The Likes of Us (20 page)

‘Let's go outside for a bit,' Vince suggested, ‘an' get some air.'

He wondered what she was thinking as she looked at him.

‘C'mon,' he said. ‘I'll look after you. We can have a walk up the street an' back.'

‘All right, then. This is getting a bit too much.'

They got pass-outs at the desk and stepped out into the street.

‘Sure you'll be warm enough?' Vince asked, thinking of her thin blouse.

‘Oh, yes: it's a mild night.'

She linked her arm through his as they walked up the quiet street and he glanced at her, feeling uplifted and happy. He knew nothing about her and began to ask her about herself. She lived in a street off Bradford Road, she told him, not far from where they had encountered her earlier that evening. She had an older sister who was married and a young brother still at school. Her father was an insurance superintendent and she was a typist in the main Cressley office of her father's company. She liked dancing, the cinema, records of Frank Sinatra, and swimming.

‘Swimming?'

She told him how many lengths of the public baths she could swim and he was impressed.

‘I should ha' thought with a figure like yours you'd be one o' them 'at never went in the water.'

She laughed. ‘Swimming's good for the figure.'

‘You're a good advert. I can't swim a stroke meself. I have to wear a lifebelt in the bath at home.'

‘You'd soon learn with a bit of practice. It's like riding a bike – once you know how you can't imagine why everybody can't do it.'

‘Oh, I can ride a bike. A motor bike an' all. I'm goinna get a motor bike. Next year mebbe.'

‘A scooter?'

‘Naw, a right bike. A six-fifty Norton, or summat like that. Summat with some power.'

‘They're expensive. Have you been saving up?'

‘I've got enough for a good deposit. It's a question of gettin' the old feller to sign the hire purchase papers, only he can't make his stupid mind up. He likes to act bloody awkward.'

‘What do you do for a living?'

‘I'm a motor mechanic. Why?'

‘I just wondered.'

‘You could tell I hadn't an office job by me hands, couldn't you?'

‘What's wrong with your hands?'

‘They show me trade. Grease an' stuff you can't get off.'

‘They're a nice shape,' she said. ‘I noticed. I always notice people's hands. There's nothing to be ashamed of in working with your hands. Do you like being a motor mechanic?'

He shrugged. ‘It's okay. I like knackling with engines an' that. It's like every other job, though – you're just makin' brass for somebody else.'

‘You're young. You can't do everything at once. Perhaps you'll have your own business one day.'

‘Aw, I haven't got the brains for that sort o' thing. Messin' with books an' all that. An' anyway, where'd I get the capital?'

‘Well you never know,' she said.

They made a circuit of the block and approached the Trocadero from the other side. As they walked along between the parked cars and the wall of the building Vince stopped and turned her round with his hands on her shoulders, feeling smooth warmth through the blouse.

‘Don't get panicky,' he said. ‘I'm just goinna kiss you.'

‘Who's panicky?' she said as his mouth came down on hers.

She was quiet at first, acquiescent but passive, her mouth cool and unresponsive under his. Then she parted her lips and put her arms about him. He felt a thrill of pure clear joy shoot through him as they broke away and stood close together in the shadow of the wall.

‘I bet you never thought you'd end up like this when I saw you earlier on.'

She laughed. ‘No, I didn't.'

‘Neither did I, for that matter. I never expected to see you again... But I hoped I might.'

She was quiet.

‘Will you let me see you again?'

‘Do you really want to?'

‘Yes, I do. I mean a proper date, where we arrange to meet each other an' there's just the two of us. Will you?'

‘We'll see,' she said.

He dropped one hand from her shoulder to rest lightly on the swell of her breast and she lifted her own hand to remove it.

‘Steady now.'

‘Honest,' Vince said huskily. ‘I'm not startin' anything. I'm not gettin' fresh. Honest. I wouldn't. I... I like you too much.'

The tenderness that overcame him as he held her was something new to him and appalling in the way it left him defenceless, drained of all violence, weak at the knees. She could do just what she liked with him, that was the way he felt about her. And under the joy it was frightening the way it made him think of things he had always scoffed at: things like steady courtship, marriage, a little home with someone to share it and be waiting for him at the end of the day.

