“Don’ you starding again pliss’. I told you.”
The girls apologised by giving him a large tip to absolve themselves.
“Now, coffee and then we’ll open this,” said Amelia, waving the envelope in Rayn’s face.
On one side of the precinct was a burger bar and opposite was a small cafe. Rayn chose the cafe, in order, she said, to avoid temptation and not spoil their dinner. “I don’t really like that food, anyway,” she added.
“Nor do I,” replied Amelia, half-heartedly and finished with, “You bitch! I’m still starving.”
They sat in a corner and eventually the waitress came over. She was quite elderly and very overweight. “Yeah? Wadjawant,” she said. She was also extremely disinterested in the answer. They ordered two coffees.
“Izatall?” she asked and went off muttering about wasting her time and useless teenagers. The girls giggled and Rayn asked if she could hit her.
“Not a good idea,” said Amelia. “Even if she attacked us, we’d still get the blame. Those grown-ups really stick together.”
“Yeah,” agreed Rayn. “She looks the sort of person who’d kick you in the teeth then accuse you of biting her foot.”
The coffee came and the woman stood there tapping her foot until Amelia paid. She walked off without a word and they stared out of the window to avoid hysterics.
“Now! What’s in that envelope?” said Rayn.
“As it’s my birthday and this is for both of us, why don’t you open it?” Amelia replied. She laughed as Rayn tore at it like a maniac. She pulled out a Christmas card and as she opened it some bank notes fell on the table. Amelia wanted to count them but Rayn scooped them up quickly.
“Rayn, what are you doing?” said Amelia indignantly.
“We’re in a public place Amelia, somebody might see,” she answered, keeping her voice low.
“Oh, I think we’re good enough to take care of anyone who tries to snatch this,” Amelia replied with confidence.
“Don’t underestimate the world, my friend. There are people out there who’d kill for this much.”
“How much is it then?”
“Fifteen crisp new twenty pound notes.”
“More importantly,” said Amelia, “who’s it from? Come on, read the card.”
Rayn opened it and read.
“Dear girls, Happy Winter Solstice.
I know it’s a bit early and it’s rather a lot, but I wanted to get you a really good pair of training shoes. Not trainers, professional ones. If you go to Champions in Warem you’ll get the best. If it comes to more than this just show the manager this card and he’ll sort you out.
Have a great day. Love,
Old George.”
“Oh Amelia, Don’t you just love him.”
***
As they put their coats back on Amelia looked out of the window. She was trying to fight off the feeling that they were being manipulated again. She decided not to say anything and spoil the moment for her friend.
“Hey, look,” she said. “Isn’t that Molly over in the burger bar with the twins?”
“Where? Oh yeah. Let’s go and say hello.”
“I don’t think so. She told Mum she was going to a funeral.”
“Really?” said Rayn. “She doesn’t look very upset, and she’s definitely not dressed for it.”
Amelia looked at Molly’s face. She wasn’t just smiling, her face was positively beaming.
As they watched, a familiar-looking man arrived at the table and unloaded the bags and boxes of food and drinks. He teased the boys gently by pretending the promotional toys were for him and Molly. Molly just watched him, totally enraptured by his presence.
“Nigel!” exclaimed Rayn. “Good for you.”
“No,” whispered Amelia. Shock ran through her like molten lead. “He can’t, he’s mine, he belongs to me,” she heard herself saying.
Rayn sounded distraught as she tried to get through to her friend. “Amelia, listen to yourself. He’s twenty-eight. He has his own life to lead. Leave it alone.”
Amelia watched as Nigel picked up some plastic witches hats. They all put one on, laughing and looking like a normal happy family. The jealousy inside her knotted her stomach and she felt physically sick. Before and after? She thought. Melkins death had nothing on this.
She turned and looked at Rayn, but what she saw was her own reflection in the mirrored sunglasses. She was appalled. Looking back at her was a pathetic child, selfish and confused, not yet ready to venture into the savage wastelands of adult emotions.
“Oh Rayn, am I really that shallow and selfish? You’re right. It’s just that he’s always been there for me. I’m used to him.”
