The Criminal Escapades of Geoffrey Larkin

by R. W. Hughes

  Geoff was also on pins. It would be just like Sid Locket to ignore his instructions out of sheer bloody mindedness and follow him to the gates with the loaded van.

  ‘Good afternoon, sir,’ he said. The man did not return the greeting; he just waited until he was several feet from him before he answered.

  ‘Have you got a key for this gate? Where the devil is Parker?’ he snapped in a curt and irritable manner.

  ‘Mr. Parker has gone for lunch, sir,’ said Geoff in a respectful tone. ‘In the interest of security only he has the key to the gates.’

  ‘Damn and blast! Doesn’t that secretary of his have a key?’ he shouted in exasperation.

  ‘Miss. Alice is also away for lunch, sir, and I don’t think she has a key anyway.’

  ‘When will Parker be back?’ came the sharp retort as the man stepped out of his car and shook each trouser leg in turn to settle the pinstriped trousers that matched his tailored jacket.

  One day, thought Geoff, I’m going to be able to afford a suit and a car like him but I won’t bollock people the way he’s talking to me. As he watched the man continuing to parade to and fro in front of the gates.

  ‘He’s just coming down the road now, sir,’ said Geoff as Bob Parker could be seen shuffling down the road as fast as his little, fat legs would carry him, well in front of the other group of workers who were sauntering slowly behind.

  ‘Hello, Mr. Jerald,’ gasped a breathless Bob Parker. ‘Miss. Alice did not inform me you were coming, sir.’ Thinking at the same time that he’d have something to say to that dizzy girl when he got her alone.

  The storage and distribution business was owned by two brothers. Jerald and Barry Jackson and to avoid any confusion they were referred to as Mr. Barry and Mr. Jerald.

  ‘Your secretary didn’t know I was coming, Parker. We are here to do a stock take, now open these gates so we can get to work.’

  With that dismissive remark he turned on his heels and joined his three companions in the car while a flustered Bob Parker undid the locked gate, pulling open one side while Geoff pulled open the other, allowing the car and its four occupants to enter the compound and drive around to the office entrance and out of sight of the gate.

  ‘That van’s still here, Mr. Parker. I’ve loaded it up from the delivery sheets and the invoices, they are all in order – would you like to check them sir?’ He knew that all the lorries and vans should be loaded and on their way by twelve o’clock at the latest. Bob Parker would be severely reprimanded if the van was seen by Jerald Jackson, who seemed to be in an exceptionally foul mood, especially as the loading had been left until after their lunch break. Bob Parker was also concerned that Mr. Jerald, who was teetotal, would certainly be able to smell the beer on his breath.

  ‘Get the van on its way as quick as you can and bring the papers up to the office Larkin,’ said Bob Parker as he passed Geoff following in the direction that the car had taken. ‘You men shape yourselves,’ he shouted to the rest of the workmen who were standing talking in a group near the gates.

  Geoff walked as fast as possible, forcing down the desire to run towards the loading bay, and trying not to seem in a great hurry,

  ‘Okay, Locket you can buzz off now.’ Sid Locket gave Geoff a two fingered V sign and slowly drove the van around the side of the building towards the open gates, loudly crunching the gears as he changed from first to second, causing Geoff to wince at the noise.

  One of the warehousemen held up the traffic on the road, allowing the van to swing out of the gates without stopping. As the van disappeared down the road Geoff made his way back up to the office. He was just in time to hear the last of what had obviously been a long and loud lecture on efficiency and worker control aimed at Bob Parker by his employer Mr. Jerald. He waited until Mr. Jerald left the office. When he entered he could see Bob Parker’s complexion, it was white and he was visibly shaking.

  The warehouse manager had been given a serious ultimatum, improve the running of the depot or someone would be found who could. Now’s the time, thought Geoff.

  ‘Will you sign these dockets Mr. Parker or should I leave them on Miss. Alice’s desk?’ he asked, moving as if to place the papers on the missing secretary’s desk.

