In the afternoon he returned to the flat with the cash. Andrew was already sitting at his desk and took delight in examining the book in detail and counting the cash.
“For your first outing you’ve done rather well Harry, the rest you can collect later in the week after you’ve moved into your place.”
Andrew continued checking the money and balanced the entries in the ledger.
“You look like bloody Fagin.” Harry said smiling.
Andrew ignored the suggestion and continued his sums. After a further ten minutes Harry became bored of scanning the newspapers and he yawned loudly.
“Late night was it?”
Andrew proffered and then continued.
“Here, go and move into Argyle Street, you don’t need to stay here and watch me.” He slid the key across the desk.
This was the excuse Harry needed,
“Great I will, if you’re sure.”
“Get on your way. I’ll see you in a few days. Don’t upset the neighbours!”
Harry didn’t hear the last remark; he’d collected his mac and was already descending the stairs.
The following day Harry moved into the small furnished house. The properties were the typical two up, two down terraces that were constructed just after the end of the Great War. His house had electric light downstairs and gas mantels in the two bedrooms above. A lean-to scullery and toilet had been added on to the ground floor kitchen. He quickly emptied the half-filled suitcase that contained the only possessions he had. Fortunately Eileen had supplied him with bed linen and towels so at least he could settle in for the night.
At about two in the morning he was awoken by noise coming from the house next door. It appeared to be a passionate row erupting between the wife and her husband who had just returned home from a night on the town. The shouting provoked a dog to start barking from one of the back gardens adjoining his property. Harry stood up and opened the window overlooking the street. He noticed a few of the neighbours opposite were also staring out of their windows trying to see what was happening. Suddenly the argument burst out from next door and into the street. It turned out that it was the son of the couple next door who had returned home late in a drunken state and was obviously not welcome.
“You’ve been missing for months and you expect us to take you in again?” the mother shouted,
“This is the third and last time you come back here!”
The father joined in stuttering with rage,
“You…you sh..shit, you emptied my wallet before you left last time, now Pi..Piss off!”
The youth staggered into the road, too drunk to respond. His mother continued with her barrage,
“Go and get your man ‘Irish Duffy’, or whatever his name is, to find you a bed. He’s got more money than us. You’re not living under our roof again.”
The father stepped out to the kerb,
“We’re fighting a fucking wa...wa…war over here against that type. Away with you now!”
Another neighbour from the same side of the street appeared in her dressing gown,
“That’s right Bill, you tell the sod. Your son’s done nothing good around here since he left the Boys’ Brigade.” Feeling fearless now with all the support around her she turned her anger directly to the youth,
“Fuck off or join the army you wanker!”
Another woman appeared from the opposite side of the street and escorted the youth into her home for the night. The drunk’s mother reacted immediately,
“That’s right go and stay with the grey old bag opposite again, any port in a storm for you.”
“Specially if you like be..beached w..whales!” his Father added.
The youth turned and attempted to argue back but his profusion of words were disarranged and incoherent. However, he did expertly accomplish a ‘V’ sign directed at his parents before tripping on the opposite pavement. The ‘whale’ just managed to save his fall before guiding him into her refuge for the remainder of the night. Soon peace had again returned to Argyle Street.
‘What a place.’
Harry thought as he climbed into bed again,
‘Street entertainers on every corner!’
A few days later he set out from his own house to complete the week’s collection and returned to hand everything over to Andrew as arranged.
As previously Andrew busied himself counting cash and checking the books whilst Harry quietly read the newspapers.
“Do you want some more tea?”
“No, I’m busy thanks. I’m OK,” said Andrew.
Harry made some for himself and returned, Andrew was still engrossed with his bookkeeping. Harry examined Andrew’s gramophone record collection before returning to the newspapers. He was becoming restless, wanting to know more about the ‘shadow’ operations.
“Why is it I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything?
I’m a big boy now, you can confide in me. I just need to know what I’m likely to get involved with.”
“I’ve not the faintest idea what you mean.” Andrew said indignantly,
“You’ve been out, collected the cash and brought it back. That’s all you had to do today.”
“Nuff said Andrew. You can fill me in with more details another time, when you’ve a feeling to trust me a bit more perhaps.”
“Harry there is more, but as I said I need to get Dermot to see you. Once on board then all will be revealed – I’ve said that to you before as well!”
“Yes I know. I’m grateful for what you’ve done but I don’t just want to be a rent collector.”
“I know, just be patient.”
Harry knew that there was no point in pursuing this with him. Andrew was waiting for Dermot to give the nod. He decided not to raise any further questions that day. His curiosity could be re-ignited tomorrow.
Later that evening Harry went across to see if Eileen was working at the Royal Stuart.
“I’ve got an extra shift to do I’m afraid so I won’t be finished until eleven. How’s your house by the way?”
