close for an hour at ten o’clock, because everyone would be going to the
magistrates’ court. Men who normally wore overalls were suited and booted; some had grabbed the morning off with permission, others were taking a chance. They wanted to see the man who had
whipped and kicked little Billy Blunt.
Women were working the early shift. Several with prams piled high with washing were already on their way back from the public washhouse. As the two policemen walked down the main road, they
glanced down side streets and saw many female heads bobbing about in doorways; steps were being scrubbed and stoned early today, because this was a special occasion, though not for a good reason.
It was no holiday. If poor Billy didn’t make it, the whole area would be bereaved and Brennan should hang.
Jonesy spoke up. ‘They’re good people, aren’t they, Sarge?’
Mike nodded. ‘The best. In fifteen years or so, this place will be derelict, and that’s as good a reason as any for me to retire. Man and boy, I’ve worked here. It’s been
special, but not for much longer.’ They entered the cafe to a round of applause and a free breakfast. ‘See?’ Mike whispered to his companion. ‘See what I mean?’
‘I do, Sarge. Decent people.’ They sat and ate with the rest. Mike gazed round at the good, the bad and those who fell somewhere between the two categories. By God, he would miss
every one of them.
She stood over him. ‘Oi. You with the hand and the interesting attitude. Open your eyes and face the world before I tip this lot over you. I’ve fetched your
breakfast up the stairs, and you’ll have to leave this place the back way, or people will think I’m working part time for Mother Bailey. I don’t want my reputation getting any
worse than it already is.’ She placed the plate on a bedside table. ‘Come on, wakey-wakey.’
He turned over and dragged a sheet over his head. ‘Go away. Cruelty to a dumb animal, this is. Go and mither some other poor soul.’
‘It’ll be tomorrow if you don’t shift. There’s stuff to be done, Frank.’
‘Oh, God.’
‘He’s not in. It’s only me, the woman you spent the night with. Sit up immediately, if not sooner.’
Frank, whose hair was doing a fair imitation of a burst cushion, dragged himself up. He glanced at his breakfast and did a quick double-take at the monumental pile. ‘What on earth is that
supposed to be? I’ve heard of these high-rise flats, but—’
‘It’s a full English on butties.’ She pointed to the large server plate heaped high with sandwiches. ‘This was what you asked for when you had a meeting, and you’ve
got a meeting this morning, so I used common sense and a butter knife.’
‘Where’s the meeting?’
‘Magistrates’ court. Sergeant Stoneway had a load of people down the cop shop in the night, got them dragged out of their beds cos two blokes came to take Brennan away. They said
they were from Prestwich Mental Hospital, but they weren’t. They are psychiatrists, though, but from Jersey, so he can prove they were lying. It means he can work a bit longer towards his
pension. They had a court order, and he disobeyed it, but he’s OK, cos they were telling lies, see.’
See? See? He could scarcely see at all. Frank was not a morning person. He was one of those annoying types who come to life at midnight and keep you awake by spouting politics and religion, plus
his speciality: the rights of children and the elderly in society. ‘Do I know you?’ he asked. ‘Have we been introduced?’
‘I should bloody well hope so. That left hand of yours can shift, I’m telling you. My name’s Dorothy. I’m Dorothy Kennedy, spinster of the parish of St Anthony, Scotland
Road, Liverpool.’
‘Eh?’
‘I was baptized Dorothy Joan, shortened to Dolly. I didn’t like Dolly, so I kept the olly, dropped the D and put a P on it when I was five.’
‘You peed on it when you were five?’
She smiled sweetly.
‘You peed
magistrates’ court. Men who normally wore overalls were suited and booted; some had grabbed the morning off with permission, others were taking a chance. They wanted to see the man who had
whipped and kicked little Billy Blunt.
Women were working the early shift. Several with prams piled high with washing were already on their way back from the public washhouse. As the two policemen walked down the main road, they
glanced down side streets and saw many female heads bobbing about in doorways; steps were being scrubbed and stoned early today, because this was a special occasion, though not for a good reason.
It was no holiday. If poor Billy didn’t make it, the whole area would be bereaved and Brennan should hang.
Jonesy spoke up. ‘They’re good people, aren’t they, Sarge?’
Mike nodded. ‘The best. In fifteen years or so, this place will be derelict, and that’s as good a reason as any for me to retire. Man and boy, I’ve worked here. It’s been
special, but not for much longer.’ They entered the cafe to a round of applause and a free breakfast. ‘See?’ Mike whispered to his companion. ‘See what I mean?’
‘I do, Sarge. Decent people.’ They sat and ate with the rest. Mike gazed round at the good, the bad and those who fell somewhere between the two categories. By God, he would miss
every one of them.
She stood over him. ‘Oi. You with the hand and the interesting attitude. Open your eyes and face the world before I tip this lot over you. I’ve fetched your
breakfast up the stairs, and you’ll have to leave this place the back way, or people will think I’m working part time for Mother Bailey. I don’t want my reputation getting any
worse than it already is.’ She placed the plate on a bedside table. ‘Come on, wakey-wakey.’
He turned over and dragged a sheet over his head. ‘Go away. Cruelty to a dumb animal, this is. Go and mither some other poor soul.’
‘It’ll be tomorrow if you don’t shift. There’s stuff to be done, Frank.’
‘Oh, God.’
‘He’s not in. It’s only me, the woman you spent the night with. Sit up immediately, if not sooner.’
Frank, whose hair was doing a fair imitation of a burst cushion, dragged himself up. He glanced at his breakfast and did a quick double-take at the monumental pile. ‘What on earth is that
supposed to be? I’ve heard of these high-rise flats, but—’
‘It’s a full English on butties.’ She pointed to the large server plate heaped high with sandwiches. ‘This was what you asked for when you had a meeting, and you’ve
got a meeting this morning, so I used common sense and a butter knife.’
‘Where’s the meeting?’
‘Magistrates’ court. Sergeant Stoneway had a load of people down the cop shop in the night, got them dragged out of their beds cos two blokes came to take Brennan away. They said
they were from Prestwich Mental Hospital, but they weren’t. They are psychiatrists, though, but from Jersey, so he can prove they were lying. It means he can work a bit longer towards his
pension. They had a court order, and he disobeyed it, but he’s OK, cos they were telling lies, see.’
See? See? He could scarcely see at all. Frank was not a morning person. He was one of those annoying types who come to life at midnight and keep you awake by spouting politics and religion, plus
his speciality: the rights of children and the elderly in society. ‘Do I know you?’ he asked. ‘Have we been introduced?’
‘I should bloody well hope so. That left hand of yours can shift, I’m telling you. My name’s Dorothy. I’m Dorothy Kennedy, spinster of the parish of St Anthony, Scotland
Road, Liverpool.’
‘Eh?’
‘I was baptized Dorothy Joan, shortened to Dolly. I didn’t like Dolly, so I kept the olly, dropped the D and put a P on it when I was five.’
‘You peed on it when you were five?’
She smiled sweetly.
‘You peed
Similar Books
