by Ted Lewis
After a while I slipped from the bed and walked quickly over to the door of the adjoining bedroom and opened it without making a sound. Timmy was still asleep in his cot. I moved across the room and knelt down and looked through the bars. Timmy was lying on his back, his arms stretched out above his head, palms turned upwards, his face blank with innocence.
I knelt there, waiting for him to wake up.
After a time, I felt a shadow behind me. I turned my head. Sheila was standing in the doorway. I saw from her face that she’d been watching me for some time. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even look a certain way. But almost as soon as I saw her I got up and walked towards the door. Then she moved too, away from the door, back towards the bed in our room. As she lay down and I lay down on top of her she whispered in my ear:
“You can wake Timmy up later. Only otherwise we’d have to have waited till tonight again, wouldn’t we?”
Breakfast. The transistor’s tiny burble. The all-embracing smell of fried bacon. Timmy chattering in his high chair. Sheila talking as she prodded along the breakfast in the frying pan.
“ . . . so there was no bother. He never thought anything of it. Just accepted that you were on nights and that was it. In any case, you don’t actually have to go through the shop to get in and out. Well, you probably saw last night. You go down the stairs and along the passage and out through the other door. It’s perfect.”
“Did you tell your ma?”
She shook her head.
“She knows I’m with you. But she doesn’t know where.”
“And?”
“What do you think?”
“Yeah.”
I poured another cup of tea.
“And nobody else knows where we are.”
“Only Ronnie.”
I drank some tea.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Sheila said. “Only I thought . . .”
“No, it doesn’t matter,” I said. “Ronnie’s all right.”
“I mean I played it safe. I only came here the once, to take the place. And I came in the wig and all . . .”
“It’s all right, love. Don’t worry about it. You’ve done fine.”
I mopped my plate with a piece of bread and crumpled up the bread and ate it. Sheila poured me another cup of tea. I drained the cup and leant back in my chair and gave Sheila a cigarette and lit us both up.
As Sheila blew out the smoke she said:
“Do you feel like talking yet?”
I grinned at her.
“Do me a favour,” I said. “You didn’t exactly give me much chance last night. Or this morning.”
“You know what I mean, Billy, and don’t be so bleeding saucy. I mean about the future.”
“Yeah, all right,” I said. “I don’t mind talking about the future.”
She put her elbows on the table and looked into my face.
“Well,” I said, “this is how I see it: we’re all right for money. We’ve no immediate worries on that score. In fact if we were going to stay put we’d be all right for well over eighteen months. It was lucky for me that Ronnie was on the job with me. Some of them wouldn’t have handed over if they didn’t have to.”
“He let me have it the day after you went down.”
I nodded.
“But anyway. We’d be all right if we were going to stay put. But we can’t stay put, can we?”
Sheila looked down at the table.
“If we want a future it’s got to be bought. Somewhere other than this country. And that’ll take care of most of the money, the way we’d have to go.”
I stubbed my cigarette out in the ashtray.
“But it’s a vicious circle. We can’t move yet. Not for six months. Maybe not for even a year. And by that time we’ll be well into our money and there wouldn’t be enough left in the kitty to pay for the kind of passage we’ll need. So where does that get us?”
She waited for me to tell her.
“For a start,” I said, “you don’t have to worry about me. Whatever happens, I’m not going out on any more jobs. That’s out. I’m here now and I’m not going back. I wouldn’t have gone on the last one if it hadn’t been because of that commitment to Ronnie.”
She didn’t say anything and I knew what she was thinking from the way she wasn’t saying it.
“Anyway, there’s no point going into all that. It’s what I do from now on that matters. And I’m doing no more jobs. So where does that leave us? Maybe a year lying low and at the end of it not enough readies to get us out.”
She looked up at me again. I leant across the table and took hold of her hand.
“There’s only one person I can trust to do me a favour and that’s Ronnie. We know that. Ronnie and I are real mates. Now the only way I’m ever going to get the kind of readies we need is to get Ronnie to place some of the money for me. To buy it. There’s The Stable Club and there’s Little Egypt and he could maybe even fix something up in the Chesterfield. He’d do that for me, I know. I mean, if he’d gone down with me then he wouldn’t be in those places either. So in his position all he has to do is every now and again stake a tame punter on a good red number, nothing greedy, say twenty back at a time, give his punter a percentage, take his own percentage, funnel the rest back to me. In a year or so I can double what we have now.”
For a while Sheila didn’t say anything. Then eventually she said:
“Only this, Billy. Maybe Ronnie will do it for you. On the other hand he might reckon on having done it all already. But the main thing is who he works for now. I mean, those clubs are Walter’s.”
I smiled.
“Sure they’re Walter’s. That’s one of the lovely things about the idea. Wally’s boiling his nuts up in the nick while I’m sitting down here in the bosom of my family playing the stock market on his tables.”
There was another silence. Then she said:
“Don’t do anything that’ll send you back, Billy.”
I looked at her.
“Like what?” I said.
