Читать книгу Specials: Based on the BBC TV Drama Series: The complete novels in one volume - Brian Degas - Страница 9

Constable Toby Armstrong was walking his partner, Anjali Shah, to the black-and-white panda they shared while out lurking through the jungles of Birmingham and local environs looking for trouble. Tonight they might find it simply by sitting in the panda and going nowhere. While talking about his wife, Toby was, for the time being anyway, happy to be happily married, or else he might be vulnerable to the temptations of this dark angel.

‘She’s pregnant.’

Anjali’s eyes widened. ‘Shirley?’

‘Who else?’

Anjali instinctively took Toby’s hand and squeezed it in hers.

‘Congratulations, Toby.’

As an afterthought, she did some mental arithmetic before coming to the logical conclusion about the nearly newlyweds and their first offspring now in gestation.

‘It’s a honeymoon baby!’

That must have been the correct answer, as it provoked a robust laugh from Toby that he didn’t explain until they were settled in the panda with their safety belts fastened.

‘Don’t mention the word “honeymoon,”’ he sighed, shaking his head in bittersweet reverie. ‘We stayed in this hotel down in the West Country …’

Her blank expression suggested to him that she might not have the faintest notion of the particular nuances and idiosyncrasies found in that region of the realm, so he took a step backward before proceeding.

‘You know? The ones that say they’ve a lot of character. Where some King Johnny spent the night.’ It was too late in the story to stop again and explain. ‘I reckon we had the same bed he did,’ implying its age. ‘It was gross. Like that –’

Through the air he made a deep scooping arc with his hand, illustrating the shape of the sacrificial honeymoon altar upon which he had probably developed permanent curvature of the spine.

‘– with squeaky bed springs.’

He had to chuckle in spite of himself.

‘If you’re right, and it is a honeymoon baby, I reckon we ought to call him Shakin’ Stevens!’

Momentarily a question flashed across his mind as to whether Anjali might consider his remark ‘not in the best of taste’, as she would carefully say. He hoped so. At least she might provide an occasion for some innocent flirtation. After all, his safety belt was in place: he was a happily married old man.

Because Freddy Calder was the last one in and, as per usual, the last one out, Viv Smith virtually had to lead him by the hand through the front entrance of Division ‘S’ in order to have any chance of getting some work done before it was time to go home again. Putting it mildly, this little-big lad could be absolutely maddening.

Nonetheless, Viv was flattered to be assigned the responsibility of babysitting the problem child of the bunch. That alone proved Loach had confidence in her: a single, smashing, hip young bird in charge of Freddy – Super Sleuth.

She decided she might as well take advantage of her plight this evening, and perhaps exploit the genuine gullibility of her intended victim, by rehearsing her latest sales scheme on poor Freddy, as she used to rehearse the lead in her school play.

‘You know something, Freddy? I’ve come to the conclusion that money is a very interesting thing.’

‘I’ll say.’

Brilliant repartee.

‘No, give over. I mean it.’ The time had arrived to establish credibility by making oblique reference to her regular position as a Teller in Accountancy.

‘Since working at the Building Society, I’ve learned a few things. You know, like stocks and shares?’

It was a bizarre possibility, but maybe he didn’t know.

‘Surely you’ve thought about that, Freddy? At your age?’

‘No,’ he scowled. ‘And less of the “at my age.”’

Such a sensitive dinosaur, though.

‘But you should. You won’t get very far pushing your fingers up a puppet …’

Maybe there was a better phrase she might have turned there, and she quickly checked his eyes for any sign of awareness or intelligence for that matter, none of which could be detected in the subdued light.

‘… But if you do it right, you can make a quick killing on the market.’

‘By going out and cutting my throat, you mean,’ answered Freddy.

Viv wondered if that might be a better plan than hers.

Through her side of the windscreen in the panda, Anjali Shah watched Special Constable Viv Smith and Freddy Calder passing by. Apparently concentrating on his driving, Toby wasn’t talkative at the moment, so Anjali had a moment’s respite. She was lost in her own thoughts of being close to and yet far from her family, from the frictions as well as the comforts of home …

‘Not feeling broody, are you?’ Toby interrupted her wanderings.

