Читать книгу The Young Gangsters - E.J.P Murphy - Страница 5

JIMMY DAY SAT IN THE LIVING ROOM, FEET UP ON THE SETTEE, A CAN OF BEER IN ONE HAND, A CIGARETTE IN THE OTHER, MUSIC BLARING FROM HIS CD EARPHONES WHICH WERE HUNG AROUND HIS NECK. HIS DAD, TRYING TO TELL HIM SOMETHING, WALKED OVER AND SWITCHED OFF HIS CD.

Jimmy jumped up, startled. “What you bloody doing?” He looked at his dad, hate in his eyes. “Don’t touch my stuff, you hear me?”

“I hear you, you dumb shit. I’ve been trying to speak to you for five bloody minutes.”

“What do you bloody want then?” he snarled standing up, facing his dad, eyes blazing. “More fucking money, you lazy bastard? You want to get out and get a bloody job.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” his dad shouted back at him. “I’m your bloody dad.” He stepped nearer to Jimmy. “I ought to give you this,” he said, putting his fist up.

“Yeah, you wish,” Jimmy said, pushing past him. He walked over to the window, looking out across the big estate. “God, what a dump,” he said to himself.

The estate he lived on was in the heart of Camden. The high-rise flats he lived in were amongst the worst in London, neglected by the local council.

He looked through the nicotine-stained glass windows down on to the play areas. He laughed aloud. “Play areas,” he murmured, “bloody slum-infested areas”.

Across the way he could see the City and, looming in the background, the NatWest Tower dominated the skyline. He kicked the wall below the window. “All that fucking money spent on that crap, it would have been better to spend it on this bloody estate or something decent like homes for the homeless, hospitals, etc. Bloody nerve.”

Below he could see his mate Bertie’s flat, 14 floors down in the identical block opposite. Bertie’s mum was hanging out the washing on her balcony. Jimmy missed the smell of washing. He remembered his mum used to wash the clothes and linen every day. That’s one of the things he missed about his mum since she’d died.

Kathleen Day? She died aged 44. They said it was cancer but Jimmy blamed his dad. Jimmy was only 11 years old when she died, but he remembered his dad beating her up when he came home drunk on Saturday and Sunday afternoons and nights.

“I’ll have him one day, Mum,” he said as he stood over her grave as they lowered her body down. His older sister Alice gripped his hand. Mark, his younger brother, held his other hand. Mark was two years younger than him.

His dad, half-pissed, looked down into the grave. “I’ll look after them, Kathleen,” he said out loud for the benefit of the mourners.

“You won’t bloody look after me,” he heard his sister say to herself. “I’m off out of it.” And she went all right. 16 years old at the time, but she got through OK.

“You lend me some money then?”

His dad’s voice brought him back to reality. Jimmy, still looking out of the window, put his hand in the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a wad of notes. He peeled away a £20 note and threw it across the room without looking at him.

“That’s £80 you owe me, don’t forget.”

“I’ll give it back to you one day, don’t worry about that,” his dad said to Jimmy’s back.

Jimmy turned away from the window and looked straight at his dad. He spoke with hate in his voice. “I never worry about anything or anybody.”

Jimmy looked at his watch. It was just after 7.40am. He hadn’t been to bed yet, but then he wasn’t tired. He looked at his dad again and said, “Get Mark up, he’ll be late for school.”

“He’s up, having his breakfast. What a fine example you are, his big brother who ain’t been to school for two bloody years.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jimmy said. “I left because you’re always pissed, never bringing any money in the bloody house. Someone had to. You drove my sister away, but someone had to take care of Mark, and I am, so shut up.”

Jimmy walked past him and into the kitchen. His brother was sitting there reading a football magazine and munching a bacon sandwich.

“Hello, bruv.” Mark looked at his brother, admiration in his eyes. “Late in again last night,” he smiled. “Was she nice?” Giggling, he went back to his magazine.

“Cheeky sod,” Jimmy said ruffling his brother’s hair. “Want to come with me and the boys tonight. We’re off down the Camden Palace dancing. It’s Friday and you’re 14 tomorrow. Call it an early treat. What do you say?”

“Thanks, bruv. Do I get to wear the gear you wear?”

