Fat Tuesday Page 5

8

  A week passed and there was little we could do until we got more information on the back rooms. Amber was permanently on till duty now, but all she ever saw was the back of her supervisor’s head after she had handed over her cash drawer.

  But that changed on Thursday night. There had been a cock up with the time sheets and two cashiers were clocking off at twelve and Amber had already cashed up, ready to take her break. All we knew, as the four of us made our way home at three in the morning, was that Amber had been beyond the mirror panelled door.

  Gregg was pacing, waiting for Amber to come out of the bathroom.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, fast-walking. In her haste she had forgotten to put on a sweatshirt and her tits were bursting out the top of her black vest. 36DD? Fuck knows, but they were big and she was bouncing around without any regard for poor old me, paralysed in the chair. When she bent over to take her socks off it fucked me completely and I had to sit forward with my head in my hands.

  She quickly glossed her lips before starting. “As I was saying, two cashiers clocked off at twelve and I’d already cashed up, so Eleanor was in a flap with three cash drawers to carry and no trolley with her. Now get this.” We edged forward. “I followed her in carrying two of the boxes and she’s cursing like mad at the mix-up by Aileen. On the right is the main office.” We all nodded, having been there for our interviews. “She marches ahead, past what must be the camera room and stops at the next door. She puts the box down, puts her glasses on and squints at a black plastic card.”

  “What kind of card?” I asked.

  Amber shrugged. “Just like, say, a credit card. Anyway, she moans about the code being changed too often, then types in a number and I follow her inside. The room was about the size of my room, a bit smaller, everything white, loads of cash boxes and a few trolleys.”

  “Fucking hell,” Gregg said, “if we get Eleanor’s card and keys we’re as good as in.”

  “Where was the safe, then?” Cam asked.

  “There’s a mirrored door to the left. It’s in there.”

  “So what happened next?” I asked.

  Amber reached for her drink off the coffee table and I was the lucky recipient of some serious cleavage and I slipped back into a trance.

  “Eleanor went into the safe room on her own and I waited. That was it.”

  She couldn’t say for sure if the CCTV room had a keypad, but apart from the main security door, the rest did.

  Amber went to her room and returned wearing a blue hooded top. She sat next to me, linking my arm. Cam and Gregg were arguing again and Amber intervened. Gregg went off to his room and we reassured Cam he wouldn’t be bullied into anything.

  The next stage was to get a copy of Eleanor’s keys and the codes. We reckoned that if Eleanor had trouble reading the code today, then it must have just been changed because she was in and out of the secure area hourly. Allowing a couple of day’s grace made a Friday the best time to steal the codes. If we were going to do this robbery then it would have to be soon, to capitalise on the information we had gathered. It was all too much for Cam and he made for the toilet.

  Amber tucked her feet underneath herself, glossed up and nodded towards the bathroom. “He’s going to be no good on the night,” she said. “I don’t even know if I’ll be, my heart’s pounding now.”

  “Tell me about it. Last week was just talk, but we know enough now to make a move.” I reached for a smoke and handed Amber one. “How we going to get the keys and codes off Eleanor?”

  According to Amber, Eleanor was fond of a drink, so getting her plastered and stealing them was the best plan we could come up with.

  “What if she doesn’t take her work keys out with her?” I said. “And where does she go drinking? We can’t hinge everything on Eleanor going on the piss with her work keys, can we?”

  “Pity we hadn’t thought of it last week. They reckon she was steaming at Andrea’s leaving do, necking on with some bloke in the middle of the dance floor and everything. Had to take the next two days off on the sick.”

  We came up with an idea, but first we needed to ensure that we could get Eleanor drunk on a given night. Taking the last leaving party as form, we decided to stage another leaving do – Amber’s.

  “Makes sense,” she said, re-lighting the joint. “Eleanor would definitely come.”

  Cam joined us and we filled him in on the plan. A smile spread across his face. There was only one man for this job and how could he refuse after his “do or die” speeches? Right on cue, he came out of his room wearing old work trousers.

