Читать книгу A Family Scandal - Kitty Neale - Страница 10

‘Next time your van breaks down on a Friday for God’s sake don’t wait until Monday to tell me,’ groaned Tommy. It was all very well handing over the day-to-day work of signwriting to his team but that relied on them having some common sense. Now it looked as if Jerry had none. The big man stood by the stationary van, looking helpless.

‘Didn’t want to bother you,’ he muttered.

‘Well, you were going to have to bother me at some time and if you’d done it on Friday we could have fixed it over the weekend and had it up and running this morning,’ Tommy told him, wondering if the message was getting through. ‘Now we’ve got a client who’s going to think we’re unreliable. That’s the last thing we want.’

Jerry shrugged. Clients weren’t his problem.

Tommy thought fast. ‘Right, you’d better have my van. Come back to the yard with me, and bring your stuff.’

‘What, do you mean I have to carry it all?’ asked Jerry, frowning. ‘It’s heavy.’

Tommy gave him a straight look. ‘It’s not far. Good job you only live a couple of streets away. The exercise will do you good.’

He set off without looking back to check that Jerry was following him. He certainly wasn’t going to offer to help carry anything after all the trouble the big man had caused.

Turning into his yard, Tommy ran into the office which stood at the back of the premises and came out with a set of keys to the van parked beside the main gate. He opened the back doors and took out some boxes. They contained his own materials, which he still sometimes painted with, but he didn’t want Jerry to use them. The man was a good signwriter when it came down to it, which was why he’d taken him on in the first place, but he was always losing things and was completely disorganised.

Jerry came puffing along the pavement and nearly collapsed as he staggered into the yard. ‘That’s all I’m taking. I couldn’t manage it all. Shall I sling it in there?’ He nodded to the open van doors.

‘Yeah, better put your foot down.’ Tommy watched as his employee threw his gear into the vehicle, his thinning strands of sandy hair plastered to his head with sweat despite the chilliness of the day.

‘I’ll be off, then.’

Tommy nodded, watching as Jerry backed the van up to the office and turned it before leaving the yard. He realised he’d better ring the mechanic straight away or else he might not get the broken van ready for tomorrow, and they had a lot on.

Before he could go into the office to use the telephone, a voice called out to him.

‘If it isn’t Tommy Wilson. It is you, Tommy, isn’t it?’

Tommy turned around and looked at the figure, whose face was indistinct because the late morning sun was behind him. The voice was sort of familiar but he couldn’t place it. He shielded his eyes and could see it was a man, almost as tall as him and heavily built. There was no point in denying who he was as there was a big sign over the gate saying ‘Thomas Wilson and Company, Signwriters’, so he went towards the stranger and said, ‘Yeah, that’s me. Who wants to know?’

The man stepped forward. ‘Don’t you recognise me, mate?’

Tommy squinted and moved so that the shadow of the overhead sign fell across the man and suddenly he could make out the features on his face. He was definitely familiar but he just couldn’t place him. ‘Yes, of course, it’s …’ He ransacked his memory but nothing came.

The man laughed. ‘It’s me, Larry. Larry Barnet.’

The penny dropped. Tommy gasped in surprise. He hadn’t seen Larry since they were about fifteen. He thought about telling his former friend that he hadn’t changed a bit but that would be an out and out lie. The man had filled out, of course he had, but he was carrying a lot of weight around his middle and his hair now formed a widow’s peak. His nose was a bit red, the sign of a heavy drinker most likely. But his clothes were tidy and he wore a tie, which looked new.

‘Larry. What brings you back here? I thought you’d gone for good.’

Larry shook his head. ‘Long story, mate. You got a minute? This is your place, isn’t it? You done well for yourself.’

‘Yeah, well, not bad,’ said Tommy, unsure if he wanted the man on his premises or not. The two of them had hung around together when they were schoolboys but it was a time he’d have preferred to forget. They had terrorised some of the local girls and he was now deeply ashamed of what he’d done. Now he was older he could see that it had been cruel and the thought of anyone doing something similar to Grace made him very angry. But maybe Larry had changed, as he himself had.

‘Come on in to the office if you like,’ he said. What harm could a quick cuppa do, he thought. ‘It’s just across there.’ He led the way through the yard, with Larry right behind.

‘Nice place you got here,’ he said admiringly. ‘Good location. Bet it brings in a fair amount of business.’

‘We do OK.’ Tommy switched on the kettle as his old friend sat down on a swivel chair. ‘Milk, sugar? Yes, we’ve been here for a couple of years or so. I was a one-man band for a while, but it’s better with a team. I don’t have to work seven days a week anymore for a start. How about you?’

Larry shook his head and laughed. ‘Bit of this, bit of that. You know. Import, export.’

Tommy leaned back against a filing cabinet and raised his eyebrows. In some circles that could mean anything from selling a few black market cigarettes on a stall to major smuggling and tax evasion. He’d no reason to think Larry was involved in anything criminal and yet the man’s father had been sacked for stealing from his place of work, which was why the family had disappeared from the Battersea area to start with. Larry had always been a chip off the old block and close to his dad. Well, it was none of his business. He didn’t intend to get sucked in to Larry’s schemes and once they’d had their tea he’d wave him goodbye and that would be that.

