A Right Old Fiasco in Borrington

by M W Foolster

  He knows that the alley leads down to a path that, in turn, should allow him to reach the graveyard without having to go anywhere near the high street. Jogging along slowly, he glances back over his shoulder, consequentially, he doesn't see the pair of legs jutting out and promptly goes sprawling. The legs belong to old Ron, not that he'd noticed Jason flying across his feet, hadn't even flinched and is still snoring loudly, an empty whisky bottle at his side. He does, however, have a filthy overcoat across his lap. But even the sound of a distant siren isn't incentive enough to put it on, the combination of smells emulating from the black, woollen coat creating a lethal cocktail that has Jason gagging. He throws it back over Ron, and continues down the alleyway towards the path. That is until the sound of a police radio up ahead has him scurrying back down. With the high street at the other end definitely not an option, he's no choice other than to try and hide, but where? Windows all barred, no doors, several large bins but all overflowing with refuse. Sod it, no choice.

  Struggling not to vomit, Jason snuggles up next to Ron, several black bin bags and the heavy coat now covering his bare legs, and an empty wine bottle in his hand. Eyes closed tight, and the sounds of footsteps getting closer, Jason starts mimicking Ron’s snoring. The footsteps pause directly in front of him. Jason can hear the conversation on the radio clearly, and that proves to be motivation enough to get him snoring even louder.

  ‘Any sign of him, Mike?’

  ‘No, it’s all clear. Just a couple of dossers down here sleeping it off.’

  ‘Think they might have seen anything?’

  ‘Unlikely, Sarge, they are out for the count. And it stinks something awful down here. We got a description to go by?’

  “A dark red apron and a pimply backside is all the bar customers could remember.’

  ‘What about CCTV?’

  Jason’s bladder is starting to feel very full.

  ‘Checked that already, Mike, but it wasn’t switched on’

  Jason thinks that he is probably the first person to ever to give a snore of relief.

  ‘Not much help then. Want me check the path down towards the church?

  ‘No, leave it. No point in wandering around any longer. Chances are he is long since gone. Meet me back in the bar, we’ll get statements from the staff and head back to the station.’

  ‘Will do, Sarge.’

  Jason continues to snore loudly for another five minutes, too petrified to open his eyes, convinced that the officer is still lurking in the alleyway. Finally risks opening one eye, and finds himself looking at a one-toothed grin. A somewhat confused, if smiling Ron, laying on his side gawking at him. Grunts disapprovingly at seeing Jason get to his feet still holding the empty wine bottle, and the earlier smile is replaced by a concerned expression on noticing that Jason is wearing nothing but an apron, shoes and socks. But Ron's eyes soon light up when Jason waves a £5 note under his nose.

  A quick peak around the corner of the alleyway to check that the coast is clear. A woman walking an Alsatian, but heading in the opposite direction, otherwise, nobody in sight. The weathered wooden fencing either side should provide some cover, not that he's got a choice, there isn't an alternative route back to the library. He sets off, and is soon sprinting noisily down the gravelled path towards the church. Thinking ahead, he decides to sneak through church, into the cemetery and scale the wall leading to the library delivery yard. In through the wrought iron gate leading to the church, stops to unsnag the apron which is caught on some overgrown and very prickly brambles. Finally free, he turns sharply and is about to break into a trot, when he suddenly collides heavily with what feels like a brick wall, but is in fact, a very tall blonde woman. Having literally bounced off her, he leans against the wrought iron gate gulping down air, and looks up. He’s seen her before, power walking along Borrington High Street, always wearing the same matching black lycra shorts and figure hugging crop-top, her pony tail swinging wildly behind her. Jason very self-conscious as she looks at him in complete shock. Right, no time to dither, he needs to hurry, he takes a deep breath and attempts to pass her. Him blushing profusely as they somewhat awkwardly try to sidestep each other, but end up going in the same direction. She stares down directly into his eyes, and that’s when a sense of panic starts to creep in. He feels like a rabbit frozen to the spot, caught in the glare of a car’s headlamps. Towering above him, she starts to laugh. Jason feels his face flushing even hotter. He desperately wants to say something, anything, but his mind goes blank, no words come out. He just stands there staring up at her, a panic stricken grimace on his face. His only thought being: ‘It’s bloody Hercules in lycra!’

