit’s were.

“Ok, we’ll get George and Brownie to help, nobody would suspect a pair

of pensioners after all, ” Patrick sighed, it was like being teased all

this kidnap stuff, like being teased when you didn’t want to be.

“There’s a pub over there,” Amjit sounded faint.

“Ok, we’ll have a couple, then we’ll get back to the street, it’ll be ok

Amjit , it’ll be ok, besides if I know my mom she’s blackmailing the

saints,” Patrick laughed, he’d give anything to cheer Amjit up.

So they stopped at the Duke of Edinburgh for a pint, just as they went

in the front door Martin came out the back way through the yard , he’d

bought some drugs, he wanted to celebrate The Good News after all.

Back at the flat Martin held up a wad of notes in one hand and

the drugs in the other. He was pleased with himself, he’d found his

true vocation, and it didn’t involve any work, the perfect job for him.

“What’s to eat?” asked a triumphant Martin.

“I thought we’d eat out, to celebrate like,” said Sue in between puffs

of her fag.

“Fine by me,” Martin had already opened the door ready to go again.

“I’ll have to feed her first,” Sue pointed to the cupboard.

“She can do without, we are not running a restaurant after all, ” said

Martin haughtily.

So they went out, Jaswinder was left in the dark with just a

cushion, a pretend teddy for comfort, only the water, her water seeping

under the door gave proof of her existence. Percy had gone out for a

plush dinner with members of his Lodge, he didn’t feel like going but he

went. It was while he was in the restaurant that there was a disturbance

at the door. A scruffy man in a duffle coat had tried to come in, when

he was told the restaurant was booked for a private celebration he’d

produced a wad of money to prove he could pay. But still the scruffy man

in the duffle coat was not let in, nor was his very pregnant girl . So

Martin and Sue went to the Italia House in Three Shires Oak Rd instead ,

Martin pretended he wanted to go there anyway.

“I showed him the money, only the sod in the penguin suit wouldn’t let me

in,” sulked Martin.

“Some people are so prejudiced,” sympathised Sue.

Martin splashed out that evening in the Italia House, as if proving his

own worth to himself, a sure sign of his inadequacy. He left the car

parked where it was, it didn’t matter if it blocked St. Gregory’s, besides

Martin wanted to splash out with a taxi.

“Madame, your carriage awaits,” burped Martin bowing low.

“Ta love,” answered Sue as she squeezed her bulge into the taxi.

Jaswinder was crying when they got in, she was sitting in a

pool of water, her own. Martin threw a towel at her, Sue gave her a

bottle of milk, then the door was locked on her dungeon. As for Amjit

and Patrick they’d told everybody what had happened, the whole street

seemed to be suffering from a collective hangover, only there had been no

celebration beforehand.

At nine Barry the blind kid arrived with a tap to the left and

a tap to the right as he tapped his way into the shop and made his way to

the counter.

“I’m going to beat you cheats tonight,” smiled Barry.

Patrick stole a glance at Amjit, Patrick decided to try and lift Amjit’s

spirit’s.

“Ok, I’ll go and fetch some water, you can wash the dominoes yourself,

how d£s that sound?” Patrick was trying to sound jolly, he realised he

was behaving just like his mother did, it made him smile more.

So the dominoes were washed and the game began, Barry was really

pleased to have found some new friends. Amjit went and fetched some

samosas and a pot of coffee, Old Mr Amjit looked on from the back, the

smiling face of Barry so happy, like a dawn after the dark of the

winter’s night. Even though Amjit and family were in the dark , not

knowing, just waiting, playing dominoes seemed such a relief, it was

hard to explain, even harder to understand but laughing and arguing over

dominoes was so much better than brooding on Jaswinder.

“Hey, are you sure you didn’t switch these dominoes for another set, I

still think you’re cheating,” said Barry looking straight at Patrick.

“Honest,” said Patrick with a smile.

“Alright then, I’ll believe you,” beamed Barry.

So on they played, it was midnight before they stopped, it was like

having a favourite uncle visit you enjoyed his company you never want him

to leave, so you carry on, just one more game just one more game.

“Well I’ll have to go now,” said Barry snapping shut his watch.

“I’ve enjoyed our game tonight, come again tomorrow, as early as you

like,” Amjit found himself saying.

The shadows were creeping in on him, the warmth , the innocence of

Barry’s face, the smile somehow they warmed Amjit, as Barry left Amjit

felt guilty was it wrong to be playing games while his daughter was in

danger. Amjit’s dad put his hand on his son’s shoulder, it was good to

play dominoes, it made him strong again, and he had to be strong for

Jaswinder. Patrick walked Barry home.

“There’s no need really, I’ve memorised the route now, I know how many

turns to the left and turns to the right it is,” explained Barry.

“No you’re ok, I need a breath of fresh air, it’ll blow the cobwebs away

and it’ll be good exercise,” sighed Patrick.

“You’re a good friend to Amjit aren’t you, that’s why you’re letting him

lean on you,” Barry said it so matter of factly.

“What what do you mean,” stammered Patrick.

“It’s hard to spot at first, if I could see perhaps I wouldn’t notice ,

but you are being supportive of him. It’s in your voice, it’s in his

voice, every word is almost a sigh, well not quite every word but it is

noticeable,” continued Barry.

Patrick stopped dead in his tracks, Barry carried on, a tap to the left

a tap to the right. Patrick regained his composure and caught up with

Barry.

“So I’m right then, stopping was a dead give- away you know. It’s ok I

won’t intrude, it’s none of my business, at least you won’t be asking

me what I’m staring at,” joked Barry.

“Sorry, well but, well,” Patrick was lost for words.

“It’s ok, I like you two, even if you are cheats at dominoes . I’ll

explain it for you, you’re dying to know how I know. I wasn’t always

blind and one thing I noticed when I could see was that if you have the

radio on and hear the news it sounds loud and clear, but on the television

the same words aren’t as loud or clear, the pictures, your sight gets in

the way of the words, the sound. It’s almost as if on the radio the

volume is much higher, and on the television the volume seems lower but

the volume of the pictures is higher, ” Barry paused like a teacher

waiting for the penny to drop for the children.

“I’ll have to try that, listen to the radio and then the same thing on the

tv, it’ll be really strange if you are right,” pondered Patrick.

“I am right, anyway so after the accident, I noticed another thing ,

well after I stopped bumping into things that is. I noticed that I had my

radio ears on all the time, things seemed louder or rather I noticed

sound more, because I didn’t have any sight to get in the way anymore.

Which means I can tell that you are jollying Amjit along, and that you

two like me too,” Barry smiled.

“Even if we do cheat at dominoes,” mumbled Patrick.

“Yes, we’re here now, I’d invite you in for a coffee only there’s no

light bulbs in the flat, I mean what would I need them for , ” Barry

chuckled.

“And you don’t want me stumbling around like a blind man,” said Patrick.

“You got it in one, anyway I’ll see you tomorrow at Amjit’s, don’t worry

I won’t let on that I know, I’m just glad to have made two friends who

don’t treat me like a child just because I can’t see,” so with a tap to

the left and a tap to the right Barry went inside.

Patrick shook his head, the poor kid, it must be even worse if you could

see and then you were in the dark permanently. Patrick rubbed his arms it

was getting cold, he hurried back home and to bed.

The phone refused to ring no matter how hard or long Amjit

stared at it, Patrick though of one of his mother’s many sayings , the

one about the watched kettle never boiling. Finally in the afternoon the

phone rang, Amjit had the receiver to his ear before the third ring.

“Yes,” he said.

“It’s me.”

“How much.”

“£800, we have to buy some clothes for your little wog daughter, she wet

herself.”

“I’ll have to go to the bank, I don’t keep that sort of money in the shop

it would be dangerous.”

“It might be even more dangerous if you don’t hurry up, you have an hour

or I want an extra £200,” Martin loved being in control.

“Ok, ok, I’ll have your £800 for you within the hour,” Amjit tried to

keep his calm.

“Leave it in a plastic bag in the tank of the third toilet along near the

door in the toilets in Clemford High Street, make sure the money doesn’t

get wet,” Martin ordered.

“Aren’t those they the,” blurted out Amjit.

“Yes the gay ones,” interrupted Martin with laughter in his voice.

“Can I speak to my daughter?” Amjit almost begged.

“No, she’s having a bath, she stinks,” Martin hung up.

Amjit hung up the phone,and took a deep breath before turning to Patrick

to say, “he wants £800 or £1000 if I don’t hurry, we’ve got to leave it

in the toilets, in the tank, the toilets in Clemford High Street.”

“But those are the queer ones,” Patrick couldn’t understand.

“Ok, I’ll get George and Brownie,” Patrick raced out the door.

“Fine, I’ll tell Balbinder and get my bank book,” said Amjit as went in

the back.

In Mark’s Percy was telling George and Brownie about the

previous nights events at the restaurant.

“So you see this scruffy man in a duffle coat tried to get in with his

very pregnant girlfriend, when he was told the place was full up he waved

a wad of notes at the head waiter,” Percy paused when Patrick came in.

“Come on quick, George and Browie we need your help,” Patrick held the

door open for them .

“Can we help?” asked Percy.

“These two should be enough, nobody would suspect these two. We just

want to follow the little bugger, he’s a slippery customer. He won’t get

away this time, it’s a public toilet, so there is only one way in and one

way out, we’ll get him this time,” with that Patrick was gone.

Patrick drove first to the bank, then he headed for Clemford

High Street.

“As Patrick said, it’s a public toilet, the one in Clemford High Street,

so we should be able to catch him, to follow him, there’s only one way

in and one way out,” Amjit smiled at George and Brownie .

“But aren’t those the queer ones, I don’t want my George catching AIDS or

something,” said a concerned Brownie.

“It’s ok, I’d do it for Jaswinder, I’ve had a good life, we’ll catch

this man and free Jaswinder, my life is on the last chapter anyway , “

said George trying to sound brave.

“You won’t catch AIDS, George, though the stench might make you throw up

or want to, ” explained Patrick, ” Amjit will be in one cubicle you’ll

be in another, when he takes the money you follow him, I’ll follow in

the car, you follow on foot or catch a bus, whatever is needed , “

Patrick finished, he hoped it would be as easy as he’d just explained.

“What about me?” wondered Brownie.

“You stand outside, as if you are waiting for your husband to come out,

which is exactly what you’re doing. Nobody will suspect you.”

George and Brownnie were content, they knew their parts now , Brownie

decided to tell Percy’s gossip, it was better than staying silent.

“Did we tell you what happened to Percy yesterday,” began Brownie.

“What?” asked Amjit.

“Well a young man tried to get into this swanky restaurant Percy was in ,

only it was full up, the man began to shout and say he was as good as

them, he waved a wad of money in the air. He said he had £500 in cash to

pay,” explained Brownie.

Patrick braked suddenly.

“What did he look like,” asked Amjit sparks flying from his eyes.

Brownie looked at George, she’d sruck a raw nerve.

“Well Percy said he was scruffy in a duffle coat, a very pregnant girl

was with him,” said George slowly.

“It could be a coincidence,” said Amjit turning to Patrick.

“Or it could be the BASTARD we are after,” Patrick put his foot down to

the floor.

“WE know our enemy now,” said Amjit turning to George and Brownie.

At the toilets Amjit placed the money in the water tank of the

third one along, then he hid in one cubicle while George hid in another.

All they had to do was wait, as soon as the bait was taken they could

catch the man, it was simple. George wanted to be sick, a mixture of

nervous tension plus the stench of the public toilets. A man came in he

went into the third cubicle alone, a minute or two later so did another

man. George was sick, he seen a lot in the army during the war , but

this was too much. A few minutes later all was silence.

“Are you alright George,” hissed Amjit.

“Sorry , but I was sick I’ve never dreamp of such things , ” mumbled

George.

“Sush, there’d somebody coming,” whispered Amjit.

George was sick again, but at least, well. Amjit listened to the

footsteps going one way then another, finally they went into a cubicle. A

few more people came in to use the toilets, what about the man, had he

gone into the third cubicle along, Amjit couldn’t tell what with the

noise of flushings and George being sick again. At least George had a

perfect cover, an old man being sick, and he wasn’t pretending. All was

silent again, Amjit didn’t couldn’t tell if the money had been taken or

not, he’d have to check.

“Are you ok, George?” hissed Amjit.

“I’m fine now, it’s just a bit much, it was unheard of in my day, has he

been?” asked George as he wiped his mouth with his handkerchief.

“I’ll look,” whispered Amjit as he sneaked out of the cubicle.

The third cubicle along from the door was in use, Amjit couldn’t hear

anybody inside though, so he knocked on the door. There was no answer,

so Amjit pushed, it was locked. Amjit kicked at the door, the door

opened, the tank cover had been moved. The money had gone.

“Shit,” swore Amjit.

That cubicle had a window at the back, Amjit stood on the toilet and

climbed up and out. Outside he followed a trail of water, then just by a

high wall he found the soaking carrier bag. The carrier was empty, the

money was gone, so was the kidnapper. Amjit looked about which way

should he run. He looked up, the top of the wall was wet, Amjit pulled

himself up, he was looking at a railway line. Long abandoned by the

trains it was now a nature trail, only the trail had gone dead as far as

Amjit was concerned. So getting down from the wall, he picked up the

still wet carrier and went back to the car.

George and Brownie were mulling over events when Amjit arrived.

“He squeezed out the window alright, he’s gone along the old railway line

we’ve missed him again,” explained Amjit.

“But what about the other man in the duffle coat?” asked Brownie.

“What do you mean,” asked a slightly confused Amjit.

“A man went in with a duffle coat, I blew my nose as a signal for Patrick

when he came out the toilets Patrick followed him on foot, ” explained

Brownie.

“Well it cann’t of been him then,” sighed Amjit.

Amjit felt so tired, confused: Patrick returned he was all downcaste.

“He’s not our man, I followed him to a building site, I got a look at

his face, he’s worked with the Gavin brothers before, so it cann’t be

him,” explained Patrick.

“He’s not the one, the kidnapper is a sly sod, he squeezed out the back

window above the toilets. But we do know he d£s wear a duffle coat and

I think it’s a safe bet that the pregnant girl is his girlfriend,” said

Amjit as he kicked an old cola can.

“He’s cocky too trying to spend the money in flash restaurants, ” added

Brownie.

Back on the street George and Brownie spread the word ,

everybody cursed, they were up against a slippery customer that was for

sure . Amjit and Patrick decided that they’d need more people to follow

the man in the duffle coat, so they asked everybody to stand by, at the

drop of a hat or rather a ring of the phone from the kidnapper they all

had to be ready to follow. Amjit felt almost embarrassed to ask, he just

felt so tired, so very tired. With brave words of encouragement in his

ears Amjit went back to his shop.

Later on Barry arrived, with a tap to the left and a tap to the

right , his blond hair and shining smiling face again resembling Autumn

sunshine pushing the grey clouds away. While Barry shuffled the dominoes

Amjit went for the coffee and samosas, Patrick squeezed Barry’s arm and

Whispered “thanks”.

“These are great samosas, where do you buy them from?” asked Barry.

“My wife makes them,” answered Amjit.

“I’ve not met her yet, is she looking after the children? ” wondered

Barry as he sipped his coffee.

Amjit’s lip quivered, a tear slipped down his face, he gulped before he

answered,” yes.”

