Scooters Yard

by Clive Mullis

  Rose smiled at MacGillicudy, her eyes sparkling. The commander melted under the gaze and coughed self-consciously; they had just one more thing to do.

  Goodhalgan, the King of the Dwarfs awaited them, he’d been primed and had got things ready.

  Rose marched the girls out from the breakfast room and led the way down the tunnels and into a special chamber. Hanging on the walls were old shields, axes and swords, also tapestries depicting wars, and all sorts of other dwarf memorabilia. The girls lined up in front of a raised dais, and as they stood there, Goodhalgan and thirty other dwarfs entered. MacGillicudy then stepped onto the dais.

  The time had come for the swearing in to begin, the formality which would finally end the generations of misogyny in the police force. Twelve new feelers were joining the force, all of them female. The commander told the girls how they had broken new ground, and had begun, what in the future would be called, a legacy.

  They took the oath sombrely and proudly, in accordance with the tradition of the force.

  “I (insert name here) do solemnly swear to uphold the laws of Gornstock and of the Morris Council. To do my duty, without discrimination, and to bear witness in a court of law. I (insert name here) swear this, and that these people (Dwarfs) here today shall bear witness to my oath.”

  Applause rippled around the chamber as Goodhalgan and the others present gave their approval. Rose felt her pride rise; she had first suggested it, and felt grateful that MacGillicudy proved open-minded enough not to dismiss the idea. He agreed to try it out, to open up the ranks to women and begin the process that would see women feelers walk the streets.

  As the acclaim died down the girls grinned at each other. Goodhalgan mounted the dais and took up his position, ready to hand out the hastily produced warrant cards. One by one the girls stepped up and received their reward; a card identifying them as a sworn in police officer.

  The new beginning had begun, and there would be no turning back now.

  CHAPTER 21

  His eyes suddenly snapped open. The early dawn light filtered through the sack that covered the window and he stared up at the ceiling, plaster bulging as the damp ravaged the building. His mind raced through what he must do. Today was the day.

  He flung back the manky rag of a blanket and stood up, alert and invigorated with the thoughts coursing through his mind, searing every detail into memory. He scratched his plums absently and then flung on an old dressing gown before heading downstairs for a brew; he thought it a shame that he had to make it himself, a woman should be doing it for him, a servant, available to deal with his every whim, doing what they were bred to do. His mother, before she died, had worked her fingers to the bone. Did she make that sacrifice just so that women could join the force? Not bloody likely. She had spent all her time doing what his father told her to do. As a sergeant, he appreciated that. He only ever did his duty, and made sure that those who should suffer, either through their deeds or gender or class in life, did suffer — as it should be.

  When the kettle boiled he poured it into the mug and stirred a few leaves in, he had no milk, so made do with black tea — not a good start to the day. His thoughts re-entered his mind as he sat down at the rickety old table and sipped the bitter liquid. Women, females, girls; his mind full of the evil which tainted them all: their like of gossip, the way they preened themselves to enhance their flirty nature, the way they looked at some men but not at others. He didn’t care that none of them ever looked at him, even the ones he paid he made sure they never cast their wanton eyes in his direction. They were just a slab of meat to him. If it wasn’t for procreation then the world would be a better place without them and their nasty little ways.

  Some men may have to suffer for the cause, but he believed that they wouldn’t mind paying the price, certain that they would understand that they needed to make sacrifices to prevent the unthinkable; after all, he took the risks, not they. They would just be fodder for the greater scheme, martyrs to the cause; but he would make sure their sacrifice was not in vain. They would be heroes — just a pity they wouldn’t know anything about it.

  Frankie walked slowly down Belchers Row towards the Reaper and Wrangler looking for a convenient location in which to begin the surveillance. Behind him trudged Tiffany and Felicity, trying their best to blend in with the surroundings. They were looking at the stalls with one eye, whilst watching Frankie with the other, never letting him get too far ahead.

