Take the A-Train

by Mark Timlin

  ‘Please accept the apology, all of you,’ said Bim. ‘My boys can be uncouth sometimes.’

  ‘He calls me a scrubber again and I’ll kick him in his uncouth bollocks,’ said Fiona.

  Rick looked stunned again and Lupino showed all his teeth in a long laugh. ‘Well said. Come and join us.’

  Teddy walked up the steps and beamed me a shiteating grin. ‘Hey, what’s happening, man? These guys invited us in and I just couldn’t say no.’

  ‘You coons are all heart.’

  ‘And us scrubbers,’ said Fiona who had followed him.

  ‘They just couldn’t bear to see you all dressed up an’ nowhere to go.’

  ‘Nice folks,’ said Teddy.

  ‘You OK?’ I asked.

  ‘Sure. We’ll do.’

  His eye caught Antonia who had perked up mightily since he had entered the room. ‘Fuck me, who’s the Pit Bull?’ he asked.

  ‘Boss’s daughter. Big cheese.’

  ‘Big fucking doggy you mean.’

  ‘Check. But it looks like she sure digs you, baby.’

  ‘I told you, man, I’m magic.’

  ‘Don’t let the big Bim catch you casting any spells. You know how he feels about the Brothers.’

  ‘Man, give me some credit. I wouldn’t touch that old slosher with a barge pole. I got class.’

  ‘And you’ve got something she likes hidden in your trousers.’

  ‘What, man, my hanky?’

  The daughter was taking a great interest in Teddy. She spun round on her stool and checked him out. Bim’s face suffused with blood. I saw only trouble.

  The band changed tempo and got stuck into Stand By Me like dogs at a bitch. ‘Groovy,’ said Teddy. ‘Who’s the group?’

  ‘James Brown and The Famous Fucking Flames. Live at the Apollo.’

  ‘Burnin’,’ said Teddy, then raised his voice. ‘Hey, can I get a drink?’

  ‘Have some of this.’ Antonia got into the action. She lurched off her stool, almost losing her balance as she landed on spiked heels. She advanced up the steps towards us like Godzilla, one hand on the wall to keep her upright and the other holding her half full glass towards Teddy.

  ‘Antonia,’ hissed Bim.

  ‘Don’t mind if I do,’ said Teddy, and took the proffered glass and licked the rim where Antonia’s lip print was visible in bright red lip gloss. She looked like she was ready to have an orgasm on the spot.

  Not a good idea, Teddy, I thought.

  ‘You black bastard!’ said Bimpson.

  Teddy was too busy gazing over the glass into Antonia’s eyes. She was too busy gazing back.

  Then I felt a light bulb go on over my head. Now I knew one reason why Bim hated blacks so much. Antonia, his pure, unsullied, unmarried daughter had hot pants for them. Maybe all his daughters had. Elementary, my dear Sharman.

  ‘Want to dance?’ she asked.

  Just as she spoke Stand By Me groaned to a halt and the band took a moment’s break and dived into their glasses. In the dead air before they got going again, I felt all sorts of tensions rising to the surface.

  ‘Get away from her,’ said Bimpson. His look was as cold as a frog’s backside.

  ‘And if I don’t?’ asked Teddy.

  ‘You’re looking at a world of pain.’

  ‘Hip,’ said Teddy. ‘Hip, I like that. Listen, man, no way, right? Not with mine, not with yours. Too ugly, man.’

  My heart sank. I could not believe I was hearing this.

  ‘But you call me a coon or a black bastard again, and I might take her up on her offer.’

  I thought Bimpson Lupino was about to expire of cardiac arrest. So did Rick, who couldn’t bear to hear all these insults aimed at his boss’s offspring and hauled off and dragged a cracker-jack little .22 out of his back pocket and stuck it in the direction of Teddy’s best wool worsted jacket.

  I saw the hammer going back so I brought my stick up in a short arc and knocked the barrel away. The sound of the shot was deafening in the confined space, even though it was such a small calibre weapon. It even reached across the room and brought a bossa nova treatment of A Rainy Night in Georgia to an early and cacophonous conclusion.

