Prized Possessions (23 page)

‘Like bandaged hands?' said Patsy. ‘Yeah. Unless they decided to report the break-in to the cops an' let the law deal with it.'

‘Haven't you been out today?'

‘I've been in bed.'

‘There's nothing about the break-in the newspapers,' Polly said. ‘If it had been reported then surely the press would have got wind of it.'

‘I see what you mean,' said Patsy. ‘The Manones would rather write off eight thousand quid than have the cops askin' awkward questions. That's all to the good as far as we're concerned.'

He reached in his trouser pocket, brought out a packet of Woodbines and offered one to Polly.

She shook her head. ‘I have to push off now.'

‘Why? My old man won't be back for hours.'

‘Is that it, your family? Just you and your father?'

‘Yeah, just us.'

‘Where's your mother?'

‘She an' my two sisters died of influenza five months after my old man was released from the military hospital. He survived the war – at least some of him survived the war – then the bloody Spanish influenza wipes us out. Maw was sick for half a day, that's all. Couldn't even get her to a hospital she went so quick. My sisters were taken in but it was too late. Pneumonia got both of them. Eleven an' nine. Evelyn an' Margaret. Boom – gone.' He lit a cigarette and tossed the burned match into the fireplace. ‘Makes you think, eh, Polly? Made
me
think anyway. Put everythin' into perspective.'

‘I have to go,' said Polly. ‘I really must. Mammy will fret if I'm not home soon. Anyway, I need to warn Babs to be careful.'

‘You be careful too, Polly.'

‘Me? I'm not involved.'

‘Maybe not.' Patsy got up. ‘But be careful anyhow.'

He held the cigarette at arm's length and pulled her close.

She sensed his weakness, a lost quality, as if all assertiveness had been sucked away by the events of the night. She hugged him, kissed his mouth. Part of her wanted to stay, to let him make love to her, to merge his worries with her own, but another part of her desperately wanted to escape.

She touched her lips regretfully to his.

And someone hammered loudly on the landing door.

Chapter Ten

The motorbike, a Norton overhead valver, was seven or eight years old and had seen service on several mountain circuit TT races. According to the guy from whom Dennis had bought the machine it was in perfect working order and only needed a light overhaul to restore it to its former glory. Neither Dennis nor Jackie were taken in by the patter. They knew very well that the bike had been stolen and was, anyway, a knocker. They had several cannibalised parts for other old Nortons stashed away in the shed, though, and Dennis had offered thirty bob for the bike which the guy had eagerly accepted, thus confirming the Hallops' opinion that the bike had been stolen.

It lay now in pieces on an oily old tarpaulin on the ground, plugs and valves floating in jars on the bench above and its frame propped up on two little piles of bricks ready to be rubbed down and repainted. Dennis had somehow lost his enthusiasm for continuing with the job, however, and Jackie, with his torn hands gloved, could barely hold a cigarette let alone a spanner or a brush. He had spent the afternoon huddled in front of the stove, feeding it from time to time with lumps of coke that he hoisted up between his palms as clumsily as a bear trying to lift a ball.

Dennis was none the worse for his ducking in the Clyde but he still smarted from the humiliation of having had to be rescued by Tommy Bonnar and the even greater humiliation of having had to slosh through the streets dripping wet. Fortunately there had been few folk about at that hour to point and jeer and, even more fortunately, no coppers to ask awkward questions.

There was no guilt in either of the young men and very little apprehension. To their way of thinking the only thing they'd done wrong was to bungle the break-in – and for that they blamed Patsy Walsh. Since they hadn't got off with the safe and had reaped not a penny from their enterprise they considered themselves not just hard done by but also virtually blameless; so blameless, in fact, that they hadn't even bothered to lock the gate of the yard or bolt the door of the shed.

When, about half past six, an out-of-breath Babs burst in upon them they didn't leap up or even start but turned gloomily from contemplation of the stove and growled in unison, ‘What the bloody hell d' you want?' a greeting that pleased Babs not at all.

‘I want my hundred quid for a start.'

‘Hah!' said Jackie, turning back to the fire.

‘What d' you mean “hah”? Do you know what I've been through today because of you, Jackie Hallop?'

He held up his gloved hands. ‘Worse than this, dear?'