  The noise and bustle made it easy for them to practise what Rose had taught them. Blonde haired Felicity once adorned page three of several of the tabloid newspapers and knew that very few men ever looked at her face, especially when her likeness appeared in the papers. She went unnoticed as the baggy shirt she wore hid her ornaments from view. Tiffany, an inch or so taller, had an air about her that only posh girls could have; she had long dark hair with a willowy figure, and despite their differing backgrounds, the two girls had become firm friends.

  Up ahead, Frankie stopped walking and looked over to his right towards an old boot-maker’s shop. His head angled upwards to where he could see the rooms above. One of them, up high, looked down towards the pub: a perfect location. Now he had to negotiate, and he wondered briefly if Cornwallis would be concerned, but only briefly. He allowed a grin to flash on his face as he turned his head to the girls, giving a “follow me” twitch.

  Rose waited patiently with the girls as MacGillicudy went into the Yard to check the rotas. He’s been gone a while now and they all began to get a little impatient. They waited in a breakfast bar, drinking mugs of coffee as they sat around a table, talking quietly. Around them were the late workers and early shoppers, grabbing a bun and something to wake them up.

  Despite the wait, a subdued excitement rippled around the table. Mindy and Bragwin were the most talkative, but Hettie came out with the wry observations. Hope and Gladys proved, strangely, to be the more intellectual of the group, while Jules and Verity were deep thinkers.

  Rose felt like a mother hen as she supervised her charges. She was a little older than Bragwin and Hope, but younger than the rest of them; for her, a strange situation, but none of them mentioned that fact, they just accepted it from day one.

  As Mindy and Bragwin entertained their colleagues, Rose watched silently. She felt nervous for them all as they were embarking on a new adventure, not yet knowing what lay around the corner for them. They could find that they wouldn’t be able to cope with the transition from what they were, to what they are now. It was going to be interesting and she just hoped that they were going to rise to the challenge.

  MacGillicudy appeared at the door, so Rose and the girls finished their coffees and filed out. As they walked together, Rose and the commander discussed their options.

  ‘Three are working, two are at home,’ explained MacGillicudy. ‘One of the three is supervising the reception, so we might have a problem with him.’

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Rose.

  ‘Wiggins,’ replied MacGillicudy.

  ‘Surely you don’t suspect him? I know you put him on your list, but…’

  ‘He fits the profile, so, as much as it pains me, he’s one we have to keep an eye on. I hope to the Gods that we find nothing on him.’

  Rose nodded. She liked Wiggins, a little bit shy around the girls but friendly nonetheless, a bit like a soft and cuddly uncle. She gave him a kiss on the cheek once and he turned the colour of beetroot and stumbled over his words; a cute reaction and she had warmed to him even more. ‘So who’s going to keep watch on him?’

  ‘As he’s in the Yard, it will have to be me,’ replied MacGillicudy. ‘None of the girls can come in yet, not until their course has finished.’

  Rose thought for a moment. ‘Why not? You can say that you want to ease them into the atmosphere. Everyone knows that girls have joined the force.’

  MacGillicudy opened his mouth to reply but then stopped and thought. Conscious that the men would have to get used to the introduction of the girls into
the ranks, to break the male bastion, perhaps it would be better to do it sooner rather than later. ‘You’re right, Rose. I’ll take one with me. Who do you think it should be?’

  ‘Hettie,’ replied Rose without hesitation. ‘She’s the one who can handle the men best at the moment.’

  MacGillicudy nodded his agreement. ‘The rest will follow the others?’

  ‘Yes, although I might need to get some transport. I hope Jack doesn’t intend to use our coach.’

  Cornwallis looked at Winnie, Regina and Olive and tried to weigh them up. Magot would probably still be asleep after his night shift, so they had no need to rush. Instead, he watched the girls out of the corner of his eye as they walked down the street.

