by Ray Scott
‘No, not since I came down here to live,’ she wrinkled her nose again. ‘After the last disaster in Leeds I’ve decided to remain single!’
That seemed to have exhausted that topic so Wallace changed the subject, and reverted to another they had been on before.
‘Are there any jazz bands around here?’
‘Many,’ she replied. ‘I often go myself.’
This set them off on the subject of jazz, jazz bands and music generally. They discussed the subject and related ones for about two hours and then became aware that it was past lunch-time and maybe they should be moving on. Wallace was astonished at how much they had in common though he remembered they hadn’t differed on much in their young days.
‘Are you in a hurry?’
‘Well…no…far from it really,’ she said. ‘I have a free day today.’
‘Well that suits me, I’m a gentleman of leisure right now,’ Wallace suddenly thought of Kalim, the first time for several hours. He cast a quick look around the coffee house, half expecting to see him materialise from behind a curtain.
‘I’ve heard there’s a jazz gig on tonight in Dorridge,’ she said. ‘Interested?’
‘Very.’
‘I’ll ring Ben and see if he’s free tonight.’
She fished her mobile telephone out of her bag and dialled Ben’s Stratford number. Wallace decided to go to the gents’ toilet, when he returned she shook her head.
‘He has to go to Coventry tonight to see one of his larger connections, something’s cropped up today.’
‘I’ve just remembered,’ Wallace replied. ‘He said someone was trying to pinch one of his connections.’
‘Oh,’ she replaced her phone in her bag. ‘That will probably be Bamfords. They’re an engineering company in Coventry. He has to defend it every year. Anyway, there’s nothing to stop us going.’
‘What time does it start?’
‘Six o’clock, we can go straight there from here.’
They toured around Kenilworth, and after that motored to Warwick, which also had a castle to be viewed. Then as the sun began to sink lower in the sky they headed for Dorridge.
The jazz idea did not go off as well as it could, the band started off well enough in the traditional mode, but after their first couple of numbers they began to go modern. After the first break this persisted, as it did after the second break. They began to get restive.
Liz got into conversation with a gentleman at the next table, who told her that he’d heard them before and that they usually only played modern jazz. She turned to Wallace.
‘What do you think?’
‘Let’s go,’ he replied. ‘This does nothing for me.’
They entered her house, and she motioned Wallace to sit down in the sitting room while she busied herself getting some coffee. She came into the room and sat down opposite him.
‘It’ll be ready soon,’ she said. ‘I’ve just set the percolator.’
She crossed her legs, the split in her skirt exposed far more than it should and Wallace felt himself begin to perspire. They engaged in desultory conversation as the coffee percolated, then she got up to prepare it, returning with a tray with a stainless steel percolator on it plus two cups. She stooped and set it down on the low coffee table, he hastily averted his eyes as her neck and thigh cleavage became more exposed. They drank coffee and talked some more.
‘You like it?’ she asked.
Wallace had just torn his eyes away from her crossed legs, they had strayed there whilst she lowered her glance to her coffee cup as she drank from it, and he was at something of a loss.
‘Oh, yes…!’ Wallace spluttered, realising she meant the coffee. ‘Yes thank you.’
‘Did you arrange anything with Ben tonight?’ she asked.
‘Nothing specific,’ Wallace answered. ‘We hadn’t…um…fixed anything for tonight at all, how long did he say he’d be at Coventry?’
‘Until very late, he’s taking them to dinner at a local restaurant.’
‘Oh, well, I’m in no hurry then…that is…well…!’
His voice trailed off, he wasn’t sure what he had been going to say, except that he couldn’t say he’d better go because her presence was becoming disturbing. He found that he was looking into her eyes and they seemed to be locked. Suddenly he felt a lack of interest in the coffee. He could feel pressure in his groin as his male organ decided to have a say and make its own contribution to the proceedings.
He wriggled uneasily; he had no desire for it to make its presence and intentions obvious and issued some stern counter orders which it persisted in disregarding. Maybe in their few hours together their interest in each other had blossomed and desires were coming to the fore. As he turned back to look at her he found her eyes had been riveted upon his groin area, she hastily averted her gaze and their eyes met.
‘It’s started to rain,’ she remarked as rain spattered against the window. It looked and sounded heavy.
‘Maybe I’d best get moving,’ he said brightly.
‘It’s very heavy,’ she said.
Wallace realised he was going to have great difficulty in rising to his feet; he was liable to do a pole vault through the window. He had been associated with a few women over the past year or so, none of whom had affected him like this while still engaged in conversation.
He realised his reactions were becoming out of hand. If he rose to his feet his predicament would become obvious. He wriggled again and realised she was looking at fixedly at him.
‘Do you have to go?’ she asked.
She smiled and he realised that their thoughts and emotions were moving in the same direction, fast!
‘No, I can’t say that I do!’
‘Well, Ben won’ be expecting you, so you can stay as long as you…!’
She broke off. Then he smiled and she smiled back. Then she rose to her feet, came over and sat beside him.
‘It’s great to see you again, Harry, it really is. I think maybe you’re the reason I couldn’t settle with anyone else.’