‘I was questioned – I was
grilled
by Mr Manone himself.'

‘So what?' said Dennis.

‘So I want my share.'

‘Share of what, sweetheart?' said Jackie.

‘The money.'

‘There is no money,' said Dennis. ‘We never got nothin'.'

‘Liar!'

‘It's true, but,' said Jackie. ‘Patsy dropped the safe in the river before he could blow the bloody thing open.'

‘That's not what Mr Manone told
me.
'

Dennis got up slowly, frowning. ‘What's this about Manone?'

‘Mr Manone told
me
you got away wi' the lot,' Babs fibbed.

‘Then he's a liar,' said Jackie. ‘Ask Patsy Walsh if you don't believe me.'

‘How do I know Patsy's not in on it too?' said Babs.

Jackie held up his gloved hands placatingly. She was mad all right, scared too. ‘Why was Manone askin'
you
questions?'

‘He wants me to…' Babs flushed.

‘Squeal?' said Dennis.

‘Naw, not squeal exactly. What happened t' your hands, Jackie?'

‘Don't change the subject.' Dennis came forward, bulking over her. ‘How come Manone picked you to question?'

‘He knows my mammy.'

Jackie said, ‘Look, Babs, you didn't tell Manone about us, did you?'

‘What d'you take me for?' Babs said. ‘Where's my money, Jackie? You're not talkin' me out o' my hundred quid.'

‘One more time, Barbara,' Dennis said. ‘There is no money. Manone wants everyone to think he wasn't robbed so he won't have to call in the cops.'

‘He didn't tell me that,' said Babs.

‘Bloody hell!' Dennis exclaimed.

‘Listen, sweetheart,' Jackie said, ‘Manone's a crafty bugger but maybe he does
think
we got away wi' the money. That could be it, couldn't it, Dennis? Maybe nobody's looked for the safe yet.'

‘Where is it?' Babs said.

‘I told you, at the bottom o' the Clyde.'

‘What's it doin' there?'

‘It's a long story,' said Jackie.

‘Is that what happened t' your hands?'

‘Yeah.'

‘What about Patsy?'

‘Patsy!' said Dennis, spitting on the ground. ‘Sod Patsy.'

‘He's all right,' said Jackie. ‘We're all okay.'

‘You won't be if Mr Manone catches you,' Babs said. ‘Are you tellin' me the truth about all this?'

‘Cross ma heart.' Jackie fashioned an appropriate gesture. ‘Dominic Manone ain't gonna find out it was us.'

‘Unless somebody tells him,' said Dennis.

‘No hundred quid,' Babs said. ‘God! After all I've been through.'

‘I'll make it up t' you, Babs,' Jackie promised.

‘How?'

‘I'll take y' dancin' on Saturday.'

‘With those mitts? No thanks.'

‘Next week then. Christmas.'

‘Forget it, Jackie.'

‘Uh-huh!' Dennis murmured. ‘Are you on the turn, dear?'

‘On the turn, nothin',' said Babs. ‘I'm just – just annoyed.'

‘Annoyed enough to suck up to Dominic Manone?'

‘Don't be so bloody daft, Dennis.' Babs pursed her lips. ‘I just don't think I should be seen with either of you for a while.'

‘She is,' Dennis said. ‘She's on the turn.'

‘Why, but?' said Jackie. ‘Why won't you go out wi' me?'

‘Use your loaf, Jackie,' Babs told him. ‘Mr Manone's out for blood an' if he spots me wi' you he might start to put two an' two together.'

‘Can't see that,' said Jackie. ‘We'll be safe enough at the Calcutta.'

‘You're not safe anywhere,' Babs screeched. ‘Can't you get that into your thick skull, Jackie Hallop? Right now you're poison.'

‘That's not a very nice thing t' say, Babs.' Jackie sulked. ‘After all we've meant t' each other. I thought we had somethin' nice goin' on?'

‘Nice? If this is your idea o' nice…'

‘She's suckin' up to Manone,' Dennis stated.

‘I am not suckin' up to anybody,'
Babs shouted. ‘I just don't think I owe you anythin', Jackie, not after what you've done to me. Promisin' me money an' then lyin' about it.'

‘I'm not lyin',' Jackie declared.

‘He's not lyin',' said Dennis.

‘Anyway, I've had enough o' you lot,' Babs said.