  Winnie, he remembered, had worked in a bar, the archetypal barmaid, slim with long blond hair and amply endowed, she could easily deal with drunk and awkward men. Regina worked at stuffing sausages, so she should be well placed to deal with the boredom, which he thought would come in handy. She had a mane of long red hair, tied up in a knot with a tiny nose and freckles; a bit on the thin side, a bit of a beanpole in fact, but she had something about her. Olive had shovelled shit, so anything was an improvement on that; she wore her dark hair short, presumably to stop it dangling in the shit. She had blue eyes and high cheek bones with everything in proportion.

  His mind flitted back to Rose and he started to compare the girls to her, but stopped when he realised he shouldn’t be doing that. He could hear Rose castigating him for his narrow minded view, a man’s view: look at the attractiveness first and intellect last. Frankie definitely had that view; his first thought always being, would I?

  Shaking his head he came back to reality, he hoped the girls didn’t realise where his thoughts had been. Magot should be the only one to take up his thoughts, the only man so far identified from the group trying to blow up Gornstock. They had to lock on to him and not let go, to know whom he met and where he went.

  Magot lived in a little tree-lined street south of the river, very near the Brews, the kind of street that attracted the middle classes: nice and comfortable with an element of down-to-earth about it, a bit chic in fact. Why a crude and working class person like Magot lived there, he didn’t know, but perhaps he had aspirations.

  The house stood out from the rest of the row. Whereas most of the houses had neat front gardens and nicely painted exteriors, his looked like a tinker’s yard: bits were everywhere, paint flaked off the door and it had a load of junk dumped in the garden. It didn’t look right amongst the other well-manicured homes, where pride in appearance showed — apart from Magot’s house.

  He knew what Magot looked like, but the girls didn’t, they just knew what he had told them. Fortunately, people used the street as a bit of a short cut and traffic came down regularly, so a small group standing around didn’t attract too much attention for the moment, but that wouldn’t last.

  Checking that the girls had memorised Magot’s description, he sent Winnie and Olive to the far end of the street, where they were to try and look like they were doing anything other than looking, and not to draw attention.

  Regina looked warily up at him as Winnie and Olive left. ‘What am I to do?’ she asked.

  Cornwallis smiled. ‘You're staying with me; you’re to be my young lady for a while.’

  ‘I trust you mean to pretend? I’m not that sort of girl, you know.’

  ‘No, no, no. All above board.’ He held up a wary hand. ‘All we have to do is look like we’re having a good time.’

  ‘That’s all right, then,’ she answered quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly. ‘You mean a bit like this?’

  She stepped closer and slid her arm inside his. With her free hand, she untied the knot of hair and released the longest hair Cornwallis had ever seen; so long, that it fell down her back like a waterfall. She shook the hair out and then smiled as she welded herself to his side.

  ‘Er, yes,’ said Cornwallis tentatively. ‘Something like this, but perhaps a little less in the way of intensity. We need to be able to move about a bit.’

  Rose would understand, he thought — at least he hoped she would.

  CHAPTER 22

  Senior Sergeant Wiggins didn’t feel his best. He felt discomfited, nervous, out of his depth. He knew he would have to get used to the feeling eventually, but it shouldn’t have been right now.

  He sat high up at the lectern, and a girl stood beside him on the tiny platform, one of the new recruits, Hettie, there to see how things worked. A little bit of acclimatising before she came to the Yard — permanently.

  The commander had walked in with her just an hour ago and had taken her straight to his office. Things didn’t go unnoticed in the Yard, and a girl in the commander’s office was news. Rumours already flew about as to the purpose of her visit, with pregnancy being high on the list. A book had already opened in the canteen and MacGillicudy had high odds put against his name. Two of the sergeants, Musgrove and Dimpleman, were evens, as they were well known for putting it about. The fourth name seemed a bit unlikely, Constable Toopins, also known as Dewdrop. The bookie didn’t know that Dewdrop’s friend Popham had decided to play a joke, but he eagerly came up with the odds of Dewdrop actually persuading a female to do anything along those sort of lines — which, he felt, were extremely long.

