by Timlin, Mark
Mark almost literally felt his jaw drop. ‘Never. What him, a copper?’
‘Yeah. Amazing isn’t it? Thought I wouldn’t know him, little bastard. But I’ve been keeping up with his career. He’s just moved over from north London to get a promotion. Living down Croydon way with his sister and her sprogs.’
‘What?’ said Mark, the colour leaving his face. ‘What did you say?’
‘Thought you’d be interested,’ said Jenner. ‘You fancied her once, didn’t you?’
Fancied her, thought Mark. Jesus, that was putting it mildly.
It was a chance remark Mark overheard between John Jenner and Chas that had started it all off in the first place. One night, thirteen years earlier, the three of them were driving God knows where, and ‘I see she’s got married again,’ was all that Jenner said.
‘Who?’ asked Chas.
‘Marge Hunter.’
‘No.’
‘It’s the truth. Bloke named Pierce, works for the bloody Gas Board of all things.’
‘I didn’t know her and Jimmy were divorced.’
‘Yeah. Been seeing the bloke awhile. Gave the bold Jimmy the big E a bit back.’
‘How do you know?’ asked Mark from the back of the car.
‘Blimey,’ said John Jenner. ‘I almost forgot you were there, you’re so quiet.’
‘So how do you know?’ Mark pressed.
‘I like to keep tabs on people,’ said Jenner. ‘Know your enemy.’
‘Is she your enemy then?’
‘No. But her ex is. And yours.’
During the drive and subsequently, Mark kept on at his uncle for details until eventually Jenner gave in. ‘I know a private detective,’ he said one sunny May afternoon. ‘I keep him sweet with a few quid and he noses around for me. Nothing formal. Nothing in writing.’
‘So tell me,’ said Mark.
Jenner told him about Marge and the two children, almost grown then, called Sean and Linda, about Tom Pierce and the divorce, the subsequent remarriage and where the new family were living in East Croydon. ‘One day,’ he said, ‘you’ll have your revenge on that little mob.’
‘Yes,’ replied Mark. ‘I will.’
Mark pondered on the information for a few days, and decided to do a bit of snooping of his own. By then he was nineteen and very much part of the Jenner organisation. He had money in his pocket and drove a new BMW.
The following Monday morning he got up early, dressed casually in a sweatshirt, jeans and loafers, took his car keys and headed south.
With the help of his A-Z he found the address that his Uncle John had mentioned and by eight o’clock he was parked up just down the wide suburban street, under a horse chestnut tree.
The morning exodus from the street was well under way and after just a few minutes an ordinary looking bloke in an ordinary looking suit carrying a briefcase – Mark assumed he was Tom Pierce – left the house, got into a Ford Sierra and drove off. Next, a young, good looking boy a few years younger than Mark came out of the front door, pulled a bike from the side passage, got on, and pedalled off. That must be Sean, thought Mark.
A few minutes later, two girls of about sixteen, dressed in school uniform, came chattering down the street, went up the front path and knocked on the door. It opened a moment later and Mark’s life changed for ever. In the doorway he saw the most beautiful girl he’d ever clapped eyes on, dressed in the same school uniform with a school bag over her shoulder. She was taller than her friends and, even from a distance, Mark could tell she was the gang’s leader.
She shouted something back through the open door, closed it behind her and the trio headed out into the street, Mark’s way.
He sank down in his seat and watched them over the top of the dashboard. Linda Hunter, or Pierce as she now was, filled his eyes, making the others all but invisible. As she got closer he drank in her every detail. All thoughts of revenge were forgotten and the only thing he could think of was how he could get to talk to her.
The three girls passed the parked BMW without giving it a second glance, turned the corner at the top of the street and vanished. Mark just sat where he was for ten minutes before switching on the engine and returning home.