‘Is this goodbye then?' said Jackie.

‘Yes, this is goodbye,' said Babs.

‘Don't count on it,' said Dennis.

*   *   *

‘Oh, it's yourself, Alex,' Patsy Walsh said, casually. ‘Come on in.' He stepped back and allowed O'Hara to enter the kitchen.

Polly was seated in a chair by the fire still wearing her overcoat and hat.

O'Hara glanced at her, looked round at Patsy and grinned. ‘I didn't know you had company.'

‘She's a friend,' said Patsy. ‘Polly, this is Alex O'Hara.'

‘Polly, pleased t' meetcha.'

‘If you've business to discuss,' Polly said, ‘perhaps I should leave.'

‘Yeah, that might be a good idea,' Patsy said.

O'Hara would have none of it. ‘You in residence here, Polly?'

‘God, no.'

‘You got a man somewhere else?'

‘No.'

‘Where you from?'

‘Gorbals.'

O'Hara paused, then said, ‘Lavender Court, right?'

‘How did you…'

‘You're Rosie Conway's sister.'

‘Yes, I am, as a matter of fact.'

‘I see,' O'Hara said. ‘Yeah!'

‘I don't know what you think you see, Mr O'Hara,' Polly said, ‘but Patsy's just a friend of mine, no more an' no less.'

‘Good friend, but?'

‘Alex…' Patsy began.

O'Hara held up a blunt finger to silence him, then asked Polly, ‘You sleep wi' this guy?'

‘Of course I don't sleep with him,' Polly said. ‘What do you take me for?'

‘So you weren't here last night?'

‘As it so happens,' Polly said, ‘I was.'

‘All night?'

‘Nope, not all night.'

‘Till when?'

‘Half past eleven. Maybe nearer midnight.'

‘Is that a fact?' said O'Hara.

‘Yes,' Polly said, ‘that is a fact.'

‘Alex, what the hell's goin' on here?' said Patsy. ‘What you askin' her all these questions for? What's it to you who I – who I'm friendly with?'

O'Hara ignored Patsy's protest.

He continued to focus his attention on the girl. She was cool, he had to give her that. Her cockiness reminded him of Rosie's only it was more mature, more superior. She didn't like him – he didn't expect her to – but she wasn't afraid of him either and that worried him. He felt himself shrink from her unyielding gaze. Give him ten minutes alone with her and he'd make her change her bloody tune. He'd teach her a bit of respect.

‘What'd your mam have t' say about you gettin' home so late?'

‘She was asleep,' Polly said.

She sensed a subtle shift from aggression to wariness, from wariness to sexual speculation. She had a vague understanding that O'Hara was afraid of her and wouldn't know what to do with her except cause her pain. She could see in his eyes, in the sour little wrinkling of the lids, a longing to hurt.

‘Who else was here last night?' O'Hara glanced round. ‘Your old man?'

‘He was on shift,' Patsy answered.

‘So it was just you an' the lady here, gettin' up to mischief?'

‘Look, I've had about enough o' this,' Patsy said. ‘Either you tell me what's goin' on or you get the hell outta my house.'

Polly said, ‘He thinks you stole Mr Manone's safe.'

‘What?' said Patsy, feigning astonishment. ‘What safe?'

Polly said, ‘I was just about to tell you when Mr O'Hara came in and interrupted me. Somebody stole a safe from the Central Warehouse last night.'

‘How d' you know that?' O'Hara said.

‘My sister told me.'

‘Rosie, how did—'

‘Not Rosie. My other sister – Babs.'

Patsy managed a bark of laughter. ‘Jeeze, is that what all the fuss is about, Alex? You thought it was me done the warehouse? I might be a daft bastard at times but I'm not that daft. How much did they get off with?'

‘Four or five thousand,' O'Hara said. ‘Manone wants it back.'

‘I'll bet he does,' said Patsy.

Polly studied Alex O'Hara carefully. She had taken a risk in admitting that she already knew about the robbery. It was logical that she would know, however, that Babs would have told her. Just how much logic a thug like O'Hara would apply to any given situation Polly had no idea; less, she suspected, rather than more. She was tempted to spell it out for him, to amplify her lie, but decided to let him make the running.

O'Hara said, ‘How come your sister knows so much about it?'