  Hettie stood so close to Wiggins that he could smell the lavender that she washed with, he could even feel the heat emanating from her body. A few times, he had felt her brush up against him as she changed position or craned over the lip to look below. Just now, he turned his head, and his nose smacked up against her chest. The felon below had burst out laughing as he watched. Wiggins felt the embarrassment seep over him and he stuttered and stumbled over his words as he sent the ingrate down to the cells.

  She had been with the sergeant now for twenty minutes, and for all that time the feelers milled around below in a highly-charged but hushed atmosphere, just whispered voices, as they all forgot that they should actually be doing something. They just stared at Hettie’s back, or more precisely, a couple of inches below her back. A girl was in Scooters Yard, which meant that very soon there would be more.

  Hettie had a shape, lots of shapes in exactly the right places. With her long brown hair, blue blouse and well fitted black trousers, she held the place to ransom.

  Rose had less of an effect nowadays as all the feelers had grown used to her being around, but a new girl — now that was something worth thinking about. Rose wasn’t accessible, but this girl would be pounding the beat with them — with her, they might have a chance.

  As the door to the cells slammed shut after the feelers had dragged the laughing felon through, Hettie smiled apologetically at Wiggins. It wasn’t his fault that his nose and her bits came into contact with each other. The sergeant became flustered; he had to have a few minutes break from her close proximity.

  ‘I… I… I think I might get a mug of tea. I… I’m a little bit thirsty.’

  ‘Oh, don’t trouble yourself, Sergeant. I’ll go and get one for you. Just point me in the right direction.’

  ‘Really? Thank you, that would be most kind, er, Hettie. The canteen is through that far door.’ He pointed it out for her.

  She smiled and began to back down the steps. All eyes turned to watch her descend. When she got to the bottom, she turned around, just in time to see the watching faces. She homed in on the nearest feeler.

  ‘Is the canteen over there?’ she asked, with a purr.

  The feeler nodded, not quite sure whether to trust his voice.

  ‘Thank you. You know I’ll be walking a beat with one of you soon. I can’t wait, can you?’

  ‘Er…’ The feeler found his voice. ‘No, it will be nice.’

  ‘Nice? Well, thank you. I wasn’t sure I’d be welcomed.’

  Hettie stood there and smiled while a throng of excitable feelers began to gather around, most were young — ish, and some still bore the scars from their first night at Pendon. All of them said
the same thing; that Hettie and the girls were indeed to be welcomed, all the girls in fact, each and every one of them.

  There were a couple of feelers grabbing a brew before hitting their beats. As she entered the canteen, they looked up, a bit like walking into a local bar, where you heard people talking and saw a bit of animation, and then suddenly, silence, as everyone turned to look; they quickly returned to the study of their mugs, ignoring her. The atmosphere had changed: it now prickled with animosity. She apologised for the intrusion, explaining that she had to get tea for the sergeant. She got no reply, nor any acknowledgement that she’d spoken. Sometimes not saying anything said more than anything; she fixed the image of the disinterested feelers in her mind as she made the tea, feeling the daggers in her back.

  As she headed back with the mug, Popham stood and held the door open for her. She smiled sweetly and thanked him. ‘Who are those two?’ she asked quietly, dipping her head in their direction.

  ‘Ah. You want to steer clear of them. That’s Loovis and Sprat, old hands but not very popular with anyone who’s not an old feeler,’ he replied, leaning in close. ‘Unlike us experienced younger ones; we always try to be nice and friendly to anyone new.’

  ‘I’ll remember that, thank you.’ She smiled and brushed against him as she moved off.

  Popham stared after her, all his thoughts and aspirations now aimed in just one direction.

  Hettie recognised the names of the two feelers from the canteen, both of them being part of the group of six that the commander had filtered out. She wondered who would be following them.

  Rose had tied the tether to the post after nipping quickly back to Hupplemere Mews and picking up the little two-seater. They had a four-seater as well, but she wanted something with a bit of speed.