by Clive Mullis
MacGillicudy had wanted to throttle the man there and then, his instinct, as Diffin sat opposite, to lean across and wrap his hands around his throat and squeeze, but the policeman in him said something else, that justice would have to serve.
The wee small hours had arrived but sleep would have to wait, as one by one each feeler got dragged in and asked a few questions, to which MacGillicudy knew most of the answers. Each feeler blamed either his friend, his colleague, his mother, the cat, anyone other than himself. The commander felt disgusted that none of them would admit the truth, that all of them had been promised power, rank and money. Grinde and Diffin knew which feeler they could manipulate, which feeler they could exert a little pressure on, and which feeler held views similar to themselves. It didn’t take much persuading.
Cornwallis and Rose sat in the canteen with yet another mug of coffee in front of them when Frankie came back in. He had a big grin on his face.
‘You should have been there; it were the best thing ever.’ He walked over and plonked himself down opposite them. ‘Anything stronger than this going?’ he asked, looking at the coffee with distain.
‘Not at the moment, no,’ replied Cornwallis. ‘Though I’m sure we’ll make up for it later.’
‘What happened?’ asked Rose, raising her head from where it rested on Cornwallis’ shoulder.
Twelve girls, who were sitting at the next two tables, turned their heads and lapsed into silence as they waited for Frankie to tell.
‘Well,’ began Frankie. ‘I thought we might have a bit of trouble, but Gerald and a few of his boys were waiting. Word had somehow got to him about the fun we had with Grinde and all, so he decided to make sure Shadrig and Jangles didn’t take off. There were a right old party going on when we walked through the door; there were just me and a couple of feelers. Suddenly it went quiet as the eyes turned towards us. Then a couple of Gerald’s boys came in and then Gerald himself. Shadrig and Jangles dropped their pints in shock as it dawned on them that they had nowhere to go. They suddenly didn’t have any friends anymore as everyone stood back and tried to merge into the wall. Just the two of them stood there, right in the middle of the floor.
‘So they just gave themselves up?’ asked Rose.
Frankie shook his head. ‘No, they jumped over the bar and tried to get out through the other side. But we’d thought of that. Next thing is they found their way blocked by a couple more of Gerald’s boys and Dewdrop with a couple of feelers. They jumped back onto the bar, smashed a bottle each and waved them around as they screamed blue murder. They went for Gerald which, as you know, is not a good thing to do.
‘Go on,’ urged Cornwallis.
‘Just as they launched themselves off the bar, up pops Dewdrop. He grabs a trouser leg in each hand, and as they jump forwards momentum stops. They sort of pivoted, and the next thing is that they move in a nice little arc and smash their faces into the old footrest that ran in front of the bar. When we stops laughing we puts on the cuffs.’
‘Cecil being the hero of the hour,’ observed Rose.
Frankie nodded. ‘There’s a bit more to the lad than meets the eye. He’ll be up in a minute; he’s just making Shadrig and Jangles comfy down in the cells.’
When Dewdrop appeared a few minutes later, he seemed disconcerted to find all eyes turning towards him as he walked into the canteen. He hesitated for a moment and then poured a coffee before looking around for a seat. Twelve hands were beckoning him over and suddenly he found he’d become the centre of attention from twelve eager recruits.
MacGillicudy trudged into the canteen looking dejected. His face looked haggard and weary, heavy with the woes of life. He walked over to the kettle and poured a big mug and then turned around, scanning the sea of faces staring back at him.
‘If any of you buggers shouldn’t be here, then I suggest you make yourself scarce, very quickly.’
There was a momentary silence, and then a scrape of many chairs as every feeler having a wee small-hours brew, decided that, whether they should be there or not, it didn’t really matter. Soon there were only those involved in the incident left as fifteen feelers made for the door.
MacGillicudy nodded, satisfied with the exodus, and then walked over and slumped down next to Frankie.
‘A bit harsh,’ said Rose. ‘Most of them were on their break.’
‘I know,’ replied the commander. ‘But they weren’t there, we were. The news will spread rapidly anyway, but the girls, Dewdrop and you three should know first.’
‘You have the whole story? Already?’ said Cornwallis. ‘That didn’t take long.’