Patrick looked into Barry’s unseeing eyes, thank God he was blind, then

Patrick closed his eyes, Jesus what was he thinking, thank God he was

blind, Patrick sipped his coffee. Amjit and Patrick exchanged glances,

they had both thought the same thing, thank God Barry was blind.

“Here have another samosa,” Patrick said hurriedly as if Barry knew what

he’d thought.

“Thanks, but no amount of bribery will stop me thinking you two are

cheating, have you got a mirror behind me so you can read my dominoes ,

come on be honest,” asked Barry.

“No we haven’t,” laughed Patrick.

“Do you want me to put a mirror behind me, so you can cheat,” Amjit had

said the words but regretted them immediately.

He closed his eyes, and then hesitated slightly before saying , “I

shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.”

“I know you shouldn’t have said it, it’s a great idea, hey Patrick put

a mirror behind Amjit so I can cheat,” Barry began to laugh.

So finding a makeup set on the shelves, Patrick positioned the mirror

behind Amjit, so that Barry could cheat.

“Can you move it another inch to the left, ” said Barry motioning with

his hand.

“Is that ok?” asked Patrick.

“Fine, perfect, I’ll win tonight,” answered Barry giving a thumbs up.

So on they played, Barry winning the majority of the games ,

aided by the makeup mirror positioned behind Amjit. Every now and then

Barry would make a show of looking in the mirror, then with relish he’d

slap down his dominoes. It could have come straight out of Laurel and

Hardy, only it was happening in a Black Country shop, yet it was just

what the doctor ordered. Barry was laughing at his weakness , his

disability, laughter made him strong, and it made Amjit strong too.

When the game was over Patrick walked Barry home again, at the gate going

into Barry’s flat Patrick shook his hand.

“It’s nice to feel useful, you get to feel that your whole life is on the

scrapheap when you are blind, or deaf, or any of those things which stop

you being NORMAL, ” Barry was looking Patrick straight in the eye ,

though he’d never see Patrick’s face.

“I can’t explain, we never will be able to, just thanks, thats all,

even if I could explain I wouldn’t have the words, ” mumbled, stumbled

Patrick.

“It’s ok, Amjit was crying though, so it must be something serious, I

won’t pry, it’s the dominoes and the company I’m interested in , well

goodnight then as I said I won’t invite you in.”

“Because I’d only bump into the furniture, as you don’t have any light

bulbs, cheerio.”

Patrick walked home, he liked Barry , he was no hostage to fate , he

came out fighting and laughing, every time the bell rung.

The phone didn’t ring, not in the morning , not in the

afternoon, not till six in the evening, then it rang.

“It’s me, I want £1400 this time.”

“But the banks are shut, can’t it wait till tomorrow, ” Amjit cursed

himself for what he’d just said.

“Listen to this.”

Amjit heard a loud slap, then he heard his daughter , his Jaswinder

crying.

“Ok, ok, I wasn’t thinking”

“You have fourty minutes, leave it on the 38 bus get on three stops after

the terminus, leave the money on the ledge at the back of the bus , on

the right hand side.”

“At the very back, on the 38 bus,” repeated Amjit.

“Thats it bye, will you stop crying you little wog bitch, ” the phone

went dead.

Amjit closed his eyes, then took a deep breath before hanging up the

phone, slowly he turned to Patrick.

“He hit her , he made her cry. I’m worried Patrick , ” Amjit was

quivering.

“Come on Amjit, the whole street’s on our side. How much and where?”

Patrick shook Amjit.

“£1400, on the 38 bus, in forty minutes time ” Amjit said in between

deep breaths.

“Ok, you stay there I’ll round everybody up, it’ll be ok Amjit, it’ll

be ok,” with that Patrick dashed out the shop.

He went straight to Smiling Paul’s, catching his breath he blurted it all

out,”Quick we need money, we’ve only got fourty minutes.”

Smiling Paul leapt to his safe and started throwing out bundles of hundreds

to Patrick.

“That’s enough, see you,” Patrick said as he ran out.

“Can I help anymore, ” Smiling Paul was almost pleading, but Patrick

didn’t hear him.

“I love her too you know, she’s my Indian Princess too,” he mumbled.

“Each will help to his ability, though it may not always be recognised,

you are a good man ,I know it,” Catherine put her hand on his shoulder.

Patrick ran up and down the street like a madman , everybody

gathered inside Amjit’s shop.

“Look we have to leave the money on the 38 bus at the back on the ledge ,

so if we all follow him we’ll see him take the money , ” explained

Patrick.

“I think we should take turns at being in the lead, so as not to arouse

suspicion , one car follows right behind the bus for two stops then it

drops back so another car can follow right behind and so on , ” urged

Percy, he knew caution was everything.

“Right we’ll do that, when he gets off the bus we’ll carry on following

him in the same way,” agreed Patrick.

“We know he wears a duffle coat and he has a very pregnant girlfriend, so

he should be easy to spot,” added Amjit.

So they all set off, Percy in his hearse, Andy in a white

Rolls , Michael in his taxi and Patrick in the lead in his old VW . On

their way across town Michael spotted George and Brownie at a bus stop ,

so he slowed and picked them up.

“No time to explain, I just want you to get on the 38 bus, the kidnapper

wants his money left there,” said Michael as he sped off.

“And you want us to watch him,” said Brownie.

“That’s it , we’ll get the bastard this time, ” said Michael as he

signalled and put his foot to the floor.

Michael soon caught up and overtook all the cars, it was not part of the

plan but it’d improve on it, all he had to do was put George and Brownie

on the bus.

At the terminus George and Brownie waited for the 38 bus ,

Amjit arrived, they ignored him. The three all got on, Amjit placed the

money at the back on the ledge, then got off after one stop . George

winked but otherwise as far as he was concerned Amjit didn’t exist .

People got on the bus, people got off the bus, but no sign of the man in

the duffle coat. Behind the hearse and the Rolls exchanged positions ,

but still no sign of the kidnapper. After ten stops he got on, he sat in

the middle for a while then calmly got up and went and sat at the back on

the right. Brownie squeezed George’s leg, the kidnapper was right behind

them.

“That’s the bastard, right there, see he’s flicking at the bundle, it’s

him for sure,” said Patrick spitting out the words.

Michael took the lead and Patrick’s VW dropped back, flashing his brake

lights as a signal to the others, the mouse had taken the cheese , now

all they had to do was spring the trap. They’d follow him, get Jaswinder

back and perhaps have some revenge, the waiting was over at last. Percy

took the lead, a police car came sailing by, Sgt. Mulholland was driving

he was too busy to acknowledge Percy. There were more police cars coming,

their blue lights flashing, Percy slowed, Andy took the lead.

“Shit, shit, shit,” swore Andy.

The bus had stopped in all the traffic ahead, the kidnapper opened

the fire exit on the back at the right of the bus, he ran into all the

crowds, the crowds of football supporters.

“The bastard, he knew the Cup Tie was on tonight, we’ll never catch him

in all the crowds,” Andy slowed and parked.

And so he had, the 38 bus goes right past the ground , Martin had

disappeared like a rabbit down a hole. Patrick saw the rabbit escape, he

wanted to leap out of his car and give chase, but a police car was right

beside him, so all he could do was curse, the policeman smiled at him he

was used to crowds after all. George and Brownie got off the bus at the

next stop, Michael picked them up and drove them back to the street.

“Well thanks for your help, we’ll just have to try harder ,

we’ll get him, he’s too cocky he’s bound to slip up, ” said Patrick

trying to sound upbeat.

“Don’t worry tomorrow is another day,” consoled Percy.

Amjit and Patrick waited for Barry to turn up, but he didn’t, he’d got a

chance to go to the Cup Tie. So while Amjit and Patrick played dominoes

Barry was savouring the atmosphere of the Cup Tie, tomorrow was another

day, tomorrow was another day.

Chapter Twelve A Mother’s Tears

*********************************

The next day dawned bright and cheerful with the morning breeze

seeming to play catch with the clouds moving them across the blue sky ,

the sun was smiling too stretching itself over the horizon , soon it’d

chase the night away. One last corner of darkness seemed to put it’s

tongue out at the rising sun before running away from the growing light ,

for a last time the dark put its tongue out at the sun, it was running

away now but come night time it’d return.

On the street the shops all began to open, a kind of yawning

a kind of stretching motion, as if they all wanted to stay in the warmth

of the bed. But the day had to be faced, the clock couldn’t be turned

back, life had to go on. Each time they had tried to catch or observe

the kidnapper they’d been out manoeuvred, if only they could stay curled

up in bed, if only they’d wake up and find it had just been a bad dream.

Only this nightmare went on.

Patrick’s mother rang early before Patrick had even put the

kettle on.

“How’s Balbinder and Amjit? ” asked Mrs Murphy, still fingering her

beads.

“They are coping, only the kidnapper gave us the slip.”

“Again.”

“How did you know?”

“Frank came and told me, he loves little Sheila too.”

“Who?”

“Sheila, your daughter !”

“Sorry, I’m not with it this morning.”

“Don’t worry Patrick, the Novena never fails.”

“Thanks mom, I better go now.”

“Patrick don’t be afraid, everything will be ok, trust your old mom.”

“Bye mom.”

Mrs Murphy hung up the phone, she’d said a decade of the

rosary while talking to her son, she’d have time to said another full

rosary before she got the breakfasts ready. She just hoped St. Anthony

would hurry up, ah well, there was always Mother Theresa, she knew she

loved children.

Patrick left his coffee cup in the sink with the pile of other

cups, he hadn’t got the energy to do any washing up these past few days.

So giving hairy Amjit a tin of food Patrick crossed the road to begin his

day’s vigil with Amjit. George and Brownie were already there, Brownie

spitting in the face of fear.

“Hello , well the weather looks nice, ” began Patrick trying to sound

happy.

“It’s nice enough for a picnic,” said George taking up the theme.

“Yes, normally we go for an adventure when it’s as fine as this,” added

Brownie.

“How do you mean? ” said Patrick stoking the conversation, he knew any

talk was better than silence, silence was dark and cold, and gave you a

chance to think the worse of Jaswinder’s situation .

“Well, we jump on one bus, then get off and jump on another, then get

off and jump on a third one,” began George.

“We’ve got to know the Black Country and Birmingham quite well by doing it

we even have discovered a few nice little parks and cafes, ” interrupted

Brownie warming to the conversation, it almost felt like normal, but for

Amjit’s weak smile.

“That’s good, it’s nice to get out, my mom does the same thing only with

her it’s the churches she roots out,” Patrick smiled at the thought.

“Why don’t you do it today, it’s a nice day, you should get out, feel

the sunshine on your faces,” encouraged Amjit.

“But we couldn’t, well we didn’t mean to say that,” began Brownie.

Amjit put his hand on her arm, he motioned to the door, “just go out for

a run, it’ll blow the cobwebs away.”

“Are you sure you don’t need us,” George felt guilty, as if he’d fallen

asleep on guard duty.

“Hey, go, or do I have to throw you out, here have a bunch of bananas

too,” Amjit then held the door open for them.

Brownie nodded to Patrick, then gave Amjit a motherly peck on the cheek.

“I hope he didn’t think we don’t care about Jaswinder , she’s

our Indian Princess too,” said Brownie as they got on the first bus.

“It’s ok , besides once the cobwebs are blown away then we’ll be more

useful to them. Even a soldier has to have rest and recreation , “

replied George.

After playing leap frog with the buses George and Brownie came to

O’Toole Park , it wasn’t really a park just an area of boggy land not

worth the expense of draining. Old houses had been knocked down, their

back gardens had been incorporated into the park, including the trees

which used to be in the back gardens of the houses, nearby new houses had

been built. With a pathway added and a few benches a new park had been

formed , The O’Toole Park, named after a former councillor , the

councillor had subsequently been found guilt of accepting bribes, but the

park still bore his name, everything couldn’t be renamed after all ,

that’s left for Historians and Journalists to do . So finding their

favourite bench they sat down, sighing, not talking for half an hour.

“Here have a banana,” said Brownie proffering one to George.

“If only I was a younger man, I’d be scouring the streets, and when I

caught the little bastard who took Jaswinder I’d give him what for , “

said George in between bites of the banana.

“Don’t upset yourself we’ve done our bit, ” said Brownie before handing

George another banana.

“I feel so useless, it was like this during the war, I couldn’t wait to

give Hitler and the Nazis what for,” George was snapping at the banana.

“Be careful or you’ll break your false teeth, you know there’s a crack in

them already,” Brownie squeezed George’s knee.

“Cheer up , Jaswinder must be alive, otherwise he wouldn’t carry on

asking for money,” Brownie unpeeled another banana for herself.

“I hope you’re right, she could be dead, ” George was staring at a

puddle.

Brownie turned to look George in the eye, ” but you don’t mean he’d kill

her then carry on asking for money?”

“I hope I’m wrong, but we can’t be sure, if only we could see her ,

then it’d be some relief, ” George took his teeth out and began to suck

the banana from them.

“The evil bastard, if I catch him, I’ll kill him myself, ” Brownie

pulled her collar up, she felt cold.

At the other side of the park, a happy family was enjoying a

stroll in the sunshine, a man, a woman and their daughter. The daughter

was skipping, she seemed to be enjoying herself. George put his teeth

back in and burped, bananas always made him burp.

“It’s nice to see people enjoy themself, make the most of the sunshine,

that’s what I say.”

Brownie was looking at the couple too, ” her baby must be due very soon

judging by her size.”

“I hadn’t noticed, oh you are right now that we can see her sideways on,

their daughter is a lover too, what with her pigtails bouncing in the

wind, she’s got a nice smile too, ” George was screwing up his eyes to

see better, it was hard to see as the sun was in his eyes.

Brownie did not answer , she was looking at the couple’s daughter, the

skipping daughter with the pigtails.

“Yes, look at her skip, she’s so happy, it’s nice to see happy children

, it’s cheers me up,” George looked at Brownie.

“She’s an Indian, and her parents are white, ” Brownie wanted to say

more.

“Oh, I think you are right, perhaps she’s a friends child and they are

baby sitting, do you want this last banana, it’s a shame to waste it.”

“She looks familiar,” Brownie began to stand.

“Yes you may be right, these bananas are very good,” mumbled George.

Brownie was on her feet now, “It’s Jaswinder !”

“Don’t upset yourself, she does look a bit like her, but they are far

away, here I’ve saved you a bit of banana, ” George held out the last

portion of banana.

Brownie knocked the banana from his hand,” I tell you it is her !”

George looked at the girl covering his eyes with his hand, ” I’m not too

sure.”

“It’s her I tell you,” Brownie sounded excited.

“They are coming this way we’ll soon see,” George sounded apprehensive.

“It’s her, I’m certain,” Brownie was defiant.

“Look sit down,” George pulled at Brownie’s elbow.

Together they watched as the couple came nearer, and nearer, and nearer.

“You’re right !” George sounded relieved, Jaswinder was alive !

“What are we going to do?” Brownie sounded worried now.

“We could grab her and make a run for it, ” George sounded just like the

old soldier he was.

“No , we’re too old, we’ll follow just like Patrick and Amjit do , “

caution Brownie.

“What if Jaswinder recognises us, we could put her in danger, ” George

was worried now, were they putting Jaswinder’s life in danger.

“It’s too late to make a run for it, quick kiss me .”

“What?” George was amazed.

He was even more amazed when without further ado Brownie lunged for him ,

she kissed him as if he was the first man she’d ever loved, ever kissed,

she kissed him just as Maureen O’Hara had kissed John Wayne in The Quiet

Man the night before on telly. Jaswinder came skipping by, the couple

followed, they laughed when they saw George and Brownie kissing.