  She breaks the silence, speaking in what he takes to be an Eastern European accent.

  “Hey, I know you, the sweet mother fucker from the libraries right? You Englist ist a strange peoples. If you want dirty dance with me sometime, not here maybe but just ask me on date and we meet yes sweet cheeks. But maybes wear panties next time. No?”

  She bursts into a fit of deep laughter, grabs his arms and virtually lifts him off the ground as she manoeuvres herself around him. And then slaps his left buttock so hard with her huge hand that he nearly loses his balance. "Yous cheeky boy."

  He finally finds his voice, stammering,

  “Yes, sorry, I… I... I...” but before he can finish his sentence, she’s strutting away from him. Arms swinging, biceps bulging, her immense shoulders glistening with sweat, legs unnaturally parted as she walks because of the shear muscle mass. He thinks that she must be at least six and a half foot tall, and her arms are bigger than his legs. Still too shocked to move, he stands staring at her. She then further adds to his embarrassment by glancing back at him, giving him a very flirtatious smile, perhaps snarl would be more apt, and makes a strange gesture with her hand which seems to imply that he is a tosser. She blows him a kiss before picking up the pace.

  22 Jordan’s Justice

  A stern looking DI Jordan leans out of the car window.

  “Yah know whit tae dae?”

  Now wearing a blue raincoat over his suit, DS Fuller raises the collar before pulling a pair of sunglasses out of the pocket.

  “Sure do, Gov. Mustn’t let him out of my sight. Oh, and I need to be discreet at all times. Anything else?”

  “Aye. Keep me informed by mobile.”

  “No problem, Gov, you can trust me. Not like I haven’t gone undercover before.”

  "Hmm."

  After a cautious if pointless glimpse along the high street, the DS creeps into the Comfort Zone. DI Jordan shakes his head in frustration on seeing him trip over the front step, and reaches into his jacket for a cigarette. A male voice bellowing, "And don't come back you fucking lowlifes," draws the DI's attention. It's coming from across the road. A fair haired woman dressed in jeans and a flimsy white top, with two sobbing toddlers clinging to her legs, is stood outside a dirty glass fronted door next to a Drycleaners, several suitcases laying at her feet. The woman is crying, and pleading with a middle-aged man in a crumpled grey suit.

  "Please, Mr Arazi, I swear we will have the money by the end of the week. Please... I am begging you... We've got nowhere to go."

  "Is not my problem. Now fuck off before I get the police on to you."

  Cigarette slid back into the pack, the DI swings the car door open and heaves himself upright. Raises a hand towards an oncoming car. The driver brakes hard and looks to be on the verge of yelling abuse, but seems to abruptly change his mind at seeing the giant of a man pounding across the road in front of him. The DI pauses to let a double-decker bus pass by, niggled to find that Mr Arazi has now disappeared from sight.

  "Are yah okay, madam?"

  The woman raises her head, tears rolling down her cheeks, and shakes her head.

  Showing her his warrant card, he asks.

  "Yah wanae tell me whit happened?"

  Pulling the two toddlers close, she sniffs and fights back the tears.

  "I was two weeks behind on my rent
but it wasn't my fault. The council care home I work at, the North Borrington Home for the Elderly, was outsourced and the new employer switched us to zero-hour contracts." She looks down at one of the toddlers, running her hand down her long auburn hair ."My little girl wasn't well and I couldn't go into work for a few days. They didn't pay me and have now told me they'll let me know if, and when, they need me again." Her voice starts to crack. "I... I just don't know what to do." Her hand goes to her face as she starts crying again.

  The DI drops to his knees in front of the toddlers, and having fished around in pocket, his hand emerges with a pair of green lollipops. The two girls break into huge smiles and, having received a nod from their mum, gratefully accept the lollipops. He rubs the head of one of the girls, feeling a lump forming in his throat as she grins at him before kissing him on the cheek. Grabs hold of the lamp post beside him and pulls himself back up, just as the frosted glass door swings open.

  "WANT A WORD WI' YAH."