MacGillicudy nodded. ‘An arse-saving exercise, loyalty means nothing to them, and to think I used to count them as colleagues — some of them, even friends.’
‘A few bad apples, Jethro. It doesn’t mean the whole crop is spoilt.’
‘No, but it does leave a nasty taste in the mouth.’
‘Which you can rinse out.’
MacGillicudy sat back, yawned and dragged his hand down his face. He looked at the girls and smiled. ‘I think we’ve already done a bit of rinsing.’
All the girls as well as Dewdrop felt a feeling of pride wash over them as the commander spoke. It had been a hard night, dangerous, and no one had been found wanting.
MacGillicudy took a slurp and then rubbed his eyes. ‘Grinde and Magot started everything,’ he began. ‘As soon as the ad appeared in the paper, Grinde got it into his head to do something about it. Revenge on the force for getting rid of him, his hatred for me and his insecurities where women were concerned. By the sounds of it, his mind became more warped as time went on and the ad just tipped the balance. He and Magot met regularly, and both knew, contrary to what he said, that Diffin didn’t have a happy home life. He hated his wife so he went to the Brews for relief, the same girl that both Grinde and Magot used. Also Grinde and Diffin were members of the alternative Morris, you know, the secret society thing. With a bit of arm-twisting, a few threats, it didn’t take much to persuade Diffin to see their side of things. After that, Diffin began to recruit under Grinde’s direction. Magot already knew that Loovis and Sprat would happily go with them, and Diffin recruited the rest. Magot involved his brother Shadrig, and Jangles, as they had to get hold of the gonepowder.
‘Loovis set fire to Stackhouse Lane watch house, and he also made the attempt on Pendon. Then Grinde decided to risk everything to try and blow up the Yard.
‘Loovis panicked when he got stopped at Pendon and ran off before he could be recognised. He had a manual on how to use barrels to blow things up. He’d picked it up years ago when he visited the east as a sailor. I’ve had a look through it and those easterners are sly, devious little bastards. Thank the Gods that the book ain't in general circulation or we’d have big bangs everywhere. ‘Did you know they’ve even devised a way of propelling a little ball down a tube? Frightening it is. I’ll show you later.’
‘Why destroy the force though?’ asked Rose. ‘I thought nothing else mattered to Grinde.’
‘It did and it didn’t. As soon as I began to recruit the girls it stopped being the force he both knew and wanted, and so too with Magot, Loovis, Sprat and Diffin. They wanted to return to the bad old ways and days.’
Rose stretched and lay her head back down on Cornwallis’ shoulder. ‘Bastards,’ she observed. ‘What about Wiggins? You haven’t said anything about him.’
MacGillicudy chuckled. ‘He didn’t have anything to do with it.’ He cast his eyes over to Regina and Hope who had given Wiggins a bit of a seeing-to. ‘A young feeler had heard the first bang and reported it to Wiggins, so he wandered down to look for the cause; as soon as he stepped into the dormitories, Regina and Hope launched themselves at him.’
‘Yeah, but you left out that it were me who yelled at them to get him,’ said Frankie.
The commander shrugged. ‘Little details. I think they would have got him anyway. He’s all right now, just a few bumps and bruises which will soon heal.’
‘P
oor Horace,’ said Rose. ‘I’m glad he wasn’t involved, though.’
‘So am I.’
Regina and Hope had put their hands to their mouths in shock and were just staring at MacGillicudy, wondering what he intended to do to them.
‘I’ve already told Wiggins what his next duty is,’ and he grinned at the girls. ‘Senior Sergeant Wiggins is going to take Diffin’s place as head of the Academy.’
‘Oh no,’ exclaimed Hope. ‘We just beat him up.’
‘Everything has been explained, he’s sort of fine about it; you doing him over, that is. As for the teaching? It might take him a little longer to get used to.’
The Stoat was packed as usual, but a successful outcome, though bitter-sweet, had to be celebrated. Cornwallis put himself in the chair as nobody else could afford the rounds, what with the dwarfs joining them. Dewdrop and the girls had gone elsewhere, a handful of Cornwallis’ dollars in their pockets. They would have been uncomfortable celebrating with their commander, and it wouldn’t have looked right anyway; they would have to be on their best behaviour, and a night on the raz wasn’t a night for that.