  ‘No, give them here,’ said Parker. He did not want papers lying about which showed any evidence of delays in loading the vans. He was in enough deep shit as it was. He quickly signed both papers and placed them with the other forms in the out-tray.

  ‘Parker!’ It was a shout from Mr. Jerald from the adjoining office. Bob Parker jumped like a startled rabbit at the call, and then he hastened back into the main office.

  Now that he was alone Geoff took the top two forms off the pile on the in-tray and placed them in the centre of the sheaf of papers. He had just moved towards the office door when Miss. Alice entered carrying several large fancy carrier bags.

  ‘Mr. Jerald is here,’ said Geoff as the secretary placed the bags under the coat hanger.

  ‘Yes I can see that,’ she replied, sounding very flustered, taking off her coat and hanging it on the hook.

  ‘You had better go down and help the men in the warehouse load the pallets for Monday while I sort out this paperwork. What a time to come and do stocktaking just before Christmas, as if we aren’t busy enough.’

  Geoff had a smile on his face as he made his way down the stairs leaving Miss. Alice busying herself with the cabinets full of folders and files, which the stocktaking clerks would need to inspect.

  He could see below him the three dark-suited gentlemen with electronic notebooks in their hands moving along the racks of boxes and cartons, followed by Mr. Jerald who in turn was being closely followed by a very nervous looking Bob Parker.

  When the cat’s away the mice don’t play, they turn into rats, he thought, smiling again at his modification of one of the old tramp’s proverbs.

  *

  It was several days later, the Christmas rush had eased and all orders had been fulfilled, when Geoff was called to Bob Parker’s office. ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, Larkin,’ he said, looking up from his desk as Geoff entered.

  ‘I won’t be able to keep you on for your six month trial period, in the interests of efficiency and to reduce the number of breakages; Mr. Jerald has instructed me to reduce the staff. You were the last to come so as you can understand, it’s only right that you are the first to go. You will get your wages for this week plus those for next week. I’m afraid there’s no bonus this year but Miss. Alice will give you a good reference.’

  Then, as an after-thought, he added, ‘You worked quite hard, sorry I can’t keep you on lad!’ Geoff did not reply. He left the manager’s office, collected his wages and reference letter from Miss. Alice in Wonderland from the adjoining office. It was obvious to him that he was being used as a scapegoat for Parker’s inefficiency and the increase in supposed damages and breakages.

  Parker was in a predicament; he could not sack any of his cronies even though they were lazy and inefficient, in case they in turn grassed on him. He wished they all worked as hard and were as conscientious as this lad Larkin, a lot of his problems would be solved by now if they did.

  As he walked down the road from the warehouse complex Geoff was smiling to himself. Bonus! What bonus. He’d already made his own bonus. Another one of Sir Reginald’s sayings came to mind. ‘He who laughs last, laughs the longest’. He started to giggle then burst into a loud uncontrollable bout of laughter surprising a passer-by who looked at him in a strange way as they passed.

  Chapter Ten

  It was between Christmas and New Year, there had been no more interviews arranged because of the holiday period. Geoff had spent a lot of time on his own as Sooty was working a lot of overtime – long hours didn’t seem to bother him. He simply came home and ate the meal Geoff had prepared, the conversation centred on what or where he had worked that day, he then set up his fold-away bed and went to sleep until his work the following morning.

&n
bsp; It was one of these mornings after Sooty had gone to his work, when a complete stranger came up to Geoff as he was alone having his breakfast in the transport café near his lodgings. Sitting down at his table, the stranger looked at him then casually looked around the near empty room.

  Turning back to Geoff, he placed a folded newspaper next to his plate of buttered toast and mug of tea. Then, without a word, the stranger smiled and left, leaving Geoff with a piece of toast suspended between his plate and his open mouth.

  He watched the man leave the café. Then looked down at the newspaper, he could see a thick, white envelope between the fold of the pages.

