Текст книги "The Imposter"

Автор книги: Mark Dawson

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

He gathered himself. The private’s directions took them along the main road through the base. Edward had been there before but the place was larger than he remembered. It had been a small staging post for two or three thousand men when he had passed through on the way to India, seven years earlier. It had grown out of all proportion since then and fifteen thousand Americans had been stationed there during the preparations for D-Day. Nissen and Maycrete huts were arranged in neat rows, radiating out from a central hub. The accommodation was arranged end-to-end, prefabricated corrugated iron walls and asbestos roofs. The Americans had built basketball courts and a baseball diamond and advertisements for Lucky Strike cigarettes and Oreo cookies could still be found in the windows of the stores. He imagined that the United States must look like this.

Butler was waiting for them on the hard-standing outside the administration block.

“What did he want on the gate?” Joseph said to Edward once they had parked.

“They didn’t know we were coming.”

Butler shook his head. “What?”

“They had no idea.”

“I told them–”

“Never mind,” Edward said. “We’re in now. Make sure it’s sorted out next time. Now–where’s the gear.”

“Follow me.”

Butler jumped into a jeep and they trailed him through the quiet base, the huts stretching away in neat, symmetrical lines, hardly a soul about. Butler parked in a space next to the stores and Edward slotted the truck alongside, reversing in to make loading up as easy as possible. The other trucks followed suit.

He switched off the engine, jumped down from the cab and went around to Joseph’s wagon. It would have been better to have it out with him later, when they were safely away, but he couldn’t wait; that, and he was still seething with anger. He took Joseph by the elbow and tugged him around to the back of the truck where they would be shielded from Butler.

“What’s the matter?” Joseph said.

“Billy’s got a gun.”

Joseph put a hand on his arm, trying to calm him down. “It’s just in case.”

“You know?”

“I told him to bring it. We don’t know Butler. We don’t know anything about him. And you never know when you might find yourself in a bind.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“Not necessary? He was halfway to shooting him!”

“Everything alright?” Billy had followed him over.

“It’s fine, Bubble,” Joseph replied. “Get the truck ready.”

“You sure he’s got the gumption for this, Joe?”

“Go back to the truck.”

“Right you are,” he said, making sure Edward caught his grin.

“You didn’t tell me,” Edward repeated. “You asked me to plan this, and I did. But that only works if I know absolutely everything that’s going on. No surprises. Bringing along a gun was not something on my list. Giving it to Billy makes it worse. You can do that if you want too, but, just so everything is clear between us, you’ll be doing it without me.”

Joseph put his hand on Edward’s shoulder. “Come on, Doc–we’re inside now. Alright? Now’s not the time. There’s plenty to do and we’re going to look like amateurs if he catches us arguing. We can talk about this later. Let’s get cracking. Alright?”

“Fine,” Edward said, far from happy. He stalked back to the truck. The chaps were busy, lowering the flaps at the rear of the vehicles and taking down the pallet-trolleys and loading equipment.

Butler was at the entrance to the nearest store. “You’ve gone the extra mile, haven’t you? Looking the part and all that.”

“Ready to start?” Joseph said to him. “The sooner we get going, the sooner we’ll be out the way.”

“Hold up, men,” Butler said, looking behind them. “Here comes the cavalry.”

A group of six soldiers pulled up in two extra jeeps.

“What’s this?” Edward said warily.

“Thought you could do with some help. They’re good lads. Speed things up a bit.”

“Do they–”

“Not a thing,” Butler said. “As far as they know, this is all as it should be.”

It got worse, Edward thought. He was unhappy with this late addition to the plan but there was nothing for it now but to trust Butler. They swung open the big doors of the nearest store and stood there with their mouths hanging open. The store held twenty or thirty brand new industrial refrigerators. They were stacked two-high and crammed in all the way to the back of the room. Edward couldn’t help but be impressed. He had never seen a fridge before; only a few businesses could afford them. It was certainly beyond Jimmy’s means at the Shangri-La.

They got cracking. Each refrigerator weighed half a ton. They manhandled them onto the hand-drawn fork-lift and then rolled them out to the trucks. That was the easy part. Loading them into the trucks was much more difficult. It took half a dozen of them to manage it: three to raise one end so that the refrigerator rested on the lip of the truckbed and another three to push, shouldering the big units until they were far enough inside for gravity to make the rest of the job a little easier. The Bedfords were large enough to manage five units each. It took them two hours to load all fifteen. By the time they were finished, the suspensions sagged heavily and they were drenched in sweat.

“Your pal in Barry’s expecting us, then?” Joseph asked Butler after he had dismissed the other soldiers.

“You won’t have a problem.”

“You said that before.”