  The bullet chopped slivers of wood and sawdust from the top of the bar fitting and screamed off to lodge somewhere in the ceiling. The bar annexe was full of smoke and stank of used gunpowder and cordite. Powder burns spattered Rick’s hand and shirt cuff. Teddy looked as if he was in the market for fresh laundry and Rick didn’t know whether to be glad he hadn’t committed murder or angry that I had stopped him. I stepped back and made a placating gesture. There were still live rounds in the .22’s cylinder. Bim grabbed the gun and slammed it down on the bar. I flinched. Accidents do happen. I hoped he hadn’t burnt his little mitten on the hot metal. He was in a bad enough mood as it was. Every head in the place turned except Antonia’s, whose eyes were glued to Teddy’s crotch.

  ‘Later,’ Bim said to Rick. The guy actually flinched as if he had been slapped.

  Bim got busy appeasing the management. Guests kept peering over, but discreetly. They knew the score. A little gun play at a function was probably nothing new to them. Bim was handing out cash and exchanging favours at a furious rate. I heard him tell the maître d’ it was just boyish hi-jinks, all down to the advent of the holiday and too much Christmas spirit.

  When he’d finished all the glad handing, Bim came back and grabbed my arm and dragged me over to a private corner. ‘That’s twice you’ve got in my face today.’

  I just looked at him and said nothing.

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you that I had nothing to do with getting Watkins put away?’ Just the way he said it got to me. He seemed old and tired and I almost felt sorry for him.

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘I heard.’

  ‘Now get that cheeky fucking spade out of here before I have the black cunt’s hands chopped off.’ Then I didn’t feel sorry for him at all.

  I nodded.

  ‘And tell Watkins I’m sorry for his trouble. I’ll miss butting heads with him. We’ve been doing it for over thirty years.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’

  ‘Now scarper, and stay away from me and mine.’

  I went, collecting Teddy and Fiona.

  When we got outside we found that it had been snowing heavily for a long time. It was nearly two inches deep in the car park and we had to clear the windscreen of the jeep before we could leave.

  15

  Teddy engaged four-wheel drive and the jeep crunched through the snow as sure-footed as a cat. As we headed back to town the snow got thicker. Like I said, he was a good driver, anticipatory and making allowances for the conditions and all the bad drivers the weather had brought out. We saw lots, skating through red traffic lights broadside or spinning their drive wheels uselessly in drifts of snow. He didn’t speed, but he seemed to have the knack of picking the right lanes and knowing when to nip through on the inside without bringing out the worst in the other road users. The jeep ploughed through virgin snow and gripped the road like a leech. Teddy played Charlie Parker on the stereo all the way. Not too soft but not too loud because we needed to talk. Sacrilege, but I’m sure old Charlie would have understood.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Teddy, once we were clear of Bickley and all the road signs read ‘Central London’.

  ‘He told me he had nothing to do with getting Em put away.’

  ‘He would, wouldn’t he? Did you believe him?’

  ‘Funnily enough, yes. Although I think he might know something.’

  ‘Where does that leave us?’

  I thought of the five grand burning a hole in my favourite pair of Argyles. ‘I don’t know. I need time to think.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘Good question.’ I turned around to where Fiona was sitting, curled up in the back in her coat and hat. ‘Have you got somewhere to stay?’

  ‘With you,’ she said, and her voice told me she felt betrayed by my words.r />
  I shook my head, though I doubted she could see in the darkness. ‘No, somewhere safe. Not your place either. I don’t want to be worrying about you all the time.’

  I thought she was going to argue, but she didn’t. Two guns in two days can do that to you. ‘There’s my dad’s,’ she said.

  ‘In Waterloo?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you go there now?’

  ‘I need a change of clothes.’

  ‘Teddy’ll drop us off at your place,’ I said. ‘OK Teddy?’

  ‘Sure. Do you want me to wait?’

  ‘No.’ I replied. ‘There’s a cab firm local that’s quite good, I’ll get one to run me home later.’

  ‘I hope you can get one in this weather,’ he said.