‘Oh, Christ!' he said as her mouth drew him again.

The beam of the flashlight picked them out as they stood embracing, mouth to mouth, body to body, against the wall. The shock of it was like cold water on them both. The girl hid her face but Vince turned his full into the beam of the torch, his eyes narrowing with fury as Jackson's voice said:

‘I thought so. I thought that was what you were up to, you mucky little bugger. Bringing lasses out an' getting them up against the wall.'

Vince's heart pounded sickeningly. ‘What the hell's up wi' you?' he said furiously. Hatred of Jackson scorched through him in a hot flood. ‘Why can't you leave people alone? We're not doin' any harm.'

‘I'm not having this sort o' work here,' Jackson said. ‘You can either get back inside or clear off an' do your dirty work somewhere else. Come on, now, let's have you.'

He held the beam of the torch steadily on them as they walked to the corner of the building, the girl with her head bowed and Vince looking straight before him, biting his lips to restrain his wild rage.

Jackson walked away through the car park, leaving them in the light of the foyer. They went in, Vince showing the pass-outs.

The girl's face was scarlet with humiliation. Vince said, ‘The swine; the lousy stinkin' swine.' He looked at her. ‘God,' he said, ‘I don't know what to say…'

She turned away from him, avoiding his eyes. ‘It doesn't matter.'

‘But look, I –'

‘Leave me alone,' she said. ‘Just leave me alone.'

He tried to take her arm. ‘Look, Audrey…'

She shook herself free. ‘My name's not Audrey.'

She hurried away from him into the cloakroom. He stood there for some moments until he became gradually aware of people watching him. His own cheeks burned as he went into the gents' cloakroom and shut himself in a cubicle. He was almost crying now with anger. He clenched his fists and beat them on the air, cursing Jackson silently through clenched teeth. He stayed there several minutes until he felt he could face returning to the hall. As he came into the foyer he caught a glimpse of a girl who looked like Audrey hurrying out through the street door with a coat over her shoulders. He made a movement as if to follow her, then checked it and turned and went into the hall to find Sam and Finch and Bob. This was one thing Jackson wasn't going to get away with.

He found Sam first, alone, which was as he wanted it. He told him what had happened outside and how the girl had reacted.

‘I don't know now if I'll ever see her again, Sam, or if she'll speak to me if I do. She's a chick with some class, Sam, see. It made her feel cheap being caught up against a wall like that. I know just how she feels, an' I'll allus remind her of it. Oh, that bloody lousy stinkin' pig Jackson.'

‘He's a bloody maniac,' Sam said. ‘Sex-mad. Where's the bird now?'

‘I think she's hopped it. I thought I saw her goin' out just now.'

‘An' where's Jacko?'

‘He stopped outside playin' the bloody Peepin' Tom with his flashlamp.' Vince gripped Sam's arm. ‘Listen, Sam, I'm goinna get that bugger for this. He's not gettin' away with it this time.'

‘What you goinna do?'

‘Wait for him on his way home an' do him. Are you with me? You'd like to have a go at him, wouldn't you?'

‘Too bloody true I would,' Sam said. ‘I haven't forgotten that night last winter when he picked on me an' threw me out of here. But it's no good just the two of us. Two of us can't manage him.'

‘No, but we can if we have Finch an' Bob to back us up. We can bash the bugger till his own mother won't know him.'

Sam looked doubtful. ‘Think they'll come?'

‘Why not? They don't like Jacko any more than we do.'

‘An' they don't like gettin' their earholes punched, either.'

‘Oh, Christ Almighty, Sam, if the four of us can't manage him, I don't know who can. Where are they, anyway?'

‘I think they're sittin' down the other end.'

‘You get 'em. I'll go an' get a table in the coffee bar.'

A few minutes later the four of them were sitting round a corner table and Vince was telling the others what he had already told Sam. Bob appeared to find it amusing.

‘What the hell you grinnin' at?' Vince demanded.

‘Well, it's funny, in't it?' Bob said.

‘I don't see owt bloody funny about it.'