“It’s in a charming neighbourhood, but I just need a woman’s touch to sort out the place – when’re you coming over?”
“Could be later tonight, once I’ve finished here”
“By the way, have you ever heard of ‘Irish Duffy?’
“No can’t say that I have, why?”
“I heard some of my neighbours mention him but no matter.”
“Listen Harry, I’ve an idea. Instead of you sitting here and waiting for me why don’t you go over to the Dugout. I’ll speak to Wemyss on reception. He’ll remember you and let you in.”
“The bouncer is Wemyss?”
“Yes, the ‘Steward’ is Wemyss; he’s the biggest shareholder of the club. There will be some other people there that I know who may be able to entertain you until I’m free later.”
“Sounds as though it’s all arranged, who are these people?”
“They’re just customers that I knew from here who have moved across to the ‘Dugout’. Wemyss told me they would be in tonight so he’ll introduce you. Tommy and Steve are their names.”
“And their business?”
“The motor trade and a bit of this and that, if you know what I mean. They’re always looking for people to work with them.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“You’ve nothing to lose Harry.”
“Fair enough, I’ll go and find out what they’re up to. But you’ll follow over later?”
“Yes as I said, sorry Harry I’m needed.”
Eileen had to break away to serve other customers.
Wemyss the ‘bouncer’ in his dinner suit was sitting at the desk as Harry approached.
“I came here the other evening if you remember, with Eileen?”
The man examined t
he visitor’s book meticulously.
“Yes, I see. You’re going in alone tonight?”
“For the time being if that’s OK, Eileen will call in later?”
“Yes, she said you might be in, sign here please.”
“Are you busy?”
“No, not really, it’s a bit early perhaps. There’s a group of people in, some that Eileen know, she said to introduce you if you want me to.”
“Perhaps later, I’ll have a quiet drink first.”
“As you wish.”
Harry signed and went into the lounge and ordered a whisky. Wemyss watched him all the way through.
The bar area was empty but across the room, at the lower level, several tables had been pushed together and a party of about ten people were drinking heavily and laughing and joking loudly. Harry sat on a stool with his back to the bar. When he had finished his drink he turned to the barman,
“They’re packing a few away. How long have they been in?”
“All afternoon. I think they’re going on somewhere for a meal.”
“Do you know them?”
“A few I know, the man facing us in his fifties, that’s Steven Beecham and the larger older fellow next to him is Dermot Cassidy and one down again is Tommy Bunn. The rest I don’t know, a few of the women are just local hangers-on.
“Can I get you a drink?” Harry asked.
The barman, who was rarely given such an option, readily agreed,
“Thank you, yes, a small beer, and do you want a top up?”
“Yes please.” Harry glanced up at the images in the bar mirror,
‘So that is Dermot, and I’m going to meet him before Andrew can formally introduce us.’
“Good health to you sir.”
The barman distracted Harry from his gaze as he acknowledged his drink. Harry remained sitting on the stool as he resumed his reflective surveillance of the others. The barman busied himself polishing the bar. Harry then noticed Dermot swaying towards him. He was a huge man, ‘must be twenty stone at least’ Harry thought. He came closer and stood at the bar; he was now breathless as he wheezed out a command,
“We’ll ‘ave another round of drinks put it on my tab. I’m going for a piss.”
There was no please or thank you Harry noticed. He watched him weave his way through the tables and chairs to the toilets. He was wearing an old dark blue suit with brown shoes which the trouser bottoms didn’t touch. The bulk of his expanding waistline had eliminated that sartorial nicety long ago.
“That’s Dermot?”
“Yep, that’s him, nice and polite as usual.”
The barman continued preparing a tray of drinks.
“What does he do for work?”
“He’s part owner of this place as well as being in some property or building business I think.”
“The other men, Beecham and Bunn?”
“They run a garage in town. Both are ex-police by the way.”
Harry sipped his drink and watched the two men reflected in the mirror talking to the women. Then he heard Dermot coughing loudly and turned to watch him emerge from the toilets. He walked slowly back to his chair whilst still buttoning his flies. Harry also noticed that he had part pissed himself, a wet stain was slowly spreading across his crotch. The barman followed him across to the table with the fresh drinks, collected the empties and returned. He poured a drink for Harry,
“This is your’s sir, a gift from Mr Cassidy’s table.”
Harry turned to look and raised his glass in acknowledgement. Dermot held his hand up to wave Harry across to their table,
“Don’t sit there all alone come and join us for a drink. What’s your name?”
“Harry, Harry Davies.”
Harry went across and sat down next to Dermot who was still breathing heavily after the exertion of walking back from the toilet.
“The name’s Cassidy - Dermot Cassidy.”
His voice was loud and coarse.
“You’re new around here?”
One of the other men enquired.
“I have been here before; the doorman recognised me and let me in.”