“Well, if that’s true then you gotta let him go, girl, I’m sorry. Let’s get out of here.” Rayn advised. “We got shoes to buy.”
“Yeah. When you get angry you have to hit. When I get angry I got to shop. Let’s go.” Amelia agreed.
Rayn was still excited but she noticed the spark had gone out of Amelia. She tried to cheer her up, but knew it wouldn’t work until they were up to their armpits in footwear.
They grabbed a taxi to Warem Down and found Champions, the sports shop. After stretching the patience of the staff to breaking point, they settled on matching pairs. The bill came to more than they had and Amelia gave over the card.
“And what am I supposed to do with this?” an offended young girl asked.
“Would you be kind enough to give it to the manager, please?” replied Amelia, in her sweetest voice, confident of the outcome.
The manager came and told the staff to charge the surplus to discount. The staff that the girls had run ragged looked disconcerted but complied with his instruction.
“Winter Solstice, aye? Give my regards to old George.” he said with a wink.”
“Is there anyone that doesn’t know that man?” remarked Rayn as they left.
Amelia had a spring in her step again. “I feel better now. Let’s get a drink.” she said.
They squeezed themselves into a table in the local plastic and chrome ‘eatery’, Rayn tipped her head back to drink from her can and froze. “Oh God! I’m in love,” she uttered.
A young man was standing holding a cup and looking for somewhere to sit. He was quite tall, very slim and looked to be about sixteen. He made Rayn think of the young Michael Jackson, but it was his outfit that stunned her. Skin-tight black jeans with a red and gold floral design from hips to knees. Verging on anorexic he wore a wide, studded leather belt with a huge brass buckle. His red shirt was open to the exaggerated collar revealing a large gold medallion, and a black leather jacket covered in more studs, with the collar turned up like a sixties rocker. Dreadlocks to his shoulders, topped by a brown leather hat with a decorated headband, completed the devastating ensemble.
The Michael Jackson similarity ended there. His skin was so black it was almost deep, deep blue. The broad nose and full lips announced his ethnic origins along with the dreadlocks. Rayn was captivated. “Oh Amelia, look at that,” she said, dry-mouthed.
Amelia’s next move shocked Rayn rigid. She turned to Mr Magnificent and called out, “Hey, Sambo!”
Rayn’s face went white, then twice round the rainbow and back to colourless white. She tried to speak quietly, but it didn’t work.
“Amelia! You can’t say that, how dare you! It’s monstrous.” She stopped short as the guy acknowledged Amelia and made his way over to them. Neither he nor Amelia took the slightest notice of the sudden tension in the cafe or some of the looks thrown their way.
Amelia cleared the spare seat and Rayn couldn’t believe it when this perfect creature sat beside her. That was when she noticed something very odd. Her face darkened when she realised they were laughing at her expense and that, somehow, she was being had.
“Sambo, you’d better explain before she explodes,” said Amelia. “It won’t be pretty.” He smiled broadly, showing perfect teeth. “I’m sorry, er…”
“T
his is Rayn, with a Y,” explained Amelia.
“I’m sorry Rayn,” he continued. “It’s just that I live for moments like this. You’ve really made my day.”
“How?” said Rayn without emotion.
“Well,” he explained, “my surname is Bowe, and for some strange reason my parents called me Samuel. Hence Sambo, and because I’m a belligerent so-and-so I insist on being called by my full and rightful name.”
“He loves all this,” Amelia added, indicating the unsettled clientele of the eatery.
Rayn wasn’t just unsettled, she was confused. Having spent most of her short life being called ‘Gypo’, ‘Dyke’ or ‘Pikey’ (among other things), she failed to see the humour of it.
“There may be laws against racism,” Sambo continued. “But it hasn’t gone away. It’s still there, just under the surface.”
Amelia recognised Rayn’s mood and thought it was time to change the subject. “Haven’t seen you around for a while, Sambo. What have you been up to?” she said.
“Oh, I dropped out of school, couldn’t cope. They don’t teach the things I want to do,” he replied. His English showed no trace of accent and Rayn assumed he was second or third generation.