“Do you think we’ll be like that at their age, Martin?”

“I hope so Sue, I hope so Sue.”

Brownie kissed George for all she worth till the couple had gone out of

earshot.

“I told you it was her,” Brownie was triumphant.

“It’s her , she’s alive, ” George mumbled , still recovering form

Brownie’s battering.

“Come on, we’ll follow them, ” George leap up from the seat, only to

slip on the banana skin Brownie had knocked from his hand.

“Sorry I kissed you, only I had to do something, otherwise they’d see

our faces,” Brownie blushed slightly.

“Just warn me next time,” replied George beginning to blush.

They tried the best they could to keep up, but they were old, even a

heavily pregnant woman could walk faster than them. Martin and Sue with

the skipping Jaswinder were getting further and further away.

“Go ahead George, my veins are slowing down, just go ahead, ” urged

Brownie and she slumped down on a bench.

So George hurried after the kidnappers, he made up some of the distance,

but though no longer slowed by Brownie’s varicose veins he still had no

hope of catching up, he was too old, too old to go racing after people

almost fifty years younger than him. Huffing and puffing George could

hear the squeal of tyres and the smoke from the exhaust, he’d lost them.

George was still cursing when Brownie came up behind him, she took his

hand and squeezed it.

“At least we know she’s alive and skipping, it’s a great relief after

all,” Brownie knew she had to cheer her George up.

“I just feel so useless, I’m old and useless now, a few years ago I

could walk, I used to be a good walker, now I’m good for nothing , “

George kicked at an old cola can.

“No you’re not , we did our bit, come let’s get back to the street ,

Balbinder will be pleased to know Jaswinder is ok, ” Brownie kissed her

George again, just as she had on the park bench, he was good enough for

her, all she had to do was make him believe in himself again.

So the pair left the O’Toole park, if they caught a bus

straight into town and caught another back out again they’d be on the

street within an hour. They arrived at the bus stop just as the bus

arrived, their luck was in, only it wasn’t after two stops the bus broke

down. George held the rail on the seat in front, he squeezed it hard,

he wanted to scream.

“Let’s get off, there’s a taxi place half a mile up the road, ” urged

Brownie , they couldn’t just sit there the sooner they got back to the

street the sooner Balbinder would know her child was alive.

So they got off and started to walk the half mile to the taxi place , it

was all uphill and at their age it was as if they were walking in thick

snow. Behind them the passengers had got off the bus, all cursing their

luck. George glanced back at the passengers, then out of the corner of

his eye he saw something.

“Quick take your scarf off and wave it,” commanded George.

As quick as a flash Brownie did as she was told , Percy slowed and

stopped.

“I’d ever thought I’d be glad to see a hearse,” began George.

“Quick take us home, we’ve seen Jaswinder, she’s alive and skipping ,”

gushed Brownie.

“Thank God, I hope you’ll excuse my passenger, ” Percy motioned to the

coffin in the back.

With that Percy was off, his tires squealing, the passengers from the

bus were left to scratch their heads, a funny kind of taxi a hearse.

On the way Brownie explained how they’d ended up at O’Toole park

only to find Jaswinder skipping towards them. Percy left George and

Brownie out at Amjit’s store, he had to attend to the corpse . Brownie

bounced through Amjit’s shop’s door a spring in her step, she was about

to blurt out the news when she saw some customers. For what seemed a

lifetime she held her tongue, when the customers had gone, the damn

burst.

“We’ve seen Jaswwinder, she’s alive and skipping. We were in O’Toole

park, it’s not really a park just a bit of boggy ground with the old back

gardens of knocked houses added on to form a kind of park, anyway we were

sitting on a bench eating your bananas when who should we see but

Jaswinder skipping with her pigtails bouncing about.”

“And we know the names of the kidnappers, the man who wears the duffle

coat is called Martin, he’s got ginger hair, the girl is called Sue ,

they saw us kissing you see,” George stopped he felt embarrassed.

“I thought they’d recognise us from being on the bus the other night, or

that Jaswinder would say something, she could have been in danger. So I

kissed George for all I was worth, Jaswinder’s safety demanded it , “

explained Brownie.

Amjit laughed, it’d been the first time he’d laughed since Jaswinder had

been taken from him, Patrick laughed too. Balbinder came out from the

back, what was this laughter she was hearing. Amjit explained in Indian.

“Is it true, is it really true? ” Balbinder scoured Brownie’s and

George’s faces for confirmation.

“Yes !” Brownie smiled.

Balbinder kissed Brownie’s hand, Brownie hugged Balbinder , “Hey be

happy , keep your pecker up chuck, everything will be ok , ” cooed

Brownie.

Balbinder went in the back to tell her in-laws, a cheer went up, though

it still sounded like a sigh. Balbinder came back out , she hugged

Brownie by way of thanks, then she kissed Amjit, the first time ever

she’d kissed him in public.

They all stood around, a glow of relief about them, Jaswinder

was alive that was something, but why were this Martin and his girl in

O’Toole park?

“He was looking in the waste bins too, he smiled to himself as if he knew

a secret, well it seemed like that,” Brownie said, not wanting to seem

stupid.

“Looking at waste bins, it could be that, ” Patrick paused, his heart

was beating faster, he was afraid to say the words.

“Could be what?” Amjit’s eyes were pleading, he knew what Patrick would

say only he wanted Patrick to say it first.

“He’s planning the next drop off, he’ll tell us to leave the money in the

park,” Patrick spoke slowly.

“Yes that’s it, of course it is, it must be,” Brownie sounded excited.

“Do you think so?” Amjit felt uncertain now.

“I’d place a bet on it,” said George slapping his hand on the counter.

“It must be the park,” pronounced Patrick.

Amjit looked at them in turn, then he spoke, “I was too afraid to say

it, I don’t know what to say, it’s just, ” Amjit’s words drifted into

nothingness, he was afraid to hope.

Patrick looked at his friend, Amjit looked so weak the sparkle had gone

from his eyes, if only his mother was here she’d know what to say, she’d

soon have Amjit smiling again. Only she wasn’t there, Patrick would have

to do the best he could.

“Look, it MUST be the park, we’ve got the advantage now, we’re ahead of

the little bastard. We’ll set a trap, the whole street will help, when

he calls next we’ll all be ready and waiting in the park, so when he goes

to collect the money we’ll grab Jaswinder back. And if she’s not with him

we’ll follow , Jaswinder will be back with us, soon very soon , “

Patrick spoke the words as his mother would have, full of fire and hope,

where this hope came from only God knew.

“Yes, we can set a trap, just like we did for the Jerries in the war,”

George felt young again, he felt useful.

“Yes, we’ll get him this time, ” Brownie joined in to form a chorus ,

Amjit needed fire in his belly, she’d do her bit just like her George.

“Are you really sure?” Amjit looked at their faces one by one.

“Mark my words, it’s the park, ” Patrick placed his hands on Amjit’s

shoulders, “listen my friend, Jaswinder will be home, she’ll be able to

see my daughter, everything will be ok.”

Amjit smiled weakly, a faint, a dim sparkle returned to his eyes.

“But what are we going to do?” asked Brownie.

“First you and George go and tell everybody to be ready, everybody to be

at the park by nine tomorrow morning. You two know the layout so talk to

them all, everybody to hide, then if we see Jaswinder we’ll all jump

him, if he’s on his own then we’ll follow, ” Patrick sounded excited,

and he was Jaswinder would be free, Jaswinder would be free.

So George and Brownie went from shop to shop, a spring in their

step, hope in their hearts. Jaswinder would be free, Jaswinder would be

free, they had the initiative now. Jimmy came in Amjit’s shop, his head

bowed, he didn’t want to look Amjit or Patrick in the eye.

“George and Brownie told me the good news, only it’s not good news, you

see I know this Martin,” Jimmy looked them in the eye for a second.

“What, but how,” Patrick couldn’t understand.

“He’s a friend of my son Danny, he’s a drugs user and pusher, I told him

that if he ever came near my son I’d kill him, ” Jimmy stared at his

feet.

“It’s not your fault, Jimmy,” Amjit said the words but in his heart he

felt hate.

“He won’t give Jaswinder any drugs if that’s what you are thinking, he’s

too mean to do that, he’s always on the scrounge, a born loser , “

continued Jimmy as if reading Amjit’s mind.

“But Danny might know where he lives ” Patrick said.

“He’s in Israel, remember, I sent him there so this Martin wouldn’t have

any influence over him,” explained Jimmy still looking at his feet.

“Well ring him up, the phone’s there, ” Patrick passed the phone to

Jimmy.

So Jimmy rung Israel, speaking in Yiddish he asked to speak to his son,

only he wasn’t there, Jimmy slowly put the receiver down.

“He’s gone camping with this girl he met, he won’t be back for a week, I

told them to get him to ring as soon as he came back , ” Jimmy spoke

slowly, he felt so guilty, the sins of the son visited on the father.

“You did your best, you’ll be there tomorrow when we spring the trap

won’t you?” asked Amjit mellowing slightly.

“Of course, I’m just so sorry, that’s all,” Jimmy started to leave,

still looking at his feet.

Patrick shouted after him, “this is just between the three of us, Martin

is an evil bastard, him knowing your son doesn’t count.”

“Yes, sure, anything you say,” mumbled Jimmy with a heavy heart.

“We play dominoes in the evening, if you’re not busy then come along,”

ventured Amjit.

Jimmy turned and looked Amjit in the eye, “thanks, I’d like that.”

When Jimmy had left the shop Patrick spoke,” you amaze me sometimes.”

“There’s too much pain already, why make him suffer ? ” said Amjit

shrugging his shoulders.

In the evening Barry arrived, with a tap to the left and a tap

to the right, Amjit had the coffee and samosas ready.

“Sorry I didn’t turn up last time, only I got a chance to see the

football, so I went along to the match ,” explained Barry.

Patrick and Amjit shook their heads, hadn’t they lost Martin in the

crowds at the same match.

“I nearly didn’t make it though, some prat ran right into me , he sent

me flying. A prat in a duffle coat it was, his face was as red as his

hair he was really running fast,” continued Barry.

Patrick groaned, Amjit looked to the ceiling and sighed, it was worse

than being teased. Jimmy came in to join the game.

“This is Barry, he’s our dominoes coach, ” said Patrick motioning to

Barry.

“Hello, and who are you? ” smiled Barry, turning towards the sound of

Jimmy’s footsteps.

“I’m Jimmy, from the jewellers,” said Jimmy holding out his hand.

He put his hand down when Barry didn’t take it, it was only then that he

noticed the white stick resting against the counter.

“Can you put the mirror in position for me, but a bit more to the right

this time,” asked Barry.

“Sure,” so Patrick put the mirror in position, so Barry could cheat.

“It’s the only way I can get a fair game, ” explained Barry, turning to

Jimmy.

“Er, yes,” mumbled Jimmy.

“We’d win otherwise,” explained Patrick.

Barry began to laugh, Patrick and Amjit joined in, Jimmy thought they’d

been drinking, but he found himself laughing too.

“I’d love to see your face, you must have thought we were bonkers , “

laughed Barry.

Jimmy laughed even more, his guilt over Martin soon lifted. So the four

played dominoes. It was strange how a simple game gave so much pleasure,

as if they had returned to childhood, returned to innocence with not a

care in the world. Amjit found himself crying , not for sorrow ,

Jaswinder would be found tomorrow so his tears weren’t for sorrow. Jimmy

shed a tear too, tears of relief, Amjit had forgiven him, with a look

over the dominoes Amjit had forgiven him. Forgiveness was such a relief,

they were free to be children, free to play their dominoes . Patrick

could sense the relief, he wanted to say something but couldn’t think of

the words, he knew his mother must be praying hard.

His mother was praying hard, she had the book of the saints out

in front of her. One by one she asked them to do their bit, one by one

they were recruited to her cause, one by one the prayers were said, one

by one they were egged on, one by one they were encouraged to find

Jaswinder. All the time she had Mother Theresa’s photo in front of her,

from a mother to a mother she spoke, a mother’s tears she shed , she

pronounced her faith, she pronounced her hope. Now was the time to set

things right, now was the time to banish the night, now was the time to

open the door, now was the time to prove her right, now was the time to

set wrongs right, now was the time for a child to be free, now was the

time she asked, she begged on bended knee, just set Jaswinder free.

The next morning came, bright and blue, just a faint dark

cloud on the horizon, but every cloud has a silver lining, this morning

they were sure of that. Amjit was nervous, he was pacing backwards and

forwards in front of the counter.

“Are you sure it’ll be O’Toole park? ” Amjit sounded like a child asking

would Santa really come.

“Trust me, my mother said she was certain it’d be the park when I told

her the news,” Patrick tried to sound like a father to a son.

“You are sure? ” Amjit again sounded like a child wanting proof that

Santa would really come.

“Yes, I’m sure,” and Patrick was.

But still Amjit paced, he flexed, he was like a swimmer waiting for the

starting gun, like a diver waiting to leap off the high board. They’d

exchange smiles, Patrick certain, Amjit slightly afraid, afraid for

his child’s sake. Patrick was like a parent sitting by a child’s bed ,

just until it slept, then the ghosts couldn’t get the child. The phone

rang, Amjit leapt for it, only Patrick’s hand was clamped over it.

“Just act dumb, remember you don’t know it’s going to be the park , just

act dumb,” Patrick then took his hand off the phone.

“Hello,” Amjit forced himself to breath slowly.

“It’s me, I think you can afford more.”

“How much?”

“£3000, that’s how much.”

Amjit mouthed the figure to Patrick.

“That’s a lot.”

“Do you wogs put a price on your children, isn’t she worth it?”

“Of course she is, and more.”

“More, in that case I want £5000.”

Amjit closed his eyes and bit his lip, he sighed.

“Ok, ok, just give me back my baby.”

“Deliver it to O’Toole park, over Hemford Way. Put it in the waste bin

near the swings,” ordered Martin.

“Where’s that?”

“You have an A to Z, use it, or don’t you want your daughter back?”

Amjit didn’t know what to say, he didn’t want to argue, he just wanted

his little girl back.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes, I just feel ill.”

“So long as the money is there by 1PM.”

“Ok.”

“And remember no Police.”

“Can I speak to my daughter?”

“NO, she’d asleep, she wore herself out yesterday in the park.”

“When do I get her back?”

“When I see the money, you’ll see your daughter.”

The phone went dead, slowly Amjit replaced the receiver.

“Well?” asked Patrick.

“It’s the park alright, he wants £5000 this time, he told me to leave it

in the waste bin by the swings. Patrick, I’m afraid.”

“Then we’ll have him and Jaswinder !” Patrick sounded triumphant.

“It just d£sn’t feel right Patrick, perhaps we should let him have the

money,” Amjit was uncertain,.

“We can’t trust a man who steals a child, Jimmy told us what he’s like,

we have to go on,” Patrick wished he could say more, but he couldn’t.

Michael came in with a large envelope, he handed it to Amjit.

“We had a whip round, so they’d be no delay, there’s thousands in there,

just give him what he needs. I better be going to warn everybody, it is

the park isn’t it?”

“Yes, and thanks,” Amjit felt weak, weak and humbled.

“Go and tell Balbinder, then I’ll drive you to the drop off point , “

said Patrick.

Balbinder hugged her husband, Amjit’s parents said their prayers were

with him, without wasting any more time Amjit left the shop. Jaswinder

would be safe before the day was out.