‘Ever think about the old days, Tommy?’ asked Larry, stretching out his legs and putting his arms behind his head, making himself at home. ‘I missed the old place something rotten for ages when we moved. It’s good to have an excuse to come back. Not that I’ll be back here to live, we’re out in Kent now. Me mum – remember her? – she won’t ever want to breathe in this smoggy air again, she loves it out there. But you can’t live on fresh air so I’m doing a bit of business round here for the time being. We should get together one evening for old times’ sake.’

Tommy smiled noncommittally. ‘Maybe.’

Larry cocked his head. ‘We had some good times back then. Used to enjoy ourselves, didn’t we? Chasing all those girls? Remember flashing them in the park and hearing them scream?’

Tommy looked uncomfortable. He didn’t want to be reminded of what he’d done.

‘I think now we should have gone further, you know,’ said Larry lazily. ‘Half of them were too scared to know what we were doing, and most would never have told their mums once we’d threatened them properly. We missed a chance if you ask me.’

‘I’m glad we didn’t,’ said Tommy shortly. ‘We were stupid back then, didn’t realise what could have happened.’

‘Exactly my point.’ Larry laughed wolfishly. ‘All those schoolgirls and that big park … what a wasted opportunity. Still, there were two that told on us, weren’t there? Two that got us into trouble. That snooty grammar-school kid, what’s her name … Sandra. That was it. Always thought she was too good for us. Should have taught her a proper lesson while we had the chance. And her friend …’

Tommy had a sinking feeling that he knew what was coming next.

‘… the stupid one. Dumbo, we used to call her. Her mum was friends with ours, weren’t she? Good-looking kid but thick as two short planks. I wonder what happened to her.’

Tommy said nothing.

Larry looked at him. ‘Don’t suppose you know?’

Tommy still said nothing.

‘Ah, that’s it.’ Larry smiled, a calculating expression on his face. ‘You do know. Still round here, is she? Is she still a looker? Filled out, has she? By the looks of you, you know the answer to that one. Is she still stupid?’

Tommy reached across and took his guest’s empty cup. He set it carefully back down on the countertop beside the kettle and old jam jar that held the sugar. Then he walked to the door and opened it.

‘Tommy, Tommy,’ said Larry, swivelling round on the chair. ‘I only just finished me tea. Don’t tell me you want me to go already?’

‘Best you do,’ said Tommy, his voice strained.

‘And why’s that, Tommy?’ teased Larry. ‘Don’t like thinking what I might do to Dumbo if I came across her? It’d be no more than she deserves. And you don’t need to answer my questions. I already know where she is. Peckham, ain’t it.’

Without thinking Tommy reached across and grabbed the man’s shirt front and held him so that the shiny new tie was tight across his throat. Larry struggled, taken by surprise. He was the bigger man but Tommy was lean and strong, and fitter from years of hoisting heavy signs around. He stared at Larry, eyeball to eyeball.

‘You try anything and you’ll be sorry,’ he said with an icily. ‘You lay one hand on Mavis and you’ll wish you hadn’t been born. You get me? You understand? Don’t just splutter, give me a proper answer or you’ll live to regret it.’ He kept on staring into the man’s face.

Larry tried to break free but the tie was too tight and choked him every time he began to turn away. He was sweating and his red nose shone. Tommy noted in disgust that he had greasy pores when you looked up close. So Larry cared about his clothes but not enough to look after himself properly. All style, no substance. That shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him. Well, if he was all surface bluster he’d be easy to intimidate. He loosened his hold a little.

‘You understand me?’ Tommy repeated, without dropping his gaze.

Larry gasped noisily for air. ‘Yes, I get you. For God’s sake, Tommy, it were only a bit of banter. It’s not as if I care what Dumbo’s up to or who she’s up to come to that.’

Tommy let go of the man and thrust him away. ‘Don’t calling her Dumbo. Her name is Mavis!’

Larry gained his footing and, as though to regain some dignity, he straightened his tie as he said, ‘Yeah, well, you’re welcome to her.’

‘Door’s that way.’ Tommy didn’t move, but followed the man with his eyes as he attempted to stroll nonchalantly across the yard and out of the gate. When Larry reached the pavement he turned and gave a half-wave. Then he disappeared behind the tall surrounding wall.

Tommy slumped into his desk chair and put his head in his hands. What had come over him? He hadn’t done anything like that for years, not since he was in his teens at least. Part of him was glad he still had the strength to command such a situation – he’d have looked pretty ridiculous if Larry had been able to get away and then had clocked him one. But in another way he was horrified that he’d reacted so immediately and could have lost control at any moment. Was that the sort of man he wanted to be? It usually took a lot to rouse his temper, and he had thought he’d mastered it, but when it came to Mavis it was a different matter. He’d seen red and would have gone to any lengths to defend her.

Still, he guessed that in one way it had worked – Larry would be unlikely to try anything with Mavis now. It was then that Tommy remembered the broken-down van and his intention of ringing the mechanic as soon as he got back to the office. Damn it, Larry’s visit hadn’t only made him lose his temper, he’d wasted all that time and now he might lose a day’s work if it couldn’t be repaired. Forcing himself to breathe more slowly, Tommy reached for the phone.