by Clive Mullis
‘I will, but you must understand, it’s not me speaking, but the departed. He insisted that I tell you word for word and leave nothing out.’ She fidgeted a little in her chair as though uncomfortable. ‘Word for word, you understand.’
‘I do, Miss Thrape. Who sent it?’ Cornwallis felt equally uncomfortable now, but for a different reason.
‘I don’t know the name as he wouldn’t say, and quite frankly, I’m pleased about that. A most obnoxious man and I would be grateful if you promise not to try and contact him through me again.’
‘Really?’ This piqued Cornwallis’ interest.
‘Really,’ she answered. ‘The departed said; and I would prefer not to say this, but I have to. He said. “Tell him he’s a dead man walking and it won’t be long before he gets here, and when he does, then I’m going to rip his bloody head clean off, and then we’ll see how he likes it.” He didn’t seem to be a very nice man at all.’
Cornwallis grinned. Miss Thrape was the real thing after all. Maxwell, it could only be Maxwell. ‘Thank you for that, most illuminating. Did he say anything else?’
She shook her head. ‘Not to you, but he did give an indication that my virtue would not be intact if he was still around. Most unsavoury, as if I would.’
Her eyes held his for a few moments and unmistakably they were saying that she most definitely would. ‘I apologise again, Miss Thrape,’ answered Cornwallis with a little awkward cough, he uncrossed and then re-crossed his legs and tried to get the thought from out of his mind; she was a tenant of his, and that ruled out any thought of playing hide the sausage. ‘He only went yesterday, a very nasty character too.’
‘Well, from my understanding of the other side he won’t be a problem for you when you go. He’ll be sent on an anger management course, and then will probably go for reincarnation, something apt no doubt.’
Cornwallis stood up and quickly placed his hands in front of his trousers. ‘I do hope so, Miss Thrape, I’m only sorry that you were subjected to his obscenities.’
‘All in a day’s work, Mr Cornwallis.’ She smiled a little shyly and as she stood up, she quickly glanced at his nether regions. ‘Er, before you go, would you consider putting a clause in my lease saying that should you pop off to the other side, then I would still be safe from eviction? You know, I don’t expect for a moment that your demise is imminent, but it does pay to be careful.’
Cornwallis laughed.’ Of course, Miss Thrape, remind me when I’m a little less busy.’
Miss Thrape’s smile broadened. She stepped forward and rested her hand on his wrist, perilously close to resting on something else. ‘Thank you, Mr Cornwallis,’ she said softly.
With their close proximity, he could smell her breath and feel his arm cradled between her chest ornaments; she stayed there for a brief second before stepping back.
‘Now, please take my card. If there is anything I can do for you, you just have to ask. Contacts, ghosts, anything at all; in actual fact, I will be trying to persuade a ghost to pass over properly tonight.’ She bit her lip again and then continued with a little hope in her voice. ‘Perhaps you might like to come with me and see how it’s all done?’
He couldn’t help himself; he had a brief vision and before he knew it, he had asked the question. ‘Where would that be then?’
‘Do you know the Jerkey Turkey, down Poulterer’s Way? They are having problems in one of the bedrooms. As you know, ghosts are those unfortunates who won’t except that they have passed over, so we will have to wait in the room for this one to appear. I’m afraid that there is only a bed there, and it must be dark, so we will just have to make ourselves as comfortable as we can while we wait. Sometimes it can take all night,’ she added, with a glint in her eye.
Cornwallis opened his mouth, but struggled to find a reply. All night, in a bedroom, with Miss Thrape! ‘If I have the time then I might just take you up on your kind offer,’ he managed in the end. Bollocks to her being a tenant he thought, gift horse and mouth sprang to mind. Besides, it was clear that nothing would happen between him and Rose, and even if there had been an opportunity, it had now gone, so he didn’t need to feel guilty. ‘Until later then, Miss Thrape.’
Miss Thrape smiled warmly. ‘Isabella, please. Er, Jocelyn?’
‘Jack,’ amended Cornwallis.