‘Well, there's a funny side to it, in't there?' Bob said. ‘I mean, there's you standin' up against the wall with this tart an' along comes old Jacko an' shines his lamp on you.'

‘You'd ha' thought it wa' funny if it'd been you, I suppose?' Vince said angrily. ‘You'd ha' burst out laughin', I suppose?'

‘No, I'd ha' been as mad as you,' Bob said. ‘Only it wasn't me, it wa' you.'

‘An' that makes all the bloody difference, eh?'

‘Well, I mean…' Bob subsided in the face of Vince's furious glare.

‘I'll bet you could ha' killed him,' Finch said.

‘If thoughts could kill he'd be lyin' out there stone dead this minute.'

‘Let's get down to business,' Sam said. ‘Time's gettin' on. They'll be slingin' everybody out of here afore long.

‘What's up?' Finch said.

‘We're goinna do Jackson on the way home,' Vince told him; ‘that's what's up.'

‘Who's we?' Bob wanted to know.

‘Me an' Sam; an' you an' Finch if you're game.'

Finch said nothing but gave a quick startled glance at the faces of Vince and Sam sitting opposite him.

‘You an' Sam…' Bob said. ‘Think you can manage him?'

‘If we have to,' Vince said grimly. ‘But it'll make it easier if you an' Finch join in.'

Still Finch remained silent.

‘I dunno,' Bob said. ‘He's a big bloke... fifteen or sixteen stone. An' he can use his fists. You've seen how he handles blokes he doesn't like.'

‘Aye, tackling him'll be a bit different from kickin' a bloke in the ribs up a back alley,' Vince said.

Bob flushed. ‘You know I'm not scared of a scrap. You know I allus hold me corner up.'

‘I know you do, Bob. ‘Vince's voice was now conciliatory, but under it he wished furiously that he could upturn the table on them all in contempt and go and do what he had to do alone. ‘You're a good lad in a scrap. That's why we want you with us. You don't like Jacko, do you? You'd like to have a hand in doin' him, wouldn't you?'

Bob looked at Sam, then at Vince.

‘What's your plan?'

‘Well, you know the skinny bastard won't pay for a taxi an' he allus walks home except when it's chuckin' it down with rain. I've been thinkin', if we go first an' wait on the edge of the common, just by the wood, we can jump him before he knows we're there.'

Sam nodded. ‘That's a good idea. It's the best place, an' he'll never know who we are in the dark up there.'

‘He won't even know how many of us there is,' said Vince. ‘We can make mincemeat of the bastard an' drop down into town an' be home in bed by one.'

‘Suppose he doesn't go that way tonight?'

‘He allus does. An' if he doesn't we'll have to call it off till another time. But he'll be there; it's a nice night for a walk.'

‘An' a good scrap,' Sam said, smiling.

Vince warmed to him. ‘Good old Sam,' he said, putting his arm round the other's shoulders.

‘Suppose he recognises us?' Bob said.

‘Oh, Christ, suppose, suppose. He's got nothin' on us, has he? He can't prove anythin'. We can think of a story an' back one another up.'

Sam glanced at his watch, a large gold one with a gold strap that he had picked up for a pound late one night from a young National Service soldier who was too drunk to walk home and hadn't a shilling in his pocket towards a taxi fare. ‘We'd better be off if we're goin'. They'll be finishing here any time now.'

Vince looked at Finch. ‘What about you, Finch? You've said nowt so far.'

Finch hesitated before speaking. ‘I reckon I'm game,' he said in a moment, ‘if Bob is. Not if there's only three of us though.'

‘Good lad, Finch. You're a bloody trouper, you are. Now then, Bob, what about it?'

Bob played with a dirty cup which had not been cleared off the table before they sat down. He said nothing before Sam burst out impatiently:

‘Oh, come on. What the hell's everybody ditherin' about? He's only one bloke against four of us. Let's get the bugger done. He's had it comin' to him for long enough.'

Bob decided, and pushed the cup away from him. ‘Okay,' he said, ‘I'm on.'

‘That's the style,' Vince said exultantly. His eyes glittered in a face now flushed with excitement. He scraped back his chair. ‘We'll half-kill the bastard. We'll give him summat to think about.'