At the park everybody had been in position for hours, all the

entrances and exits had been covered, they’d had plenty of time to get in

position , nothing could go wrong. Percy had parked his hearse at the

back of the park by a church, it used to be Anglican, now the Midlands

Orthodox church had taken it over. A hearse parked outside a church would

not arouse any suspicion, so Percy switched Radio Three on and settled

back to wait for any sign of Martin.

Frank had decided he’d get a good view of the park from the

local launderettes, so brought a bag of clean clothes with him, then he

washed them and washed them and washed them and washed them. He had

unobstructed view of the park from where he sat, he’d not miss a thing.

A few doors up the road from the launderettes was a garage and

car park, Jimmy had decided he’d wait there. He just walked up to the

attendant and said he’d be using the car wash all that morning, he then

slapped £50 on the counter saying he was selling his car to a very fussy

person . The attendant didn’t care she was busy reading a book on Irish

History for her Degree course, he could bath in it for all she cared ,

she just wanted some peace to read her history book. So Jimmy sat in the

car wash and waited, and waited and waited.

Ann and Mary from the clothes shop were also at the park along

with Annie and Betty from the Trader, the four of them had decided that

they’d walk around and around the path that bordered the park ,

occasionally they’d stop and talk as if they’d bumped into each other. They

also decided that a change of clothing would help disguise their

identities, so Ann and Mary wore the latest reversible coats, after two

laps of the park the pair would duck into some hedges and reverse their

coats . To a casual viewer they were now two different people, as for

Betty and Annie they had brought some of their props along too , they

followed the same procedure, a few laps of the park then a dive into the

bushes to change clothes. It would have been fun if it were a first night

of a farce, but this was no farce, it was deadly earnest.

George and Brownie were on the same bench as before , again

Brownie smothered George with kisses every time a child appeared on the

horizon, just in case it was Jaswinder, she had to be within grabbing

distance, so Brownie took no chances, she smothered George in kisses.

Betty and Annie smiled when they saw how Brownie was over reacting , but

they were doing their bit. Michael had come on ahead and hooted his horn

as a signal, it was the park, be ready for action. Big Sid had insisted

that he should be there, only he couldn’t find anywhere to hide, he was

just too big, too big by half. So Sid took a desperate step, he hide in

a pile of manure which was going to be spread over the bushes and plants,

when the workmen got around to it.

Everybody had been ready for hours, they all held their breath,

they watched as Amjit walked into the park and placed an envelope in the

waste bin by the swings. Amjit walked back to Patrick’s car , Brownie

winked as he past by. Once in Patrick’s car he crouched down so he’d not

be seen, as for Patrick he had a hat on and was reading a newspaper, he

had the radio on loud too, nobody would suspect somebody making so much

noise, well that was Patrick’s theory anyway.

The girls walked round and round, round and round the garden

like a teddy bear, one step two step, and let the kidnapper beware. The

one grey cloud from the morning had now mustered it’s troops, the greys

had now turned to black, it started to rain, a storm was about to break.

Percy held his breath as a man in a duffle coat walked by, it must be the

kidnapper, it had to be, whoever it was he was whistling, he was happy.

The girls spotted the man, it must be him, they hated him,

they twitched their fingers, if only their nails were flick knives . A

ripple of hate went over their wombs, that was the bastard for sure.

“It’s him,” whispered Brownie.

“Quick give me a banana,” urged George.

“You don’t thing I should kiss you,” asked Brownie as she handed George a

banana.

“No, well, just wait till he gets close, I suppose we have to appear

the same as yesterday,” George unzipped his banana.

Behind them from another direction a tramp, a drunken tramp was

staggering along the path, there was a dossers’ shelter the other side of

the park, he was on his way home. George was on his second banana when

Brownie saw the tramp.

“Oh no, the tramp’s looking in the bins,” Brownie closed her eyes.

“He won’t look in all of them, they never do,” soothed George.

“Shall we warn him off, or should we give him money, ” Browmie didn’t

know what to do.

“He’ll only swear at us and do the opposite, ” George took his teeth out

some banana had got stook behind his top set.

The tramp continued with his browsing in the bins, he walked past George

and Brownie, he staggered to the next bin but decided to ignore it.

“See I told you he’d not look in them all, ” said George as he put his

teeth back in.

A rumble of thunder echoed over the park, the tramp hurried on, he was

heading straight for the bin by the swings. George closed his eyes, the

flash of lightning silhouetted the tramp putting an envelope in his pocket.

The tramp left the path and went over the grass, the quick way to the

doss house.

Martin had been making sure nobody would spot him, he’d been

pretending to do sit ups and pull ups on the exercise trail which followed

the path around the park. Now with the second flash of thunder he decided

he didn’t want to get wet, all he wanted was his money. So he began to

sprint, like a hare out of the trap, straight for the bin by the swings.

To the sound of thunder Martin emptied the bin, he shook it, he kicked

it, he picked it up and threw it into the bushes. There was no money,

he’d been cheated, he raced back the way he’d come. The hare caught in

the photo finish of lightning, the rain came down, the rain came down.

George and Brownie closed their eyes, it was all their fault, it was all

their fault.

“Quick get on the bench and wave your scarf,” urged George.

Leaning on George for support Brownie took off her scarf and waved it for

all she was worth.

“Catch him, catch him,” yelled Brownie.

Big Sid awoke from his slumbers, the weight of manure had made

him fall asleep, rising like Frankenstein he lumbered in the direction

Brownie was pointing. He bumped into a vandal pulling saplings down, the

same vandal who’d pestered Henry with litter, the kid fainted with shock.

Big Sid ran for all he was worth, the manure falling off him , the

thunder roared and the lightning flashed, Big Sid had risen from the dead

to help catch a kidnapper.

Annie and Betty lifted up their skirts to run, dressed as nuns

they raced to the back of the park, George and Brownie went to the street

side, again Brownie waved her scarf, catch the kidnapper, catch the

kidnapper.

Percy started his hearse, he waited for Martin to get ahead,

he didn’t want to give the game away, he started to pull out. A lorry

carrying hundred weight sacks of cement arrived, it blocked his way ,

what Percy didn’t know was that the Orthodox church had moved on, now the

former Anglican church was used as a builders yard . Betty and Annie

appeared in their black stockings with their skirts hitched up , Percy

pointed and the girls raced off around the corner after Martin.

The girls could see him get in a car and drive off, the rain

was really heavy, their costumes were weighting them down.

“Quick through the park again, he’s got to get to the main road, “

yelled Annie.

Again the girls dashed though the park, nuns showing their knickers as

they ran. The vandal had awoke by now, he smiled it was better than a

dream , two nuns in black stockings running towards him. As he smiled he

reached out to touch them, only Annie wasn’t having any of this, so she

kicked him hard in the nuts, and so did Betty. Jaswinder’s life was at

stake, so they gave the smiling pervert what he deserved.

Frank had seen Brownie waving her scarf, so he dashed out the

launderette, his van keys at the ready, there was a car speeding by with

a man in it, he was wearing a duffle coat.

“You’ve forgotten your jeans mister, ” an old lady said grabbing him by

the arm, she wouldn’t let go.

Annie and Betty came running out the park towards the car wash , Jimmy

pushed open a passenger door so they could jump in , he turned the

ignition . Only the car wouldn’t start, all morning in a car wash had

drowned the engine, Jimmy swore, the two nuns swore.

Amjit and Patrick were about to leave the car park when the

first of ten tinkers caravans arrived, O’Toole park was like a second

home to them, they felt safe there. Amjit cursed, Patrick cursed under

his breath, he knew it was never wise to upset a tinker. So it was left

to old Michael to follow, he’d had a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea

before going back into his taxi: when he saw Bettie and Annie dressed as

naughty nuns he’d followed the dirty yellow Datsun with the duffle coated

man, the kidnapper in.

The thunder roared, and roared and roared, the lion had escaped

the circus. The lightning flashed, flashed and flashed again , like

sparks from a devil’s workshop. But the weather was nothing compared to

Martin’s fury, he’d been tricked, he was angry, he’d have revenge. A

lifetime of driving allowed Michael to keep up, raw anger kept Martin in

the lead. The rain came down, the rain came down . A car came out of a

driveway, no indicator, no nothing, the usual bad driving, the Datsun

swerved to avoid it only to head straight for a lorry, the lorry swerved

too, only God or luck prevented a collision. The lorry went in a pothole

throwing up a fountain of water against the Datsun, the Datsun swerved

the other way, scraping against a parked ice cream van . Michael was

close behind, he braked, he swerved, he skidded, he stopped behind the

ice cream van with only inches to spare. Michael hurriedly moved off

again , the rain had now washed the dirt from the Datsun , the number

plate was clear. If only he could read it, Percy had said he had friends

who could trace it for him. Up ahead the Datsun had another close shave,

with a dustcart this time, Michael struggled to overtake a bus, finally

he did. He’d lost the Datsun, he’d stick to the main road, what was

that up ahead, it was the Datsun. Michael bobbed and weaved, bobbed

and weaved till he was right behind, so he could at least get the

registration. A set of traffic lights were up ahead, if only they’d turn

to red, they did. But the Datsun shot through them, Michael had to wait

till they changed, it took him three minutes to catch up again. Michael

closed in, he could read the registration now. Michael then noticed that

the man was not wearing a duffle coat, in fact he was wearing a collar

and tie, or rather a collar. It was a vicar. Michael cursed like he’d

cursed in the army, only the rumble of thunder drowned his curses, the

vicar ahead could lip read though. So he gave Michael a severe look and

in return Michael gave him two fingers. The traffic lights changed ,

Michael turned the corner and parked.

“Shit, shit, shit,” swore Michael.

A policeman on point duty came over to Michael’s taxi to investigate.

“Anything the matter, Sir?”

“No, it’s my darts team, we lost,” lied Michael pointing to the radio

which was switched off.

“If that’s all I’ll get back to directing traffic, but do drive carefully

in all this rain,” the P.C. saluted and went back to his position in the

middle of the road.

Back on the street everybody had gathered in Mark’s cafe, they

sat hunched over their teas, stirring and stirring, as if the tea could

become an Oracle , as if by looking at the tea Jaswinder’s fate would be

revealed, things looked bleak. Nobody dared look another in the face,

they all felt guilty, each felt that it was their fault and their fault

alone that Jaswinder wasn’t free because they had failed to follow the

kidnapper. So there they all sat hunched over their teas all hoping and

praying that the tea would turn into an Oracle and reveal Jaswinder’s

whereabouts.

Patrick spoke first, though his voice sounded like laughter at a funeral

all everybody wanted to do was stare at their tea, as they stired and

stirred and stirred.

“It was all planned, and still the bastard got away,” Patrick finished

off his third tea, hoping it’d wash away the bad taste in his mouth.

Gillian came an gave Patrick a refill, she stroked his hair, hoping to

comfort him.

“And he didn’t get his money, ” added Amjit looking up from his tea, he

bit his lip,

Gillian squeezed his shoulder as she poured him another tea, it was all

she could do, but what more could she do, if there was more she’d do it.

“I should have realised my car would stall, hours in the car wash , it

was inevitable, I’m a fool, it’s all my fault,” Jimmy banged the table

he was thinking about the part his son had played in all this, the sins

of the son had been visited on the father.

“It’s our fault, we were stupid to dress up as nuns, it’s our fault, “

began Annie.

“We should have known better, ” said Betty barely able to hold back the

tears.

“It was so terrible, the church had been deconsecrated years ago, it was

a builder’s yard, not a church, I could have put her life in danger ,

it’s my fault,” sighed Percy as he stirred his tea.

“We should have stopped the tramp, we could of, we could have given him

a few bob, or struck up a conversation with him, but we didn’t so he got

to the waste bin first, it’s our fault,” said George.

” He looked angry when he didn’t get his money,” added Brownie.

Amjit felt a shiver go down his spine, he looked about for reassurance,

he was like a frightened child.

“Next time he rings you’ll have to tell him that anybody could have taken

it,” said Sid.

“I’ll have to tell the truth, that we set a trap,” Amjit spoke slowly.

Everybody looked at each other, was Amjit suggesting treason, or what?

It was left to Patrick to urge caution, “do you think that’s wise?”

“We have to, for Jaswinder’s sake, ” Amjit stirred his tea for the

thousandth time.

“Just , just say you waited, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jaswinder ,

don’t tell him about the rest of us,” advised Big Sid.

“Yes that’s right, if you must tell the truth then tell just part of it,

be economical with the truth as they say in Politics, ” said Patrick

trying to sound his most persuasive.

“He’s right , be economical with the truth as Judges say, ” Percy was

sounding more like his old self now.

“I don’t know, ” Amjit looked at their faces one by one, he felt like a

schoolboy who was going to twit on his pals, but he had to, didn’t he?

“Do what you think best and we will all support you, ” Big Sid sounded

like a father.

Amjit closed his eyes and gulped,” thanks, thanks all of you.”

“I think you should have a bath now, Sid, it was a great disguise at the

time but now go and wash it off, ” said Patrick hoping to lighten

everybody’s mood.

“Ok, I’m going, I know when I’m not wanted,” nodding to Amjit Sid left

the cafe.

Gillian sprayed the air freshener after him, everybody smiled, but still

they stirred their teas.

They all remained where they were, nobody wanted to make a

move , it would be like rushing away from a graveside to go off to a

party, so they stirred their teas and consulted the Oracle hoping for an

answer , so long as it wasn’t the one they feared most. The chug of

Michael’s taxi could be heard, then with one spit then another they heard

Michael open the cafe door.

“Sorry I got delayed, ” explained as he cleared his throat and spat in

his handkerchief.

“Here get this down you, ” said Mark handing Michael a mug of steaming

tea.

“Ah, that’s better, have you got something to perk it up a bit?”

Mark reached under the counter and put some Calvadose in Michael’s tea.

“Thanks , my chest is playing up in all this damp and rain, ” Michael

again spat in his handkerchief.

“None of us had any luck,” explained Percy.

“I did , I followed his car, ” Michael said before having another

reviving sip from his fortified tea.

“Great !” shouted Patrick.

Every face shone with hope, everybody stopped stirring their tea, as if a

surge of electricity had gone through them , bringing them all to

attention.

Michael put down his tea, ” I almost had him , he was driving like a

maniac, it was hard but I managed to keep up. His car was so dirty, but

what with all the rain it was as if it was in a carwash, ” Jimmy closed

his eyes, Michael continued,” I tried to read the number plate as the

rain washed the dirt from it, only when he nearly crashed I got

distracted, I nearly went into something myself. Anyway I lost him, but

I stayed with the main road hoping to catch up. I thought I had caught up

when I saw a yellow Datsun ahead, only it wasn’t him, it was a vicar.”

“At least you tried, if only we could get the number plate, then we’d

have him, I have friends,” sighed Percy.

“But we can’t go to the Police,” Amjit didn’t understand.

“Just trust me, if we get the number plate then we can trace him , the

Police will have nothing to do with it,I have friends,” Percy touched

his nose.

“I just hope he’s not angry about the money, ” Amjit looked like a

child asking his mother would his dad beat him for being naughty.

“Everything will be ok, chuck,” said Brownie giving Amjit a hug.

When Martin got home he was fuming, he was wet, his car was

damaged and he hadn’t got the money, not a penny.

“Where is she?” snapped Martin.

“In the bedroom,” answered Sue, she was frightened.