It didn’t take much research to discover which school the girls’ uniform belonged to, and a couple of days later Mark headed back to Croydon. He left his car in the Pontins garage underneath the Whitgift centre in the middle of town and took a wander. The school, a massive mixed comprehensive, was close to East Croydon railway station and next to a park. Just before lunchtime, Mark was sitting on a bench with a good view of the school’s main gates, as an ice cream van with its tones blasting out Popeye The Sailor Man arrived. At nineteen, Mark was an extremely handsome young man and he knew it. His dark hair was long over his ears, his skin was smooth and unblemished and that morning he hid his blue eyes behind dark glasses.
He was casually dressed again. A white T-shirt, leather jacket, skinny, faded Levis and black loafers.
He heard the sound of a school bell and the doors of the main building burst open and hundreds of youngsters aged between eleven and seventeen headed for their hour of freedom.
Suddenly Mark realised that maybe it wouldn’t be as easy to spot Linda Pierce as he’d first imagined. Maybe she’d stay in for lunch. Maybe she was studying during her free time, or maybe she wasn’t even at school that day.
Some of the kids headed for the centre of town, some hung around the playground and others came into the park where they grabbed what seating was there or else sat on the grass under the warm sun.
One kid, a boy of about thirteen, joined Mark on his bench. Mark lit a cigarette and the boy said: ‘Got a spare fag, mate?’
Mark looked at him coolly through the dark lenses of his glasses. ‘You’re too young to smoke,’ he said.
‘Bollocks. I’ve been at it since I was ten.’
‘I bet you have,’ said Mark taking a cigarette from his packet and giving it to the boy. He offered him a light and the boy inhaled with obvious pleasure.
‘Cheers,’ he said.
‘Don’t let a teacher see you.’
‘Fuck ’em.’
‘Big school,’ said Mark.
‘Bleedin’ dump.’
‘Aren’t they all?’
‘Dunno. Ain’t been to them all.’
Mark smiled at his cheek. ‘Mine was.’
‘Where was that?’
‘Brixton.’
The boy nodded and smoked on.
‘Know someone called Linda Pierce?’ asked Mark casually after a minute.
The boy thought carefully. ‘How old?’
‘Sixteen.’
‘She new?’
‘Might be.’
‘Good looking tart. Yeah, I know her. She’s over there.’ He indicated with his head to a crowd of girls just coming down the main drive, and Mark’s heart raced as he saw her, a head and shoulder above the rest.
‘Yeah, that’s her,’ he said.
‘Your bird?’ asked the boy.
‘No,’ said Mark.
‘Fancy her, do ya?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Bit tasty.’
Mark agreed with a nod.
‘You chatted her up?’
‘Not yet,’ said Mark as he got to his feet and walked towards the girls. ‘See ya,’ he said over his shoulder, and the boy nodded in reply.
The girls had entered the park and found a shady spot under a huge oak tree where they sat in a circle and produced sandwiches, snacks and drinks from various bags that they dropped in the centre of their camp. Mark watched for a moment and went closer, the sun at his back so that his shadow preceded him. One of the girls, a plump blonde, noticed his approach and nudged the one next to her.
Some boys of his age would have been intimidated by the young women, but Mark knew his worth. And he was no timid virgin. There were plenty of women camp-followers around the Jenner mob, and more than one of them had been happy to initiate a hand
some young man into the ways of love.
Still keeping the sun behind him, Mark stopped by the group and, speaking only to Linda, he said, ‘Hello.’
The blonde and one of her mates started giggling hysterically but Mark ignored them. ‘Hello,’ he said again.
Linda Pierce blushed as she realised he was speaking to her. ‘Hello,’ she said back. The blonde could hardly contain herself, rolling on the grass and showing off her knickers.
‘Do you fancy an ice cream?’ asked Mark.
The blonde almost burst at that.
‘Oh do shut up, Bren,’ said Linda. ‘You’ll wet yourself. And pull your skirt down. I can see everything you’ve got.’
This only made the girl laugh harder and Mark had to smile too. ‘Well, do you?’ he asked, hunkered down on his haunches, took off his shades and gave Linda the full effect of his eyes.