  Casually, he looked around at the couple of other tables that were occupied; no one was taking any notice of him, they were too busy eating their meals. Turning so that he had his back to the wall, he lifted the paper in front of him, shielding the envelope from the rest of the room while he looked at its contents; his heart skipped a beat, the envelope was full of £20 notes. Counting them, still using the paper as a shield, he cursed under his breath.

  ‘The bastards!’ He counted them again, 200. ‘The fucking bastards!’ he said loudly, attracting the attention and disapproving looks from a couple of old age pensioners from the next table.

  His newfound partners in crime had only paid him £4000 for his efforts.

  Even though the goods he had parted with were not his in the first place, Geoff felt that he had been robbed. It was a painful financial lesson to have learned. It was obvious to him that there wasn’t any loyalty amongst thieves.

  If you were in this business you had to look after number one first and foremost. He also realised it would be a pointless venture to try and trace and confront the associates of Jock, the wheeler-dealer shop keeper, he would just have to take the hit, grin and bear it.

  All he had done was simply pass the information on to the big boys for a cash backhander. In this case two sayings of the old tramp seemed most appropriate; ‘Discretion is the better part of valour’, and ‘Every cloud has a silver lining’.

  As he slowly calmed down and, as he was forever an optimist, he began to look on the bright side, had never seen so much cash before, and now it was in his possession. It gave him a fantastic elated feeling, he felt on top of the world.

  He had made arrangements to meet the other three on New Year’s Eve. He had decided to take them for a few drinks ending up at the local nightclub, for which he had already bought the four tickets. He was not a regular drinker as he found that even a little alcohol gave him a severe headache. But now he had the cash, he had every intention of giving the only friends he had in his life a treat, all at his expense.

  The public house he had decided to take his mates to ‘The Swan’, the pub near the warehouse complex where, up to a short while ago, he used to work; he had overheard the workmen when he worked at the warehouse discussing the entertainment laid on for that night in the pub.

  The party had already started and was in full swing as the four boys entered the main bar. All the locals were in fancy dress which created a great atmosphere.

  He was pleased that his mates were enjoying the outing; he could see it on their faces. Going to the crowded bar he waited his turn and ordered the drinks. ‘Two pints of lager one pint of bitter and a lager shandy please mate.’

  The landlord looked at Geoff who was standing between a man in a clown’s outfit and a chap with a beard dressed as a nurse. He glanced passed him at the other three lads sitting around the table thinking, Ho, what the hell, it is New Year, then started to pull the pints.

  Geoff was aware of what was going through the landlord’s mind. He thought it ironic that because of his size he was thought to be underage yet he was the oldest one in his group.

  There seemed to be no limit to the amount of beer that the big lad, Sooty, could consume. He was on his third pint and they were still sipping their first, he was concerned he was not going to last the night. If Sooty did collapse, even with the combined efforts of all three of them, they would find it difficult to move him. During the evening Sooty started to talk, more than he had ever talked before, mainly about his childhood, and once he started there was no stopping him.

  He had been brought up on a farm in the north of England and he remembered all the animals and poultry. The cows, he said, all had names taken from the flowers that grew in the meadow just below the farmhouse, like Daisy, Primrose, Bluebell and Dandelion. His mother had died when he was young. His father had struggled on as best he could, running the small hill farm while trying at the same time to look after his eight-year-old son and two-year-old daughter, but with little success. Eventually, as the farm began to fail, he succumbed to heavy bouts of drinking.

  On one occasion he said, ‘My dad was in a drunken sleep and I couldn’t wake him so I walked to the nearby town to collect my sister from the nursery. It was dark when I arrived and starting to rain when I eventually left. I remember being told off by the attendant because I was so late. They were waiting to lock the nursery and everyone else had gone home. As I pushed the pram through the small town the rain turned to wet snow. My sister was okay in her pram with the plastic front that protected her from the driving sleet, but I was taking the full force of the storm. Very quickly there was a build-up of melting snow an inch thick on the front of my oversized, second-hand overcoat. I was forced to bend my head as the sleet was driving into my eyes and stinging my forehead.