Martin stormed into the bedroom pulling his wet coat off, Jaswinder was

playing, bouncing on the bed.

“You look like Yorzal Gummidge,” she giggled.

Martin replied by slapping her face, “your daddy doesn’t love you , he

didn’t even bother leaving any money, your daddy doesn’t love you.”

Again he slapped Jaswinder, Sue hurried to intervene, to place her fat,

her pregnant body between Martin and Jaswinder.

“You’ll kill her, you’ll kill her, leave her alone,” screamed Sue.

Sue got hit instead, Jaswinder hid under the bed, all she could see was

the struggling feet of Martin and Sue. After a while Martin stopped, he

just reached for a handful of pills, of drugs, he’d rest then he’d plan

his revenge. Sue grabbed Jaswinder and stuffed her in the cupboard out of

harm’s way, as for Martin he lay on the bed and dreamed.

Hours later Martin had a plan formed, he’d have his revenge,

he’d make Amjit pay. Grabbing the kitchen knife he made Sue give him the

key to the cupboard, Sue knew she couldn’t stop him, her lip was split

already, she closed her eyes, so long as it was over quickly.

“I’ll show them, and I’ll still get money too !” Martin was smiling.

As he opened the cupboard with the knife raised Sue fainted, now at least

she wouldn’t be a witness, only Martin was to blame.

Big Sid had gone home to have a bath, then a shower , then

another bath, then another shower. Hours spent under the pile of manure

had left him stinking, Big Sid scrubbed and scrubbed till his skin was

raw. All the time he thought of Jaswinder, all alone, he thought of her

picture on the wall of his butchers, he thought of the space he’d

reserved for the photo of Patrick’s new daughter Sheila. He thought of

the past, the first photo on his butcher’s wall all those years ago ,

he’d seen the babies grow up till their own babies’ photos were on his

wall, he even had one granddaughter on his wall. It was all so nice, so

innocent, so peaceful. Only now one of those photos, one of those flesh

and blood photos was in danger, his Indian Princess was in danger. And

it was all his fault, it was all his fault, if only he hadn’t fallen

asleep under the pile of manure. It was all his fault, he thought of the

past all the laughs he’d had with his “girls” in his shop, the photos of

their daughters and sons on his wall. But what of the future? Big Sid

turned the hot tap on again, he felt so cold. What of the future, what

of the future. The sound of the water over flowing onto the floor woke

Big Sid from his thoughts and fears.

But at least little Sheila was ok, Mathew was guarding her ,

the Gavin Twins were guarding her, she was safe, she had a future ,

there was a space on the wall for her photo. Sid got dressed, at least

she was ok, at least the little innocent Sheila was ok. Sid was worried

he’d just go and pay a visit,it was about time he saw little baby Sheila,

a drive would do him good. Sitting at home he felt like a cow waiting his

turn at the slaughter house, yes he’d go and pay a visit on Mrs Murphy,

he’d see the new baby, the new hope. It’d take his mind off Jaswinder,

it’d help him stop feeling guilty, for falling asleep at the chosen hour.

Big Sid sighed, he had the window right down, the air was fresh,

it felt so good, a nice drive to see a new baby. The perfect end to a

day, Jaswinder would be ok, tomorrow was another day. Tonight he’d see

the new baby , he’d even get a photo off Mrs Murphy to put on his

butcher’s wall. Big Sid felt better, new babies always made him feel

good, even now. Sid could see the Gavins’ lorry parked down the road,

so parking outside Mrs Murphy’s he got out of his van and crossed over to

have a few words before he went to see the new baby.

“Hello lads, thanks for standing guard,” Big Sid sounded appologetic as

if he was thanking them for doing something they hated.

“It’s ok Sid, we don’t mind it’s the least we can do,” said Luke.

“You’ve heard today’s news?” asked Big Sid.

“No, what’s up?” wondered John.

“We were all ready for him, the whole lot of us in O’Toole park, only he

didn’t have Jaswinder with him, otherwise we’d have snatched her back ,

well the money was in a waste bin like he asked only a tramp came along

and took it . George and Brownie are killing themselves with guilt

because they didn’t stop the tramp, but it was my fault as well, I fell

asleep while waiting for the kidnapper.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Sid,” Mathew touched Sid’s elbow.

“But it is my fault,” Sid looked at the ground.

“She’ll be ok don’t worry, look the light’s gone on in Mrs Murphy’s

bedroom she’s blackmailing and bribing the saints as we speak , ” Mark

pointed over Sid’s shoulder.

Mrs Murphy began her prayers, if she could keep two set of

beads on the go at the same time she would have.

“Well lads, you know what I’m asking, and you know the Novena is nearing

it’s end so don’t go letting me down, do you hear me ? Saint Mother

Theresa of Calcutta is joining you all on this one, well to be honest

she’ll be leading you all, so don’t let me down. Hail Mary full of

Grace The Lord is With You…,” prayed Mrs Murphy.

“All we know is that he wears a duffle coat, we think he has a

pregnant girlfriend too, we aren’t positive but we are very certain, he

was seen with Jaswinder and the pregnant girl you see,” explained Sid.

“Lord hear us, Lord save us, Lord protect us. And Mary if

you’re listening as one mother to another can You use your weight, I know

you’re very busy what with the state of the world and so on. I know I’m

rushing you, but didn’t you do the same thing yourself at Cana. Ask Him

to show an interest, ” Mrs Murphy was coming to an end of tonight’s

prayers.

Luke Gavin looked up the road, he could hear footsteps, a man

and a woman were coming towards Mrs Murphy’s house. The man was

wearing a

duffle coat, the woman was fat, very fat, pregnant even.

“So all you know is that he wears a duffle coat and he has a pregnant

girlfriend,” repeated Mark Gavin.

John Gavin looked to see what Luke was looking at.

“Yes that’s it a duffle coated man and a pregnant woman,” repeated Sid.

Mathew Gavin looked next, what were his brothers looking at.

The man in the duffle coat had his hand on Mrs Murphy’s doorbell,

the bell sounded. Still holding baby Sheila in her hand June went to

answer the door, “I’ll answer it Sheila, finish your prayers, ” June

shouted up the stairs.

Sid spun around what were the Gavins looking at, again the door

bell rang, “I coming, ” said June. Mrs Murphy blessed herself, her

prayers were over for another night.

“No, No,” screamed Sid.

The Gavins erupted like a volcano, it was the kidnapper, the wolf was

at the door. June juggled with baby Sheila as she struggled to undo all

the locks on the front door.

“No, No !” screamed Sid, who was now running after the Gavin Twins.

Mrs Murphy looked startled, that was Sid’s voice, she rushed to the

window . Why were the Gavins running towards the house , she looked

down, on her doorstep she could see a duffle coated man.

“June don’t open the door, ” screamed Mrs Murphy wide eyes with terror,

not for herself but for her grandchild and for June.

Mrs Murphy raced out of her bedroom, snatching at the dressing table as

she went.

“June don’t answer the door, June don’t answer the door. Mathew, Mathew

save us, Mathew, Mathew, save us. June don’t answer the door , “

screamed Mrs Murphy as she ran along the landing

The Gavin Twins raced over the road, no more the four evangelists , no,

like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse they raced. The time had come,

it was the kidnapper or baby Sheila, all or nothing.

“June don’t answer the door ! , Mathew, Mathew, Mathew !” screamed Mrs

Murphy as she turned the top of the landing and stood at the top of the

stairs.

Mathew was roused from his television watching, Mrs Murphy was screaming

, what was the matter.

“Mathew save June, save baby Sheila,” screamed Mrs Murphy.

June had the chain off the door was already opening, Mrs Murphy flew down

the stairs.

Mathew came running from the back, he had to save June and baby Sheila,

just as he had in the church he had to save the baby, he had to save the

baby. The door opened wider.

Outside the Gavins still had yards to go, Sid was running after

them he could see the door opening, June was in the doorway she was

holding baby Sheila.

“No, No !” screamed Sid as he raced faster, as fast as his bulk would

let him.

The Gavins charged, another pace or two and they’d dive.

“Mathew , Mathew ! ” screamed Mrs Murphy as she came hurtling down the

last steps of the stairs, squeezing her rosary for all it was worth.

June looked outside, in terror she saw a duffle coated man and a fat

woman, wasn’t the kidnapper always in a duffle coat and didn’t he have a

fat or even pregnant girlfriend.

The door was still opening wider, Mrs Murphy screamed again, Mathew was

right behind June and baby Sheila, but the kidnapper was right in front

and didn’t he have something shiny in his hand.

June screamed , she clutched baby Sheila closer to her . Mrs Murphy

screamed , Mathew growled. Mathew reached to grab June away from the

door, Mrs Murphy was right behind Mathew.

“Jesus save us !” screamed Mrs Murphy.

Big Sid could see all the photos falling from his shop wall, he could see

the shadow of a duffle coated man pass over his photo wall, down came the

photos down came Big Sid’s family, down came his life. It was all over.

“No, no !,” Sid screamed.

Like a roar of thunder Sid screamed, the Gavin Twins leaped, it was now

or never, but what was that flashing in the kidnappers hand.

“No, no !” screamed Bid Sid.

Big Sid thought he’d have a heart attack, his heart was beating in his

ears, he could hear the thump the thump the thump of his heart. He could

feel the tapping of his meat cleaver in his apron pocket.

“No !” screamed Big Sid.

“Jesus ! Mother Theresa !” screamed Mrs Murphy.

Mrs Murphy was at June’s elbow, Mathew had both hands out as he leapt at

June and baby Sheila. The Gavins leap as one, June closed her eyes.

Big Sid leapt into the air,” No!” his full eighteen stone was behind it as

he threw his cleaver. He could see the kidnapper still moving forward ,

with something flashing in his hand. Sid’s cleaver sprung through the air

light a bolt of lightning, handle blade, handle blade, handle blade,

handle blade , handle blade. His cleaver was faster than the diving

Gavins, faster than the kidnapper. Blade handle, blade handle, blade

handle , handle duffle coat blade door. Sid’s cleaver had pinned the

kidnapper to the door by the hood of his coat. In the split second that

the kidnapper noticed the blade he was swept to the ground, four Gavins

on his chest. Mathew had come running out from the back of the house ,

like a spinning top he’d picked up June and threw her onto the settee in

the front room. Mrs Murphy shot out the front door, leaping over the

fallen kidnapper. Her rosary in one hand, the borrowed meat cleaver in

the other Mrs Murphy grabbed the woman by the throat.

“Come on you old whore, where is she,” she screamed like a banshee.

Sid loomed up at the front gate to emphasise the point . The pregnant

girl was too shocked to speak, and she couldn’t anyway as Mrs Murphy was

strangling her. The Gavins pulled the kidnapper up, ready to draw and

quarter him with their bare hands. Sid reached up and pulled his cleaver

from the door, the hood fell to the ground.

“This is the last time I’ll ask, where is she?” Sid put his cleaver to

Martin’s throat.

Martin spoke, “but Sir we are from the Children Of God, we’re looking

for converts, we only arrived yesterday from America “

“Yes that’s right,” added Sue.

Sid looked at the floor, there was a rolled up leaflet , on shinning

silver paper. And they did have American accents.

Everybody was silent, June peered out of the front room from behind

Mathew. He’d been like a tornado, picking her up and setting her down in

safety.

“So you really are from America,” June edged forward holding her baby.

“Yes !” replied Martin. Only he wasn’t Martin and it wasn’t Sue either.

Mrs Murphy lowered the cleaver that Sid had given her for protection, Sid

lowered his cleaver too. The Gavins dropped the man, Luke handed him the

hood from his duffle coat.

“We’re good Catholics, we don’t want Moonies in this country, do we ,

Mathew, Mark, Luke, John?” smiled Mrs Murphy showing her rosary.

“Yes we are all Catholics,” smiled Sid.

“Fine, sure thing Sir,” said the man.

“Sorry for the misunderstanding, will you have a cup of tea ? ” Mrs

Murphy was trying to make amends.

The man looked at her disbelievingly, a mad woman with a rosary and a

cleaver was inviting them in for tea, and her husband and five deranged

sons were all smiling at them. Only the daughter looked sane , Duane

looked at Mary-Beth, then carefully he spoke.

“If you don’t mind we have a plane to catch.”

So Duane and Mary-Beth went on their way, the Adams family

waving them goodbye.

“Sorry about that, it’s my fault,” said Sid.

“It’s ok, come on in, we’ll have some tea,” said Mrs Murphy as she put

the cleaver in the hallstand.

“We’ll put up a new door, a metal door with a spy hole up afterwards , “

said Luke seeing the damage Sid’s cleaver had done to the door.

Back on the street Amjit was feeling low, Patrick stood beside

him, he knew words were no use, so he just stood there, smiling every

time Amjit looked at him. Barry breezed in, his usual smile on his face,

how could he be happy when he couldn’t see. Amjit said that he didn’t

feel like dominoes and did Barry mind. Barry didn’t, he could tell Amjit

was upset, words crawled from Amjit’s mouth they didn’t jump or leap or

bounce or even walk, they just crawled from Amjit’s mouth and dropped on

the floor. Amjit said that he’d get the coffee and samosas, he’d just be

a minute, Patrick squeezed Barry’s arm, Barry nodded, anybody could

tell Amjit was feeling low, you didn’t need radio ears . When Amjit

returned Barry began telling blind jokes, like how he always used the

ladies toilets when he wanted a laugh, to hear their screams was such fun.

The way they complained, then bent over backwards to apologise when they

realised he was blind, he’d made a few friends by using that trick .

Amjit laughed as Barry went into the detail, Barry was fun that was for

sure , he was so full of life, and he was blind while still young .

Barry spent the rest of the evening telling stories, how shopping for

clothes was fun too, he’d always ask people to tell him if a certain

colour suited him and so on. Barry loved to catch security guards out too

if he was feeling down, they’d stop him for shop lifting, he’d say it

wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t very well see everything or anything in his

trolley for that matter, could he. Barry laughed a lot when he told that

one, he had to make amusement for himself didn’t he. He couldn’t watch

the world go by could he, he couldn’t watch the autumn leaves change

colour and finally fall. People didn’t stop and chat at bus stops with

blind people, it was very lonely being in the dark all the time, so he

had to use tricks to get people to talk to him. If only people bothered

to think, then they’d talk to him and other blind people. Though some

people pretended they were blind, hiding behind newspapers on trains ,

avoiding eye contact: but if they didn’t have the choice, if they were

forever hid behind the newspaper, then they’d change, then they’d say a

few words. But Barry wasn’t bitter, he’d had sight once , that was

better than being blind from the start. Amjit squeezed Barry’s arm ,

Barry was so brave , and he didn’t even know it. Barry told a final

story before going home, he told how sighted friends had said how pretty

this girl was . Barry only knew her by her perfume, so one day he

deliberately bumped into her, it was a way to strike up a conversation,

so now the girl was a friend. His friends had called him a sly bastard,

Barry just smiled, being blind did have it’s advantages. So feeling the

time on his watch Barry said goodnight, again Patrick walked him home.

“Thanks for being a friend, I’ll tell everybody on the street to talk to

you every time they see you, you’ll have plenty of friends in future, I

can guarantee it,” Patrick patted Barry’s shoulder.

“There is one disadvantage, if I don’t like somebody I can’t see them

coming or pretend to look the other way,” Barry laughed.

Patrick went on his way, Barry’s laughter ringing in his ears , Barry

reminded Patrick of his mother, she’d never give up , she’d never

surrender to anything, she spat in the face of difficulties just like

Barry, just like Barry.