“I’ll call ahead to make sure. Have you arranged buyers?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Joseph said brusquely. “You just leave it to me.”

“When can I expect to be paid?”

“Later.”

“When?”

Joseph smiled tightly. “You get your cut right at the end, pal, once everyone else has been sorted. You just do as you’re told and be patient, and everything will turn out just fine.”

41

THEY SET OFF AGAIN. Edward had been ready to refuse to ride with Billy but Joseph had rearranged the order before he could complain, taking Billy off his hands so that he could drive alone. That suited Edward perfectly well. The prospect of spending more time with him was almost more than he could bear and he was quite content to use the time thinking about how the day had gone and how it could be improved. Getting Bubble out of the way would be a good place to start, he thought. He settled behind the wheel and wondered how that might be done.

The journey from Honeybourne to Barry took another three hours. They headed west towards Gloucester and turned south at Cinderford, following the coastline the rest of the way. It was a pleasant ride and Edward found that the scenery lifted his mood. The truck was sluggish because of the heavy load in the back and he had to concentrate, nudging the wheel back to the centre and correcting the small errors in the handling. Joseph led the way, scrupulously observing the rules of the road, maintaining a steady forty miles an hour. Edward had laboured the point that good driving was essential. It was important to avoid the attention of the police. The last thing they needed was to be pulled over with a haul of moody goods. Major Butler had given them transfer notices for the refrigerators but Edward did not think that they would stand up to much scrutiny. The paper trail would eventually lead back to Butler and he was not the sort of fellow to make one feel confident about things.

They arrived a little after seven. The base at Barry was smaller than Honeybourne. Butler’s contact was an officious captain named Williams. He had remembered to tell the guardhouse that they were coming and this time they passed inside without a hitch. They parked up at an empty warehouse and got to work again. There was no help this time and so they unloaded the trucks themselves. The fridges seemed twice as heavy now and it took two hours to lower them from the trucks and transfer them to the stores. By the time they were finished it was after nine. They had already driven over two hundred miles and they were all dog tired. Edward had been fighting heavy eyelids for the last half an hour of the drive and now all he could think about was a pint, something to eat and bed. Joseph evidently felt the same way and suggested a change of plan: rather than attempting the return trip to London they should find somewhere to stay overnight instead. They could have a meal and a drink and make an early start in the morning. No-one objected.

Edward remembered a roadside inn that they had passed outside Gloucester and led the way north again, pulling into an empty car park next to the hotel. Petrol was still rationed and the days of going out for leisurely drives were long gone. Businesses like this struggled to stay afloat without passing trade and the proprietor gladly welcomed them when they asked whether he had any vacancies. They took four rooms: two doubles and two singles. Edward was thankful for the peace and quiet of one of the singles, and, stripping out of his overalls, he soothed his muscles in the tub.

When he awoke an hour and a half had passed. Feeling partially refreshed, he dressed and went down to the dining room. He needed a beer and something to eat. The others were already there and the empty pint pots on the table suggested that they had made a start without him.

“Perfect timing,” Joseph said, nodding at the empties. Edward ordered beers from the bar and passed them round. He sat down in the spare seat, Billy to his left and Joseph to his right. There was a strange atmosphere around the table, a mixture of relief and fatigue. There was an edge of hysteria to it, too, a manic quality that was exacerbated by the alcohol. They had been up early, on edge all day and all of them were tired. They were living off nervous energy.

“Well done, chaps,” Joseph said, holding up his pint. “A good day’s work.”

Edward couldn’t disagree with that. They all touched glasses and he drank off half of his beer in one thirsty gulp. It felt good, so he finished the rest and got another.

“How long are we going to leave the fridges down there?” Jack McVitie was asking when Edward returned to the table.

Joseph deferred to Edward. “A week should do it,” he said. “Plenty of time to make sure it’s safe. We’ll leave earlier next time–pick up another load, drop it off and take the fridges back with us. It’ll be easier. We’ll know what we’re doing. We’ll have a routine.”

Joseph had already ordered the food–gammon and chips five times–and the proprietor appeared with the plates, setting them down on the table. The smell reminded Edward how famished he was. They ate in silence for five minutes, shovelling the food into empty stomachs, in the meantime finishing their pints and ordering replacements.

“I needed that,” Tommy said with a satisfied pat of his belly as he handed around a packet of Lucky Strikes he had taken from the store at Honeybourne. Edward took a cigarette and lit up.

“Remember the Lucky Strikes in Calcutta?” Joseph said to him, drawing deeply on the fag. “Remember that, Doc? Playing poker with that Yank corporal?” Edward laughed at the memory and Joseph explained: “There was this American soldier we met in Calcutta. This was the night I met Doc–he’d just got his arse kicked, as I remember.”