  ‘As if the weather was not a bad enough obstacle, the slush it created on the pavement was making it difficult to push the pram. One of the wheels had lost its split cotter pin and every hundred yards or so it kept slipping off its stub of an axle. It was a struggle every time to replace it, holding up the pram with one hand and trying to fit the wheel back on the axle with the other. Eventually, hours later, when I arrived home, my fingers were so cold and numb I couldn’t undo my boot laces or unbutton my coat. I just sat in the kitchen until my father was eventually awakened by the crying of my younger sister. He put me to bed with several hot water bottles but I remember it took me days to get warm again.

  ‘After this incident the farm went rapidly downhill. My dad had no money to buy food for the animals, and his drinking became heavier and heavier. After many missed payments of the monthly rent and numerous reminders, which my dad foolishly ignored, he was eventually issued with a court order; we were evicted by two burly bailiffs.

  ‘All our possessions were sold to pay towards my father’s debts. He took us and left us to live with my grandmother in her terraced cottage. I was ten years old at the time and I’ve never seen my father since. My grandmother was very old even then. I used to sit opposite her and watch as she made rugs with cut up pieces of coloured cloth which she pushed through a piece of sacking with one half of a sharpened, pointed, wooden clothes peg. She used to sell them to a local craft shop or give them to her friends as presents. She did all this while sitting in front of her coal fire, I remember her watching the television, and she always wore her best coat and Sunday hat. She thought if she could see them, they must be able to see her. She showed me how to make ‘tata hash’, as she called it. I’ll make it for you one day,’ he said enthusiastically.

  The other three lads didn’t know what ‘tata hash’ was, they just listened in awe at Sooty, not because of what he was saying but for the fact that for one usually so quiet he had been talking so much, and for so long.

  While everybody around them was having a great time, there conversation was becoming very morbid, Geoff deftly turned the conversation to the Bolton brothers and how lucky they had been in obtaining employment, even though initially it had been on just a six month trial they were both now in full-time employment.

  The eldest brother, John Bolton, was now working permanently at the back street garage, even going to night classes where he was studying to qualify as a mechanic. His younger brother, Derek, had also been given a permanent position in the shop selling and repairing computers, he was more fortunate; his employe
r allowed him a day release each week to study at the local technical college which he said he really enjoyed.

  Sooty had also been taken on the payroll permanently by the electric utilities company. Geoff was the only one of the group ‘in between jobs’ or, as he preferred to say, he was ‘in between positions’.

  The group were reluctant to leave The Swan public house as the party was in full swing but they still had tickets for the nightclub, and when Geoff put it to the vote they all decided it would be a shame to waste them.

  They were all in a jovial mood as they walked down the main street along with other groups of merry-makers all heading towards the only nightclub in the area.

  ‘You won’t get in there. We’ll be hanging about for ages,’ gasped Derek as they observed the long queue of people hoping to pay at the entrance.

  ‘Well just watch this,’ said Geoff confidentially, producing four tickets and leading the group to the front.

  On presenting the four tickets they were allowed to enter by the attendants on the door. Passing the long queue, and several disgruntled shouts of, ‘Hi! You lucky bunch; want to sell your tickets?’

  ‘You’re really doing us proud tonight, Geoff,’ said John Bolton as Geoff produced another £10 note to give to the female cloakroom attendant who took their coats.

  The lads had never been in a nightclub before; it took them several minutes for their eyes to adjust to the dim lights after the bright lights of the cloak room section.

  They stayed in a huddled group at the corner of the bar, which stretched the full length of the room until a nearby table became vacant which Geoff managed to claim, shouting, ‘Step on it mates or we’ll lose this table.’ From there they settled down to watch as the constantly changing coloured spot lights moved around the dance floor, picking out the scantily-dressed girls on a small area in the centre of the room.

  The nightclub was getting more and more crowded, forcing the dancers into a smaller and smaller area until it simply disappeared altogether amongst the mass of New Year revellers.