Morning came, it was drizzling, horrible drizzle. It got

everywhere, everything was damp, everything was horrible. It was the

kind of day when a look out the window would make you decide to stay in

bed hid under the blanket listening to the radio. But Patrick couldn’t do

that he had to continue his vigil with Amjit, no matter how much he

wanted to hide under the blankets.

Ken came in, his collar up against the weather, his back up

because of the kids, “Bloody Postman Pat, the BBC has a lot to answer

for”. Leaving the post on the counter Ken left, swearing he’d strangle

the next person to call him “Postman Pat”. Amjit ignored the post , he

could tell it was mainly bills, the brown envelopes gave it all away ,

the large white ones were always the junk mail, the big padded envelope

that was another matter. But Amjit wasn’t interested in the mail , he

wasn’t interested in anything. For the hundredth time that morning he

asked Patrick the same question.

“Do you think Jaswinder’s ok, do you think it’ll be enough to say I

waited to see if I could catch a glimpse of Jaswinder, or should I tell

him we set a trap?”

Amjit was half hoping to shift the responsibility, to pass the buck, but

he knew it was all up to him, he was all alone, even though everybody on

the street was on his side, he was still all alone.

George and Brownie came in, they had to do their bit, they had

to be with him, even if they were old and grey, they offered their

shoulders to lean on. Balbinder came out to exchange a few words , she

felt caged, cornered in a cage with only her prayers for comfort . As

Brownie hugged Balbinder Amjit flicked at the post, he decided to open

the big padded envelope. Putting his hand inside he felt something soft

and long , he pulled it out of the envelope, his eyes were still on

Balbinder. Amjit pulled the thing from the envelope, Balbinder looked up

at her husband, she saw what was in his hand. Long and black with a pink

ribbon on the end, Balbinder opened her mouth to scream, she broke from

Brownie’s embrace. Amjit looked at what he had in his hand, his mind did

not register what it was at first, the shock of Balbinder’s scream hit

him , he knew what he was holding. One of Jaswinder’s pigtails that

Balbinder had platted, the pink ribbon was Jaswinder’s favourite. Amjit

dropped the pigtail, Balbinder screamed again and again. Amjit screamed

now too, Brownie spun around, she looked at the counter. She could see

a pigtail with a pink ribbon still attached, it was Jaswinder’s pigtail.

Brownie felt faint, George had to steady her. Old Mr Amjit came running

from the back, his walking stick raised to strike, old Mrs Amjit was

behind him . Amjit’s parents saw the ribbon , they screamed too .

Everybody screamed. Patrick grabbed the pigtail and put it back in the

envelope, Balbinder snatched the envelope back from Patrick. Holding it

close to her Balbinder retreated to the back room, tears streaming down

her face. Patrick grabbed a bottle of Johnny Walker and pulled the top

off, he made Amjit drink it, then George and Brownie, then finally he

had a drink himself, before making them all drink again.

“Jesus, he must be really angry,” Patrick whispered.

“I must tell him everything,” said Amjit through his tears.

“Do whatever you think best, we are all behind you,” said George.

Between them they finished the bottle of whisky, it gave them no comfort

no joy, they just needed something warm inside them.

“It was so sudden, no warning, Balbinder shouldn’t have seen it , my

parents shouldn’t have had such a shook, ” Amjit still leant on the

counter to steady his jangled nerves.

“My brother died in the war, you expect that, but this,” Brownie shook

her head and sighed.

“It’s all my fault, I should have snatched her back when we had that

chance that time in the park,” said George as blew his nose.

“It’s nobody’s fault, only this Martin, if he hurts Jaswinder I’ll kill

him,” Amjit spat out the words.

They waited for hours for the phone to ring, but it didn’t ,

the only noise came from Balbinder, moans and cries and prayers as she

held Jaswinder’s pigtail close to her heart. Martin had been out the

previous night, but not to kill the first born, not to get baby Sheila,

just to post a package. He hadn’t even sent a message with the package,

he didn’t need to, the lone pigtail had the effect he desired . He

wouldn’t ring that day either, he’d make them sweat, but he was making

them do more than that, much much more, he’d sent them to Hell.

George and Brownie left, the rain was getting worse , the

kidnapper wouldn’t ring that day they knew it now, now that they’d got

their breath back. So they crossed the road to tell Big Sid the bad news,

the sad news. Taking him into the deep freeze, just in case a customer

came in, Brownie told him.

“Amjit had a parcel a while ago, it had Jaswinder’s pigtail in it, the

bastard cut her pigtail off,” she said.

“No !” screamed Sid banging his fists on a side of beef.

His mind swam, all the pain of the past week, he’d fallen asleep while

waiting , then the false alarm last night, it was all too much . The

volcano inside had to erupt.

“You think it’s funny, me covered in shit, while you laugh at me, while

you hurt Jaswinder , BASTARD, ” Sid was out of his mind he lunged

straight for Brownie.

Only it wasn’t her, but the smiling face of a pig in his deep freeze ,

Sid strangled the smiling face.It was the kidnapper he was strangling,

the duffle coated kidnapper, the thief, the teaser, the child snatcher.

The sound of cracking bones broke Sid from his anger, blood was coming

from his fingers, he cracked the skull of the pig and cut his hands.

George took Sid by one arm and led him out the deep freeze, Brownie still

shocked followed.

“I’m sorry , it’s just that I felt so angry, so angry and yet so

helpless, just like a new born baby,” mumbled Sid.

Brownie wrapped her handkerchief around Sid’s bleeding fingers, Sid let

her do it just as a child lets his mother kiss his wounds better. Brownie

stroked his face and smiled.

“Better out than in, but no more outbursts, for Jaswinder’s sake, all

right chuck,” Brownie smiled weakly.

“No more outbursts, I’m sorry, ” Sid looked down at his feet, he was

like a child who’d just wet the bed.

George and Brownie left Sid to nurse his wounds, all his wounds

while they braved the weather outside, they’d go home and have some hot

cocoa for themselves. Then they’d have a cry, a real good cry.

In the cafe down the road the phone rang, it was Mrs Murphy.

Gillian listened and wrote down the request, then shaking her head she

put down the phone, before turning to Mark her husband.

“That was Mrs Murphy, she said can we prepare a buffet, and a bit of

fancy cake too, baby Sheila’s being Christened the day after tomorrow.”

“But doesn’t she know about Amjit’s parcel? I mean is this the right time

for all that?” Mark couldn’t understand.

“She just said a Novena never fails, never,” Gillian voice croaked.

“I just hope she’s right, the false alarm at her house was bad enough and

then the parcel this morning, either she’d totally mad or,”

“She has a mother’s hope, no surrender, never, ” there was a tear in

Gillian’s eye.

Mark hugged her, he knew his wife was afraid, so was he , so was

everybody, only Mrs Murphy showed no fear.

“We better get cracking then, it’ll keep us occupied , the rain is

keeping most people in anyway, ” Mark pointed outside, the rain was

really coming down now, so the cafe was deserted.

That evening Barry came again for the dominoes , but again

Amjit didn’t feel up to it, so Barry just talked. His jokes and tales

and conversation were like the sing song rhythm of a mother’s voice which

calmed a baby. The voice, the contact, the connection all seemed to

form a lifeline, it prevented Amjit from sinking beneath the sea of

sorrow. And on Barry spoke, till the coffee and samosas were all gone,

then feeling the time Barry went home, Patrick walked with him.

“Thanks Barry, I don’t know what to say, but, well but , ” began

Patrick.

“It’s ok , it must be something real bad, I’ll think of him tonight

before I go to bed,” smiled Barry.

“Thanks, well just thanks,” mumbled Patrick.

“That’s what friends are for, see you,” Barry waved goodbye, then with

a tap to the left and a tap to the right he was gone.

When Patrick got home to his new empty house the phone was

ringing, it was his mother.

“I hope you’ve got a clean shirt for the day after tomorrow, ” began Mrs

Murphy.

“Why, what for? ” Patrick couldn’t understand, he was so tired, so

very tired.

“For baby Sheila,” Mrs Murphy was speaking as if her son was an egyt.

“A shirt for Sheila?” Patrick looked confused.

“Sheila’s being Christened the day after tomorrow, just make sure you

have a clean shirt, you could put your suit on too, ” explained Mrs

Murphy.

“But cann’t it wait, I mean,” began Patrick.

“We’re not Prods, or Royalty, you were Christened two days after you

were born, if anything we’ve left it a little late for baby Sheila, just

make sure you have a clean shirt, ” Mrs Murphy wasn’t having any

excuses.

“But what about last night at your house, and the parcel Amjit got this

morning, don’t you think the Christening can wait?”

“Everything will be ok, just find a clean shirt for yourself , ” Mrs

Murphy hung up.

Patrick shook his head, he needed a drink, there was a can left in the

fridge he’d have that.

Mrs Murphy went upstairs to bed, she’d just have a quick prayer

before she went to sleep.

“Well lads you heard me, I said everything will be ok, so it had better

be. And as for you Anthony call yourself a saint, the dog’s arse is

more of a saint than you fancy letting him cut Jaswinder’s pigtail off .

You better get your act together, you’d make your mother ashamed of you

do you hear me? Theresa it’s all up to you now, show this lot how a real

saint works will you, please please.”

Mrs Murphy caught her breath, the tears were welling up inside her, but

she had no time for tears. So she started a rosary, she was still saying

it when she fell asleep.

Martin slept well that night too, he knew the pigtail would

make them sit up, when he was ready he’d call and demand £10000 , then

they could have the little wog back, he was fed up of her crying and

wetting. Once he had his money he’d be off, perhaps he’d go to Bristol.

Mrs Murphy awoke, she was still praying , looking at the

religious picture of Anthony she said “sorry”. She got out of bed and got

dressed , today Fr. Shaw was saying a special Mass, she’d make a bit of

breakfast for them all then they’d go to Mass.

At the church Fr. Shaw quivered with emotion, some thought he

was having another bout of Malaria, but Mrs Murphy knew the real reason.

The four Gavins sat in the bench behind Mrs Murphy and family, they were

taking no chances after the false alarm, as for Mrs Murphy she had Sid’s

gleaming cleaver in her shoping bag.

On the street Patrick had resumed his vigil with Amjit.

“He’s making us sweat because he didn’t get his money last time , but

we’re already this time, Smiling Paul gave me £10,000 in cash , he

pushed it through my letter box with a note , ” Patrick tapped the

envelope on the counter in front of him.

“Do you think he’ll give Jaswinder back to us? ” Amjit’s eyes were

pleading.

“Of course he will, he’s probably fed up by now, all he wants is money

then he’ll disappear,” Patrick told Amjit what he wanted to hear, there

was no point in sending Amjit over the edge.

Every ten minutes Balbinder came out to look at the phone a question on

her lips, “has it rung”: it was getting all too much for Patrick, he

could see his friends cracking up in front of him, if only his mother was

here she’d think of something, if Amjit could hold out till Barry came

then he’d be ok. Patrick felt useless, like a stranger at somebody else’s

funeral, he didn’t know what to do, what to say.

“Come on, we’re going to Mark’s to see how the preparations for Sheila’s

Christening is going, we can sample the Christening cake, perhaps he’ll

let me lick the mixing bowl, ” Patrick didn’t know why he said it , it

just came out.

Amjit and Balbinder just looked at him weakly, they felt as if they were

being tickled while they were weak and ill, they were almost too weak to

answer.

“Yes, go to Mark’s I can answer the phone, go, go, ” chided old Mr

Amjit.

“Are you sure? I don’t know, ” Amjit felt weak, he felt as if he was

deserting his post.

“Do as your old dad says, you must get some fresh air, go to Mark’s I

will fetch you if the phone rings, ” old Mr Amjit almost pushed his son

out of the shop.

So it was that Amjit, Balbinder and Patrick came into Mark’s

just as he was putting down the mixing bowl.

“Don’t wash that, I’m going to lick it, ” shouted Patrick reaching for

it.

Gillian spun around when she heard his voice, then seeing Balbibnder she

rushed to embrace her , Mark poured the teas topping them up with

Calvadose. Old Michael came in for a warming cuppa, he joined the huddle

which tried to warm Amjit and Balbinder. George and Brownie came in a few

minutes after that, Brownie hugged Balbinder for all her worth, then she

sat down next to her holding her hand and whispering words of

encouragement . Then as one they fell silent, a silent vigil , only

broken by Michael spitting in his handkerchief.

Half an hour later the door opened, Henry shut it quickly

behind him, the dark clouds had started to fall as heavy rain.

“It’s terrible weather this, almost as bad as the other day, can I have a

piece of cake with my tea, Mark, ” asked Henry as he stamped his feet

together.

“How’s life treating you then, ” asked Mark as he put the tea and cake

on the counter.

“I’m fine , though this rain and damp d£s get on my chest , ” Henry

cleared his throat before sipping his tea.

“Yes the weather can be bad,” observed Mark looking out the window.

“It’s drivers who are bad, I could have been killed the other day , “

began Henry as he tried the cake.

“How come?”asked Patrick putting down the mixing bowl he’d been licking.

“I was helping out the dustcart crew, we had had this storm like, you’d

think people would drive slowly in a storm but not this guy, God alone

knows how he didn’t hit us,” Henry finished off his cake.

“Where was this?” asked Michael.

“Over by O’Toole Park on the other side of town, ” Henry picked up his

tea to drink it.

Patrick leap forward knocking the mixing bowl off the table, he grabbed

Henry’s arm, “Did you see the car?”

“Of course I did, it was a yellow Datsun GDB 874M, the daft bugger could

have killed us, he was driving like a madman, he was swearing and

everything, his face was red with anger, it matched the colour of his

hair, he had a duffle coat on too, I won’t forget his face, I thought

it’d be the last thing I’d see on this earth, the stupid bastard could

have killed us,” Henry finished off his tea.

Patrick and Amjit raced out of the cafe up the road through all the rain

to Percy’s Undertakers. Andy had been washing the Rolls when the rain

came down so he got inside of it to avoid getting wet, Patrick leapt into

the passenger seat.

“Where’s Percy, where’s your dad?” Patrick’s eyes were bulging.

“He’s gone to pick up a deceased he’ll be back soon,” stammered Andy.

“Shit !” swore Amjit.

“Tell him we’ll be in Mark’s, we’ve got the registration number, it’s a

yellow Datsun GDB 874M, ” Patrick banged the dashboard, their one last

hope and Percy wasn’t there,

Dejectedly Patrick and Amjit started to walk back to Mark’s , out the

corner of his eye Amjit could see Roger sheltering from the rain in Sid’s

doorway.

“He’ll help us !” Amjit ran towards Roger.

Amjit hussled Roger inside Sid’s shop. Patrick at his heels.

“Look Roger, you just have to help us. Can you trace a yellow Datsun

registration GDB 874M, it’s very important, ” panted Amjit.

Roger had back tracked from Amjit’s advances only to find himself walking

into Sid, he was now in a sandwich, Sid on one side, Amjit and Patrick

on the other.

“Yes, of course I can, I can just saunter into the Police station use

the computer just like you use the games the amusement arcade,” answered

Roger bitchily.

“Look we have no time to waste, Sid it’s the car, we can trace the

bastard now,” explained Amjit.

“In that case, ” Sid went into the deep freeze in seconds he returned

with a whole pig, the one with the crushed face, “have I ever shown you

my party trick?”