‘I need a husband first.’ Now why did she let that slip, even as a joke?

‘Well, then?’ Toby asked slyly, sneaking a quick look to gauge her reaction.

Now that the subject was out in the open, so to speak, better to approach it lightly.

‘Don’t you start. It’s like a broken record back home.’ She almost broke out laughing, remembering her mother’s constant scolding. ‘My Ma thinks I’ve missed the boat, and Uncle Ram keeps telling me no one will marry an old bat like me.’

Actually, although she challenged and generally opposed everything Uncle Ram said, on principle, she was often secretly inclined to agree with him on this unsettling topic. Not that she would admit that to Uncle Ram, or to Toby.

But again Toby interrupted her train of thought in a lower tone of voice.

‘From where I’m sitting, I see a pretty attractive bird.’

Anjali instinctively lowered her eyes, then immediately wished she hadn’t.

‘Thank you, kind sir.’

‘A bit tanned, maybe, but …’

She winced slightly, trying to let his remark slide by, to erase it from her memory. She knew his gesture was merely intended to defuse the age-old timebomb between their cultures rather than spark it off with a casual insult, so again she kept her thoughts to herself, allowing Toby to continue.

‘… not bad, not bad at all.’

Indeed, he was trying to give her a compliment, and she could see that it was sincere, although she wasn’t quite sure what to think about the new direction their conversation was taking. Just as quickly she banished her doubts, reasoning that there was nothing wrong in modestly accepting reassurance from a friend.

‘You’re good for my morale, Toby.’

She wished that that was the end of it, but Toby didn’t give her a second to change the subject.

‘Listen, you may not believe this,’ he began in his slow, smooth, baritone voice, ‘but I can remember the first time we met.’

The alarm went off somewhere in the back of her brain. Simply turning and raising her eyebrows was enough to question his intentions.

‘I’m serious. I remember the day and the time, and what you were wearing.’ He tossed a Prince Charming smile her way before resuming his scrutiny of the car ahead.

For the first time in their conversation, Anjali was embarrassed. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. In her way, she did love Toby, but she could not possibly love him in his way, and she would rather her ears be made of stone before listening to him continue any further along this path …

And yet she could barely wait for his next words.

‘You were wearing …’ Must he delay the suspense interminably? ‘… a white shirt, black skirt, a check tie and jacket with silver buttons,’ he intoned lovingly.

She punched him in the arm. It had taken her that long to catch on that Toby was describing her uniform.

After investing her time and expertise in ‘building a foundation’ for the financial advisory role with Freddy Calder, Viv was unwilling to give up her chance of gaining his confidence, and eventually the management of his savings. As they scouted the pedestrian shopping area she tried to offer him a strong dose of fiscal common sense.

‘People like you always think money is a complicated matter. It isn’t. It’s all a question of market forces, and getting your money to work for you.’

There. Maybe she could knock some of that common sense into his head after all.

‘Oh, bless you, Obewan Kenobi!’

So much for the notion he was buying any of her carefully prepared argument.

The clown’s voice soured. ‘This sucker’s always had to work for his.’

Viv was determined to be undaunted.

‘Very funny. Listen. You buy shares in a company being took-over. Then when it gets took-over, the company doing the take-over has to pay you more for the shares. Because the shares are worth more now it’s being took-over.’

Even the simplest, most basic human sounds apparently sometimes failed to penetrate Freddy’s thick skull.

‘It’s all very simple, you know, Freddy.’

‘Simple, my big toe.’

This monkey was exasperating. ‘What don’t you understand?’

Freddy had to think for a few moments before he could figure out his answer.

‘Where I get the money to buy the shares in the first place.’

Viv Smith sighed, and paused to contemplate the company she was keeping of late.

‘Freddy, talking to you is the quickest way of getting a headache I know.’