“No bloody chance, we’re going dancing and that’s it. No fighting or anything else tonight,” Jimmy said pouring himself a coffee and lighting a fag. “Finish your sarnie and I’ll walk to school with you. I’ve got to meet Bertie and Dave downstairs at 8.30.”

“I’m ready, Jimmy, I’ll just get my coat.” Mark pushed his chair back, stood up, put the rest of the sarnie in his mouth and walked out into the hallway. A minute later, he called out: “Ready, Jimmy.”

The lift, as usual, was broken. Jimmy opened the door to the stairwell. Mark pushed in front of him and started to walk down the stairs. It was cold and damp, there was graffiti everywhere.

“God, what a shit-heap,” Jimmy said to himself. “I’d like to get them councillors and make them live in this squalor, see how they like it.”

They reached the bottom of the stairwell and pushed out into the fresh air; well, air anyway. Dave and Bertie were waiting on the other side of the green.

“Hiya, Mark,” Dave said to Jimmy’s brother, “going to school?”

“Watcha, young ’un,” Bertie said to him. He looked over to Jimmy. “Hello, pal, walking to school with him?”

“Yeah, Bert. Come on, let’s go. Got to see that gay bloke’s shop today, might bring in some extra dough. We’re meeting the others over in Regent’s Park at 10. Come on, let’s get Mark to school.”

They left Mark at his school in Camden Town and then walked over to Regent’s Park. The sun was just coming out as they entered the park by the entrance at the top of Parkway. Jimmy had told the rest of his young gang to meet at the back of the zoo. They were all there – none of them went to school. They were either expelled or just didn’t turn up.

Paul White saw them coming across the park. “Here they come, dead on time.” He looked at his watch, it was 10.05am.

Jimmy walked over to them, Dave and Bertie either side of him, as if protecting him.

“Whatcha, mates,” he said, nodding at each of them.

Pete Higgins looked at him. “Morning, Jimmy, Dave, Bertie. We’re all ready for action.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” young Sammy shouted.

“Hold on, hold on!” Jimmy looked round the group, all of them looking at him as if he was God. “We’ve got a bit of planning to do here first. Now come on, let’s sit on the grass. I can outline it better for you then.”

They all followed Jimmy out on to the grass away from the zoo. Sitting down in a circle, they looked like a bunch of Red Indians ready to have a pow-wow.

“Right.” He looked around at them, knowing that they would listen to every word he said. “The shop is over in St John’s Wood High Street. It’s not a Paki shop, it’s a boutique, run by a gay guy. He looks vulnerable to blackmail. Anyway, this is what we’re going to do. Pete, you’ve got a nice baby face. When you go in there, you tell the gay guy you’re looking for a present for your sister. Lead him on, then when he gets friendly, give a shout. I’ll be outside the window.”

“Hold on, Jimmy.” Pete looked at him startled. “I hate these bleeding poofs, I might stick one on him if he starts on me.”

“Well don’t, you’ll ruin everything. Just do as I say,” Jimmy told him. He put his hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, mate, we’ll be right outside. Come on then, let’s go.”

They all got up, brushing the bits of leaves and grass off their coats and walked towards the park’s exit, just off the Outer Circle.

Pete walked over to Jimmy. “Here, you can’t be serious, Jimmy, it’ll never work, will it?”

Jimmy looked down at him and smiled. “It’ll work,” he said. “I’ve put a lot of work in on this one.”

“The guy’s name is Harry Pearson, he’s as bent as Quasimodo. A bloke I know in Kentish Town said he’s always chasing the fellas, been inside a couple of times for it, so he’ll pay up, believe me. He doesn’t want to go back inside, even though it’s a queers’ paradise in the nick. Anyway, you’ll be OK Pete, never let you down yet, have I?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do it. What’s he going to do anyway?” Pete looked around at the others, waiting for a reply, but none came.

They crossed Prince Albert Road and into St John’s Wood High Street. Jimmy stopped them on the corner.

“Right - Paul, Sammy, Jackie, you go in with Bertie. There’s a coffee bar opposite the shop. You wait in there until I buzz, yeah? The rest of you come with me. Bertie, take your lot first. I’ll see you later.”

Bertie walked off. Jimmy waited till they were at the entrance to the coffee bar, then turned to the others.