Sid reach under the counter for the biggest cleaver he had, Roger tried

to run away but Amjit held him fast. Holding the pig aloft Sid raised the

cleaver and in one blow chopped the head off the pig, the head flew off

and slid along the floor till it hit Roger’s feet.

“He wouldn’t ? ” Roger looked at Amjit, then Patrick , then the

menacing Sid.

“Trace that number or you’re next, you have two minutes !” shouted Sid.

Amjit let go of Roger, Roger fled in terror, Sid shook the cleaver and

shouted again ,”two minutes.”

“Thanks Sid, we’ll go and tell everybody, we’ll be in Mark’s,” said

Patrick as he left the butchers.

Amjit nearly had the door off the hinges as he ran into Mark’s.

“Roger’s getting the address now, then we’ll be on our way, ” blurted

out Amjit, he gave Balbinder a hug and whispered in her ear.

“Sid persuaded Roger to help, it’s all over now bar the shouting ,

Jaswinder will be free !” Patrick wanted to leap and shout with joy, but

he waited, he had to wait, just a little longer.

There was a gust of wind the cafe door opened, hairy Amjit howled and

howled again.

“How did you get out? I thought you were in your shed?” Patrick patted

the dog.

The dog went and licked Balbinder’s feet, then he sat down beside her,

he could sense the tension, he rubbed his nose against Balbinder , he

tried to cheer her up. The cafe door opened again, Sid was standing

there a piece of paper in his hand .

“I’ve got it ! We can get Jaswinder now !” Sid was beaming.

Hairy Amjit began to howl, his tail shot up, his ears strained.

“What’s the address, where is my baby, where is Jaswinder?” Balbinder

croaked snatching the piece of paper from Big Sid.

Again hairy Amjit howled, he howled again and again and again.

“Fairview Gardens, flat 5, Bishops Gate,” Balbinder read it aloud.

“I’ve never heard of it,” sighed Patrick in desperation.

“Nor me,” said George.

“Nor me,” echoed Brownie.

“Nor me, what about you?” wondered Mark.

“Not me either, ” answered Gillian nervously toying with her wedding

ring.

Balbinder began to cry, so near yet so far, hairy Amjit began to howl to

yap to bark. Michael came back from the toilet still pulling up his

braces, he reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, then spat into

it.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“We have the address, we know where Jaswinder is, but we don’t know

where the address is,” Patrick banged the counter, it wasn’t fair, it

wasn’t fair.

Hairy Amjit howled, he howled for his friend Jaswinder. Michael took

the piece of paper with the address on, he looked at it, he spat in his

handkerchief again before speaking.

“I know it, it’s on page 35 of the A to Z, by a wood,” Michael put the

paper back on the counter.

Hairy Amjit howled, there was no stopping him now, no amount of threats

from Patrick could stop him. His tail had been down for a week , he’d

been as quiet as a cat for all that time, but now he was a dog again, so

he howled and howled.

“Who’s got an A to Z,” shouted Sid above the hairy Amjit’s howling.

“There’s no time for that, Michael it’s up to you, take us there ! “

Patrick was pushing and shoving Michael out the door.

Amjit kissed Balbinder, old Mr Amjit patted Amjit on the back, then with

a final look back Amjit raced after Patrick. With a leap and a howl hairy

Amjit followed, he was not going to be left behind.

“No, go home !” Patrick swore at his dog.

But the dog would not leave the taxi, Michael settled the arguement by

moving off, to the sounds of howling the taxi went on it’s way. It was up

to Michael now, it was up to Michael, he spat out his taxi window, it

was all or nothing now. Because of him they’d not found Jaswinder before,

he’d lost the Datsun, he’d failed, he hadn’t kept up, he had failed,

he had failed. Now was his chance to stop being a failure, the traffic

lights ahead were changing to red, Michael began to slow, hairy Amjit

howled, Patrick groaned, Amjit died again, Michael had his hand on the

gears ready to change down. But he did not, he changed up, his foot

pressed down, right down to the floor. They shot through the red, as

far as Michael was concerned all the traffic lights would say green , it

was green all the way now, he spat out the window. The lights were with

him all the way now, red, amber, or green, all were green, all were

green, they had to be, for Jaswinder’s sake they were all green now ,

red, amber, or green they were all green now. Michael could feel the

dog’s warm breath on his neck, urging him on, urging him on, as the

lights went red hairy Amjit howled and Michael’s foot went to the floor ,

the lights were green, the lights were green. Hairy Amjit howled, he

howled his greeting, his howl was his calling card , he was coming

acalling on Jaswinder, he was coming for Jaswinder, he was coming for

Jaswinder, again he howled, again he howled, again Michael’s foot went

to the floor, again Michael’s foot went to the floor. And on they drove

through the rain, the rain came down, the rain came down, the clouds

had finally burst, the rain came down, the rain came down. But on they

drove, and on they drove, and on they drove.

Percy returned with a deceased, he splashed through the back

into the courtyard behind, Bill came running out to help him unload the

body. Percy thanked Bill then went into the office, his mind was not on

his duties, all his thoughts were with Jaswinder. One of her pigtails

had been cut off, perhaps she was dead, perhaps the body would be found

and then he’d have to perform the last duties, the duties an undertaker

does for the dead. Percy was standing in front the portrait of his

grandfather, he looked up, the eyes were so alive, old Donald Frost had

been a great man, Percy could remember how he read poetry to him when he

was just a child.

“Dad, dad, they have the car registration, they’re all in Mark’s,”

said Andy as he rushed into the office.

“Good , ” Percy snatched at something from the table in front of his

grandfathers picture as he raced out the office.

Percy ran through the rain down the street towards the cafe , his eyes

were ablaze, his eyes were his grandfather’s. Thunder rumbled in the

distance, the rain came down, the rain came down, but on ran Percy, on

till he reached the cafe. A gust of wind opened the cafe door before him,

the lightning flashed, Percy was framed in the door, he had come, he

had come to do his duty. Brownie looked up in shock to see Percy standing

in the doorway, he had something in his hand too .

“Give me the car registration, then with one phone call I’ll have the

address, I have friends,” Percy moved forward trailing something in his

hand.

“We know where it is, but we don’t know where it is, is, ” explained

Big Sid as he struggled with an A to Z.

“Shit, page 35 is missing,” groaned Mark.

“What’s the address?” commanded Percy.

“Fairview Gardens, flat 5, Bishops Gate,” said Gillian, as she toyed

nervously with her wedding ring.

“I know it ! Sid are you ready?” Percy sounded like a Freemason.

Sid looked Percy in the eye, he was ready, “Yes !”

Without another word the two left the cafe, what would be would be, and

they were ready. From inside the cafe everybody could see Big Sid and

Percy shake hands, then Percy raised the something in his hand , he

raised it high then brought it down fast.

” Andy, we ride ! ” shouted Percy as he cracked the whip, Percy cracked

his grandfather’s whip, the Frost whip.

Together Big Sid and Percy ran to the hearse, in seconds they were away,

Andy followed at their heels driving the Rolls, Bill was at Andy’s side,

Bill had saved Andy’s life now the four were out to save the life of a

child. Sid could see the fire in Percy’s eyes, the same fire that was in

Andy’s eyes, the fire that was in grandfather Donald Frost’s eyes, the

same fire that Percy had when he rode his coach at the Siege Of Old Forge

and Sinding Anvil, the fire which had raised the Frosts from common

gravediggers to respected undertakers. But Big Sid knew if the worse came

to the worse , today they’d be gravediggers , gravediggers for a

kidnapper.

And on hurtled Percy, sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety, one

hundred, one hundred and ten, one hundred and twenty. There were no red

lights for coach drivers, no lights at all, the lightning flashed and

the thunder roared. Sid looked at the whip lying on the dashboard , it

was like a coiled rattle snake ready to strike, sliding one way then

another as Percy drove. Sid could feel the electricity, the tingling up

and down his spine, he could feel the hairs rising on the back of his

hand , the spirit’s were abroad. In the rear view mirror Sid could see

Andy in the Rolls, his eyes ablaze, just like Percy’s his father.

Back at the cafe Mrs Murphy arrived , sheltering under an

umbrella , the four Gavins formed a human umbrella around June and baby

Sheila, Mathew brought up the rear. Everybody looked shocked, why were

they here, and now.

“I want a milk shake, a banana one, and a strawberry one for Jaswinder,

here I’ve got money,” announced Mathew.

“But but,” stammered Mark, leaning on his counter.

“He didn’t sleep at all last night, he said he’d have a milkshake with

Jaswinder, he made us come here after Mass,” began Mrs Murphy.

“We know where Jaswinder is, Patrick and Amjit left minutes ago, Percy

followed with Big Sid,” whispered Gillian.

“Great ! ” smiled Mrs Murphy, but she slid her hand into her pocket, in

seconds the frog began to jump as Mrs Murphy started to say her rosary.

“Can I have my milkshake then, and one for Jaswinder too ? ” asked

Mathew.

Gillian prepared the milkshake, she felt useless all she could do was

make a milkshake, and out there in the storm Jaswinder’s life was on the

line . Fr. Shaw came in, all in black, like a crow ready to pick the

worms from a freshly dug grave, Gillian shivered. Mrs Murphy now stood

next to old Mrs Amjit, they exchanged smiles, both without missing a

beat to their prayers. Gillian wanted to scream.

Keith Butterfield and Mick Bisiker from the Bell and Pump

decided to pull in and have a cuppa, the weather was bad, they’d have a

refreshing cuppa then they’d be on their way. So clutching their guitars

they went inside Mark’s cafe.

“Two teas please, oh do you want one as well? ” Mick turned to ask

Keith.

“Yes , I’ll have one, ” said Keith as he blew his nose .

“Three teas then,” smiled Mick.

“Who’s the other tea for?” asked Mathew as he slurped his milkshake.

“Ever since the accident I always have two teas, but what about you

you’ve got two milkshakes?” Mick pointed.

“I’m expecting a friend,” answered Mathew.

Before Mick could ask any more questions Gillian had ushered Keith and

Mick to a table.

“Ah, this teas good,” said Mick wiping the froth from his moustache.

“How do you want the sound for that new song, A Nation Of Shopkeepers,

that fancy thing you’ve done,” asked the ever practical Keith.

“Well, if you can give me,” began Mick.

Michael could see the sign for Bishops Gate ahead , he slowed

down as he went through his final red light.

“There that’s it up ahead, it’s up to you now lads,” Michael pointed.

“We’ll be back in five minutes,” shouted Patrick.

Howling for all he was worth hairy Amjit dragged Patrick along , Michael

had lent his tie to form a sort of lead for him. When they reached the

right building Patrick slapped Amjit’s snout, they had to be silent now.

Michael could see them race into the building, he felt so useless, just

like an observer, he felt old and useless. If only he could help, if

only he could help. He found himself picking up the radio in his cab,

“Hello, this is Michael, I’m at Fairview Gardens, Bishops Gate, I’m

calling a 29288,” Michael spat, then switched off his radio.

A 29288 meant driver in trouble needs assistance, he knew he shouldn’t

have done it, he’d let the cat out the bag, but he had to, he had to.

“Hello, this is control, say again please”

The manager’s ears were pricked, he leant over the radio girl taking the

microphone from her, ” Hello this is control, is that you Michael, say

again Michael, ” but there was no reply, Michael had switched his

radio off.

The manager ran to the rest room,” move it, Michael’s called a 29288,

he’s at Fairview Gardens, Bishops Gate.”

The seven drivers all jumped up and dashed out, they were doing sixty

when they got to the speed bumps at the end of the road : the manager

dashed back to the radio room, he was sweating, what was the matter with

Michael , ” Hello, this is Big Dick here, listen the lot of you ,

Michael has called a 29288, he’s at Fairview Gardens, Bishops Gate, so

move it !”

Big Dick sat down and wiped his forehead, if anything had happened to

Michael they’d be Hell to pay, and it’d be all his fault, he lit a

cigarette.

The seven soon became twenty seven as the radio alert was heard, Michael

was a legend in the taxi world, other taxi firms joined in too, they’d

accidently heard the message, they’d help too. On they raced through the

mud and rain, while back at the office Big Dick tried frantically to

raise Michael on the radio.

Gillian was feeling helpless too, what if the kidnapper got

away, she saw three taxis race past outside their lights blazing. The

CB crackled behind her, it was one of the drivers making an order ,

telling her to put the kettle on he’d soon be “home”.

“Allo C’est Henri, J’arrive.”

Gillian looked at Balbinder the tears in check, Mrs Murphy and old Mrs

Amjit were like flying buttresses supporting her, and what was she doing,

making teas, teas and sympathy, that was not enough. Gillian’s womb

boiled, it grew hot, till it couldn’t be contained no more, it flowed

over. Only a woman can really know the pain, the hurt of children, a

woman , a mother shares her children’s pain, would there ever be joy

again. The damn burst, Gillian’s womb exploded in watched pain, she had

to do something . Snatching at the radio, her womb burst over the

airwaves.

“Help stop thief, a yellow Datsun,” she screamed in French, in Spanish

and Italian .

Mark looked on in horror, but Gillian had a knife in her hand, her womb

was speaking, her womb was crying, her womb was full of hope as she

asked for help. She told her drivers to block the roads around Bishops

Gate, a thief had stolen her wedding ring. Mark took the receiver away

from her , Gillian let the knife fall to the ground , he knew he

understood, it was all or nothing now. And old Mrs Amjit and Mrs Murphy

prayed on.

Patrick followed Amjit up the stairs, up and around, up and

around , up and around. Till they came to flat five, for a second

Patrick did not know what to do, Amjit gave him an answer as he kicked

the door off the hinges. Sue screamed in shock, Martin looked startled

as hairy Amjit began to howl, Martin grabbed Jaswinder by her remaining

pigtail and dragged her into the bedroom slamming and locking the door

after him.

“I’ll kill her, I’ll kill her I have a knife,” screaming Martin.

“Don’t hurt her I’ll pay,” begged Amjit.

“Daddy !” screamed Jaswinder.

“Let’s rush him , ” urged Patrick ready to kick the next door down

himself.

“I’ll kill her I have a knife, I’ll kill her I have a knife,” screamed

Martin like a cornered rat, Jaswinder screamed in terror.

Amjit knew a cornered man was at his most dangerous, so he held Patrick

back.

“I’ll pay, I’ll pay just give me back my daughter,” pleaded Amjit.

There was silence from inside, then Martin spoke, ” let me think just

give me time to think.”

“Ok, ok you have all the time in the world, just don’t hurt my daughter,

I’ll give you whatever you ask,” begged Amjit his breathing heavy.

“Ok, ok just give me time to think,” yelled Martin, holding Jaswinder

by the throat, his knife at the ready.

The lorry drivers heard the call, and they answered as they

descended on Bishops Gate, the air waves echoed to their shouts , each

would take a separate road, once there they would block it. The taxis

were flying too, from all parts of Old Forge And Singing Anvil and beyond

they came. Old Michael was in trouble, the last from him was the sound

of him spitting, and then his radio went dead. Passengers demanded where

they were going, only to be told they were going the quick way, and shut

up this ride was free, as the taxis hit ninety.

There was still silence from Martin, Amjit was getting worried

what was happening to his daughter?

“Jaswinder !” he yelled, there was no sound from behind the door.

Patrick put his ear to the door , then he looked through the keyhole but

the key was in the lock so he couldn’t see much.

“Jaswinder !” screamed Amjit his fears overcoming him.