  By this time we were coming to the bottom of the Old Kent Road and the snow was starting to thin out although it still hemmed us in to the cosy interior of the jeep as if we were the last people on earth.

  By the time we got to Kennington it had turned colder, the snow had stopped, the sky had cleared and stars shone like sparks of fire splattered across a black curtain. The streets were deserted and the snow was thick on the ground before the morning came and the traffic and pedestrians turned it to foul black slush. But just at that frozen moment the world was as white as to be almost blue under the street lamps. Fiona and I got out of the jeep.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to wait?’ asked Teddy.

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘You get off home. Call me tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Will do. Take good care of yourself and Fiona.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Goodnight Teddy and thanks,’ said Fiona.

  Fiona and I walked through fresh snow to the entrance of her block. We went up in the lift to the top floor and she let us in to her flat.

  ‘Why can’t we stay here?’ she asked. ‘At least till morning.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ I said. ‘Just do as I say please. Get some clothes packed and I’ll call a cab. Are you going to speak to your dad?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said and did so. He answered after a minute. She told him she was coming over and he didn’t seem to have any objections.

  She went upstairs and I telephoned the local cab service. I’d expected at least an hour’s wait but the controller told me five minutes and took the number, and said he’d phone when the cab was outside. Fiona came downstairs with a bag and just as she was about to start complaining again the telephone rang. I answered.

  ‘Cab’s downstairs,’ said the controller’s voice.

  ‘Fine.’ I hung up. ‘Let’s go,’ I said to Fiona and we left the flat and took the long lift ride down. On the street outside was parked a dark coloured Cortina estate which flashed its lights as we left the block. We both got into the back of the car.

  ‘Waterloo, then Tulse Hill,’ I said.

  ‘Bit iffy on the Tulse Hill bit mate,’ said the driver. ‘Have you seen the weather?’

  ‘Main roads will be all right,’ I said with a confidence I didn’t feel. ‘We’ll do it.’

  The cab took off towards the river and when we got to Waterloo Station Fiona directed the cabby to a small backstreet opposite St Thomas’s Hospital. He stopped the car and switched off the ignition. I wound down the window for some fresh air. With the engine off the only sound was the rush of the water from the river. Fiona’s dad’s pre-fab stood in the shadow of the hospital. There were five of the little oblong constructions in a row, each with a tiny patch of garden back and front.

  ‘Give me a ring tomorrow,’ I said as she got out. I would have kissed her but I could tell she wasn’t keen so I just let her go.

  I watched as she walked through virgin snow up the front path of the middle pre-fab and let herself in with a key. She didn’t look back. I felt like a bastard, but I’ve felt that way before and I dare say I will again.

  ‘Tulse Hill,’ I said, and the driver started the engine and headed south.

  The snow on the ground got thicker but it wasn’t too bad on the main roads where previous traffic had cleared the way, and we got to Tulse Hill in about twenty minutes. My street was thick with unmarked snow and the Ford slid and skidded up the slight incline until I pointed out my building made almost unrecognisable by its white cover. I paid the cabby, added a hefty tip and got out. I was yawning by the time I got inside. The flat was warm and silent. I made tea and went to bed but couldn’t sleep. Big deal, that had happened before too. I think I dozed towards dawn and when I came to at nine the weather had warmed up considerably and the snow was almost gone, although the man on the radio said it would be back and worse within twenty-four hours. The speed was still dancing in my veins and I couldn’t eat so I decided to go and get my car. I was going out on my own later and I needed to be mobile.

  Charlie had collected my two cars when it was obvious I was going to be in hospital for a long spell and I didn’t want them nicked or vandalised outside my flat. I dawdled around the place for a while, no one called. I phoned for a cab and the driver dropped me at Charlie’s just before noon. The streets were filthy by then, just as I’d known they’d be, and I hoped it wouldn’t freeze when it got dark.

  16

  When I got there someone had cleared all the snow off the cars for sale, and polished them. They gleamed in the grey light. Charlie was on the forecourt. He was geeing up a punter as I got out of the cab. The punter was in denims. Charlie had on his working gear: a three-quarter length sheepskin over a double-breasted grey suit, striped shirt and striped tie. Charlie was a serious contender for the oldest yuppie in town. If yuppies still existed.