Frankie ambled back from the rear of the pub with a grin on his face. He pulled out his chair and tipped it up, sending the ginger fur-ball sliding to the floor.
‘Hey,’ yelled Fluffy indignantly. ‘Wot youse do that for?’
‘Well I ain’t gonna sit on the bloody floor, now am I?’
‘Sodding ‘uman’s,’ spat Fluffy.
‘You’re looking pleased with yourself,’ observed Rose, ignoring the cat’s whinging from down below.
‘I should be. Three dollars up. Beeny just beat Norris.’
‘Norris? The orangutan?’
‘Yep. Arm’s too long, couldn’t get the leverage. Well, that and the fact that Beeny distracted him.’
‘How?’
‘A bit fond of the ladies is Norris. Beeny just slid a woodcut picture of the rainforests of Bernao under his nose. Amazing what some of those apes get up to.’
‘Primate porn?’
Frankie nodded. ‘Norris started drooling.’
Cornwallis caught the eye of the barmaid and soon another round made its way over. Rose saw Isabella wince and heard her let out a sigh.
‘You all right?’
Isabella nodded. She shouldn’t have come, but she wanted to see a bit of life for a couple of hours and join in with the celebration. ‘Just a twinge, junior doing a bit of dancing I think.’
Rose gave a soft smile and resolved to keep an eye on her.
‘Oi, this cream’s off,’ yelled Fluffy. ‘It’s sour.’
Frankie peered under the table. ‘It ain’t off, it’s yoghurt. Jack tells me you’re too fat. You’re now going on a diet.’
‘No I bloody ain’t.’
‘Ow!’ cried Cornwallis. ‘The little bastard’s just sunk his teeth into my ankle.’
‘Oh, stop moaning. It’ll just be a scratch. You wouldn’t have a leg left if he really meant it,’ replied Rose, unsympathetically.
MacGillicudy sat back and felt the weight lift off his shoulders. Sitting with his friends always managed to lift his spirits, and if ever his spirits needed lifting, it was now. ‘I reckon taking on the girls may be both the best and worst thing I’ve ever done.’
Rose turned to him and raised an eyebrow. ‘Worst?’
MacGillicudy nodded. ‘It will be as if a breath of fresh air has hit the Yard, make no mistake about that, but taking them on showed me just how institutionalised the force really is, or was: far too many bigoted, misogynistic and narrow minded feelers — and I commanded them. I didn’t realise just how bad it had become.’
‘But it’s changing, I mean, changed.’
‘Yes, just in time, I hope.’
Isabella gave another little squeal, stiffened and then started panting.
Frankie sat enjoying watching some men and some dwarfs squaring up to one another and missed Isabella’s squeal. ‘Looks like a fight’s gonna start any minute now,’ he said, appraising the situation.
Rose looked at her friend and saw the signs. ‘We need to get Isabella upstairs and away from here. My old room will do — and quickly.’
‘Wha…?’ said Frankie bemused.
Cornwallis and MacGillicudy were quicker on the uptake and began to help Isabella to her feet. The fight then started, and as luck would have it, it started right by the door leading to upstairs.
‘George!’ yelled Rose, and the big brown bear turned his lazy head towards her. ‘Isabella’s baby’s on the way — now!’
Big George's eyes widened in alarm. He took a look around and realised the problem. He then let out the biggest roar that anyone had ever heard. Silence happened in an instance, the moment frozen in time. Nobody moved, nobody spoke, nobody did anything at all.
‘The little lady needs some space,’ he yelled. ‘Now, anyone who moves, farts, squeaks or rattles will have me to answer to. Understand?’
The collective stare moved to Isabella as Cornwallis and MacGillicudy supported her as she waddled towards the door. Rose sprinted forward and elbowed a panda, who had his paw around the throat of a gibbon, out of the way. Frankie still hadn’t moved. He sat in shock, his legs wouldn’t do what he wanted, all the colour in his face had drained away, but his hand still gripped the pint firmly.