  Cam knelt up on the sofa. “Are they work slacks, mate?”

  Gregg gave us a twirl, before dropping down and doing some press-ups. He then jogged around the kitchen table and over to us. Without saying a word, he pushed the coffee table to one side and began taking the trousers off.

  “Don’t tell me this is your effort at pole dancing,” I said.

  “Without the pole,” Amber added.

  “And without the dancing,” Cam said.

  We watched, fascinated, as the pants came off and he turned them inside out to reveal his creation. “The human wallet,” he said triumphantly. “I’ve calculated that this,” he pulled handfuls of paper, cut the size of bank notes, from the lining of the trousers and threw them around like confetti, “would be about fifty-G. We could carry a hundred grand between us. Anything over goes in the bag. And that little demonstration of agility lasted ninety seconds – the time it takes from the secure door to the warehouse.”

  “Someone will notice the bulk, mate,” Cam said. “They’re always on the look out for thieves, you know that.”

  “You never noticed,” Gregg said, leaning towards him. The blue trousers fell to the floor. “The escape route is planned so we miss Jason and the gaffers. I’m in uniform, so they’d have to be sure, Cam, and a minute-and-a-half isn’t long.”

  “P-lease,” Amber said, dramatically lifting a hand and turning her head to the side. “Get that covered up, those underpants are gagging.”

  “ back?” I asked.

  “Ha, fucking ha.” He snatched the trousers off the floor and marched off.

  “You’ll have to wear something a bit cleaner than that when you’re in bed with Eleanor!” Cam shouted.

  The more I thought about it, the harder I laughed until I was doubled over on the floor.

  “With her g-glasses on,” Cam cried, gripping my shoulder.

  Gregg returned and patiently stood at the fireplace, but it was no use, every time I looked at him I pictured the pair of them in all their glory, slapping about the bed like a couple of seals.

  Eventually we calmed down enough to tell him the plan.

  “There’s fucking no way on this earth I’m shagging her,” he said, pacing, “no fucking way, you bastards.”

  “We’ve all got to play our part if it’s to work,” Cam said, quoting his words.

  Gregg soon saw the funny side and the jokes got cruder, until Amber stepped in. “Come on, that’s not on, she’s someone’s mam, you know.”

  Gregg was soon back on form. “I’ll get those keys, Cam, don’t you worry about that. But when I do, we do the robbery within three days.”

  That silenced the room. Organising the leaving do and getting Eleanor there would be no trouble. Gregg would get the keys and codes – at any cost. When he did, we were on.

  9

  Monday night, three in the morning; as we discussed the possibility of using a trolley to carry the cash across the shopfloor, Cam, two hours later than expected, stormed up the stairs and turned my world upside down. He had spotted the bloke with the ginger beard outside Columbian and followed him to a massage parlour. The bloke came out an hour later with a blonde and they staggered arm-in-arm down the road.

  “What happened next?” I asked.

  I copped a glance from Gregg.

  “I followed them to that B&B on Palmer Street and come straight back here.”

  Why the fuck c
ouldn’t he just disappear, crawl back to whatever perv place he came from? Because that’s what the fucker must be, taking photos of lads stacking shelves and going to gay bars and brothels. I just wish he hadn’t latched onto me. And why hadn’t Buckley rang to put my mind at rest?

  Fuck’s sakes, if I didn’t get a bit of space in my head it was going to blow. I was getting a headache on top of a headache, not a migraine, but a steady throb, feels like a heavy lump of rubber in my head, monotonous beat, each problem stretching it further. BANG! Imagine. Hot rubber stuck to the wall, black lies trickling down and a puddle of hate and bitterness. A wasted life. That is the worst thing anyone can be accused of and what I faced if I went back to Newcastle.

  I caught Gregg staring at me again.

  “I’ve fucking told you! I don’t know why the fucker was photographing me!”

  “Whoa!” Cam said, jumping up.

  “Fuck this.”

  “Spence!” Amber shouted.