His arms folded around her, and as their lips met, he wondered if she was the reason he had never been able to settle with anyone else either. Maybe Elsie had never had a chance!
It was very late when she dropped him back at Ben’s place, as he opened the passenger door she leaned over, squeezed his hand and gave him a peck on the cheek.
‘You know my number,’ she said. ‘Will you call me?’
Wallace nodded enthusiastically, a woman who could make love like that was not to be discarded lightly.
‘I have to leave tomorrow,’ Wallace said. ‘But yes, I’ll be back soon, very soon. Rely on it!’
‘You haven’t been with a woman for a long time, have you Harry?’
‘It was the vitamin pills I’ve been taking,’ he answered, and she collapsed into peals of laughter. As he got out of the car and stood on the pavement he was conscious that his legs felt wobbly. She sat there for a few seconds, then gave a brief smile and cheery wave and drove off, extending her right arm out of the driving window and waving until she vanished from sight.
Chapter 15
Wallace rose early the next morning, and Ben gave him a lift to Dorridge station before he headed to Stratford once again. Wallace’s very late return had gone almost unnoticed, Ben was working in his sanctum and didn’t emerge until Wallace had been in the house for about half an hour, from his demeanour Wallace sensed that Ben’s Coventry client seemed to be moving in his direction and could remain with him, at least for another twelve months. Wallace had been wondering whether to mention anything about his current status i.e. a fugitive, but found it wasn’t an easy subject to bring up so he let it ride.
There were quite a few passengers waiting at Dorridge Station, he gave them a cursory glance before boarding the train, most of them were carrying brief cases and were obviously businessmen, there were others who were casually dressed.
He spent the day in Birmingham once more, went to a cinema
and felt quite refreshed when he emerged. Then he returned to the Broad Street basin and after a perfunctory look around, boarded the boat, and turned in for the night.
Wallace stepped from the train at Stourbridge Town Station and made for the station exit. The station was in the centre of the town so he didn’t have far to walk. Despite what he had said to McKay, he had decided to leave the boat where it was for the time being and take the train to Stourbridge, with Stourbridge being some distance from Birmingham.
He was contemplating travelling via canal to the north of England well away from London and environs, so he wasn’t too keen on deviating to Stourbridge and then having to travel back again for a journey north. Wallace had a cousin in Surrey he had visited on previous visits to England, but decided to let that ride for the present. He had no wish to embarrass him by arriving on his doorstep possibly pursued by a contingent of policemen and Indonesian thugs. Wallace’s plans were hazy and he was hoping that McKay would be able to unearth something that would clear his name.
On alighting from the train at Stourbridge Junction Wallace had discovered that the town was still some distance away, but there was a railway shuttle service into the town itself, thus the eventual arrival at Stourbridge Town Station.
Not for the first time he noted the difference between Australian and English towns. In England every town has its own character, in many cases its own distinctive building materials dug up from local quarries, and a sprinkling of old buildings that would date back several centuries, in some cases even before Australia was colonised. In Australian towns architecture was very similar wherever you were, the same awnings over the pavements, all built of much the same brick and to the same design. It had often been said that if you were dumped anywhere in Australia you’d feel at home because all towns everywhere looked the same. You wouldn’t even know which state you were in, a possible exception being South Australia where the telegraph poles, or stobie poles as they were called, were distinctive, being made of old metal railway tracks and concrete to combat termites.
Stourbridge seemed to have a character all of its own, with occasional buildings that looked as if they had been standing for at least two or three centuries.
He began to walk along High Street which was full of shoppers, mainly women with shopping baskets and wheeling prams. As he wandered up the street and gazed in the shop windows he revelled in the feeling of normality, though he still looked nervously over his shoulder for policemen.
It was during the course of his window gazing that he spotted a book shop over on the other side of the street, with the name Adele Briscoe across the facia. He gazed at it for a few minutes, pondering what to do, now that he had attained his destination he was momentarily stumped. Who was it who said that the worst part of a journey was to arrive?
Finally he crossed the street and sidled up to the shop, peering in crossways through the return window. He couldn’t see much, mainly reflection of the street, so he moved across the frontage and peered in, ostensibly viewing the books in the window which confirmed what McKay had said, many tended to be Left oriented.
Straining his eyes to look at the counter beyond, he could see a middle aged woman was serving a man dressed in shirt and jeans who was buying a paperback book. Wallace looked hard and long at the woman, she was aged about early to middle 40’s at a guess, dark haired and seemed to look somewhat studious and severe. As the customer turned away to make his exit she looked up and saw Wallace standing near the window, he hastily looked away, moving up the street towards the front of the next door shop.
He looked into the shop as he crossed the book shop doorway, but she was giving her attention to another customer who had appeared from the recesses of the shop. He could see no sign of any male server or assistant in the shop.
He wandered up the street for a few yards and pondered, leant against the buttress between a butchers shop and a newsagency and looked back at the bookshop. He tried to look as if he had no cares in the world as he looked around carefully in both directions for either policemen or brawny Indonesians, taking care not to catch anyone’s eye or to smile too much. He had no wish to be reported and subsequently arrested as a prowling vagrant, homosexual or roué. He peered around, there were a couple of men who seemed to be standing around perusing the street like he was, but eventually they walked off, one went into a nearby shop and the other disappeared up the High Street.