I sank back in the bath. The third bath in twelve hours. It was the quickest way of getting rid of the stiffness. But that apart, the novelty of the locked bathroom door and the smell of Sheila’s toiletries mixing in with the steam, and the flowered wallpaper and the pink bath, they were all equally necessary.
I stretched an arm out and swivelled the dial round on the transistor. I stopped when I got to the news. The newsreader was talking about Billy Cracken. About how the search had moved to London. About how the Yard had moved in on the scene.
I listened until the item finished then I switched off the radio.
Then I leant forward and ran some more hot water into the bath.
I pulled the polythene wrapper off the shirt and held the shirt out in front of me. It was soft and woolly with a button down collar, one of those casual sportshirts with just the three buttons at the neck. Two more shirts of the same kind in different colours lay on the bed.
Sheila said: “I like the brown best. Brown suits you.”
The one I was holding was red. Bright red.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “I think I like this one best.”
I took all the newspapers that Sheila had saved and spread them out over the dining table and read each of the reports about the escape. The only fact that was consistent throughout was the description of Tommy’s capture. And that was only because he’d never got down off the roof. They couldn’t very well get that wrong.
Most of the papers carried pictures of the outside of the prison, pictures littered with speculative arrows describing my progress over the wall. Only one of the papers came near to the truth, and then for the wrong reasons.
I even rated an editorial in one of them. One of those civic-minded hands-up-in-horr
or ones, bleating on about the safety of citizens in their beds while Public Enemies found it easy to get out of maximum security. Tightening of restrictions, tougher conditions, all that kind of cobblers.
Only one of the photographs made me look at all human. A picture she’d taken of me herself, at Brighton, on our honeymoon. The rest were police stuff, in some cases specially retouched under the eyes and round the cheekbones.
Just so nobody got the wrong idea, like.
“Now then,” I said, “this one’s all about Peter Rabbit. See Peter Rabbit? And that’s his mummy and all his brothers and sisters. Now Peter’s a very naughty bunny rabbit. Because he’s always getting into trouble. Never out of it. See, here he’s in the vegetable garden and he shouldn’t be there, should he. No, he shouldn’t. Because his daddy was once in the vegetable garden and Mr. McGregor shot him with his shotgun, didn’t he? And he put him in a rabbit pie and ate him all up, didn’t he? Yes he did. So Peter ought never to be in that old vegetable patch, ought he. He ought to keep well out of it if he doesn’t want to finish up in a pie, shouldn’t he?”
I lowered Timmy down into the cot and slid him under the sheets but he wasn’t having any of it. Immediately he pushed the sheets back and squirmed round and sat up and stretched his arms out to me. I picked him up again and held him tight to me. His arms went round my neck and small fingers gripped the hair at the back of my head. We stood like that in the semi-darkness for a while. Then I dislodged his arms and put him down again. This time there was no squirming, no sitting up. This time he was content to lie there, just looking up into my face. Slowly the eyelids began to droop, but I stayed where I was, looking down, because every now and again his eyes would snap open, as if to reassure him that I was still standing there. Each time that happened he would smile and his eyes would flicker and close, and the smile would gradually drift away until the next time his eyes opened. After a while, when he was finally asleep, I left the bedroom and went back to Sheila.
“Look,” I said, “Ronnie’s all right. You don’t have to worry.”
“I know he is. But it just worries me. I mean, even me mam doesn’t know we’re here.”
“You’re only talking about the bloke that had me fetched from Aston.”
“I know. But I didn’t know he was working for Walter. I just didn’t cotton on about the clubs.”
“He’s been there for ages. Besides, Ronnie isn’t Walter’s man. He’s got his own operations. He just uses Walter. Screws him to pay the rent. Ronnie’s my mate.”
“And Walter knows that.”
“All right, what’s Walter going to do? Get Ronnie to grass me? You don’t know Ronnie.”
“But I know Walter.”
“And I know Ronnie. Ronnie’d never let Walter get a lock on him.”
Sheila showed Ronnie into the living room. He was as sharp as ever. Beige mohair, black shoes, dark shiny tie, his black hair cut immaculately. He smiled his wide smile.
“Well now,” he said. “What do we call you now? Blondie? Or is it Danny La Rue?”
I smoothed a hand over my hair.
“What do you think?” I said, smiling back.
“Great. Bobby Moore’ll want to know the name of the salon.”
“That’s one address nobody’s having.”
“Right.”
We shook hands.
“Thanks for the lift,” I said. “I appreciate what you did.”
Ronnie sat down.
“Forget it.”
“Sheila,” I said. “Do the drinks for us. What is it these days, Ronnie? Still rum and black?”
“Vodka tonic. Lemon if you’ve got it.”
“That the In Drink now, Ronnie?” Sheila said.
“With me it is. You stay fresh as a daisy next morning.”
“I’ll have a scotch, Sheila.”
Sheila began to make the drinks. Ronnie lit a cigarette.
“No, I mean it,” I said to Ronnie. “Well, anyway I don’t have to say it. You know what I mean.”
