just closed you eyes and hoped for the best.’
He had them. File upon file of beaming moist-eyed faces. When this bit’s over, thought Des, I’ll ask Granny Grace for a dance. Just a gentle shuffle on the edge of the floor, if she’s game.
‘Then comes uh, adolescence. Shoplifting, credit cards, mug jobs, smash and grab. At school – suspension, expulsion, PRU offroll. Youth Court, Youth Custody, and the odd spot of Yoi. Then came maturity. Which in my case meant prison.’ Some muffled snorts, a single guffaw. ‘Marl was craftier, and quicker on his toes. I was more headstrong. I wouldn’t learn. For me, for me that’s a point of principle. Never learn .
‘So. We had our careers to make. I was drawn to reset – you know, selling on – and to debt work. Marlon here was a natural thruster. B and E. Otherwise known as burgling. And ooh was he useful. It’s why he’s called the Floater . Marl, he could ransack a barracks in broad daylight and no one’d turn a hair. What a talent. What a gift. So him with his thrusting, and me with me reset. Plus, you know, there was always uh, a bit of this, that, and the other.
‘Okay. Okay. What we was doing was not in uh, strict accordance with the law. But we make no apologies, Marl and me.’ An intensely interested quiescence. ‘For why? Because the law’s there to protect the rich man’s shilling .’ A hot murmur of agreement. ‘And no bloke worth the name’s going to bend over for that .’ Prolonged and stormy applause.
Which Lionel now quelled, with raised palms and lowered head. ‘And all the way along, of course, there was skirt. Birds, birds, birds. And Jesus, with Rhett Butler here, tall, dark and handsome with his lovely scar, it was like he’d entered the Olympics. Which event? The Legover!’ Reluctant amusement. ‘Like how many can he do in one day. Or one hour. His bedroom – he fit it with a revolving door!’ Unreluctant amusement. ‘As for me, with my ugly mug, I just held his coat and warmed his dunkers.’ Quiet male laughter. ‘Sorry, ladies. I mean his johnnies – his uh, family planning.’ Quiet female laughter. ‘Well, I wasn’t that bothered. But him? With the minge? He was styling his hair with it. That’s the Floater. That’s Marlon Welkway.’
Lionel half turned. The bride was smiling at the groom in coquettish reproach; Marlon’s wet eyes were shut and his shoulders were shaking. Des, too, half turned, and noticed Ringo slipping out through the tall double doors.
‘Now I always thought, Marl? Marlon Welkway? He’s not the marrying kind. Marl? No danger. Ladies’ man. Confirmed bachelor if you like … Ah, but then he goes and falls under the spell … of the gorgeous Gina.’ Cheers, whoops, and ear-stinging whistles. ‘Gina Drago. Look at her. Pretty as a sunset on a waterfall. Yes, there’ll be gloom in the pubs of Diston tonight. As it sinks in with all the blokes that the jewel of the manor, Gina Drago, has now become Gina Welkway.’
Lionel solemnly clapped his hands, and was joined by the entire company. This went on for a minute and a half.
‘There’s been a lot of talk about the so-called garage meet .’ An affirmatory murmur. ‘Didn’t mean a thing. See, we always rucked. As babies, toddlers, kids, youths, grown-ups – always rucked. Long fights, serious fights. Why? Out of respect . To keep ourselves honest. Yeah, we fought, Marl and me. Well,’ he said, with a comparatively lenient sneer, ‘no one else was any good at it.’ Deferential clearing of throats.
‘Now I’ve gone on long enough. Without further ado – let the celebrations begin! … Oh yeah – before I forget. You know, friends, half an hour ago I happened to pop up to the first floor. And there was a queue of uh, hotel staff on the stairs. Not them handsome young waiters in they cream jackets. No. Kitchen skivvies. Horrible bloody old geezers from the boiler rooms and the compost heap. With flies buzzing round they heads. And they
He had them. File upon file of beaming moist-eyed faces. When this bit’s over, thought Des, I’ll ask Granny Grace for a dance. Just a gentle shuffle on the edge of the floor, if she’s game.
‘Then comes uh, adolescence. Shoplifting, credit cards, mug jobs, smash and grab. At school – suspension, expulsion, PRU offroll. Youth Court, Youth Custody, and the odd spot of Yoi. Then came maturity. Which in my case meant prison.’ Some muffled snorts, a single guffaw. ‘Marl was craftier, and quicker on his toes. I was more headstrong. I wouldn’t learn. For me, for me that’s a point of principle. Never learn .
‘So. We had our careers to make. I was drawn to reset – you know, selling on – and to debt work. Marlon here was a natural thruster. B and E. Otherwise known as burgling. And ooh was he useful. It’s why he’s called the Floater . Marl, he could ransack a barracks in broad daylight and no one’d turn a hair. What a talent. What a gift. So him with his thrusting, and me with me reset. Plus, you know, there was always uh, a bit of this, that, and the other.
‘Okay. Okay. What we was doing was not in uh, strict accordance with the law. But we make no apologies, Marl and me.’ An intensely interested quiescence. ‘For why? Because the law’s there to protect the rich man’s shilling .’ A hot murmur of agreement. ‘And no bloke worth the name’s going to bend over for that .’ Prolonged and stormy applause.
Which Lionel now quelled, with raised palms and lowered head. ‘And all the way along, of course, there was skirt. Birds, birds, birds. And Jesus, with Rhett Butler here, tall, dark and handsome with his lovely scar, it was like he’d entered the Olympics. Which event? The Legover!’ Reluctant amusement. ‘Like how many can he do in one day. Or one hour. His bedroom – he fit it with a revolving door!’ Unreluctant amusement. ‘As for me, with my ugly mug, I just held his coat and warmed his dunkers.’ Quiet male laughter. ‘Sorry, ladies. I mean his johnnies – his uh, family planning.’ Quiet female laughter. ‘Well, I wasn’t that bothered. But him? With the minge? He was styling his hair with it. That’s the Floater. That’s Marlon Welkway.’
Lionel half turned. The bride was smiling at the groom in coquettish reproach; Marlon’s wet eyes were shut and his shoulders were shaking. Des, too, half turned, and noticed Ringo slipping out through the tall double doors.
‘Now I always thought, Marl? Marlon Welkway? He’s not the marrying kind. Marl? No danger. Ladies’ man. Confirmed bachelor if you like … Ah, but then he goes and falls under the spell … of the gorgeous Gina.’ Cheers, whoops, and ear-stinging whistles. ‘Gina Drago. Look at her. Pretty as a sunset on a waterfall. Yes, there’ll be gloom in the pubs of Diston tonight. As it sinks in with all the blokes that the jewel of the manor, Gina Drago, has now become Gina Welkway.’
Lionel solemnly clapped his hands, and was joined by the entire company. This went on for a minute and a half.
‘There’s been a lot of talk about the so-called garage meet .’ An affirmatory murmur. ‘Didn’t mean a thing. See, we always rucked. As babies, toddlers, kids, youths, grown-ups – always rucked. Long fights, serious fights. Why? Out of respect . To keep ourselves honest. Yeah, we fought, Marl and me. Well,’ he said, with a comparatively lenient sneer, ‘no one else was any good at it.’ Deferential clearing of throats.
‘Now I’ve gone on long enough. Without further ado – let the celebrations begin! … Oh yeah – before I forget. You know, friends, half an hour ago I happened to pop up to the first floor. And there was a queue of uh, hotel staff on the stairs. Not them handsome young waiters in they cream jackets. No. Kitchen skivvies. Horrible bloody old geezers from the boiler rooms and the compost heap. With flies buzzing round they heads. And they
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