Joined at the Hip

by Natasha West

‘Evening’ the young policeman said. ‘Not planning to park here, are you?’

  ‘Err, well-’

  ‘We’ve very strict laws about that in this town. Lotta people passing through, miss their ferry and try and sleep in their cars, that type of thing. You’re not planning anything like that, I take it?’ he said with a passive aggressive smile.

  ‘No, officer. Course not’ Max replied, nervously. The policeman had a look he didn’t like. He seemed just the type to make a big deal out of small potatoes. ‘We’ll be off then, alright?’

  ‘Okey dokey. Mind how you go, then.’

  Max started the car and drove away from the policeman. Jamie let out a relieved moan from the back of the car.

  ‘What was his problem?’

  ‘Small town policeman with no actual crimes to solve?’ Molly offered.

  Jamie thought that had the ring of truth.

  ‘Well, that doesn’t leave us much choice, if that pocket dictator’s gonna be trying to sniff out the car all night. We have to go into town and find somewhere. And then we’ll figure out how to pay for it.’

  Max turned into a road that was signposted ‘Crankport’, not liking the sound of that. He hoped his sister wasn’t going to get them all in trouble again.

  The SUV sat outside a rundown pub at the edge of the small town of Crankport. It looked a little shady but after asking around, it was the only place left to try. Apparently, they weren’t the only ones that had missed that last ferry. Every hotel was booked up.

  So now they were sat outside the Gorgon’s Nest Hotel and Public House.

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ Molly asked of the car. ‘Are you gonna do some kind of grift to get us rooms?’

  Jamie turned to Molly with a burst of laughter as she repeated ‘Grift?!’

  Molly was immediately defensive. ‘I don’t know what word you use, do I? Con? Scam? Sting? Swindle?’

  Max turned to Jamie. ‘What’s she talking about?’

  ‘I think she thinks this is Ocean’s Eleven’ Jamie explained.

  ‘I wish. I’ve always wanted to go to Vegas’ Max sighed.

  Molly was getting very fed up. She didn’t like being laughed at.

  ‘Look! I’m just trying to figure out how we pay for the room. And if we don’t actually have any money-’

  ‘Let me stop you there’ Jamie said, putting her hands up for silence. ‘Me and Max? I don’t think we’re quite what you imagine us to be. We do the odd job with our Dad but it’s usually nicking tellies from a parked lorry or a load of iPads from a warehouse. And then he shifts the items using his contacts. Usually, we just steal a van for him to use and then we’re basically removals. But that’s it. We’re not high stakes criminals, robbing banks and smooth talking our way into vaults full of priceless jewels. We just nick stuff.’

  ‘And we’re not even that good at it’ Max added. ‘That’s how we ended up at your shop. I wasn’t lying when I said we’d never done anything like that before. We’d buggered up a job earlier that night. We needed some quick cash so our Dad wouldn’t kick our arses out of the house. Which he’s probably going to do the very next time we see him, while we’re on the subject’ he finished with a look to Jamie.

  Jamie gave him a quick shrug. It wasn’t the time to get into that.

  Molly had kind of known that they were only petty criminals. In fact, she’d known it the second she’d laid eyes on them as the Pig and the Clown. They didn’t look scary or dangerous. Take the gun out of the equation and they couldn’t have spooked a highly strung Yorkshire Terrier. But she’d thought that they might have a few extra strings to their felonious bows.

  But no. No Ocean’s Eleven. From the sound of it, they were more like the burglars from Home Alone. But with less nous.

  ‘Right. So what exactly is the plan then?’

  ‘The usual’ Jamie said. ‘Improvise.’

  The four walked into the Gorgon’s Nest and no record scratched to a halt. The regulars didn’t turn to look around and stare. No one said the words ‘We don’t like strangers in here.’ But somehow, the atmosphere said it anyway.

  There was a subtlety to it. It was in the sly glances of the inhabitants of the pub, who consisted of about twenty people, mostly middle aged men. They knew that there were outsiders among them and they felt vaguely uncomfortable about it. They weren’t about to chase them out with pitchforks. But there were some definite side-eyes being flung to the strangers.

  But then again, in all fairness, they were a fairly odd landing party. Four utterly incongruent people had just walked in, looking like they’d been herded in together by accident. Jamie stuck out the most. It was that unapologetic sexuality that she exuded. You couldn’t miss it. And then Molly, with her contemptuous glances around the bar. Her face simply screamed ‘I suspect you all of interspecies relations.’ Even Max felt the vibe was off. It was all the big guys with their country muscles, eyeballing him. He was a little spooked. And Henry? He looked downright terrified, as any sixteen-year-old does when they walk into a pub. He wasn’t supposed to be in there and he knew it. But he kept telling himself ‘I’m not trying to order lager. I only want a room.’

  ‘Barkeep’ Max said loudly at the bar, trying to appear more confident than he felt. ‘We’re after beds for the night.’

  The woman at the bar eyed Max with dead eyes and said ‘We’ve got one double and one single. It’s sixty quid a room.’

  ‘Great. No manger for us then’ Max replied and then laughed at his own joke. No one joined him. His laughter died in his throat.

