‘They were spinning his place when just his old mam was there. That’s not on. They did an illegal search in a room he was using over a pub and claimed to find paint from the farm on his shoes. They put it there, of course.’
The others in the group were all listening but nobody was commenting. Indeed, Hathaway was struck by their silence. McVicar suddenly barged in:
‘Who’s the nutty woman in the yellow dress in the kitchen? She’s got bats in her belfry, you ask me. Doo lally bloody pip.’
Hathaway’s father pursed his lips. After a moment’s silence, Reilly produced two cigars from his pocket.
‘Mr McVicar. You look like a man who enjoys a cigar. Come and smoke one with me. I want to talk to you about a bit of business. Outside, though – Dennis’s wife doesn’t mind cigarette smoke in the house but draws the line at cigars and pipes. Plus, it’s a bit more private.’
McVicar looked surprised.
‘Bit more freezing, too.’
One of the twins whispered something in his ear.
‘OK, then,’ he said to both Reilly and the twin. As Reilly led the way, the twins looked at Hathaway’s father. Did Hathaway imagine it or did the same twin who’d whispered in McVicar’s ear give the slightest of nods? Hathaway’s father excused himself.
The twins looked at Hathaway but didn’t say anything. Hathaway retreated to the kitchen.
The two women who had trapped Hathaway before were washing-up. There was a bag of rubbish beside them. Before they could snare him again, he picked it up.
‘I’ll take this out to the dustbins,’ he said.
They smiled and carried on chattering.
It was cold outside and slippery in the passage beside the house. He put the bag in the dustbin then walked down the passage to the back garden. Sean Reilly stepped in front of him, an unlit cigar in his hand.
‘Where’s McVicar?’ Hathaway said before he became aware of the grunts. He looked past Reilly to see his father, red-faced, kicking a shape huddled in the snow. He heard his father gasp between kicks:
‘You need… to keep… a polite… fucking… tongue… in your… fucking… head.’
Hathaway watched in horrified fascination as his father continued to kick McVicar. McVicar wasn’t moving. He wasn’t making any sound. All Hathaway could hear was his father’s jagged breath and the thud of his foot making contact with McVicar’s prone body.
‘He’s going to kill him,’ Hathaway said hoarsely.
‘Just a lesson in manners,’ Reilly said.
Dennis Hathaway only stopped when he ran out of puff. He finished by stamping on McVicar’s head then bent at the waist beside the motionless form and sucked in air. Hathaway could see the blood spreading in the snow. Dennis Hathaway turned his head towards Reilly without seeing his son.
‘Get this garbage off my bloody lawn.’
‘Dad,’ Hathaway called out. ‘What have you done?’
His father straightened up.
‘It’s all about respect, son. If there’s no respect, there’s nothing.’
‘But, Dad, look what you’ve done.’
His father looked down at the heap in the snow.
‘What? This?’ His father seemed puzzled. ‘This is nothing.’
But to Hathaway it was everything.
For the next few days, Hathaway was in turmoil. He’d seen his father angry often, but never the animal fury as he was trying to kick McVicar to death. And Hathaway had no doubt that’s what his father had intended. Hathaway was repelled by the violence. At the same time, he knew there was something in him that was drawn to that kind of barbarity. He knew he had his own dark places. He knew that if he allowed himself to unleash it, he had his father’s temper.
Then there was Barbara. He waited to hear from her but didn’t. He tried phoning her at the office on the pier but she was never there.
On the fourth day, he went to the pier. It was bright outside but the wind cut at his face like knives. He pulled the hood up on his duffel coat, even though he thought it made him look like a gnome.
The shooting gallery was boarded up for the winter but the amusement arcade was doing desultory business. Reilly was in the office with an unfamiliar woman. There were half a dozen paraffin heaters burning round the room. Two were on either side of the woman’s desk.
‘Your dad’s not here, John,’ Reilly said. ‘He’s in London. Gone up to see Freddie Mills at his club.’