“Sure.”
Sheila gave us the drinks. I raised my glass.
“Absent friends,” I said. “Even Walter.”
“Absent friends.”
We drained our glasses and Sheila filled them up for us. We drank again, but this time not all the way down. I looked at my glass.
“You might not believe this,” I said, “but this is the first one. Well, the second. It is, isn’t it, Sheil?”
“That’s right.”
“First one. I waited until you came.”
Ronnie drank a little more and said cheers. Then Sheila got up and took her coat off the hook and began putting it on. Ronnie said:
“You off, Sheil?”
“Going round to see my mother.”
Ronnie tried not to show anything but he couldn’t help it. I grinned and said: “Forget it, Ronnie. Sheila’ll never get copped for. She’s too sharp for them.”
“Won’t they be covering her ma’s place?” Ronnie said, but he didn’t say it like a question.
“Sure,” I said. “Only she isn’t going to her Ma’s place. Her Ma’s meeting her in the Barley Mow off Upper Street. Her brother and her sister-in-law are going as well. Sheil wants to let them know things are fine.”
“What about her Ma? Won’t they have someone on her?”
I shook my head.
“Her Ma went shopping up West this morning. She’s been dodging about all day.”
Sheila leant down and kissed me on the forehead.
“Don’t tie too big a one on, Billy,” she said. “Remember, you can’t run round the Green tomorrow to get rid of it.”
“No, all right,” I said. “I’ll take it easy.”
Sheila said goodbye to Ronnie and went out.
Ronnie emptied his glass and I stood up and took it from him and refilled it.
“Don’t worry about Sheila,” I said. “She’s been with me long enough to know the form.”
I gave Ronnie his glass and poured another for myself.
“Anyway,” I said as I sat down, “how’s business?”
“Quite rosy at the minute,” Ronnie said. “Lots of prospects.”
“What, with Walter?”
“No, I’m not with his firm.”
“What about the clubs?”
“Just bunce. It suits me to let Walter think I’m one of the family.”
“So who are you with?”
“I’m with myself. Freelance. Sort of an agent. A promoter.”
“Promoting what?”
“Anything likely. Mainly van work. Done two in the last three months. I get a bit of intelligence, pull a few trusties together, do the job, back to the dress suit in the evening, Bob’s your uncle. Don’t see any of the fellers till the next time. Just supposing they’re the same fellers, that is.”
“Sounds as though you’re doing well,” I said.
“Never mind, Billy. Old Bill can’t make up his mind. Whether it’s me or whether I’ve really settled down like what it looks like. I mean, I’m on a sweet number with Walter. Why should I chance anything?”
“Clever,” I said. “So you’re rolling in greengage.”
“Can’t complain. Mind you, we go out tooled up, so that makes the odds better.”
“Heavy?”
“Why not. Doesn’t matter whether it’s a pea-shooter or a sten gun. You get done just the same way whatever you happen to be holding.”
“You’re chancing getting what I got.”
“You got yours for different reasons, Billy. Everybody knows that.”
“Maybe.”
“So anyway,” Ronnie said, after a pause, “what’ve you got scheduled?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Not for
a year at least.”
Ronnie didn’t say anything.
“I’ve got to lie low, haven’t I? And after that I’ve got to get out of it. Right out. There’s no future for me on this island. Sure. I might last a long time. Three years, five years, maybe more. But one day they’d have me. And next time they’d throw away the key. I’d have no chance.”
Ronnie lit another cigarette.
“I suppose you haven’t any choice.”
“Too right. I’ve got a life to live.”
“Where would you go?”
“Ireland, first. Then I’d fix things for South Africa.”
Ronnie nodded.
“It’ll cost you,” he said.
“I know.”
“Can you manage it?”
“Right now, yes. In a year’s time, I’m not sure. I’ve got to promote some bread in the meantime, that’s for sure.”
“You can always come in on one of my tickles.”
I shook my head.
“Sheila wouldn’t wear it.”
Ronnie grinned.
“Come on, Billy,” he said. “Do me a favour. Sheila wouldn’t wear it? Since when has a bird decided things for you?”
“Listen,” I said. “I got out for Sheila. And for Timmy. If it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t be sitting here now. I’d have been to Liverpool and off.”
“All right, Billy,” Ronnie said. “All right.”
“Just so as you know.”
There was a short silence.
“So what are you going to do for bread?” Ronnie said.
“I was wondering if you could give me a hand. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean a loan.”
“And don’t get me wrong either, Billy: I don’t mind lending to you. If I’ve got it, I’ll lend it, depending on who it is.”
“I know,” I said. “But no thanks. I already owe you.”
Ronnie shrugged.
“Then how?”
“At your tables.”
Ronnie thought about it. Eventually he said:
“How, exactly?”
“I give you some bread. You give the bread to a punter who’s into you for something or other and your operator lets him win a couple. You knock ten per cent off the punter’s account and take a few off the top for yourself and give the rest to me. Do it half a dozen times and I’d have the capital I’m looking for.”