Once back outside Cornwallis breathed deeply and leant against the door frame. First Mrs Gridlington with her hidden charms and now Isabella with her not so hidden ones, all in the space of about ten minutes. His luck was turning.
*
Rose waited in the shadows while Frankie nipped around the side. There had been a lot of activity around the entrance to the finance house and Frankie decided to find out why. Bored with the waiting, she took the opportunity to clean her nails while Frankie did his little bit of investigating. She supposed he wouldn’t be too long, but in-between scraping her cuticles and filing her talons she cast glances in the direction of the street and the front entrance. It was a busy thoroughfare and people hurried by just a few feet from where she stood, in an old disused shop-front which used to sell potions and lucky charms, according to the dusty signs lying on the floor; not so lucky, she mused, as she polished a nail on her shirt.
‘Er, excuse me, darling, but do you do special rates for senior citizens, like?’
‘Uh, sorry?’ Rose, startled out of her reverie, turned to see a small old man in a cloth cap with a woollen cardigan, leather patches were on the elbows and his head only came up to her chest.
‘You know, like they do in the Brews; half-price or a two-for-one in the mornings, when business is slow. Only I ‘ad a bit a luck wiv the dominos last night, and if I went ‘ome now the missus’l clean me right out. Fought I might have a bit a fun first, like.’
‘Ah.’ Clarity eased into Rose’s mind. ‘No, sorry. Even at half-price you couldn’t afford me, best get yourself home.’
The old man smiled. ‘I reckon I could afford you, I ‘ad a very good night,’ he said, tapping his nose knowingly.
‘No, you couldn’t,’ replied Rose, firmly. ‘If you’re that desperate then go to the Brews and have your two-for-one.’ She thought she would have a bit of fun to start with, string him along just to see how much he’d pay; but she should be working and her conscience wouldn’t let her take it very far, and besides, the joke had already worn thin.
‘Tried that the other week. Two lovely young things they were and they both took great care and helped me out o’ me clothes. They’s then gets stripped off and, well, they starts wivout me. Next thing I knows is that I’ve sort of finished before I gets started, so to speak. They tries to get a bit o’ life out o’ me, but at my age it’s a once and it’s gone; the buggers still bloody charged me though. Only want the half-price now. Won’t take long you know, we could go down the alley ‘round the corner, do a stand up; I’m sure I could find a crate to give me a bit o’ height.’
Rose fixed him with a stony stare. ‘I said, no. Anyway, you’ve made a mistake; I’m not that sort of girl.’
The old fellow stood up as tall as he could and sniffed contemptuously. ‘Oh, I see, your being ageist now, then. That’s the trouble wiv the likes o’ you, we old un’s just ain’t got the stamina, eh? Not good enough, eh? A quickie ‘round the corner too demeaning, eh? I tells you there’s many a girl who’s been glad of my attention and my folding stuff; you wait until no one wants you, and then you’ll come running to the likes o’ me. Be glad then, won’t you?’
Rose’s head span. She couldn’t believe the diatribe aimed at her, and besides, all she’d been doing was standing there. ‘Look, you odious little man, for the last time, I am not for sale. I’m not a street girl. I do not let a man take me in the back alley.’ She thought for a second. ‘I mean take me down the alley, in the alley, or anything to do with an alley, stand up or otherwise. I do not sleep with men for money. I am not a prostitute!’ Her voice rose with every word she spoke, and she punctuated every word with a finger dabbing into h
is chest, until at the end she practically shouted.
‘Oh,’ exclaimed the old man. ‘I’m sorry, I fought you were.’
‘No, I’m not. Now, will you please leave me alone.’
‘Right you are then, I’ll go.’ He turned away and slunk out of the doorway, his hands dejectedly thrust into his trouser’s pockets. He stopped after a few steps and turned back. ‘Er, you don’t fancy starting now, do you?’
Rose stood with her hands on her hips and thrust out her chest with her feet planted, shoulder width apart. She shook her hair with a flick of her head and yelled down the street. ‘No, now sod off!’