Hathaway liked Mills. He’d never seen him box but he’d laughed at him in the couple of films he’d made. He’d met him with his father in Brighton. He’d even competed with him at the shooting gallery outside. Best of five. Hathaway had won but guessed that Mills had let him.
‘That’s OK,’ Hathaway said, ‘I was just passing.’
Reilly stretched his neck to look out of the window at the water, as if to ask, ‘Passing on to where?’ He smiled and indicated the woman at the other desk.
‘This is Rita. She’s taken over from Barbara.’
‘Hello.’ Hathaway forced a smile on to his face. ‘Has Barbara gone, then?’
Reilly nodded.
‘Got a job abroad,’ he said, looking down at his desk.
‘That was sudden.’
Reilly shrugged.
‘Opportunity came up and she took it.’ He stood. ‘The trial will be over soon.’
Hathaway knew Reilly was referring to the Great Train Robbery trial. It had begun at the end of January and nineteen people were in the dock. Others were still on the run with warrants out for their arrests.
‘Roger Cordrey is the only one who has pleaded guilty,’ Reilly said. ‘His mate Bill is going to get screwed.’
‘How come?’ Hathaway said, intrigued despite his upset about Barbara’s abrupt departure.
‘Cordrey is refusing to implicate anyone else and everyone else is pleading not guilty. Whatever Cordrey says about Bill Boal’s lack of involvement needs corroboration. But since everybody else is denying they had any involvement with the robbery, there is nobody to say he had nothing to do with it. Boal is screwed.’
‘You know him?’ Hathaway said.
‘From the racetrack,’ Reilly said.
Hathaway glanced at Rita and lowered his voice.
‘How’s that bloke? McVicar?’
‘He’ll mend. Eventually.’
‘Won’t he want to get his own back?’
Reilly drew him to the window. A flock of seagulls skirled in the gusts of wind. The sea was boisterous, huge swells rising and dipping.
‘People react to bad beatings in different ways, but more often than not it breaks their spirit. He was all mouth.’
‘You know the type?’
‘I’ve been around them most of my life.’
Hathaway went closer to Reilly.
‘Is my dad a gangster?’
‘You’d be best asking him questions like that.’
‘Would he answer?’
‘No idea,’ Reilly said.
‘Did he send Barbara away?’
Reilly smiled again.
‘You’d be best asking him questions like that.’
FOUR
Rebel Rouser
1964
Sean Reilly was at the Duane Eddy gig. He stood out like a sore thumb, smartly dressed and two decades older than anybody else. He was with a group of men at the bar.
The gig was in the Hippodrome. The group’s first taste of real dressing rooms. Duane Eddy didn’t hang out with them. Just said hello and shook their hands and went to his dressing room. Charlie was in awe. His backing band were British session musicians. They helped The Avalons set up their gear.
The ballroom was packed but with a potentially combustible mix of mods and rockers. The mods were on one side and the rockers on the other. The group came out and got stuck into some Buddy Holly then switched to rhythm and blues. Hathaway was glad they were on a raised stage as within ten minutes the first mod and first rocker had met in the middle for a fight. More a tussle really – punches a
nd kicks but nobody went down. When they withdrew another three or four from each side started up.
The girls were all clustered right in front of the stage, a lot of them leaning on the stage. Hathaway saw Dan eyeing a couple up as he sang. He dance-stepped over and leaned into him.
‘Watch it – we don’t know who they belong to.’
When Duane Eddy came on the rockers made more fuss than the girls. Hathaway and the group clustered at one end of the bar. Reilly gave a little wave from the other end. Hathaway excused himself and went over.
‘Wouldn’t have thought this was your sort of show, Mr Reilly.’
‘Gentlemen, you’ve probably seen this young pop star around on the pier. He’s Dennis’s lad.’
The men around him all nodded and smiled.
‘Doing a bit of business with the proprietors. And a bit of behind the scenes wheeler-dealing.’
Reilly looked over as the latest groups of mods and rockers drifted into the centre of the hall and clashed.