She thought for a second and twitched her nose. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘If only to get away from her,’ indicating the blonde.
‘She’s enjoying life,’ said Mark, standing up and extending his hand.
‘Too much,’ said Linda and allowed him to pull her to her feet. At the touch of their skin, he felt an electric shock and knew she felt the same.
‘My name’s Mark,’ he said.
‘Linda,’ she said, disengaging her fingers.
‘Hello, Linda.’
‘Hello, Mark.’
And as they walked in the direction of the ice cream van, he heard the blonde say through waves of laughter. ‘Blimey, Linda’s got a boyfriend. That’s a first.’
‘I can only be a minute,’ said Linda. ‘I’ve got some homework to catch up on.’
‘That’s OK,’ replied Mark. ‘I’ll just get you a small cone.’
Linda just looked at him as if he was mad.
‘If that’s all right.’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Good.’
‘Tell me something.’
‘What?’
‘Why did you come over just now?’
‘To talk to you, of course.’
‘You’ve got a nerve,’ she said as they stood in the queue, all the other kids’ eyes upon them.
‘I wanted to speak to you,’ said Mark. ‘Before you went.’
‘Those girls will be taking the mick forever now,’ said Linda.
‘Your mates,’ he said.
‘Bunch of loonies more like.’
They got to the top of the queue and Mark ordered a pair of cones and gave one to Linda and they walked to a quiet corner of the park. ‘I don’t usually do this,’ the young woman said.
‘What?’
‘Let blokes pull me.’
‘Have I pulled you then?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘So, will you come out with me?’
‘I don’t think so. My mum and dad are pretty strict.’
‘Just for a walk or something. No big deal. Nothing heavy. I understand about the school work. I wouldn’t want to mess up your education.’
‘You talk like a teacher.’
‘Do I?’
‘How old are you, Mark?’
‘Nineteen.’
‘My mum would go spare.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re too old for me.’
‘How old are you then?’ Although Mark knew.
‘Fifteen.’
‘And never been kissed.’
She coloured again. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’
‘You got a bloke?’
She shook her head.
‘Good.’
‘Don’t go getting any ideas just because I let you buy me this.’ She held up her ice cream. ‘It was just to get away from Brenda. I thought she was going to die laughing.’
‘Me too. Is she your best friend?’
‘One of them. I just moved to school here last term.’
‘You live local?’ It was half question, half statement.
‘Yes. You?’
‘Streatham.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Just on a wander. Sat down and saw you.’
‘Don’t.’
‘Don’t what?’
‘You know.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s not right. Listen, I’ve got to go.’
Mark saw that the other four girls had stood up, collected their things and were looking in his and Linda’s direction. ‘Can I have your phone number?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘How about lunch tomorrow? We could get a burger.’
‘No.’
‘Please.’
‘No.’
‘What if I won’t take no for an answer?’
‘You’ll have to.’
‘Will I?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m very persistent.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘I’m not. And I’ll be here waiting for you, come rain or shine,’ he said as she walked away. ‘Count on it.’
He waited to see if she turned, but she didn’t. She joined her friends and they descended on her like a flock of bright birds. He imagined what they were saying and asking, but she never looked at him as they went back through the school gates and got lost in the crowd of school uniforms.
He was there the next day at the same time, but she didn’t show up. He sat in the sunshine and knew he was being watched, but by whom he wasn’t sure.
He came the following day and the day after, but there was still no sign of Linda Pierce.
The next day, Friday, May 14th. He’d never forget that day. It was raining buckets, but still he sat on the same bench at the same time.
The park was empty. No kids, no ice cream man. Just Mark Farrow sitting with the collar of his jacket turned up against the wet when a lone figure in a blue mac came out of the school, down the drive, over the road and across the grass towards him. She was carrying an umbrella and as she got closer he realised it was the laughing blonde. She stopped in front of him, a big grin on her face. ‘She said that you were persistent,’ she said.
‘I am,’ he agreed.