  Jamie decided it was time to get down to business.

  ‘Can I be straight with you? We’re stranded and we’re also broke. I mean, we have money. We just don’t happen to have it on us at the present time. We got robbed at the port by these… guys. So if you’d do us a favour-’

  She stopped mid-sentence as the woman turned a sign that sat on the bar. It read ‘Please do not ask for credit as refusal often offends.’

  Jamie sighed and turned to Max. They began to whisper conspiratorially to each other, trying to come up with a solution. The words ‘Wash pots’ and ‘Shag the owner’ were heard but neither seemed happy with those solutions so they kept whispering.

  Meanwhile, Molly wasn’t paying any attention to Max and Jamie’s machinating. She was looking through the bar, into a room adjoining it. Three men were playing cards in a small ramshackle room, probably a private party. Molly thought it had the makings of a solution.

  v‘Oi’ she said to the other three and then dragged them into a corner, away from prying ears. ‘Does anyone here know how to play poker?’

  Everyone mumbled that yes, they sort of knew, they’d played a bit, they’d been taught a little by so and so. Which was a shame. Molly had been hoping that one of them would confess to being some kind of secret poker expert. But as usual, she was shit out of luck. That mean it was time for plan B.

  ‘OK’ she said. ‘You know how you said earlier that you didn’t do con jobs? Fancy giving it a go? I’ve had an idea and I think it will work.’

  Jamie’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘Wait, what?! Have you had a bang on the head?’

  Molly had been a little surprised to hear the words come out of her own mouth. But yesterday’s Molly, the bored till girl, something had happened to her in the midst of all this. It had begun with the curse. Something like that is enough to make you consider the axis your world spins on. She felt untethered from the person she’d been. She’d basically flown today. She felt capable of anything.

  ‘Are you up for it or not?’ she asked the group. ‘Because I need a yes from everyone.’

  Henry, of course, was the first to agree.

  ‘Yeah, alright. But, err, what are we actually doing?’

  Molly ignored the question. The idea was currently only half formed and she had to know if Jamie and Max would go along with it before she could pin down the specifics.

  The Jenson’s glanced at each other and Max s
hrugged. Jamie sighed. Whatever Molly was planning; she couldn’t be arsed arguing. And she still felt there was a debt owed to Molly. If Jamie went along with whatever crazy idea Molly had, perhaps it was a chance to chip off some of what was owing.

  ‘Go on, then’ she said with an eye roll. ‘But if we all go to prison, don’t blame me. Not this time, anyway.’

  Fourteen

  Roy Russell, Crankport’s postmaster, was taking his friends to the cleaners in the back room of the Gorgon’s nest.

  ‘Ha! Full house’ he cried out, never a gracious winner. Everyone around the table grumbled as he raked his chips into an ever growing pile with pudgy hands. Bloody Roy. How did he always manage to win? And even with the most mediocre of hands?

  ‘I think I’m gonna call it a night, Roy’ Greg Pollard said. He was broke. Plus, he’d had enough of looking at Roy’s smug smile every time he took their money, with its huge teeth like old worn out crockery.

  ‘Aww, come on Greg! We’re just getting started’ Roy protested.

  ‘No, mate. Had enough. I’ve got to go home and explain to the missus why I’ve lost half my pay cheque.’

  Roy sighed and wondered if he should stake Greg. But only so he could take it back in a few minutes. He didn’t mind making his friend feel bad. On the contrary, if Greg was stupid enough to think he could ever beat Roy, he had it coming to him. And when you lived in the country, you took your entertainment where you could find it.

  ‘Come on, Greg. Stay for another hand? I’ll spot you a tenner to get you started.’

  Greg considered. What if he made all his money back? He could go home a hero rather than a loser.

  But before he could make what anyone could have told him was a bad decision, the three other men at the table who’d been glancing at each other, thinking that perhaps Greg had the right idea, began to stand, putting their coats on.

  ‘Where you lot going?’ Roy cried.

  But everyone was already settling up cash. Sorry, mate. Best call it a night. Gotta be up in the morning, came the selection of excuses as the men shuffled out.

  Roy was annoyed. He’d just been getting warmed up before his so called mates had all bottled it.

  ‘Fine!’ he called after them. ‘Bloody chickens!’

  But they’d already gone. He was talking to himself.

  He began to clear the card table, putting the chips away in their box, when the door of the small room flew open and a teenage boy fell into the space. He was wearing a school uniform, but not a local one. He looked up at Roy.

  ‘Sorry, mister!’ he cried out to Roy, mortified. ‘I tripped!’

  Roy was wondering whether or not to clip him round the ear for bursting in on him when a young blonde woman came in after him. Roy’s eyes nearly fell out of his head at the sight of her.

  ‘Harry, for god’s sake! Be more careful’ she said to the boy.

  Roy immediately ran to help the kid up.

  ‘He’s alright. Just a bit clumsy, aren’t you? It’s that teenage thing. Their balance hasn’t caught up with the rate their bodies are growing at’ he explained. He had no idea if that was true but the woman smiled at him, obviously charmed.

  ‘That’s nice of you to say.’

