Scooters Yard

by Clive Mullis

  Hobs looked up at the sound of the front door opening and glanced at Mags. ‘Seems we can stop arguing about who makes the next brew.’

  Mags nodded and let out an enormous fart.

  The door to the crew-room opened and Dewdrop stuck his nose in. Both Hobs and Mags grinned; they reckoned that by the time he left they would be a few dollars richer.

  ‘Come in, lad,’ said Hobs. ‘Take the weight off yer feet — but stick the kettle on first, will yer?’

  Mags let out another fart and then wafted the air around him, just as Dewdrop’s beat partner entered the room.

  Mags and Hobs stared for a few moments and then jumped to their feet.

  ‘Sorry about the whiff,’ said Mags. ‘But Hobs here ‘as a problem down below, if you know what I mean. Do you fancy a nice cup of tea? Hobs was just about to put the kettle on. Come and sit down, this is a lovely comfy chair. What’s your name, then? You’ll always be welcome to come and see us, anytime you want. Now, isn’t that chair nice? Do you want to put your feet up? You got that kettle on yet, Hobs?’

  Felicity ignored the pong in the room and sat down; she figured she would come across a lot worse than that in the weeks and months ahead. Mags adjusted the cushion behind her and then sat opposite, a beaming smile across his face.

  ‘Always nice to see a fresh face in here. You still ain’t told us yer name.’

  ‘Felicity,’ said Felicity, taking off her hat and smiling.

  ‘Felicity? Beautiful name that, for a beautiful girl, if I may say so. Didn’t know you girls were out on the streets yet.’

  ‘First shift today,’ answered Felicity. ‘It’s all still a bit new.’

  ‘Well, everyone ‘as to start somewhere,’ replied Mags. ‘I hears you already made your mark, what with the thing up at the Yard.’

  ‘We were just helping out, nothing to it really.’

  Dewdrop stood there, not quite sure what he should do — he couldn’t remember the ambulance men ever making him tea before.

  ‘Just helping out? From what we’s heard, there were a bit more to it than that.’

  Hobs walked in with four mugs on a tray, only one of which was spotlessly clean. Dewdrop thought they must have hidden that one. Hobs elbowed Dewdrop out of the way and set the tray down on the table.

  ‘We’ll just let it brew a while. Now, my dear, I hope old Mags here hasn’t been boring you, has he? He likes to tell people about his little trouble down there,’ and he pointed in the general direction.

  Felicity blessed him with a smile. ‘No, he’s been the perfect gentleman.’

  Hobs raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? Well, there’s a surprise.’

  Mags looked indignant. ‘I don’t go on about trouble down there, because I ain’t got any trouble down there. I just have a bit o’trouble with my supposed crew-mate. Now, my dear, I don’t suppose you’re interested in a little game of cards?’

  Dewdrop waited at the top of the steps for Felicity to join him, and then they walked out of the alley and back out into the street. The walk took on the policeman’s gait as they headed off on their beat.

  ‘How did you do that?’ asked Dewdrop, amazed. ‘You cleaned them out.’

  ‘Used to play with my brothers. You learn pretty quickly when your pocket money is up for grabs. We made a nice little sum.’

  ‘You mean you made a nice little sum. What are you going to spend it on?’

  ‘I don’t know. What I would like to do is to share it with a special friend.’

  ‘Oh,’ replied Dewdrop, disappointment already rising.

  ‘Yes, someone who means a lot to me. Perhaps a nice few drinks somewhere quiet and cosy — somewhere intimate.’

  ‘Sounds nice.’

  ‘Yes, it does.’

  She took a quick look around and seeing the empty street, linked her arm through his and reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘Now, where shall we go to spend it?’

  The question rattled around in his brain for a while, until she gently took his hand and placed it on her bum; she gave his a bit of a squeeze too, and then it dawned on him — he didn’t need to dream anymore.

  End

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  Also by the same author:

  Banker’s Draft

  Under Gornstock

  DEDICATION

  To my son

  ACKNOWLEDGeMENTS

  My thanks go to all those who helped me and put up with me not doing what I should have been doing when I was doing this.

  Also thanks go to those that read and gave me advice, suggestions and encouragement, namely Lesley, Keith, Dave, Suzi and Sarah.

  Not forgetting my long suffering wife and my son, who’ve had to put up with me.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Clive Mullis spent a number of years as a paramedic, until deciding that there must be another way of making a living. He lives in Bedfordshire in the UK with his wife, son, and dogs.

  http://www.clivemullis.com