Fluffy uncurled from his position and padded towards him. He sat down, bared a claw and dug it into Frankie’s leg.
‘Aaaargh!’
‘Move it, then; youse big dollop.’
Frankie jumped up, the pain galvanising him into action. He looked at the cat, thought briefly about getting a ginger fur-lined pair of gloves for Isabella, but then hurried after his lady who had now disappeared through the door.
Cornwallis held the door open and Frankie stumbled through; in his haste, he tripped up the first step and sprawled onto the stairs. His legs scrambled, then he found purchase, and finally he managed to rush up to the top, his face a mask of terror.
MacGillicudy grinned at Cornwallis, both of whom were banned from venturing any further up than the bottom of the stairs.
A lone female voice, full of pain, echoed down from above. ‘Oh, oh, ohhhhhh! You bastard, Frankie Kandalwick!’
The spell broke and the statues began to move. Enmity forgotten as a hushed silence filtered through the Stoat, everyone now waiting in eager anticipation.
Cornwallis and MacGillicudy returned to their table and slid into their seats. Both began to absentmindedly tap their fingers on the wood.
‘Oi! Youse can stop that, it’s giving me an ‘eadache.’ Fluffy emerged and jumped up onto a spare seat. ‘Reckon I could ‘ave given ‘im sum advice, had loads of kittens me.’
‘So you might have,’ replied Cornwallis. ‘But were you there at the actual birth?’
‘Don’t be silly, I were trying to make more of the little buggers.’
Cornwallis shook his head. ‘Maybe that’s not the advice Frankie needs at the moment.’
Another scream filtered down from upstairs, and then a few more. They seemed to be coming quicker now and more regular, the intensity increasing. All eyes in the pub were cast towards the ceiling, waiting, hoping. Hushed conversations were taking place and there were chinks of coins as bets were placed. Knowing grins were exchanged, as between the yells and screams, Isabella’s voice could be heard promising Frankie some retribution for what he’d done.
Time moved, beer was drunk and the cycle continued.
After what seemed an age, silence came down from above; it seemed to slide into the atmosphere, a crinkly silence, charged with static which made the hairs on the back of the neck stand to attention. This silence had power. Even Eddie stopped serving beer as he cast his eyes upstairs to where something had stopped happening. The moment transfixed everyone, it was as if an artist had painted the whole in a micro-second and had now hung it on the wall, until after a while, there came a noise, and then the grins turned to smiles of unalloyed joy.
; A door slammed and then the sound of running feet pounding down the stairs, a rat-a-tat-tat that showed that someone moved far faster than the brain should allow. The door banged open and Frankie stood there, tears coursing down his cheeks from his big puffy eyes. He balled his hands into fists as they hung by his side and he looked up to the heavens, choking back the emotion in his chest.
‘It’s a girl!’ he screamed. ‘FRANKIE IS A DADDY!’
EPILOGUE
The two constables kept in step as they walked down the street, the policeman’s walk, measured, economical, regular, without expending too much energy. Eyes were observing, ears were listening, trying to discern the normal from the abnormal. Gornstock had a pulse, a feeling to the streets and any good feeler could feel when things weren’t right. At the moment, things were normal; nothing disturbed the equilibrium.
Dusk descended, and the dark leaden skies hastened its approach. The rain had held off but there was a definite chill in the air.
A couple of youths were hanging around on the corner, kicking a bladder up against the wall. They spied the approaching officers and then picked up their ball and scampered off, hurrying to get out of their way.
‘No harm there, they’re just a bit bored,’ observed one of the feelers.
The other nodded sagely and the pair turned the corner, side by side, their capes flapping as a gust of wind whistled down the street and caught them full on.
‘No wonder only a few people are out and about. That wind cuts straight through you.’
‘At least it’s still dry, there’s nothing worse than when the rain comes at you horizontally.’
The other nodded again, this time with fellow feeling.
‘Fancy a brew?’ asked the first.
‘Of course.’
‘Then let’s get out of the weather for a bit.’
Their steps increased in pace as they turned a right and then dipped down an alley. They came to a set of steps which led down to a door where the rats scarpered as they were scrabbling for scraps. The door swung open and the two feelers felt the warmth of the lobby engulfing them.