EPISODE SEVENTY-ONE
Tony Rice finished his pint and checked his watch. Eight
forty-five. Eyes down for
bingo. And a bumper jackpot this week,
so nearly everyone in the club would be playing. Upstairs, in the Gents toilet opposite the
snooker room, his accomplice, ‘Geordie’ Pete, waited in the locked cubicle,
having left the crowded bar five minutes earlier.
As soon as the bingo was under way, Rice
left the bar and went upstairs. He
glanced into the snooker room, making certain it was empty, then slipped
quickly into the Gents, and tapped on the cubicle door.
‘Out you come, Pete,’ Rice said quietly. ‘It’s time to work.’
The bolt slid open and ‘Geordie’ Pete joined Rice under the loft hatch. Wasting no time, he climbed onto the
ex-convict’s shoulders and pushed open the hatch. The temperature had plummeted over the last
few days and a cold blast of air hit him from inside the roof. He wished he’d worn a sweater on top of his
polo shirt. But Coleman was young and
fit, strong and wiry, having spent most of the ten years since he’d left school
hod-carrying and digging, so what was a little cold air but a slight
inconvenience. But now his strength, of
which he was inordinately proud, was put to the test as he struggled to pull
Rice up after him. And any minute
someone might walk into the toilet.
Rice, with Coleman’s co-ordinated strength, managed to leap and catch the edge
of the opening. Coleman caught him under
the arms, heaved and pulled, and Rice wriggled into the darkness of the loft as
his breathless young accomplice slid back the hatch, plunging them into
darkness, just seconds before someone walked into the toilet.
*
Bamber nearly shot through the ceiling when Donald tapped him on the
shoulder. He glared at his partner
before turning the volume down on the CD player.
‘You nearly gave me a heart attack,’ he complained. ‘Creeping up on me like that.’
Donald gave his friend a lop-sided grin.
‘Can I help it if you play this rubbish at mega decibels? It’s a wonder you’re not permanently deaf.’
‘Pardon?’
Donald chuckled dutifully, then spotted empty crisp packets on the coffee
table. ‘What is the point of trying to
keep this place tidy? Look at it! It’s like a pig sty.’
‘Oh come on. It’s not that bad.’
‘We can all tell where you’ve been sitting.
Look at all the crumbs on the carpet.
You might have hoovered before I came home.’
‘I’m not your wife, you know.’
Bamber slumped into an easy chair and stared back at Donald with child-like
defiance.
‘Just a couch potato I feed and clothe.’
‘I do my fair share.’
Donald raised his eyebrows mockingly.
‘You forget. I’m convalescing.’
‘You’ve been convalescing for as long as I’ve known you.’
‘Had a hard day at the shop, have you?’
‘Chance would be a fine thing.’ Donald
glanced at his watch. ‘The sun is not
yet over the yard-arm, but I could murder a gin and tonic.’
‘You drink too much.’
‘Hark at the pot calling the kettle beige.’
‘In that case,’ said Bamber, ‘you can pour me one while you’re at it.’
‘I’ll get the glasses and some ice and lemon ’ Donald started for the kitchen,
then stopped as if remembering something of minor importance, said, ‘Oh, by the
way, I forgot to ask you this morning: can you look after the shop for me
tomorrow?’
Bamber’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Why?’
‘A Portobello Road dealer’s
clearing out of the business. I can buy
her entire stock for a song.’
‘Oh yes. And will this mean a visit to
the theatre?’
Donald acted confusion. ‘Theatre?’
‘Yes, you know: those building where they put on Shakespeare plays.’
Smiling tolerantly, Donald said, ‘I am not seeing Ted, if that’s what you’re
thinking. I’m going up during the
day. I haven’t seen Ted in yonks. His wife’s having a baby.’
A triumphant gleam blazed in Bamber’s eyes. ‘If you haven’t seen him, how did
you know about the baby?’
‘I happened to bump into him in Safeway’s a few weeks ago.’
‘She’s a bit old to be having a baby, isn’t she?’
Donald laughed. ‘I wouldn’t mind being a
fly on the wall once it’s born.’ Seeing
the look of distaste on Bamber’s face, he added, ‘On second thoughts, I’ll get
the ice and lemon.’
As he past his coat hanging in the hallway, Donald took a small envelope from
inside the pocket. If Bamber was
suspicious, he wouldn’t put it past the boy to go through his pockets. He’d have to find somewhere else to hide the
theatre tickets this time. And he knew just the place. Under the sink, among the household cleaning
items. Bamber could be relied on never
to sully his hands by doing any household chores.
*
Rice shivered as he clicked on a pencil torch and peered at his watch.
‘What time is it?’ whispered Coleman.
‘Time to get on with it.’
Coleman swore under his breath. ‘I’ve
never been so cold.’
Rice snorted. ‘You can help yourself to a large brandy, my son.’
‘I hope they ain’t locked the door to the bog,’ said Coleman. ‘I noticed there was a lock on it.’
Rice patted his pocket. ‘I’ll soon have
that open. Right, let’s get on with it.’
‘Can you hear anything?’
Rice listened. ‘No. Let’s go.’
He shifted the loft hatch while Coleman held the torch. They both dropped stealthily onto the tiled
floor of the Gents. Rice tried the
door. ‘It’s not locked,’ he
whispered. ‘Old Alex gets forgetful when
he’s had a skinful.’
‘Silly old bar steward!’ Coleman laughed.
‘Right! Let’s go.’
Once they reached the downstairs bar, Coleman asked: ‘You sure about the
alarm?’
Rice gave a throaty chuckle. ‘Everyone
knows Alex come out the RAF in 1959, the year Buddy Holly died. He goes on about it often enough. I ‘ave it on good authority the alarm’s coded
to assist Alex in his alcoholic amnesia.’
‘You what?’ said Coleman.
‘Means he don’t know what day it is.’
There was a sudden loud groan from a corner of the bar. Coleman gave a start.
‘Jesus! What’s that?’
The bar steward, who had been asleep on one of the padded benches, suddenly sat
up, screaming, ‘Who is it? What’s going
on?’
Rice grabbed the nearest weapon, a full and unopened bottle of Grouse, which
was Alex’s favourite tipple, and which he had left out to have a crafty drink
should he wake in the night and suffer from alcoholic insomnia. When the litre of whisky came into contact
with his skull, the bottle survived the impact.
Unfortunately, his skull proved to be less resistant.
IN EPISODE SEVENTY-TWO
Vanessa is shocked to hear about her sister’s relationship with Jason.