“I don’t remember it like that at all,” Edward chuckled.

“We got falling down drunk and ended up persuading this Yank to play poker. He told us he was an expert.”

“He was completely boozed,” Edward said. “By the end of the game Joseph had gulled him out of an entire evening’s worth of drinks for us both, six packets of US army issue Lucky Strikes and a quart of rum.”

The others laughed, all except Billy.

“You two must have got up to all sorts,” Tommy Falco said.

Billy deliberately hurled a derisory sneer at Edward. “He was talking about all that in the truck earlier,” he said. “Burma and so forth. I was trying to get him to tell me about shooting all those Nips, the ones he said he topped to get his medal. All I wanted to know is what it was like and he wouldn’t tell me.”

Edward was startled by his own nervousness. “And I told you,” he said sharply, “that it’s not something I’m fond of talking about.”

“You say that, but it makes me wonder whether any of it is even true. Do you know what I mean, lads?”

“Of course it’s true,” he said, doing his best to keep the anxious tremor from his voice.

“Leave it alone, Billy,” Joseph warned.

Edward’s palms were damp with sweat. He rubbed them against his thighs.

“I’m just saying.”

“And I’m telling you to put a sock in it.”

Billy went on, “I’m just saying, I bet he don’t have the balls for it. You should’ve seen his face when he saw my hand on the shooter today. Thought he was going to wet himself, like it was the first time he’d seen one. A proper soldier wouldn’t never have reacted like that, Joseph, would he? I mean, he wouldn’t have nearly shit himself.”

Billy started to laugh, looking around at the others in the expectation that they would join in. It choked in his throat as he saw that Joseph was staring grimly at him. “I’ve already told you once–that’s enough.”

“But he–”

Joseph spoke harshly. “Shut it, Billy. If you’re so interested in what it was like you should’ve signed up rather than ducking out.” Joseph’s voice was clipped, as if he was a teacher chastising a naughty child. Billy’s cheeks flushed and he looked down at his empty plate.

“Bubble’s jealous of you,” Jack explained to Edward. “He likes to think he’d make a grand soldier but he didn’t have the bottle to go out and actually get shot at.”

“Piss off, you Scotch twat,” Billy spat out. “I’ve got more bottle in my little finger than you’ll ever have.”

They all laughed at the sudden vehemence. Edward knew he should have let it go. He saw that Billy had reacted badly to being chided, and prodding at him further could only make things worse. But he had suffered his jibes and taunts all day. The others were laughing at him and he couldn’t resist the opportunity to laugh along with them. Billy deserved it. He could see that Jack’s comment had found its mark and probed a little further. “You must have been eligible to go, Billy? You’re a young man. There’s nothing wrong with you, is there? Not psychologically, I mean–well, it’s obvious you’re not the full ticket–but medically, I mean. You look fit. How did you get out of it?”

“That’s where you’re wrong, see,” he muttered, not looking at him. “I’m not well.”

“Oh, aye,” Jack said, ‘that’s right.” He faked a long, wheezing cough and the others laughed along with him.

“Piss off, the lot of you.”

“George has a doctor on the books,” Tommy explained. “He had him doing fake medicals during the war. He did Billy’s for him.

“Terrible asthma, wasn’t it, Bubble?” Jack said. “Can’t hardly run five minutes without getting the vapours.”

Billy glowered across the table. “Didn’t see you volunteering.”

“I never wanted to go. At least I don’t pretend that I did.”

“Billy comes from a long line of cowards,” Jack said. “His old man was all talk and no trousers. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

The laughter continued.

Joseph frowned but Edward laughed along with the others. Billy stared at him, seemingly transfixed. He banged his fist on the table. “What do you bloody well know?” he said to him. “You don’t know me. You don’t know none of us. You swan around here, pretending you’re one of the lads but you ain’t and you never will be.”

“Billy,” Joseph said sharply.

“Piss off, Joe.” Billy was furious now. “I don’t know what happened to you, you can’t see nothing straight no more. You only met him once, you don’t know him either! He goes around with his bloody university education, his airs and graces, but he ain’t got nothing in common with any of us and he needn’t think he does. He don’t belong here.”

“There’s no need for that,” Edward said. “You want to calm down.”

“Is that right? I want to calm down, do I? You want a kick in the slats, you patronising bastard.” He stood up so suddenly that his chair clattered behind him and, before Edward could even get his hands up, he swung a right-hander and stitched him square on the chin. It was the shock of it more than anything else. Edward toppled backwards off his chair like a skittle. The punch was decent but he was too far away to put any power into it and he hadn’t connected with enough force to do more than dizzy him for a moment. Edward bounced up and tackled him into the table and then onto the floor, firing in two quick punches of his own before Tommy and Joseph pulled him away.