“Are you working, then?”
“On and off. I seem to be relying on my busking at the moment,” he pulled out a small bag of coins and a harmonica from his jacket pocket. Rayn decided to re-join the conversation.
“I like your hat,” she said. “Where did you get it?” Amelia looked at it and frowned.
“A mate of mine gave it to me. Goes with the gear, doesn’t it?”
“Can I see it? She asked.
“I’d rather not,” said Sambo to the girls’ surprise.
“Why?” Rayn asked pointedly.
“Well, you see,” he lowered his voice and looked around the cafe. “The dreadlocks are glued in. It would spoil the image.”
Rayn wasn’t going to let his disarming looks put her off and she wanted to hit something.
“Why? Are you bald?” she threw at him.
“No, of course not,” he said with a laugh. “This is my work gear. I don’t walk round like this all the time. They’d lock me up, or beat me up – probably both. I’m a street dancer, you know, all the old Michael Jackson stuff. It pays well. It pays better if I wear the gear, and I’m sorry to say it pays better since he died.”
Amelia felt a strong urge to change the subject again. She couldn’t see Rayn’s eyes behind her glasses and she had no idea whether they were showing mischief or fire. She expected the latter.
“Why have you stopped? It’s nice out there now,” she asked.
“I had to finish early. I’ve got to see some bloke about a job.”
“Doing what?”
“Dunno, really. I’m not sure.”
“Well, what does he do? It should give you some idea.”
Sambo thought for a moment. “I think he runs some sort of garage,” he replied. “Don’t see how I can help. He’s offered me a room; it’s a bit too cheap so I guess it’s not up to much, but at least he says I’ll have my own bathroom and kitchen. As long as he doesn’t want me to walk around with a mop and bucket saying, “Yeah boss, okay Massa.” Amelia and Sambo laughed, but Rayn was silent. Inside she was boiling at this callous disregard for any sensitivity.
“People aren’t like that now, I’ll have you know,” she said.
“Yes they are, Rayn,” replied Sambo, serious for the first time. “Racism exists, so let’s have a laugh at its expense.” He looked at Amelia. “But I do have another talent. It’s what I really want to do. Remember?”
“Of course,” said Amelia. “Rayn, you know that big wood panel carving in the school library? The parody on Da Vinci’s last supper with teachers instead of disciples?”
“Yeah,” said Rayn. “It’s beautiful. Must be worth a fortune.”
“Well, that’s Sambo’s work.” There was pride in her voice for him. “They wouldn’t let him sign it though. They didn’t think it was ‘appropriate’.”
“Yeah, well, this guy had said he’d seen it and asked if I would like a job. I’ll see what he’s got to offer. He’s offered me a room but if he expects anything else he’ll be eating through a straw for a while.” Sambo and Amelia laughed again but Rayn found she couldn’t. She’d suddenly gone cold with a strong sense of foreboding.
“What’s this guy’s name?” she asked him.
“I don’t know. He’s got a place over in Tethers End, just by the old stone bridge,” he said. “Do you know it?” Amelia suddenly choked on her drink.
“Steady up, girl,” said Rayn. “I see your brain is back.” She looked at Sambo. “Amelia lives in the flower shop almost next door.”
“Really? Thanks Rayn, Easy there, Amelia.” he said as he got up to go. For the first time he was facing Rayn. She’d taken her glasses off to wipe the spray from Amelia’s explosion and he saw the discolouration. “Wow, what happened to you?”
“I had an accident with a loaded boxing glove,” she told him. By now Amelia had recovered her dignity. “This job interview you’re going to,” she began. “If the guy is getting on a bit, has a beard and a pony tail and his name is George, take the job!”
“I don’t think there’s any choice,” said Rayn, to no one in particular. After he had gone, the girls began walking arm in arm to Hunters Lodge.
“Rayn? Are you okay?”
“No!” answered Rayn, trying to control the seething anger she felt. “A guy walks in at random. He’s a brilliant artist, if that carving is anything to go by. He’s going to see of all people George for a job, And he’s wearing a hat made by my mother. I can feel the wheels of our FFCT turning.”
