“I do all the worrying,” Lil said, “and a lot of it I have to do, living with somebody like you.”
I thought he was going to hit her for showing him up in public, but he didn’t even have the energy for that. “If I was you, missis,” Bill said, “I’d kick the bone idle no-good out. In the meantime perhaps his wrist’s not too limp to bring the reckoning for this gentleman here.”
I was going to remind him that, with our recent acquisition, it would be easy for him to pay, but because old Bill did things in too cavalier a fashion for me to lay myself open to a charge of meanness by mentioning his fifty thousand smackers, I didn’t, partly because the revelation might have sent Ken mad with envy, or made him double the bill. So I paid with as open a smile as I could muster, knowing that while such habits must have had something to do with Bill’s upbringing, he also could be generous at times — in his way.
“A bloke like that deserves a good talking to,” he said when we were back on the road. “And I’ll do it if ever I go in there again.”
“Best leave him alone, and only feel sorry for his wife.”
“I suppose so. But I can’t understand people who aren’t conscious of themselves and what they do. Whatever I’m doing I’m looking down at myself doing it. And whenever I talk I hear myself saying it.”
“That’s news to me.”
“You’re lucky if something can still be news to you. I hope you’re suitably obliged to me for sharing my thoughts. As long as you think, that’s all that matters.”
He turned anti-clockwise onto the North Circular, occasionally held back by various knots of traffic. As usual I had underestimated him, because he had indeed been thinking, and I was even more glad he’d come on the jaunt to keep me company. I took up his advice that I carry the loaded handgun. “I’m bringing mine,” he said, “not with any intention of using it, of course. Certainly not, Michael, but it’s as well to have it, to show we’re not a couple of fools should Moggerhanger or any of his layabouts get a bit stroppy. In spite of what you told me about his accommodating attitude at the station yesterday it’s impossible to imagine him not holding a grudge. I would, in his place. It isn’t a matter of not trusting him, but think about it: how can you trust anybody you’ve just done down? So when we go in, make sure the safety catch is off, and keep your eyes open. What’s more, do everything I tell you to do, such as keeping me covered every second. I’ll do the same for you.”
Descending on Moggerhanger’s fastness put us on full red alert, though I couldn’t resist looking forward to the delight of a quick return to Upper Mayhem. Bill played the horn in front of the house, and such was the peculiar note personal to Moggerhanger’s Roller that it was a signal for whoever was on gate duty to press the button and open sesame. The huge and solid sides swung inwards, and Bill stopped the car in the middle of the courtyard.
Jock banged the gate shut as if never to open it again. “The boss told me to expect you. He wants you to go in right away, before you unload the contents.”
I couldn’t understand why Bill at this moment chose to antagonise Jock, who had always been friendly to me. He pulled him aside. “Keep your distance. We’ll get the stuff off, and see Moggerhanger at our convenience.” He opened the boot and began stacking the packets by the wheel, as it came on to rain, Jock therefore deciding to take the goods up into the garage flat to keep them dry.
Bill winked at me. “That’ll be one out of the way.”
“Not for long, I expect.”
“Long enough.” When Jock came down for the final packet Bill said: “Now go back up. Don’t show yourself for half an hour. You’ll be better off that way. And I know there’s a phone up there, but if I hear it chime in his Lordship’s sanctum I’ll be sure to blast you on the way out.”
Jock gave an understanding look, and smiled, and did as he was told. Bill was already holding the kitchen door flat against the wall in the expectation, it seemed, that I would charge through and begin shooting at whatever moved. “Jildi! ” he snapped. “Quick! Move!”
Mrs Blemish pulled a tray of currant cakes from the stove. “This is a pleasure, Mr Straw. You’re just in time. You as well, Michael. Sit down while I make a pot of coffee.”
She was as neat and tidy a cook as any out of Mrs Beeton, but the Victorian aspect of severity forced on her by the behaviour of her daft husband was lessened by a real smile at seeing us. Caught in the midst of action, which he had delighted in all his life as an alternative to hard drugs, Bill fixed the cakes with a gaze that must have gone back to childhood. “It’ll be such a shame not to eat one,” Mrs Blemish said. “They’ll be ready soon.”
“Sorry,” Bill told her, “we’ve got some business on with Lord Moggerhanger first.”
She set half a sugared cherry on each. “I don’t suppose he’ll want to see you for a while. He has three other gentlemen with him.”
Bill’s spinaround brought him back in reach of the inviting cakes. “Gentlemen?”
“Well, not exactly. It’s only my figure of speech. I can’t think why Lord Moggerhanger has anything to do with rough-looking people like that, though I know it’s nothing to do with me.”
“Let’s clear out,” I said. “There’s no pushing our luck.” The cake I put into my mouth was so hot I barely got it down, while Bill didn’t flinch. He would have preferred for them to cool further, but beckoned me into the central part of the house: “The sooner we’re in, the sooner we’re out.”
The prospect of violence was too much for him to resist. Any attempt to stop him would be hopeless. He could never have enough. “The arrangement was that we would say goodbye,” he said, “and it’s a point of politeness that we do. We also want our payment for getting the stuff out of Doggerel Bank.” At which barefaced statement I was too astounded not to follow.
I thought him misguided when he kicked open the door of Moggerhanger’s study with such force, for I assumed, fool that I was, that the boss had no intention of laying an ambush, because what could be in it for him? At the scent of battle Bill couldn’t think straight. The orientation of his mind was as far from mine as it was possible to get, which led me to wonder for a moment why we had worked so long together, but I was pulled in the wake of his excitement, even if only to see whether or not his behaviour was justified.
Mrs Blemish’s ‘three gentlemen’ would hardly describe the bruisers who faced us. I’d half expected to see Kenny Dukes, as well as Cottapilly and Pindary, a trio of Moggerhanger’s oldest trusties. Surely those three would have been enough, but he’d imported something special, giving me little time to question why his own lads were away. Nevertheless the present hirelings looked highly competent for the job, a well suited trio yet a little too beefy to be anywhere near as manoeuvrable as Bill, or me.
They had expected us to come in like lambs, and the crashing in of the door surprised them as much as it did His Lordship who, however, recovered before his thugs, who looked more ready to kill us for that than the money Moggerhanger would pay them after they’d all but done us in.
“I didn’t think I’d have the pleasure of Mr Straw as well.” Moggerhanger stood to hold out a hand. “Two for the price of one. Now that’s what I call good business. I’m glad you delivered the stores, Michael, and called for a farewell chat. You promised you would and, I must say, I’ve always had a soft spot for a chap who keeps his word, though it’s an ill wind that blows everybody some good.” His mug turned to an ugliness I’d never seen before: “Give them a good hiding, lads.”