The people in the street heard and they hesitated and turned, looking at Rose for a brief half-second, but long enough to make her cheeks turn red. She felt the blush rise and couldn’t believe it. She just didn’t blush.
‘Nothing like keeping a discreet watch,’ observed Cornwallis as he came up behind her with Frankie in tow. ‘Poor old fellow, and what may I ask forced you to use such unladylike language like that?’
Rose looked at Cornwallis and chewed a wasp for a second or so while she thought. ‘If you must know, he propositioned me. Really, no girl is safe in this city.’
Cornwallis burst out laughing. ‘Well, well, well, the nerve of the man. Just out of curiosities sake, though,’ he began with a glint in his eye. ‘What did he propose?’
Rose’s lips took the shape of a smile, but the eyes said something else. ‘He wanted to take me down an alley and have a stand up, if you must know.’ She looked hard at him, daring him to respond.
He dared. ‘Really? Now there’s a thought. How much did you want?’
The wasp returned, doing the rounds. ‘We didn’t get around to discussing the financial implications of the transaction. Only got so far as me telling him that it would be prohibitively expensive should I respond positively to his suggestion to take me up the back alley.’
Frankie’s initial giggling erupted into a snot filled guffaw. He bent double with laughter and had trouble catching his breath.
‘Really,’ exclaimed Rose. ‘You men are all little schoolboys at heart, aren’t you?’
Cornwallis nodded his agreement whilst stifling his laughter. ‘Back alley, front alley. Whatever takes your fancy, I suppose?’
Frankie erupted again.
She looked at Frankie and then back at him, thought of a response, and then changed her mind; remembering that they had all creased themselves with laughter in the warehouse while she pretended to have a multiple-orgasm. ‘All right,’ she said, smiling at last. ‘But if you think that you can make me an offer to take me up the alley, then you’ve got another thing coming.’
Cornwallis let his laughter flow for a minute or so longer and then managed to compose himself. ‘Oh Rose, you can be such a staid old lady sometimes. Besides, I don’t need to make you an offer; I’ve already got one. Miss Thrape from downstairs has invited me to see her working tonight, and the indication is that there won’t be a lot of work being done.’
Rose’s mouth hung open in surprise while Frankie immediately regained his composure.
‘What’s that again?’ he asked Cornwallis, somewhat shocked. ‘Did you say Miss Thrape?’
‘I did indeed, young Frankie. She has invited me to the Jerkey Turkey to wait for a ghost in one of the bedrooms. Just she and me and all night to do it in; what do you think of that, eh?’
Frankie glanced at Rose to see her reaction, and he saw her stiffen just a fraction. He returned his stare to Cornwallis and hoped that he could see that Miss Thrape should not come into the equation, and definitely not now. ‘Are you sure, Jack? I mean she’s a nice girl and all, but is she your type exactly? Besides, she’s a tenant.’
‘And what’s the problem with that, then?’ asked Cornwallis.
‘Well, it’s obvious, innit?’
‘No, Frankie, it’s not; anyway, it’s not your concern.’
‘Well, it might be.’
‘Why?’
‘Because… because…’ Frankie struggled to find a reason with Rose standing there. If she hadn’t been, he might well have said that he was throwing away the chance of his life, but instead he flummoxed around searching for something he could say.
‘I’m sure she’s a nice girl, Jack,’ interjected Rose. ‘After all, it’s not as if you have someone else around at the moment, is it?’
‘It seems not,’ replied Cornwallis, in a flat monotone. ‘So,’ he clapped his hands together signalling the end of the conversation. ‘Back to work, then. Frankie has been telling me that the finance house has closed down,’ he explained to Rose. ‘They have apparently lost all their money and are now clearing out.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Frankie. He shot Rose a look, but she replied with a barely noticeable shake of her head. ‘I just spoke to one of the removal guys; he said everything’s going into storage.’
‘So, the question now, is why? I don’t know about you, but it seems to me a bit sudden; and after all we’ve learnt about this place, I suggest that the reason is not altogether legal. I’m going to leave you two to catch up with Algernon, to see what’s been happening overnight to our two little friends. In the meantime, I will go and see my father, to see if he has heard anything of interest in the Assembly. I don’t think we’ll gain anything by looking at this place anymore.’