  But the door is immediately slammed shut in his face, the DI opening the letter box and bellowing into it,

  "I'LL BE BACK TAE DEAL WI' YAH LATER."

  Turns to find the woman reaching for the battered suitcases.

  "Sae whit will yah dae now? Yah got family yah can go tae? The bairns' dad?"

  Shaking her head,

  "No, my mum lives in Derby. And their dad disappeared when he found out I was pregnant."

  "But canae yah go tae yur ma's anyway?"

  Her face etched with worry.

  "No, we are not that close. Besides, my girls go to a local nursery school. Will have to find a Bed and Breakfast for the night, just don't know how I will p..." And she breaks down again. A quick glance across the road at the Comfort Zone, knows that he should return to the car but the DI can’t bring himself to just walk away and turns back to the young woman. Now chewing nervously on her bottom lip, she is bent over, pulling at the zipper on the blue coat of one of the toddlers. The DI sighs heavily, doubts that she’s any older than twenty-five tops. Mousey blonde falling across her sinewy shoulders, and other than the dark circles beneath her eyes, a ghostly white face. But it’s her eyes that disturb him most. He’s shocked at the despair and hopelessness that’s so evident in those hardened hazel eyes now staring up at him. The eyes of a much, much older person. They’re his mother’s eyes after he’d told her that he was returning to London, having just attended his father’s funeral. His sister’s eyes when the drunk driver who’d mounted the pavement and knocked over her eight year old son Jamie, his nephew, killing him instantly, had walked free from court on a technicality. Perhaps his own eyes looking back at him from the mirror most mornings. But no, they don’t belong in one so young and he won’t just walk away from her, or the two young girls.

  “Sae, have yah got a name?”

  “Angela Cunningham.” The briefest flicker of a smile. “But everybody calls me Angie.”

  “And the wee lasses?”

  Pulling them tight, she gazes down at the identical twins affectionately. “Alice and Amie, Alice has the pony tail.”

  “Well it is a pleasure tae meet yah Amie, and Alice wi’ the pony tail.” A warm smile on his face at seeing the girls snickering.

  “Look lass, dae ya want me to contact social services, see if they can help yah find a room.?”

  “NO…” She backs away from him clutching at the girls protectively. “They will take them away from me… I… I would die before I would let that happen. They… They are my world… I…” Tears rolling down her cheeks, and both girls now growing agitated at seeing their mother’s distress.

  “Please calm down wi’ yah lass. We can rule that suggestion out then, aye?”

  She nods. “I have taken up enough of your time and I really need to find somewhere to stay.”

  "Wi’ yah jist gie me a minute." The DI yanks a mobile phone from his jacket. "Jist wait here okay." And punches in a number as he wanders along the road. Returns a few minutes later, finds the two girls perched on top of a suitcase, big brown eyes staring up at him and their mum with a questioning look on her face.

  "Right lass, want yah and the wee bairns to go stay at this address." Passes her a hand written note, and a small bunch of keys.

  Angie half-heartedly takes the note and quickly reads through it, an anxious expression on her face as she looks down at the keys nestling in his huge hand, “I don’t understand.”

  “I live in a big old hoose, three bedrooms sae plenty o’ space. And nae way I am ginnae let yah and the wee lasses go wandering the streets.”

  “But you don’t even know me. I am a total stranger. Why would you even offer? I don’t understand... “

  “Yah in’t a stranger now, are yah Angie Cunningham? Know yah and the lasses full names, right Amie and Alice wi’ the pony tail.” Both nod up at him. “Know where yah work and live, well, used tae work and live.” And now grinning down at the girls. “And yah would be doing me a favour. The hoose is taee big and quiet, sae in’t a problem, besides, knowing yur all safe and nae wandering aroon would gie me peace o’ mind.”

  Still hesitating, she glances at the keys, “Are you sure about this?”

  “Aye, lass, we in’t all bad yah know.”

  Up on tiptoes, her slender arms are suddenly wrapped around his neck as she hugs him, having already slid the keys into her jean pocket. "Thank you so much. Nobody has ever... I don't know what to say."

  Patting her back tenderly, DI Jordan feels himself blushing, clears his throat just as she releases him, “Jist a simple ‘aye’ will dae lass.”

