In the back of the car was my Louisville slugger. I had plans for Trojan.
The Chaucer stood, as it had stood since just after WW2 I reckoned. Once it had been the borough’s pride, but now it just reeked of the end of an era. I slid the car through the open break in the wall of the estate and let it drift down, lights off. There were a number of cars parked in the front of the six houses that made up the estate. All bangers much like mine. I slid the car to a halt and surveyed the scene. Most of the estate was in darkness, just a few dim lights showing signs of life, except for one flat on the ground floor of what I assumed was Chaucer house. Inside was brightly lit and the sound of reggae burst out of every window. I hunkered down and waited for something to happen. I didn’t have to wait