Wallace had the camera and its fittings in the small carry case that McKay had given him, which also contained a small camera, with the lens pointing through a hole at the one end. He finally decided to affix the tie camera, but needed somewhere to go as he had to don the tie as well. There was no problem with the size of the camera, but he could hardly start attaching it correctly to his person in the middle of the main street. It had been no surprise to find that it had been manufactured in Japan.
‘What the hell do you expect?’ McKay had said scathingly when Wallace had pointed it out. ‘Australians are too busy going out on strike and going to the footy to be able to apply themselves to making stuff like this…’ a cynical statement that was very harsh but Wallace didn’t take him up on it, they had had enough arguments as it was.
He went into a gents’ toilet and locked himself into a cubicle where he did the necessary. The tie looked somewhat incongruous with the clothes he was wearing, but he wasn’t out to make a fashion statement. When affixed the camera looked like a brooch or badge or possibly a tie pin, with the main works hidden behind the tie and clipped to the shirt. He wandered back up to the shop and peered in once more. The second customer was still being served by the woman assistant. He watched her as she moved out from the counter and made her way across the shop to the opposite wall where there were more books.
She had an earnest look about her, the sort of look one associated with deeply religious people or those very politically intense. As she walked back to the counter she looked in Wallace’s direction and he feigned interest in some books in the shop window. He decided to move away to consider the next move, but his foot caught on a slight unevenness between the footpath and the shop step and he virtually fell into the shop. It had not been his intention to enter it at that point; but his mind was made up for him as he was off balance and off-guard.
‘I’ll be with you in a moment,’ she said.
Wallace nodded and cast his eyes around the shop, as a bookshop it had a wide range, fiction, reference books and history, though there was a high proportion of political journals and various others that seemed to be Left oriented.
There was a door leading to the rear of the shop which was ajar. He could see someone moving about in the room beyond it. He decided that he may as well call it a day and disappear. He had been intending to wait outside until the suspected Murray Craddock left the shop before taking snap shots.
He ambled over to the door, feigning interest in a range of political biographies, and was about to sidle back into the street when a man entered the shop through the door at the rear.
‘Can I help you, sir?’
‘Yes, thanks! G’day. How yer going?’ Wallace replied, being taken completely by surprise. He indicated the nearest shelf of books which happened to be the nearest to hand, ‘Er…these are an interesting selection.’
‘Jeez! It’s good to hear an Aussie voice again, mate. Where yer from?’
Wallace felt adrenalin course all the way into his boots and back again. He had done it again! He had a mental picture of McKay clapping his hand to his forehead in exasperation. After easing his way through all those damned canal locks and conversing with other boatmen and the occasional lock-keeper, entering pubs and ordering food and conversing with barmen and waiters without once uttering any Australian idioms, he had finally made contact with his quarry and then given himself away twice in two short sentences. It was also quite likely that being caught in such an off-guard manner his Australian accent and intonations had come to the fore. He looked helplessly at the man who he now a
ssumed must be the missing Murray Craddock and shook his proffered hand.
As Wallace travelled back to Birmingham on the train from Stourbridge he felt dazed. Though the situation as it had developed did appear to be likely to assist him with the task that McKay had set, Wallace was nonetheless appalled that he could have given himself away so easily. The use of ‘G’day’ was elementary, anyone of Australian origin would have picked that one out, the use of ‘thanks’ instead of ‘please’ may not be so obvious to those not versed in Australian idiom, but: ‘How yer going?’ was another giveaway. Clearly he would have to watch it. There were other expressions Wallace had managed to curb so far, the ubiquitous ‘No worries’, ‘too right’ with its derivative of ‘too bloody right’ and the instantly recognisable ‘fair dinkum’.
True, Craddock was or had been an Australian and would notice them immediately, but there could be expatriate Australians in the English county police forces that could pounce on them at once if Wallace uttered them.
He had had a long chat with the man he assumed could be Craddock, who had introduced himself as Adam Morris, Wallace passing himself off as an Australian on holiday and touring, which was probably reasonably truthful enough. Morris, or Craddock, had given him his home address, and an invitation to dinner the following week. Wallace had hesitated to accept the man’s bread when he was attempting to spy on him, but such had been the other’s delight at meeting a fellow Aussie that Wallace had not been able to put him off.
The lady in the shop was Adele Briscoe, she seemed to be a quite intense type, judging by her conversations with customers who came in, she appeared to be conversant with any author in whom they were interested which indicated she knew her stuff when it came to peddling books, and also the details of any Communist writers, coups d’état or Revolutions.
Wallace found Craddock’s invitation difficult to refuse; during the somewhat one sided conversation Wallace had already ascertained that he lived nearby. He decided that if he did attend the man’s house or lodgings his base had better be nearer to hand. He had also managed to manipulate the tie camera and pressed the button a few times, he hoped the shots came out.