Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England read in 162 countries so far
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.com. https://profile.typepad.com/michaelgcasey
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
an
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
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker by Michael Casey
**** hurry up and discover me, before the undertaker does….
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