The other two agreed, and they stepped out of the doorway casting a last look at Gornstock Trust and Holdings. They stood together just a little longer, and then Rose noticed a little flutter of dust coming from above. She looked up out of curiosity and saw a further cascade coming from the chimney, a frown creased her brow, and then she saw a hand on the side of the brickwork. ‘Look out!’ she yelled, just as the chimney began to tip.
Frankie and Cornwallis dived back into the doorway for cover, pulling Rose with them, just as a WHUMPH noise came with an almighty crash, sucking the air away with brick dust rising up like a fountain. The chimney had crashed to the pavement in the exact place they had been standing. Pedestrians had heard the shout from Rose and also took cover, and thankfully, no one appeared injured, but a few were standing around in a degree of shock at their close encounter as the bricks rattled to a stop. Cornwallis, covered in dust like a red shrouded ghost, tentatively edged out onto the pavement and looked up; there, three floors up, he could see a curly mop of brown hair looking down.
‘Bastard,’ he yelled. ‘He meant that for us. Rose, Frankie, if we’re quick we might just catch the shit.’
‘Wha… what?’ cried Frankie. ‘How the hell are we going to get up there?’
‘The short cut, that’s how.’
Cornwallis grabbed a brick and threw it through the window of the disused shop, glass shattered, and he began to kick a hole big enough for them to get through.
‘Somebody ain’t going to like this,’ observed Frankie.
‘Maybe not,’ replied Rose. ‘But I find that I don’t care.’
‘Come to think of it, neither do I.’ Frankie grinned, then joined Cornwallis in kicking out the shards.
As soon as they could, Cornwallis and Rose dived into the shop and hurried through to the back, leaving Frankie to keep an eye on the roof. There were always stairs somewhere, and they found them straight away. They rushed up them, taking the steps two at a time; dust billowed out behind them and lay on the stairs like a carpet. Both of them pelted around the turn in the stairs and headed upwards, right to the top of the building where Cornwallis knew there would be a trapdoor leading to the roof. All the buildings around here had easily accessible roofs. They ground to a stop at the top and looked up, nothing there, so Cornwallis kicked a door and dived in. They found the desired trap, but with no means to get up. Cornwallis took the opportunity of the pause to catch his breath, as he didn’t want his chest heaving with exertion, God’s he felt unfit. He had a momentary thought of Miss Thrape, and hoped that she didn’t expect a marathon; just a bit of light jogging would do. Rose though looked like she’d just had a st
roll in the park; it was so unfair. Time ticked by with every second, giving the assailant more of an opportunity to escape. Rose saw a table in the next room along and hurriedly dragged it through. She placed it under the trap and Cornwallis jumped up, wheezing as though he was a fifty-a-day man. Reaching up, he drew the bolt and pushed hard until the door gave way in a shower of dirt and leaves. He jumped up and pulled himself through, and then hurried to the edge to look down, searching for Frankie. Rose scrambled her way up, and just as she joined him on the edge, Cornwallis spotted Frankie gesticulating wildly.
‘There’s Frankie, he’s pointing that way,’ puffed Cornwallis.
The pair of them set off running. They skipped over the debris littering the roof whilst keeping half an eye on Frankie down below. They skirted a rusty pram and then an old bedstead; Cornwallis wondered how the hell did they get up here? They came to a small gap as the building ended where an alley ran below, only a few feet wide, and Cornwallis leapt over with barely a pause. Rose hesitated, judging the gap, but took a deep breath, closed her eyes, which probably wasn’t a good thing to do as it would have been better to see the ridge on the other building, as opposed to opening the eyes to see a pavement rushing up towards you, and leapt. Luckily, for her, Cornwallis waited, as she only just managed to get one foot on the ridge, the other missing, and as she opened her eyes she both saw, and felt, Cornwallis grabbing onto her arm and pulling her to safety; just as gravity woke up and decided that today was going to be a good day.