‘“Piss off,” he said. “Get away from my shop, you National Front pig, or I’ll call the police, and even if they beat me up, burn my shop, club my kids and loot any stock that’s left they’ll still pin something on you for pulling them away from their tea.” These Good Samaritans always begin like that, but after half an hour’s chat and several cups of liquid boot polish I sold him my hundred-guinea suit for two, bought a suit and a pair of shoes for a quid that he’d got from a jumble sale for two bob, gave him a quid for the loan of a razor and permission to use it in his lavatory, then gave my foreign coins to his kids in exchange for an old cap, and parted the best of friends. I’ll never forget him. He saved my life and, what’s more, Michael — forgive me if at this point I get sentimental — he knew it, too. The robbing bastard was the salt of the earth. Ah, Michael, I love people! They never let you down — most of ’em.’
‘If you shove all your platitudes up your arse,’ I said, ‘you’ll grow into an oak tree. Get on with your lies.’
He scratched his nose. ‘After that, it was easy. I didn’t get a train to Wales, or the Cotswolds — if trains run in them places anymore. Nor did I hitch as far out of London as I could get. Not your cunning old Bill he didn’t, as that fiendish psychologist would tell them I had when they woke him up next morning. I got into London unspotted, and went to my flat to get money I’d stashed away for emergencies, and a case of things to tide me over. Then I rented a little fleapit room in Somers Town, thinking it better to be in the eye of the storm than on the periphery where an unexpected hurricane can blow up at any minute. That’s bad for the nerves, and I don’t like things playing on my nerves, especially when it’s not necessary. We used to call it the indirect approach, Michael, remember? Nowadays it’s known as lateral thinking. When I was a kid it was plain common sense. So then I wrote to you, and put an advert in The Times and here we are. And that’s my story. Now you can see what a fiendish three-cornered fix I’m in.’
Three
I didn’t believe a word of it. The only fact I got from such a rigmarole was that Dr Anderson the psychologist was in the pay of Moggerhanger and the Green Toe Gang. That rang true enough, because he was the brother of the ex-husband of my wife Bridgitte, the father of Smog, and both Andersons were as villainous and devious as they come. The present Anderson was obviously selling information from one gang to the other.
It didn’t surprise me but, true or not, Bill seemed relieved that the story was off his chest and that he had found someone to listen to whom the information would be as deadly to know about as it was to himself. To me he was like the plague, and always had been, a carrier of downfall and death. Everything that had gone wrong in my life had been due to him, yet why had I answered his summons to London? He was brother, uncle and childhood pal rolled into one, and with me till the end of my life. It is only fair to record that a lot of the good things that happened had been due to him as well. ‘I’m thinking,’ I said, seeing the question on his lips.
‘You’d better be.’
‘I know you’re in trouble. I believe it now, but don’t you ever learn?’
‘Learn?’ He almost jumped off his chair. ‘Learn?’ he repeated, as if it was a new word he liked the sound of. ‘Michael, I learn all the time. Every minute of my life, I learn. I go to sleep at night asking: “What have I learned today?” And I wake up in the morning wondering: “What can I learn?” But the sad fact is that I’d need six lives to learn enough to do myself any good. I could learn everything there is to learn and still get stabbed in the fifth rib down by that little fact I’ve left out.’
‘But why someone like me, who can’t help you in the least? The logic is absolutely beyond me.’
He drained his empty cup for the third time. ‘You may not believe this, but the reason is, I’ve got nobody else. Nobody I can trust, I mean.’
I almost wept with pity. ‘I’ve been out of circulation for ten years, living a domestic though far from peaceful life at my railway station, so I can’t possibly be any help.’
He grasped my hands. ‘You can, you can, Michael.’
‘All I’ve done is wash up, play with kids, make do-it-yourself repairs on the waiting room, ticket office and station master’s quarters now and again, and a bit of planting in the garden. I’m out of condition, as flabby as a baby seal.’
He put on his sulky look, knowing I was as fit as a flying pike. ‘If there’s one thing I remember about you it was your quick thinking and the startling versatility of your ideas. Makes my blood run cold, some of the things you got up to — which is better than it not running at all, or spilling over the pavement out of control. Come on, Michael, put that thinking cap on and let’s have some good advice.’
‘You know how to flatter me. But give me a minute.’
‘Two, if you like.’ He looked as if his worries were over, though I could have told him that, having brought me back into his life, they were about to begin. I was in no mood to impart comforting advice too soon after he had made it obvious that perilous times were on the cards for me as well. ‘In view of the seriousness of your situation I believe the only game we can play is one of diplomacy. What I suggest is that you get into a taxi, drive straight to Lord Moggerhanger’s residence and give yourself up. It’s your only chance of survival.’
You’d have thought the National Anthem was about to be played, the way he stood up. I’d never seen him paler. ‘So that’s what Moggerhanger told you to say? I can see it all now. As soon as I escaped from the hijack he got straight onto you, knowing I would contact you sooner or later. He offered you a good fat fee — half at the time and half on delivery — to meet me, listen to my woes, and then advise me to “drive straight to Lord Moggerhanger’s residence and give yourself up”. Michael, I would have thought better of you than to try and pull a thing like that. I suppose this place is surrounded, is it?’ He looked out of the window, then sat down. ‘Or maybe not. It ain’t worth the expense, not when you can lead me there like a Mayfair poodle in a taxi. But it won’t work. They’ll never get me.’ He tapped his pocket. ‘I pack a little thing in here to help me.’ He stared at me, and stood up again. He was acting, but it was too early to guess what his game was. ‘I’m not such a fool as not to know that in the end I’ve only got myself to rely on.’
I did my best to look scornful, but I didn’t move, which is perhaps what convinced him. ‘Listen, if all you’ve told me is true, then you’re trapped.’ I was also a dab hand at acting. ‘It’s only a matter of time before you’re caught, though nobody’ll kill you, because they want the money back. That’s what they all want. And they won’t mind letting six months go by. They’re patient. They’ll only kill you after they’ve got their hands on the money. Now, if two gangs are out to get you (and they are, from what you tell me) then you’ve got to set them at each other’s throats even more than they are at the moment. Of the two gangs, I think Moggerhanger’s lot are the ones to deal with because both you and I know him from a long time ago. I don’t see any other possibility.’
‘You’re a lunatic,’ he said.
I put on a bright smile. ‘Lunatics survive.’
‘Michael, I don’t think you’re born.’