‘It’s almost choreographed,’ Reilly said. ‘Which is the nearest anyone is going to get to dancing tonight, I think.’
‘Lot of blood,’ Hathaway said.
‘Head wounds bleed excessively, however minor the injury. No, this is quite restrained, I think. It could have been a brawl but it isn’t. Very neat.’ He looked round. ‘I see the bouncers have made themselves scarce. Sensible.’
He moved across to Hathaway and spoke directly into his ear. Hathaway got a whiff of whisky on the breath.
‘Recognize anyone on the left-hand side of the ballroom?’
‘To be honest we’ve been trying not to look at anybody on either side of the ballroom.’
‘Good policy when you’re in the middle. But take a look now, why don’t you?’
Hathaway did and almost immediately saw three of the Teds who had given them the beating in Seven Dials.
‘Those three guys over there – and these two heading back to them.’
Reilly nodded.
‘That little squirt and those two big fellas, and these two with bloodied knuckles?’
Hathaway nodded.
‘All right, then. You enjoy the rest of your evening.’
‘I want to go over,’ Hathaway said.
‘That would be foolhardy in the circumstances. Leave it for the moment.’
Hathaway looked from Reilly to Reilly’s men ranged at the bar.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Negotiate.’ Reilly patted Hathaway’s arm. ‘Get back to your friends now.’
When Hathaway went back over to Dan and the others, he looked across at the five Teds-turned-rockers. They were in a huddle, laughing. He wondered what they had thought when they saw the group up on stage before Eddy came on.
Eddy’s twanging guitar was going over big. Charlie was in raptures. Hathaway leaned over to Dan.
‘Those Teds are here. The ones that did us over.’
Dan spotted them immediately.
‘Bloody hell. Small town – should’ve thought.’ He looked back at Hathaway. ‘Do you think we should do something?’
‘Not here – we’d get mobbed. Maybe after.’
Dan looked uneasy.
‘They gave us a good hiding last time. What makes you think this time is going to be any different?’
Hathaway glanced down the bar at Reilly. He noticed that three or four of his men had disappeared.
‘We need to hold on anyway. My dad’s bloke down the other end of the bar has something in mind.’
Dan looked down the bar.
‘That hard-looking bloke and his oppos?’
Hathaway nodded.
Eddy finished the instrumental and Charlie temporarily reconnected with the rest of the world. He looked across at Dan and Hathaway.
‘A god walks the streets of Brighton,’ he yelled.
‘He came by minicab, I think,’ Dan said, laughing.
Charlie glanced around the room. He looked straight at the Teds and his eyes widened.
He stepped closer to the others, his hand rummaging in the pocket where he kept the bike chain.
‘Have you seen who’s over there?’
‘We have,’ Hathaway said.
‘Well?’
‘Well, nothing. There’s nothing to be done at the moment.’
‘Bugger that,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ll have that big bastard.’
Hathaway still had his own rage at the one who had intended to piss on him. He was imagining broken bones. Even so. He reached up and ruffled Charlie’s hair.
Charlie jerked back and patted his mop-top, into place.
‘Even though you’re masquerading as a mop-top we know you’re really a Teddy boy through and through. I’m not sure if Teds have etiquette, but I’m sure it’s not on for one Ted to attack another in the middle of a conflict with a bunch of mods.’
Charlie was staring so hard at the group of Teds that Hathaway was sure they’d sense it and look over.
‘After, then,’ Charlie said.
‘Johnny’s dad’s friend said to hang on.’
‘Johnny’s dad’s friend?’ Charlie said disdainfully. ‘Is your dad going to walk us home after school too?’
‘It’s not like that,’ Hathaway said.
‘I fight my own battles,’ Charlie said. ‘Time you did too.’
‘What’s your problem with my dad?’ Hathaway said, squaring up to Charlie. ‘I notice you didn’t turn down this gig he got us.’
Charlie looked at Hathaway but ignored the question.
‘I say we ambush them afterwards. The element of surprise will work in our favour. What do you say, Dan?’
