Lenny
So Vincey comes home, in his new civvies, and parks himself on a stool in the Coach, drinks all round, and after loosening me up with a large scotch I should never have accepted, he says, cool as Christmas, 'How's Sally?'
You couldn't tell from looking at him whether it was bare-faced cheek or whether there really was some dumb part of him that thought he could carry on again where he left off, that reckoned he'd done due penance, courtesy of the regular Army, and now here he was to ask for my daughter.
I suppose he pulled the same wool over Jack's eyes because you'd think by the way Jack behaves that Vince had had a change of heart, he'd gone and seen the error of his ways. You'd think Jack would have more sense than to believe that the only reason why Vince had bunked off for five years was so he could come back and ask to be forgiven and pick things up just as they were.
It takes the Army to put a finish on a man.
Good to have you back, lad. Take your time, rest up, have fun. Always a place for you in the old shop, you know that.
But he doesn't rest up and have fun, he gets to work pretty damn fast. He puts a tidy slice of his saved-up soldier's pay on one of Ray Johnson's special recommendations, and Ray, as he's been doing of late, comes good. Witness, one camper-van. Except that's a touchy subject, we don't talk about that, same as we don't talk about how Raysy came good when Lenny Tate needed a special job done for his daughter.
And Vince don't buy a camper-van, he buys a '59 Jaguar, so you might think he's letting the world know how he means to live. Takes the Army to turn out a true spiv. But he parks the Jag in Charlie Dixon's old yard, courtesy of Ray. Charlie Dixon having passed on to the scrapyard in the sky. Then he gets himself a set of tools and a trolley-jack and spends most of his days tinkering with the engine and taking it apart and putting it together again, then he touches up the bodywork and sells it. Then he buys another car and does the same, and before the year's out there are two cars standing there in Ray's yard, apart from the camper, that is, and I say to Jack» 'You can't kid yourself any longer, it aint just the lad's hobby He might want nothing better than to lie under a car all day but he aint just doing it for the love of it. It don't stop there.'
He says, 'It's Ray's fault.'
I say, 'Maybe. But Ray's got troubles of his own, aint he?'
But Jack don't give up easy. He makes one last bid to win Vince over. It's about as half-baked and cock-eyed as they come and it takes the form of Mandy Black, from Blackburn.
The story goes she turned up at Smithfield early one morning in a meat lorry, a long way from home and so far as she was concerned the further the better, but tired and lost and hungry. So Jack and his mates get her a decent breakfast. But Jack goes one step further and offers her a roof over her head for the night. Anyone else would have pointed her back in the direction she came and saved himself some sniggers and some trouble, but not Jack. And you'd think Amy might've had a thing or two to say about it. You could say it was plain kindness or you could say he was just following the old family tradition the Dodds' had of picking up strays. Anyhow, Mandy turns up in Bermondsey, in Jack's van, and my guess is that Jack wasn't thinking of Vince at all at this stage. He was thinking of June for once. He was thinking of Amy. Poor berk.
Snag is that with Vince back home there aint no spare bed. But that's no problem, Vincey says, he'll see if he can't kip down in Ray's camper. It's only for one night and he's used to living in a bivvy, even if it is the middle of November. And he'll be nearer to his precious cars. But one night turns into the best part of a week, she's begging them not to let on about her and they haven't got the heart to turf her out, and I reckon it was only when they were getting used to her being a sort of permanent lodger that Jack got it into his head that he could use her somehow as a bribe for Vince. Though why he should've thought that, I don't know. Like he was expecting Vince to say, 'Thanks, Jack, now I'll start coming to Smithfield again. Seems like a good spot.' As if Vince couldn't make his own moves and that wasn't just what he was doing. As if Mandy was Jack's to dispose of anyway. Fact is that there's Miss Lancashire Hotpot using Vince's room, and there's Vince using Ray's camper, and sooner or later she goes down to the yard to thank him for his trouble and see what he gets up to all day long. And there's the two of them and there's the camper and Vincey's got the key. So blow you, Jack.
Joke of it all is that Mandy didn't know how lucky she was, or else she was cleverer than anyone thought, an eye for the long shot. Because, though no one knew it, Vincey was already on his way to being Dodds Motors and later Dodds Auto Showroom. Garage, I call it. And though it always seemed to me a touch-and-go operation and not what you'd hold up as a shining example of a fine career for a man, it worked for him, it's brought in more dosh than Dodds and Son ever did. Look at that suit It's kept her in frocks and hairdos and holidays in the sun. Sometimes I wish my Sally had got back together again with Big Boy, sod him, I do. Because she couldn't have done much worse than what she did, and I remember them trips to Margate Joan and I never went on, I do.
He says, 'How's Sally?'
I say, 'Wouldn't you like to know.'
He says, 'I would like to know, Lenny. Have another one.' Face don't crack.
I say, 'She got married, didn't she?'
I think, The pillock's got a nerve, I'll give him that, the tosser's got a way about him. It takes the Army. He aint got such an ugly mug on him either, more's the pity, he's filled out fine. I can see why they'd let him walk all over them, what with the little-orphan act as a standby. I suppose he'll've had a few in the last five years, camp trollops, bints. And why should he be sitting there, standing drinks, like he's the conquering hero, when all he's done is have the honour of being one of the last troops to clear out of Aden, and learnt how to use a spanner and a grease gun? It was different for Jack, Ray and me. Bleeding desert.
I say, She got married, didn't she? But I don't say she's not living with her husband, seeing as her husband's living in Pentonville Prison. Because he'll've heard that anyway. Four counts of larceny and one of assault. What the country needs is to bring back military service, eh Vincey?
And I don't say how she's making ends meet. Odd jobs for cash. Taking in lodgers. It's do as you like now. Ask Raysy.
I don't say she aint got no kids. Still, that's one less load on her mind, aint it?
He says, 'I heard. I heard she got married.' Not a flicker. 'So how's the fruit-and-veg trade, Lenny?'
Vince
But a good motor aint just a good motor.
A good motor is a comfort and companion and an asset to a man, as well as getting him from A to B. I can't speak for women. Mandy drives like it's nothing special, like a car is a handbag. But a good motor deserves respect, treat it right and it treats you right. And if needs be you can take it apart and see how it works. It aint no mystery.