  I ran down the stairs, out the door and kept on running.

  I took the first left, then right.

  I ran as fast as I could, frantically looking for a way out.

  Who the fuck was this bloke?

  A dead end.

  Why hadn’t Buckley called?

  Over a garden wall.

  Gregg will be telling them now about the phone call, the sly fucker.

  Along a high street.

  This bloke is going to fuck it up for me.

  Through a park.

  Gregg’s fucking it up for me right now. Phone call? When? Are you sure? Must have something to do with him. Why didn’t he say anything?

  My legs packed in just ahead of my lungs. I held onto the gates in front of me. It was pitch-black. No streetlights for miles. The gates were tall, like those to our house in Newcastle. I slid down and wrapped my arms around my knees and squeezed tight, willing it to go away. Willing it never to have happened. I’ve been here before – all run out, guts twisting with every breath.

  * * *

  “Spencer! What’s happened?” Margaret bent over and lifted me up by the armpits. “Where’s your t-shirt. What’s happened?”

  I couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out crying. I didn’t want to cry in front of her because she’d tell my father, but I couldn’t help it. She held my hand and walked me down the drive. I switched sides in case anyone saw me when they came along Mill Lane. When we got inside I ran to my room, closed the door and dived onto the bed, face down. I knelt up and puked onto the floor. I could never show my face again. Never. Everyone was in on it. Even those in my class. But it’s not true. Wayne and me, we’re the same as them.

  I moved into the front window because of the smell. I wasn’t cleaning it up. Let him. If I hadn’t been kept in every night I could have arranged a meet with loads of people. Even if I couldn’t, I would have been there at the start this morning and none of this would have happened. I wished it hadn’t happened. Not in front of everyone. And what about school? If I didn’t go back all summer it would carry on at school. Forever. If Wayne didn’t come back before the end of the holidays I wasn’t going back down and I wasn’t going back to school either.

  How did they know Mam had died? No one had ever said anything before. I should have been there first thing this morning.

  I tried not to think about what had happened down the park, but it kept coming back and it made me feel sick so I rolled into a tight ball to make it go away. Sometimes I fell asleep, but always woke up suddenly thinking Wayne was at the fence.

  My father had sat in on two classes over the past week. He wanted to know why I was making so little progress and kept on at me to buck my ideas up or it would continue when school started. Today he was home early and I heard him shouting at Mr Blake in the hallway. Straight after, he burst into my room.

  “What the hell’s going on with you, Spencer!” He pulled his tie loose. My father’s grey hair falls to both sides, and when he’s mad he runs one hand through it and flicks his head back and looks at the ceiling. “I’m paying a fortune to give you the best education and you can’t be bothered to even try!”

  Something caught my eye and I looked out of the window. It was Wayne! He was back! He gave me the thumbs up. Yes! Yes! Yes! We’d show them once we got down there! What would they have to say now? It would all be forgotten and we’d get our names up for everything like we were supposed to. John Ellis would have to crawl to be our mate and even then we wouldn’t let him.

  “Are you listening?” Father grabbed me by the collar and forced me against the window. I had never seen him so mad. He looked down at Wayne. “Scum! You hear me!” He let go of me and stepped back. He straightened his shirt and breathed out slowly. “Now, listen to me, Spencer. I’m not having this. I thought we had a deal. You were heading in the right direction, but now you’re going back over. This is because you’re distracted. You need to be focused on schoolwork until you’re at an acceptable standard.” He walked to the door. “You’re grounded until I see some results.”

  “No! Please, Father!” I chased him down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Please, I’ll do anything, just let me out tomorrow. I’ll do double, just let me out tomorrow. Pl-ease.”

  He opened a drawer, took out a cigar and sat down at the table.

  Arms tight to my sides, I clenched my fists and tried not to cry.

  “Go ahead,” he said, lighting the cigar, “it’ll do you no good. You’re grounded until you reach an acceptable standard. If that takes the rest of the holidays, then so be it. Now get to your room.”

