Chapter 10
782 Words
Jack saw Dolly off as Sergeant Dawson was preparing to take over Sid’s fish-and-chip counter in reception. Dawson didn’t have a nickname, probably because he worked the night shift, something he professed to like, and if you knew his missus, you might be tempted into the graveyard shift yourself, even the grave. The nearest Jack got was, “Have a care, Dawkins,” from PP, but it never caught on.
The telephone rang, ‘Jack, your dad,’ Dawson called, gesturing with the phone.
‘Told you, Jane, a man saying he was your dad,’ Sid mumbled from behind his hand, getting ready to leave.
‘It’s not that I didn’t believe you, Sid, but considering my dad shuffled off his mortar-foil many moons ago, I was not in a tearing hurry to have a conversation with a bleedin’ loony. Put it through to the back office please, Dawkins.’ The phone in the back room remained silent. Jack shouted, ‘In your own time, Dawkins,’ and decided to ignore the muttered expletives as the phone was ringing, ‘Dad, feeling better?’
‘Jane, sorry about that, but I knew you received calls from the father, so I thought this would get your attention.’
Jack recognised the voice, ‘Biscuit, you dinlo, why not call and say it was Biscuit; where are you?’
‘Jane, we need to talk and not in the office. I’m not sure who we can trust.’
‘Bit minternational man of mystery, eh? I’ll be down the seafront walking Martin about 8.30, getting dark then, so will suit your clanbestine requirements?’
‘Okay,’ Biscuit said, hanging up.
Jack spoke to the dialling tone, ‘Would be useful to have your number.’
Jack returned to reception where Nobby was kicking his heels while Dawson roughhoused with Martin. Jack couldn’t resist, ‘Have a care, Dawkins.’
‘Sir, a word?’
‘Nobby, I’m running late and Michael’s cooking.’
‘Michael’s cooking?’
Nobby was not spotty, he had a fresh-faced complexion, which Jack assumed was because his mum was always scrubbing it. It was, though, a nice face, slim, his build more the athletic Dorothy than the Billy Bunter of his dad. Nicely turned out, tall, a good-looking lad, smart, polished shoes he noticed even at the end of the day. ‘Why so surprised? You need to get out from the apron strings, but not before your mum’s taught you to cook. So, what can I do for you?’ Jack’s patience was ebbing.
Billy Bunter‘I wanted to apologise. A lot of strings were pulled for me, and I know you resisted, but Dad said you were the one to learn from. He did add I should filter out the shite, but in my view, Sir, and from the little I have seen and heard from others, this is what makes you who you are.’
Jack yawned, it had been a strange day. ‘Nobby, six-thirty tomorrow?’
‘Yes, sir,’ excitement scrawled on his cherub face.
‘Come in and set up the crime wall.’
‘Thank you, but...’ he looked nervous, ‘...I’ve never set one up before.’
Jack put his arm around the lad’s shoulder, felt his eye getting heavy, his energy had been sapped, and he still had to overthrow the government. ‘Go home and sit with your dad, talk to him about what you’ve heard so far, and listen to what he says. Your dad, before he became a t**t, was a good copper, and for the record, I resisted like mad taking you on, but now I’m glad. So, feck off, I’ll see you early tomorrow.’
‘Will you be in, sir?’
Jack groaned, ‘I’ve got to finish Dolly’s cleaning of the Sissy room.’
Jack watched Nobby disappear up the stairs he had fallen down this morning, admiring the sure-footedness of the young, but inwardly, knew he still had it.
‘You’re a softy, Jack.’
‘Yeah, Dawkins, but don’t tell anyone.’ Jack peeped a discordant whistle, and Martin leapt off the counter, scampered through the entrance door, to be lifted into the front gunner’s seat. It was chilly, so he put on his bright red eejits anorak with hi-viz vest. Kate used to say he looked like an eejit in it; he missed her. Daylight fading, he switched on his flashing front and rear lights, screwed up the note from the commander, and cycled off whistling, singing, and talking to himself; just what he needed, a good chat and a sing-song on the way home, and he sensed his anger rise as he thought about the Coalition Government; his mind turned from The Sound of Music to sedition.
The Sound of Music
- Writer