‘She was worried you’d catch a cold. She sent you this.’ In her hand was a scrap of paper. The blonde gave it to Mark and he opened it. ‘Tomorrow, twelve, the Wimpy in the Whitgift,’ it read, and was signed ‘Linda’.
‘Why didn’t she come herself?’ asked Mark, suspecting a gag.
‘She’s a bit shy,’ said the blonde. ‘But she’ll be there. She likes you. She’s seen you waiting every day.’
‘Thanks,’ said Mark. ‘Brenda, isn’t it?’
She blushed at the question. ‘Yeah,’ she said and turned to go. But stopped and looked back. ‘Gosh,’ she said, a faraway look in her eyes. ‘I wish a bloke would wait for me like you are for Linda.’
‘One will,’ said Mark.
‘You reckon?’
‘Anyone who can laugh like you do will never be lonely,’ he said.
‘Cor, but Linda’s lucky,’ said Brenda, and she walked back to school.
Mark held the note for a moment before putting it in his pocket and heading back towards his car.
THIRTEEN
The following day, Mark was in Croydon an hour early for his meeting with Linda. He parked his car in the shopping centre garage again and joined the crowds looking for bargains in the Whitgift. He saw the Wimpy bar on the mezzanine and spent the next fifty minutes in a couple of book and record shops. He didn’t buy anything. He was too preoccupied with the thought of meeting Linda Pierce. John and Chas had asked where he was going and where he’d been every lunchtime that week, but he just smiled and kept schtum. ‘Cherchez la femme,’ John had said, and Mark hadn’t disagreed.
‘Got a bird?’ asked Chas, never one to beat about the bush.
‘Leave him,’ said Hazel, ruffling his hair. ‘You’re only young once. Let him have his fun.’
‘But no bun in the oven,’ said Jenner.
‘I said leave him,’ said Hazel, a
nd even tough John Jenner knew it was best to do what she said.
At quarter to twelve, Mark entered the steamy café that smelled of meat grilling, bought a coffee and sat at a table by the window. But he couldn’t drink it. He just stirred the dun-coloured liquid, a hollow spot growing in his stomach as he convinced himself she wouldn’t show, and had just sent the note to get rid of him. The place was just starting to fill with the lunchtime crowd and Mark watched the pedestrians walking by outside. Then he saw her and he had to take a sudden breath. She was wearing jeans and a sweater and carrying a small leather handbag, and he thought he’d never seen anyone look more wonderful in his whole life. She walked past the window where he was sitting and through the door, stopped and looked around. He couldn’t help smiling as he raised his hand to attract her attention, and she smiled back when she saw him and walked over. He knew then that it was love and that he’d never forget the moment if he lived forever.
‘Hello,’ he said and stood up.
‘Hello,’ she said back, and they just stood looking at each other until Mark said, ‘What do you want? To drink I mean.’ Suddenly he wasn’t so self assured as he normally was around women.
‘A milkshake, please,’ she said. ‘Chocolate.’
She sat, and he went to the counter and ordered the shake and when he took it back it wasn’t the only thing shaking.
He put her drink on the table and sat opposite. ‘I wondered if you’d come,’ he said to break the silence.
‘I wouldn’t have sent the note if I wasn’t.’
‘I thought maybe your friends were having a laugh. You know, sending me on a wild goose chase.’
‘They wouldn’t dare. Anyway, they’ve been talking about nothing else all week.’
Mark looked out of the window. ‘Do you think they might come and see?’ he asked.
‘I told them not to. But that Brenda…’
‘She seems all right.’
‘She fancies you.’
‘What about you?’
Linda blushed. ‘I don’t know. But when I saw you sitting there all alone in the rain…’
‘I told you I’d be there, come rain or shine.’
‘I know.’
‘Ray Charles,’ said Mark.
‘Who?’
He smiled again. ‘Brother Ray.’
She shook her head in a bewildered fashion.
‘You don’t know who Ray Charles is?’ he asked.