  “Yes then.” Finally he sees her smile. And a glimmer of hope return to her eyes. “Did you hear that, girls, we are off on an adventure.” She peers up at him pleadingly. “Could I ask just one last favour?”

  “Aye, o’ cause yah can.” Notices that she’s fidgeting.

  “I am desperate for the ladies.” Thrusts her finger towards the glass door. “He wouldn’t even let me use the bathroom before throwing us out. Could you just watch over them for a minute.”

  “Aye, now that I can dae.”

  Down on one knee, Alice with the pony-tail having tugged at his trousers, DI Jordan hands both girls another lollipop. “Maybe yah best not tell yur ma I gae yah both another one, ehh? “ And winks at them.

  Having finally stopped giggling, Alice looks at him earnestly, “Why do you talk funny?”

  The DI roars with laugher. “Och, where I come from, we would say the aboot yah.”

  Really?” Alice sucking noisily on the lollipop, ”Are you like a big mighty bear?”

  Having finally removed the wrapper, Amy shoves some sticky plastic in the DI’s hand, “Yes, are you from big cuddly bear world? Mummy lets us watch the film if we are good. We really love mighty bear.”

  Alice nods, “Yes, he is very brave and very kind. Just like you. Are you mighty bear?”

  “Aye, well have been called worse. Maybe yah will let me watch the film wi’ youse both.”

  Both girls drop their heads, Alice shuffling her tiny black shoe across the pavement. “The bad man kept all our DVDs.”

  Amy nodding, “Yes, and our toys. And mummy’s computer. And her clothes.”

  Alice chirping in. “Our clothes too, Amy. He is a very bad man. And he is very angry with mummy.”

  Amy takes hold of her sisters hand. “Yes, the bad man is very scary and shouted at mummy. But mummy did not want to get all naked like when we have a bath, did she Alice?”

  “No. And he shouted at mummy to go into the bedroom and take her clothes off. He was being a very silly man. It was breakfast time and mummy does not have a bath at breakfast time. Silly man”

  Both girls giggle as the DI sweeps them up in his huge arms.

  “Aye, he is. But we widnae want tae worry yur mum wi’ talking aboot that anymore. Yah forget all aboot the bad man now, ok?”

  Both girls nestle their heads into his shoulder, Alice whispering, “I knew you was mighty bear come to rescue us.” And nei
ther see him momentarily close his watery eyes.

  He opens them to find Angie rushing towards him, more of a spring in her step, even if she is a little breathless.

  “Sorry, had to borrow 20p to use the loo. I hope they have been behaving themselves.

  “Aye Angie, kept me entertained with stories aboot a bear.”

  Carefully lowering the girls back down to the pavement.

  “I noticed the cases are really light. Did nae get to pack much, did yah lass?”

  Shaking her head. “He didn’t give me much time.”

  “Sae, yah okay making your way to Tredgers Lane?”

  Angie nods, and the smile has now returned to her young face.

  “Yes, I know it.” Kneels down and speaks to the girls. “Right, we have a long walk ahead of us and so will need you to be good for mummy.”

  "Nae need to walk lass."

  The DI produces the wad of notes he'd acquisitioned from Carlo earlier, and thrusts it into her hand.

  She immediately returns it. "No, I can't accept this."

  "Aye yah can, and yah will, call it an advance on yur salary.”

  “But I haven’t got a job anymore. Well, not a proper one anyway and don’t know when I...”

  “Aye, yah said. Now dinae gae getting angry but have jist spoken wi’ a close pal o' mine, Ciara O'Shannigan. She runs a private nursing home near Tredgers, and I know there is a job vacancy there." Seeing her concerned expression. "In't like that Angie, it's the welfare of the old folk stopping there, nae making a huge profit, that she cares aboot. And she is expecting yah tae go talk wi' her next week."

  “Are you my guardian angel, or something? This… This just doesn’t happen to me. But I still can’t accept the money though.”

  Pushing it back into her small hand, and gently closing his fist over it.

  “Now yah listen to me, Angie Cunningham. Yah will stop aff in the shops and get all yah need for the wee lasses, and yurself. Clothing, toiletries, any food yah and the wee lasses want. Ohh, and a few toys. And whit wis the name of that DVD.”