  I ran to my room and jumped onto the bed and punched and punched and punched and punched. I had to go out tomorrow. I just had to. Wayne was back and everything could be put right. I’d stay in forever, but not tomorrow. I had to go out. I had to.

  The first few days Wayne came by to see if there was any change. After that he didn’t bother. We were into week three of the holidays. I knew I’d never do well enough to get out. This is what he wanted all along, for me to stay in and do schoolwork. Nothing else mattered to him.

  One afternoon, Wayne came past with John Ellis and a few other lads and he didn’t even wave, just ran straight past. What was he thinking of? I couldn’t believe it. What if Wayne became one of them? Turned against me and joined in giving me the bumps? What if they saw Margaret at the window with me? They’d think it was all true! There’d be no way back!

  I waited for Wayne to pass on his way back. I’d get his attention and meet him at the fence. I had to tell him today. I couldn’t wait any longer, not with John Ellis poisoning him against me. It had to be today. What if he never came back this way? He had to. He had to. It was the quickest way back to his house. I had a chair in the window so I could reach right up and shout out of the window. I had to speak to him today.

  I refused to let Margaret in my room. She didn’t mind and left my lunch on the landing, but I pushed a set of drawers across the door just in case she forgot. When I heard the door bang against the drawers I thought it was Margaret, but it was Father, home early again. “What the…” he shoved the door open and squeezed through. “What the hell’s got into… Jesus, Spencer!” He ran towards me and knelt down. “Son, what have you done?” He held my arm and pulled the sheet away. My arm had been really itchy and I didn’t realise it was bleeding so much.

  “Come on, up you get, let’s get this cleaned up. I’m taking you to the doctors.”

  The next couple of weeks I refused to work with the tutors. Father was furious and threatened to change my school, but I knew he couldn’t do that until I was eleven. I hated him so much for grounding me because I hadn’t done anything wrong. Some kids at the school had been caught smoking – smoking at nine years old – and they were still allowed out. Wayne had said his dad hadn’t heard of anything like it and that we were far too young for extra tuition anyway.

  It was a Monday night and I was at the front window. Father’s black Mercedes crawled up the drive, followed by a
blue car that I’d never seen before. A small woman, official looking, stepped out of the blue car. She had dark straight hair down to her shoulders that curled under at the bottom. She shook father’s hand and followed him inside.

  A while later, she knocked on my door. “Ok if I come in, Spencer?”

  I nodded.

  Close up she looked older and very official, nothing like Margaret. Father should never have sacked Margaret.

  The woman sat on the chair at my writing desk.

  “Spencer, my name is Carol Jordan. I’m a child psychoanalyst.” She pulled a folder from her bag. “My job is to try and help children when they’re having a few problems. It may be with just a little thing, a small worry say, that maybe they can’t tell Mum or Dad about. Or it may be something far greater than that.”

  I stared out of the front window. The tree was full of birds hopping from branch to branch. There had been a lot of blue tits there recently. I put that down to Margaret throwing nuts around the lawn. I liked that about her. I decided to feed them from now on.

  Miss Jordan had been talking for ages, “… that you’re not eating, or talking for long periods. If it’s only because you’ve been grounded, I can understand that; it’s a terrible thing being kept from your friends. Is this all that’s bothering you, Spencer?”

  She asked me a lot of things, like my daily routine, things I only do once-a-week, once-a-month, ten things I like, ten things I dislike.

  “Not necessarily hate, Spencer,” she said, when I mentioned Father, “just things that you dislike, or would like to change for the better.”

  I switched windows. It was about this time when they’d be coming back and I wanted to know who else had joined the gang – hopefully no one.

  Miss Jordan got up to leave and thanked me for being so helpful. She shook my hand. “What’s happened to your arm?” she asked, touching the bandage.

  “I’ve been to the doctors. It’s exma.”

  “You mean eczema,” she said.

  I nodded and she walked out.

  I heard Father’s voice downstairs and tiptoed out onto the landing.