Dan and Billy both looked from Hathaway to Charlie. Dan shrugged.
‘You going to fight your own battles?’ Charlie said to Hathaway.
Hathaway was stoked up.
‘OK. Just let me tell my dad’s bloke.’ He looked down the bar but Reilly and his friends had gone.
The Avalons were backstage by the time Eddy finished his encores. He came off in a rush, gave them all a wave and a ‘Thanks, guys’ and went back out to sign photographs and autographs for the long queue already in place.
‘Let’s go,’ Charlie said.
‘What about our gear?’ Dan said. ‘We’ve only just got it – don’t want to lose this lot too.’
‘It’ll be safe enough. Come on.’
This from Charlie, who’d freaked out when the original gear had been wrecked.
Dan picked up a beer bottle, and Billy found a block of wood and he hefted it in his hand. Billy looked queasy. He looked down at his elastic-sided Chelsea boots.
‘Wish I was wearing winkle-pickers.’
Hathaway looked at a long pole with a hook on the end. He’d switched to aikido and had been doing kendo. He only knew a four-strike sequence so far – two defensive, two offensive – but reckoned that would be all he needed. He dismissed the idea, though, worried that if the police got involved, he would be treatedmore harshly for using what was obviously an offensive weapon.
He was concerned about Reilly and his instructions, but he had been provoked by Charlie’s comments.
It was drizzling when they stepped out into the alley at the back of the dance hall.
Hathaway looked to see if the Teds might be among the autograph hunters, waiting to jump them.
A thin stream of people went past the end of the alley. Charlie led the way down. He kept his right hand in his jacket pocket.
Most of the audience was only now starting to spill out into the street in front of the dance hall. There were two exits and the police, who were out in force, were ensuring mods went out of one and rockers out of the other.
There was a lot of shouting between the two tribes but the police were in a solid wedge between them. There were half a dozen police vans parked on the pavement on the other side of the street. Hathaway saw Reilly and some of his friends standing beside the uniformed police. They were all watching the audience emerge and Re
illy was talking quietly to a red-faced sergeant who was nodding. It was Sergeant Finch, the one who’d asked to be remembered to Hathaway senior earlier in the week.
Hathaway saw Reilly gesture to the sergeant as the Teds emerged. The next moment, the Teds were surrounded by around a dozen police. There was a moment’s discussion then they were led off and put in the back of one of the vans. Hathaway and the others looked at each other.
‘Well, that’s that,’ Billy said, looking relieved. He took the lump of wood out from inside his jacket pocket and laid it against a wall. Dan put his bottle down beside it. Hathaway looked back over to the sergeant. The sergeant nodded at him. Reilly had gone.
Hathaway’s father was in the sitting room when he came downstairs the next morning.
‘Come in here a minute, will you, son?’
‘What’s going on, Dad?’
‘That’s a big question, Johnny.’
‘Mr Reilly was at the Duane Eddy gig.’
‘Glad to hear it. He needs to get out more.’
‘Some Teddy boys were there and at the end the police took them away.’
‘That’s a result for law and order, then.’
‘Mr Reilly seemed quite pally with a sergeant.’
His father clasped his hands behind his head.
‘Pays to keep in with the boys in blue, especially in our business. What is it you’re asking me, son?’
‘What business are you in, Dad?’
‘I’ve got a lot of businesses, John. My fingers in a lot of pies.’
‘Are they all above board?’
His father sucked his teeth.
‘There are grey areas. But if I tell you I have reached an accommodation with the police, will that put your mind at rest?’
‘What will happen to those Teddy boys?’
‘Probably a drug bust, wouldn’t you say? Might find they were suppliers, not just users. Now let’s take that as a for instance. There’ll be a gap in the market there. It’ll need filling. If I knew people who had access to the pills that young people today like to use, I might be tempted to fill that gap.’
He was watching Hathaway closely.
‘You don’t pop pills, do you, John?’
Hathaway shook his head. Charlie did and Dan had tried them, but he’d never been interested.
The Last King of Brighton bt-2 Page 5