“Come on, let’s go. Pete, I’ll come in the shop ten minutes after you, pretend I’m looking for something, or better still, shout out and I’ll come on in then. When you see me come in, shout out loud, ‘You can fucking cut that out mate,’ then I’ll come over and confront him, OK?”

“Well yeah, OK, Jimmy, but don’t let me down.”

They walked up the high street, Pete ahead of them. He stopped at the shop, looked in the window, moved to the door, pushed it open and walked in.

“Let’s go,” Jimmy said to the remainder of the gang. “Now, when I go into the shop, you lot go over to the café, get a Coke or something and wait. Keep your eye on the shop door, the notice saying “Open” or “Closed”, when I’ve challenged the queer guy.”

“My dad used to call them ginger beers,” Micky said, interrupting.

“Shut up, Micky and bloody listen. As I was saying …” Jimmy glared at Micky.

“Sorry,” Micky murmured.

“Keep your eyes on the door. When you see the “Closed” sign, come on over. Tell Paul and Sammy to stay outside, keep watch, know what I mean? You come in, right?”

“Right, Jimmy,” they all answered together.

As they drew nearer to the shop Dave and Micky crossed the road and walked up to the café, looked at Jimmy, waved and then disappeared inside.

“What a couple of plonkers,” Jimmy said to himself. He stopped outside the shop, looked through the window, squinted his eyes, looking left and right. He could just see Pete talking to Harry Pearson.

Even though Pete didn’t look at the window, Jimmy knew he’d seen him. Jimmy nodded his head. Pete reacted right away as Jimmy walked through the doorway. Pete pushed Harry Pearson away from him.

“You dirty pervert, keep your fucking hands off me.”

Jimmy rushed over. He grabbed hold of Pearson. “I saw that, you dirty bastard. You tried to grab his cock… I’m going to tell the police.”

“No, no please, I didn’t. He’s trying it on. I never went near him.”

Pete looked at him. “You tried to grab my privates, you bastard. I’m going to have you for this. Call the police, Jimmy.”

Harry stopped dead. “Hang on,” he said, “you’re in this together, you’re setting me up.”

Jimmy ignored him, walked over to the door and turned the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’. He turned round facing Harry Pearson. “Yeah, that’s right, Harry, I know all about you.”

The door opened and the rest of the gang, except Bernie and Dave, walked in.

“Hey, what’s this?” Harry was getting frightened now. “Please don’t hurt me.” He backed away from Jimmy.

“We ain’t going to hurt you, Harry, as long as you co-operate, know what I mean?”

“What do you want?” Harry looked from one to the other. “If you’re not going to beat me up, then…”

“Well Harry, this is how it is. I’ll keep it quiet ‘cause I know that if the cops come, you’ll spin off down to the nick and you could go down for a three stretch. If my mate here says you assaulted him, and he will, you’ll lose the shop and…”

“How much do you want? It is money you want, isn’t it?” Harry said looking at Jimmy. Going to blackmail me, are you?”

Jimmy looked at him, a nasty look coming into his eyes. “100 quid a week,” he said. “You take it in this shop, you must make thousands. Yes or no? Make your mind up. Don’t forget, if this gets out, you’re ruined, remember that.”

“You bastards.” He looked at them one by one. “I’m bowing down to a bunch of bloody kids. OK, I’ll pay you.”

Jimmy looked at him. “I’ll take 100 up front. One of us will pick up the money weekly on a Saturday morning. You are open Saturdays, Harry?”

“Yes I am.” Harry walked over to the counter, went round the back of it, and passed two £50 notes over to Jimmy.

“Here’s your blood money, now get out of my shop.”

“Come on boys, let’s go.” Jimmy winked at Harry. “Thanks, see you next Saturday.”

Jimmy walked to the door, opened it, let the others out, turned round to Harry and said, “Go straight Harry, it doesn’t pay to be gay,” and walked out of the shop after turning the sign back to ‘Open’ on the door.

Back outside, Jimmy and his gang walked back to the park.

“OK, boys, I’ve got to go now but see you all down at the pub tonight, OK?”

They all nodded.

“Thanks, Jimmy,” Pete said, “it worked out like you said it would.”

“Oh, by the way, I’m bringing my kid brother tonight. It’s his birthday tomorrow. Right… see you later.”

“Come on, Dave, Bert, let’s drum up some more work and get ready for tonight. See you later boys.”