Patrick kicked down the door, his dog leapt forward howling for his

friend. The window was open, they dashed to look out of it, all they

could see was Martin hobbling away dragging Jaswinder after him . He’d

climbed down the fire escape, falling the last few feet.

“Come on the stairs is quicker, go on boy find Jaswinder,” urged Patrick

as the three of them ran out the room .

Sue was left on the floor clutching her stomach, all the excitement had

induced labour, her baby was ready to be born. Down the stairs they ran

down and around, down and around, down and around, hairy Amjit howling

all the way. Michael could see them dash out the house and around the

back towards the woods.

Percy slowed, over the next hill and they were there , he

could see Michael’s taxi ahead, he slammed on the brakes, his whip slid

off the dashboard and fell onto Big Sid lap. Sliding to a halt Percy

grabbed his whip from Sid then ran over to Michael, as for Sid he brought

out his favourite cleaver, he joined Percy by Michael’s taxi.

“They’ve gone into the woods, but what if he doubles back and looks for

his car?” wondered Michael.

“Leave it to me, ” Sid said as he dashed off in search of a yellow Datsun .

Andy and Bill arrived, they chased after Percy into the woods. Sid soon

found the Datsun, with a scream Sid slashed all the tires , then he

thought what if he still tries to drive away. So bending down Big Sid

reached under the car, then with a mighty heave he turned it over ,

Martin couldn’t drive it now could he. Sid lumbered off into the woods,

the Datsun was left like an upended turtle.

In the woods the chase was on, no more sitting by a phone

waiting for it to ring, no more dying deaths. Hairy Amjit howled ,

Martin was his prey, but then a crack and a flash of grey. A squirrel

dashed out in front, hairy Amjit ran after it, squirrels were fun,

great fun to chase.

“You stupid bastard dog, my mom was right you’re only good for eating ,

you stupid bastard dog,” cursed Patrick.

“Look there’s something ahead !” Amjit pointed.

They raced into the gloom ahead, “Daddy !”, screamed Jaswinder.

They couldn’t tell where the sound came from, there was a crack of a

branch ahead, they spurted forward.

“Oh Shit !, it’s only you Sid,” cursed Patrick.

“Daddy !” echoed through the trees.

They dashed towards the sound, Sid had his cleaver at the ready, he chop

his head off if Jaswinder was hurt, that was for sure.

Percy did not run, he stalked his prey, he walked slowly and

listened, his whip at the ready. He took another step ahead, his foot

stood on something , he bent down to pick it up . It was one of

Jaswinder’s bangles, Percy put it in his pocket, he was on the right

track. Up ahead was a clearing, a Midsummer’s Night’s Dream had once been

played there years before, but this was more like a nightmare.

Martin dragged Jaswinder after him, slapping her to make her

quiet, he put his hand over her mouth to quieten her, perhaps he should

kill her, that’d put them of his trail. No she wriggled too much, he’d

just get rid of the wog bitch, he’d tie her to a tree in the clearing

ahead, they’d soon find her.

“There he is, in the clearing !” screamed Andy.

“Yes it’s him,” echoed Bill.

From another direction came Patrick and Amjit, they had him surrounded,

Sid came lumbering up from the rear. Jaswinder could see her father.

“Daddy, daddy !” she screamed.

Martin spun around dropping his scarf, the one he was going to tie her up

with.

“I’ve got a knife I’ll kill her !” he yelled more in fear of his own life

that a threat on Jaswinder’s.

He fumbled in his pocket for the knife, he held it on her cheek right

next to the eye. It was stalemate, Martin was surrounded by Patrick and

Amjit on the left with Andy and Bill on the right. And the rain came down,

and the rain came down, more help was on its way, the sound of taxis

their horns sounding could be heard. The cavalry was on its way, but it

was no use, Martin had a knife against her cheek, one slip and her eye

would be out. Sid came lumbering and screaming out the forest , his

cleaver held high.

“NO ! SID NO !” screamed Patrick jumping in the way then grappling with

Sid.

Sid wanted to kill Martin then and there, for a full minute Patrick

struggled to bring Sid’s arm down, finally reason saw the day .

“Tell him to drop it or I’ll kill her, I will !” screamed Martin now in

mortal fear of his life.

Reluctantly, very reluctantly Sid dropped his cleaver.

“Bastard !Hiding behind a child !” Sid screamed as Patrick held him fast.

“Look give me back my child, you can have your money, ” Amjit reached

into his pocket and threw a wad of notes at Martin.

Martin’s eyes lit up, as the notes fell at his feet, he was rich, he

was rich. He loosened his grip on Jaswinder. It was then that the rattle

snake struck, Percy lashed out with his whip, sending Martin’s knife

flying. At the same moment hairy Amjit leapt teeth first, with a howl

and a leap, but especially his teeth he leapt. Martin’s right hand felt

as it it was on fire from where Percy’s whip had hit him, so he raised

his left to protect himself from hairy Amjit. But it was no use , Amjit

had his revenge for the time at the children’s fair , Amjit had his

revenge on Martin. He tore into Martin, biting to the bone , letting

loose he howled his victory before biting again.

“Help, help, he’s killing me ! ” screamed Martin as he fought for his

life.

“Daddy, daddy, I missed you,” Jaswinder hugged her father for all she

was worth.

And on howled hairy Amjit, as he bit and snapped at Martin, his duffle

coat was now in shreds .

“Daddy I’m afraid, make him stop,” Jaswinder covered her eyes from the

blood-letting.

Amjit hugged his daughter, he soothed her, she was safe, she was safe,

thats was all that mattered. Hairy Amjit howled again, he howled in

triumphant, his little friend was safe, his little friend was safe, and

biting baddies was much more fun than chasing squirels.

“Stop it, call him off,” Amjit shouted to make his voice heard.

“He deserves it !” snapped Patrick.

“Stop call the dog off, he’ll never do it again, call the dog off, “

again Amjit shouted above Martin’s screams and the howling dog.

Percy raised his whip and cracked it above hairy Amjit’s head , “Sit ,

come here boy, sit” Percy sounded like a lion tamer, and he needed too

this lion had gone wild.

“Sit boy down, come to uncle Sid, ” urged Big Sid seeing that hairy

Amjit was reluctant.

Taking a final nip at Martin, hairy Amjit went and sat down at Sid’s feet

, then began to lick the handle of his meat cleaver.

“You are banished from Old Forge and Singing Anvil, leave, ” commanded

Percy pointing with his whip. He cracked it above Martin’s head to speed

him on his way. “If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you

I’ll kill you,” Percy cracked his whip again and again and again.

“And I’ll bury you !” boomed Sid, the thunder to Percy’s lightning.

“Quick, lets get out of here, before the police come !” urged Patrick.

So they ran from the woods, Amjit carrying the prize, the game

was won, they had the prize, they had the little Indian Princess, Amjit

had his daughter Jaswinder, safe and sound. As they emerged from the

woods taxis slid and slithered to a halt all around them , the cavalry

were there, but thank God they weren’t needed.

“Are you all right Michael, are you alright Michael?” asked Johnny the

first to arrive.

Michael looked over Jonny’s shoulder, he could see Jaswinder, she was

alive, she was alive. Michael felt quite faint, he reached for his asthma

inhaler and took some.

“I just came over funny but I’m fine now, I’ll be ok, see my friends,

my family are coming, see they are coming, ” Michael pointed to Amjit

and Jaswinder, to Patrick and Big Sid, to Andy and Bill and to Percy

with his whip held high.

Johnny looked around, they were all smiling they were all laughing ,

Michael began to cry, it was too much for him. He’d driven the race of

his life, he’d been in time, he’d beaten time itself, Jaswinder was

alive, Jaswinder was safe, he’d won the race. Patrick came and shook

hands with Michael.

“You did it Michael, you did it Michael, everything’s ok, everything’s

just fine,” Patrick squeezed the life from Michael’s hand.

“Are you ok? ” asked Johnny on behalf of the mast ranks of the taxi

drivers.

“Yes I’m fine now, Patrick here will drive my taxi, I’ll get a lift from

Percy here,” Michael pointed to Percy.

“Yes, jump in the Rolls Andy will drive you back home, come on quick now

or we’ll all catch a cold in this rain,” smiled Percy.

So after telling all the drivers in turn that he was fine now , Michael

got in the Rolls and sat next to Amjit and Jaswinder, to ride home in

style. Percy and Sid shook hands, “You’d make a great butcher,” said

Sid. “And you’d make a great undertaker, ” said Percy. Then holding

back their heads they laughed, they laughed till they cried, real men

crying like children, because a child was safe, a child was alive.

The taxis raced away, like a fanfare of fireworks, their irate

passengers nagging them from behind, but as the drivers said, it would

be quicker this way, the scenic route, and so it was, going ninety nine

and on the pavement at times. Andy drove with his foot to the floor ,

this time his father followed him, he had to get Jaswinder home to her

mother, to end a mother’s tears. He not gone far when he braked suddenly

a lorry was blocking the road, the driver looked angry, Andy was sure

he had a shotgun in his hands.

“He HAS got a gun,” Andy slowed and stopped.

Patrick pulled up behind, the taxi screeched to a halt , hairy Amjit

howling in his ear. Percy put his head out the window to see what was up

“It’s Jacques, he one of Mark’s continentals, ” Percy leapt out the

hearse to remonstrate.

“I stop here, Gillian say somebody has stolen her jewels, he has a

yellow Datsun, I stop here,” explained Jacques.

“But WE have the jewels, ” Percy pulled Jaswinder’s bangle from his

pocket, he’d explian things later, for now this would do.

“I don’t understand she said it was a ring, ” Jacques took his beret off

and put it back on again.

“Give me your radio,” Percy climbed into the cab, it was as high as the

old coaches his grandfather used to drive, Percy could feel his throat go

tight and dry as he pressed the transmit button, he took a deep breath.

“This is Percy here, ” he stopped again to catch his breath, he wiped a

tear away then he spoke, then he spoke, ” Percy here, we have the

Jewels , we have the jewels, repeat we have the jewels, we have the

little Indian Princess, Jaswinder is free, Jaswinder is safe ! We are

coming home !” Percy dropped the radio.

Jacques looked up at him, his finger on the trigger.

“We’ve just saved Jaswinders life,” whispered Percy.

Jacques fired his gun into the air, both barrels.

“Come on Jcaques, move your lorry, let’s get home,” Percy leapt from the

cab, a final flash of lightning capturing him as he leapt.

As for Martin, he hobbled back to the flat and started throwing

some clothes into a bag, he was off, he was emigrating. He ignored

Sue’s pleas for a doctor, it was her fault that she was pregnant , it

probably wasn’t his anyway, so thank you and goodnight. A neighbour had

heard all the noise and breaking doors, so had called the police , the

police took a while in coming what with all the false alarms caused by the

bad weather. As Sgt. Mulholland raced up the stairs to flat five, Martin

was saying thank you and goodnight.

“Hey hang on a sec, do you live here?” said the sergeant.

“Who me no,” answered Martin as he ducked past the sergeant and out into

the landing.

“Hey come back, why are you all covered in blood? ” the sergeant ran

after the suspect.

Sue screamed out in pain, her baby was going to be born any second now.

“Hey come back?” yelled the sergeant.

Martin carried on running, at that moment somebody opened their door to

see what was going on.

“Stop him,” yelled the sergeant.

The neighbour put out a hand, Martin swerved to avoid being caught, but

he tripped on his tattered duffle coat. Tripped and fell, tripped and

fell was what the autopsy would say. Sgt. Mulholland could see Martin fall

down and around, down and around, down and around, he knew his neck was

broken , there was no point in checking for a pulse. Sue screamed up

above, duty called, the dead would have to look after themselves, he

had to help deliver a baby, a new life, a fresh start, Martin was dead,

it was all over for him.

“Percy here, we have the jewels,” the rest of his message was

drown out by the cheers. Mrs Murphy and old Mrs Amjit were no longer the

supporting flying buttresses, no, the buttresses flew into the air with

joy.

“She’s safe, she’s safe !” screamed Mrs Murphy, here Kerry Head accent

shouting the sea down.

Mick Bisiker nearly fainted with the shock, Keith the soundman looked

around, what was the demented woman going on about.

“Will you give us a tune lads, seeing as you have your guitars with you I

mean it’s not much to ask, see I’ll give you a sweet , ” Mrs Murphy

reached into her shopping bag and put the borrowed meat cleaver on the

table so she could find her boiled sweets.

“Yes give us a tune,” said the Gavin twins as one.

“Can I have another milkshake now that Jaswinder is coming home, ” asked

Mathew.

“You can have a million,” smiled Gillian.

After taking all of two seconds to decide that “no” was not a good answer

to give a little old Irish lady with a meat cleaver and four very large

sons, Mick and Keith, half of the Stones as they were know on the Folk

scene took out their guitars and played.

“Two teas for you, and one for the sexy soundman,” said Gillian.

“And here’s the sugar, ” added Mark as he put a full bottle of calvedos

on the table.

“I suppose I could sing you the new song, I was saving it for the Bell

and Pump, but somehow I thing Ian Campbell and Aiden Forde will have to

cover, ” mumbled Mick into his moustache, well at least the sugar was

good.

Over the horizon, eighteen wheelers were joining the procession,

they hooted their horns, their headlamps lit up the twilight. The circus

was coming to town, the circus was coming top town, and tonight for one

night only the undertaker would be the clown, he had his whip ready, his

hand was steady , the circus was coming to town. And so it was ,

Jaswinder was safe so tonight, they’d all party.

The Rolls pulled up quietly at Mark’s door , Balbinder was

standing in the doorway waiting for the waiting to end. The door opened

and Jaswinder skipped out, hairy Amjit howled, Balbinder kissed her

daughter, the party could begin.

“Well I suppose it’d be alright to eat the food you prepared for little

Sheila’s christening, ” sighed Mrs Murphy before throwing another sweet

at Mick Bisiker.

“We’ve started doing that already to be honest,” laughed Gillian.

“I blame Patrick, he makes a baby before he makes somebody his wife, now

he has a Christening reception before a Christening, he’s cat all togther

that’s all I can say, ” continued Mrs Murphy before throwing a sweet at

Keith the sound man.

The party went with a swing , Wayne rolled out a barrel

literally, the lorry drivers brought out weird and wonderful instruments

and began playing. One came from Provinance, where all the folk songs

come from so naturally he got on really well with Mick and Keith . One

very tired lorry driver arrived late but he was made welcome, he sat down

next to Barry and Mrs Murphy.

“You look tired , have you been on the road long?” asked Mrs Murphy as

she handed Barry a sweet.

“Yes , I’ve been on the road a very long time, nine days in fact , “

replied the little Indian with the shining smile.

“And where do you come from?” asked Mrs Murphy .

“Calcutta.”

The End

Well that’s it, the 1st chapter of the follow up novel is written and plotted by

about 50percent. Tears for a Butcher will continue the story, it’s on funny or

die, 10,000 views already for ½ of chapter 1 , the rest I still have to write.

So buy some books on Amazon Kindle, just look for Michael Casey and my face.

https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com/

http://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk/

Thank you all, and yes a lot of the stories are true, I just nudged them

indian-princess-copy Download

The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker by Michael Casey

**** hurry up and discover me, before the undertaker does….

Michael Casey Birmingham England

Saturday, 12 August 2023

Celebrate India 15 August 2023

Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England read in 162 countries so far

Celebrate India 15 August 2023

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