  He didn’t see me coming.

  The punter was speaking. ‘But I can’t bring it in,’ he said. ‘It’s broken down in Stepney Green.’

  ‘What can I do, sir?’ asked Charlie, as if he didn’t know. ‘I’m all on my own here apart from an apprentice. Aren’t you in the AA?’

  ‘I was about to join but I hardly had time before the car went on the blink. I thought there was a guarantee.’

  ‘Our name is our guarantee,’ said Charlie, getting on his high horse. ‘Now if you get the car here, I’ll get it looked over.’

  The punter was going to argue but looking at Charlie’s chunky body changed his mind, mumbled something unintelligible and sloped off.

  ‘Looks like he’d rather have the guarantee,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Charlie as if it had been only hours rather than weeks since we’d last spoken. ‘If he can’t afford to run a decent car he should fuck off.’

  ‘I see that the old “customer’s always right” motto still applies,’ I said.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So has this customer still got any cars here?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘I’m amazed. Are they in running order?’

  High horse time again. ‘What do you reckon? They’re running sweet as nuts.’

  ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘You’ve got a fan, or at least the cars have.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘New mechanic, YTS.’

  ‘Slave labour, you mean.’

  ‘Now, now, Nick. I’m surprised at you. We’re living in a venture society, you know.’

  ‘Vulture, more like.’

  He opened his arms in surrender.

  ‘What about the motors?’ I asked. ‘Have you been letting some spotty little git fuck around with them?’

  ‘I told you, they’re both running great.’

  ‘With a YTS yobbo screwing them up?’

  ‘The mechanic turns the engines over every other day. Spends too much time with them, if you ask me.’

  ‘Who pays for the gas?’

  ‘The mechanic.’

  ‘Let’s see him. I don’t usually like mechanics.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll like this one.’

  ‘I bet.’

  ‘Tallhulah!’ he shouted.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  A slim figure came out of the wo
rkshop. Blonde hair pulled high and tight. Figure like a rake cinched into baggy overalls. You didn’t see the bumps until she got close. Not bad bumps at that.

  ‘Tallhulah,’ I said.

  ‘Tallhulah,’ repeated Charlie.

  ‘Tallhulah,’ the girl said. ‘That’s me. Who wants to know?’

  ‘Tallhulah,’ said Charlie, ‘this is Nick Sharman.’ She could have looked less impressed, but I don’t know how.

  ‘I hear you’ve been taking care of my cars,’ I said.

  ‘The “E” and the TransAm?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ve been keeping an eye on them.’

  ‘You must have spent some of your own money on petrol.’

  ‘A bit. It doesn’t matter.’

  I took out a twenty. ‘I’m obliged.’

  ‘I don’t want that.’

  ‘Take it, please. I know what you’re paid.’ And I gave Charlie a dirty look.

  ‘I’ve got independent means.’

  ‘I bet.’

  She hesitated. I didn’t do anything dumb like push it into her top pocket. She would have done me for assault.

  Eventually she plucked the note from between my fingers. ‘The Tranny needs some oil,’ she said.

  ‘Just as well I’m taking the E-type then.’

  ‘You’ll ruin the bodywork in this mess,’ she said, gesturing at the wet pavement. ‘The council has salted the roads.’

  ‘Can’t be helped. I need a car.’

  She looked at me sadly and shook her head. ‘Please yourself.’

  ‘Thanks again,’ I said to her retreating back.

  The cars were tarped up in an extension to the garage proper. The tyres on the E-type were hard and the cellulose shone. There were no visible leaks, and the inside of the cockpit was neat and tidy. The steering wheel was clean and the ignition keys were in the lock. I turned them. The car caught first time, even in the damp air, and soon settled down to a contented purr. I’d have to thank Tallhulah again.

  I pulled the car round to the front. Charlie was walking up and down in front of his stock. I noticed that there were more BMWs and Audis and Mercedes than there used to be. Now I understood the threads.

  ‘All right?’ he asked.

  ‘Good as gold. Better. If there’s anything to pay, stick it on my bill.’