  ‘So, is he your…’ Roy asked, hoping the woman would fill in the blank.

  ‘My son, yes.’

  ‘Son?’ Roy asked, surprised. She looked no more than twenty-five and the kid was definitely in his mid-teens.

  ‘Yes, people are always surprised. Maybe it’s Maybelline?’ she said with a laugh.

  Roy laughed along, adding ‘Time’s definitely been kind.’

  The woman blushed a bit and then seemed to realise where she was. ‘We’re so sorry to intrude. We’re staying at the pub for the night, just passing through, visiting some family.’

  ‘No trouble at all. So, I suppose you’d better be getting back to your husband?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘It’s just me and Harry’ she said with a glance to her son. The boy was dutifully waiting for his Mother to finish up the conversation. But if he believed they were getting away any time soon, he was in for a shock, thought Roy.

  And maybe he wasn’t exactly single himself but when a woman like that practically fell into your lap, it would have been insulting to the universe not to take advantage of the situation. It was clearly his prize for being amazing at poker, he thought as he subtly slipped his wedding ring off and dropped it into his pocket. He couldn’t have been more pleased that his friends had buggered off now. When one door closes…

  ‘I’m Jenny’ by the way, the woman said, holding out a delicate hand. Roy grabbed it in his meaty paw. ‘Roy. Roy Russell. I’m the postmaster here in Crankport’ he said. In a place as small as this, the title had a certain amount of cache. He just hoped Jenny thought so too.

  ‘Important job’ Jenny said. ‘The town must rely on you quite a bit.’

  ‘I’m not exactly the mayor’ Roy said, faux modestly. ‘But I keep things ticking over.’

  ‘Is that a poker set?’ asked the teenage boy (Roy had forgotten his name already), fiddling with the chips. Roy felt a stab of annoyance. The kid could seriously cramp his style if he didn’t find a way to get rid of him.

  ‘Yep’ Roy replied. ‘I’m kind of an expert’ he added for Jenny’s benefit.

  ‘Could you teach me?’ the boy asked.

  Roy was in no mood to teach some spotty little sod how to play poker. But as he glanced at Jenny, he wondered if perhaps it might be a good way to keep this thing going. At least until he was sure that Jenny was in the bag. Then he could give the kid a fiver for the fruit machine while he romanced his Mother.

  ‘Of course! Why don’t we all play a few hands?’ he asked, knowing that if Jenny replied in the affirmative, then it was very likely that he had this thing licked.

  ‘That sounds fun!’ Jenny replied.

  Roy sat down at the table and began to divvy up chips, trying not to look too pleased with himself.

  ‘We’ll play for ten pence a hand’ Roy said as he dealt the cards. No one could get upset about losing ten pence to him. And maybe he’d even let the kid win? That would impress his Mum, no doubt.

  Just as everyone was set up and ready to go, the door opened again and a young couple walked in, bold as you please. The guy was blonde, a bit dopey looking. The girl was a brunette, utilitarian specs and a ponytail. The guy said ‘Is this a private game or can anyone play?’

  What the bloody hell was going on tonight, Roy wondered. He had a deal with the manager of the Gorgon. He got the little empty room for Friday nights and in exchange, he would keep the guy in free postage, within reason. And it was supposed to be off limits to the plebs. But people were coming and going like it was St Pancras station.

  ‘Actually…’ Roy began. But then the guy pulled out a bundle of twenties and said ‘I’ve got money to play if you could find us a space.’

  ‘Felix’ his girlfriend pleaded. ‘Please, let’s just go. You’ve been clean for two months.’

  Felix turned to his girlfriend and said ‘Come on, Babe. Just a couple of hands? It won’t be like last time, I swear.’

  Roy made a quick decision. He’d been planning to tell these two where to go. But maybe this was an extra cherry on the cake? What if he could take this idiot’s wad while impressing Jenny at the same time?

  ‘Please, take a seat’ Roy said to the couple. ‘The more the merrier’ he said, glancing at Jenny for her approval. She smiled and nodded.

  Felix looked delighted and slid into a seat opposite Roy. His girlfriend reluctantly sat down next to him. Roy supposed she was pretty enough but he’d take Jenny any day of the week over this other girl. She looked like a bit of a brainbox and she was clearly trying to get her boyfriend’s nuts in a vice, albeit unsuccessfully. Roy didn’t like woman with too much to say for themselves.

  ‘I’m Felix, this is Polly’ Felix said.

  ‘Roy’ he replied and nodded at Jenny. ‘This is Jenny. And, er
m…’

  ‘Harry’ the boy supplied. Roy was relieved. That could have been a bit of a potential cock-blocker, forgetting Jenny’s kid’s name. Harry, Harry, Harry he chanted to himself internally. Like the wizard, he added as a memory aid.

  ‘So?’ he said. ‘I’ll deal. Maybe we could up the stakes a bit though. Twenty quid a hand?’

  ‘Ooh, I don’t know’ Jenny said, biting her lip anxiously. ‘That might be a bit rich for my blood. Me and Harry are just learning, after all. We’ll be broke in ten minutes!’

  Roy hadn’t thought about that. And then it hit him.