“Oh, come on,” Amelia responded. “He must be a friend of Nigel’s. That’s how all this worked out. How can it be a conspiracy?”
“I suppose you may be right. But why do I have the feeling that something is going to happen?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t hear a cello. So, let’s go and spoil ourselves rotten at Hunters Lodge, and if we see anyone we know you have my permission to hit them, okay?” Both laughing, they entered the restaurant.
Chapter Thirteen
They were met at the restaurant door by a medium-height, balding man in a tuxedo. He had a pen in his right hand with which he tapped constantly on his temple. His left hand he used to accentuate his speech.
“Ah, welcome. Miss Mgee and Miss Jaxson, I presume?” he said in his extremely articulate manner “I’m Felix; owner and head waiter of the Hunter’s Lodge”.
Amelia and Rayn were stunned. “Er,” said Amelia, caught off balance. “We don’t have a reservation, I’m afraid.”
“Ah, but you do now,” he replied with his professional smile.
“How did you know our names?” Amelia wanted to know.
“Yes,” added Rayn. “If George is behind this, I’m out of here.”
“Me too,” said an increasingly agitated Amelia.
“I’m afraid I know no one of that name, ladies. I assure you.”
“So who did?”
“Let me show you to your table, and I will explain.” He snapped his fingers and two waiters appeared. They were young, very tall, very smart and very, very dishy. Amelia and Rayn looked at each other.
Simultaneous replies of “okay”, “sounds great”, “we’ll give it a try”, “yeah”, “why not”, “sure”, “thanks” came out in no particular order.
They were shown to a table that looked like something from a film set. Their coats and bags disappeared and a waiter held each chair as they sat. Felix continued, his humour being his apparent lack of it. “I received a phone call on behalf of Mrs Mgee. She was quite specific in her request that we serve you by setting new standards in the culinary profession.”
“Mother! Oh no!” Rayn put her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands.
Felix continued, his face expressionless, “we were not offered any remuneration for this en
deavour. She was adamant that I make this clear to you.”
“So, what’s the catch?” asked Rayn.
“Oh, she mentioned a few things. Cockroaches, locusts, venomous snakes and, I believe, poisonous frogs were in there somewhere. You know the sort of thing. She sounded very well-armed.”
Amelia was in fits by this time and Rayn had disintegrated completely. “Okay, give it your best shot. We’ll give them a full report when we get home,” Rayn managed to gasp out.
Felix almost smiled as he replied. “Ah, she did leave one interesting proviso.”
“And what might that be?” said Rayn, deeply suspicious of her mother.
“She gave us instructions that if you embarrass yourselves, your parents or the Hunters Lodge…” The girls could tell he was enjoying himself, though he showed no outwards signs as he related the good part. “We have her permission to make use of, make good use, she said, of the working ducking stool we have in our summer garden. I’m having someone search for the key, as we speak.”
The girls were in fits and their laughter was attracting the attention of other diners in the restaurant, which, at that time of day, was thankfully not very crowded.
Felix gave his discreet cough. “May I suggest, ladies,” he warned, “that at this point in time you are very close to the edge of the pond.”
Amelia was clutching her ribs and gasping for breath. “Don’t worry, Felix. If you can’t find the key, we’ll jump in.”
“Thank you. How very considerate of you. I will leave you to enjoy your meal.” He turned away but then stopped.
“One other thing,” his voice dropped almost to a whisper. “You are too young to buy or consume alcohol, and we are forbidden by law to sell or serve you. But, acting on instructions, I have provided some wine in lemonade glasses, with lemonade of course, to reduce its capacity – or, should I say, prevent your incapacity.”
Rayn could only manage a whisper anyway, as her throat was exhausted. “What on earth could my mother have said that would make you break the law and risk your licence?”
“I believe that came with Demons of Hell – oh and Eternal Damnation. She’s a very persuasive woman. I hope I never have the pleasure of meeting her.” He hesitated and added, “I do hope that if the occasion arises you will be good enough to tell the Magistrate that this restaurant is innocent of all charges.”
The Chrysalid Conspiracy Page 18