Dermot cut in, “Doorman? That’s Wemyss he owns this place. Doorman he says!” Dermot exchanged the joke with the other men.
“You’ve obviously had a good day. Are you celebrating?” Harry ventured.
Dermot answered,
“No not really, we just arrange to meet up here once a month. What business are you in?”
Harry quickly decided not to say too much,
“Well I’m in between at the moment; I’ve only just come up from the south. So I’m still looking.”
“What were you doing then; you know - before?” Steve Beecham asked.
Harry repeated the story he had given to Andrew previously.
“Well, I was in a reserved occupation, engineering, but after being bombed out and injured I was released from duties for a while pending recovery. I’m well on the mend now so I may be called back for a medical in a month or so.”
Beecham leaned forward to get nearer to Harry,
“And before that, what did you do?”
“I also did some bouncing, you know clubs, places like this. Years before that I worked on various building sites as a labourer. Recently I just got a bit bored staying in London so, when I felt well enough, I thought I’d come up north for a while to fully recuperate. I haven’t been up this way for many a year.”
Dermot responded, his voice now wheezing again,
“Well, you never know, we might be able to assist you in the interim.”
“Sorry -” Harry said, turning towards Beecham, “– I’ve only introduced myself so far, and you are?”
Dermot’s two assistants introduced themselves to Harry. Tommy Bunn was a tall thin man with short, fine, grey hair. He had high cheekbones that made his stretched facial skin appear slightly sunken. His eyes were large, rounded and strikingly blue. He smiled readily and offered his hand immediately in friendship with a firm grip and thumb pressure applied between Harry’s knuckles. Harry also noticed one other curiosity. When Tommy spoke directly to someone he closed his eyes and moved his head as though he was reading the words projected onto his lids.
Harry turned to face the other man. Steve Beecham was also tall but strongly built. His face was rounded but his eyes appeared almost black, hooded and almond - shaped. He sported a thin black moustache on the lower edge of his top lip.
‘This guy’s fit,’ Harry thought.
His demeanour was more confrontational, somehow intimidating. He was late in offering his hand to shake and when he did, his grip was overly tight, his face gave no hint of any genuine friendship likely to develop. As he withdrew his hand, Steve gave a brief thin smile as he stared directly into Harry’s eyes. The remaining guests at the table continued drinking.
‘These are the hangers-on,’ Harry decided.
Tommy turned to face Harry,
“Have you any sporting interests?”
“I like most sports; I used to play rugby a lot, and a bit of boxing now and again.” Harry stopped as the barman came across.
“Mr Cassidy, your cars are here.”
“Time to go fellas.”
Dermot struggled to his feet and shook hands with Harry; the other two men quickly downed their drinks and stood up. Dermot led the way and they followed him out. The rest of the party also downed their drinks hoping that they might be asked to accompany them; but they were to be disappointed.
Harry was walking to the bar when Tommy came back into the lounge.
“Harry, Mr Cassidy has asked if you would like to accompany him.”
Harry decided to go; there might be a living to be made. He was more curious now than before. Andrew’s proposed introduction had been circumvented. Harry asked the barm
an to contact Eileen and explain where he was.
As the two men walked towards the reception area they became aware of an argument developing. Three drunken men in their late thirties were demanding to be let into the bar. One of them recognised Dermot.
“That’s the other bastard!”
Dermot tried to push his way to the waiting car but was stopped by one of the men,
“You, you fucking pig. You’re the one that threw us out of our house!”
The man took a wild swing but was pushed aside by Tommy and Steve. The other two drunks started to push forward to get at Dermot. Harry instinctively punched the first one hard on the nose, which caused him to fall to the floor moaning.
“Get out Dermot!” Harry shouted as he turned to confront the third assailant. Tommy and Steve ushered Dermot outside. A fight began, the third man lunged towards Harry and caught him on the chin; the impact made him crash heavily into the desk where Wemyss was sitting. Harry swiftly recovered his position and hit his attacker hard in the stomach before finishing the argument with a head butt that caused the aggressor to slump to the floor. Tommy and Steve quickly returned and roughly pushed all three men out into the street.
“Get out of here and don’t ever come back.” Steve shouted.
He then went over to the one who had slipped on the pavement and savagely kicked him several times in the back. Tommy held Steve and restrained him,
“That’s enough Steve, enough. He’s got your message.”
Steve slowly withdrew after one final kick.
“Enough Steve!”
Tommy pulled his partner away and turned to face Harry who was now standing in the doorway with Wemyss,
“Are you alright?”
“Yea, just a bit out of practice, I’ve hurt my fist though.”
Harry said rubbing his knuckles.
“Will you get the fuck out of here; I’m trying to run a decent club.”
Wemyss said as he checked his shirt cuffs,
“Be away with you now before other guests start arriving.”
“No problem, we’ll see you again soon.” Tommy said.
Shadows of Deceit Page 5