The proprietor hovered by the door. “It’s alright,” Joseph said. “Just a little argument. Bit too much to drink.” He put his palm against Edward’s shoulder. “Right then, chaps. No more nonsense. We’ll have a drink and forget all about it, alright? Alright?”

“I’m fine,” Edward said, his temper tamping down. He wiped bloody saliva from his mouth.

“Billy?”

Tommy was between them. Billy did not say a word.

“Bubble?”

“Don’t call me that!” He shoved Tommy away and headed for the door.

“Let him go,” Joseph said. “He needs to calm down. I’ll sort him out later.”

Outside, one of the trucks growled into life.

“Joseph–?”

“Bugger. He’s got the key.”

They went outside. Billy jerked the truck backwards and crashed into a bollard that marked the boundary of the car park and the hotel’s ornamental garden. He crunched the gearbox into first and pulled out onto the road. They watched as the headlights painted the dark trees at the side of the road, the red glow of the tail-lights dimming as he turned through corners and, eventually, disappearing completely as he crested the brow of a hill.

The four of them stood there, the sound of the engine gradually fading away.

“I didn’t even know he could drive,” Jack said.

“He can’t,” Joseph said.

“What if he gets stopped?”

“It’s late, the roads are empty. He’ll be fine. I’ll speak to him tomorrow.”

Edward stood shivering in the cold. He was imagining the worst. He pictured Joseph and Billy together, Billy persuading him that the story behind Edward’s medal did not bear weight. He imagined Billy checking the regimental history, somehow knowing to ask questions about the injury to his foot. He tried to remember everything that he had told them at his birthday dinner, tried to remember the expression on Joseph’s face as he recounted his adventure. It was no good. He suddenly felt insecure about what he had told them. The story needed more detail. The more detail it had, the easier it was for him to believe it himself. He began to invent. He was imagining himself back in the jungle, the rain lashing into his face. He imagined himself in the middle of the formation, sweeping across a paddy field towards a road and, beyond that, a river and a bridge.

42

THE ROAD STRETCHED on endlessly to the east. The windscreen was not fully flush with the chassis and cold air whipped through the gaps. Billy turned up the collar of his overcoat and tried to ignore how cold he was feeling. All he wanted was to get back to London. He did not want to stop. He sat bolt upright, his eyes fixed on the road. Occasionally, a row of flickering lights to his right or left revealed the locations of the towns and villages that he passed. He had been driving for half an hour when he saw the lights of another all-night café approaching. Half a dozen laden lorries had drawn up in a wide car park next to a filling station and, beyond them, advertised by a bright neon sign, was the café: WATSON’S.

He gave up. He needed a hot drink. He rolled the lorry between two others, jumped down from the cab and went inside.

“Shut the door, mate, it’s brass monkeys out there.”

Billy did as he was asked and looked around. The café was down at heel, redolent with the smell of sweaty bodies, an open coke fire, damp clothes that were drying in the warmth and the cheap fat they used to fry the eggs. Most of the floor was sanded, and stairs led up to a second storey where a bed in a dormitory could be had for a few pennies. A handful of drivers were gathered around a pin-table, gambling. Others sat around the open fire, one of them cutting up plug tobacco with the blackened blade of his knife. Billy went up to the counter, paid three ha’pence for a cup of tea and went over to the fire to get some warmth.

A woman had been observing the action at the pin-table. She came across and took the seat next to Billy. “Alright, handsome?”

Billy looked over at her. She was wearing patent-leather slippers with worn heels. Her cheap stockings had been darned one too many times. Too much make-up, cheap perfume that smelt sickly. He nodded in her direction.

She took a dog-end out of her pocket and lit it. “Where are you headed?”

“What you want? A ride?”

“Yeah. Can you give us one?”

“Where to?”

“London. Give a girl a lift?”

Billy thought about it. He didn’t have much truck with pushers but he could do with some company, help him keep his eyes open. “Go on then,” he told her. “Get your coat.”

Billy finished his tea and led the way back out to the lorry. The wind was up, slicing through his clothes like a knife. The girl was hardly dressed for the weather. Billy opened the cab for her, cranked the starting handle until the engine caught, then pulled himself up into the cab.

“Bloody freezing in here,” the girl said. Her imitation fur collar was turned up but it couldn’t have made much of a difference. She crouched forwards towards the engine, trying to keep warm, and opened her battered old handbag. She fumbled through it: old letters, a handful of change, a box of cheap powder. “What a bloody turn-up.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Can’t find my bleeding smokes.”

“Here.” Billy passed over his packet of Players.

“Got a match?”

Billy handed her his lighter and she thumbed flame, her sallow flour-coated cheeks hollowing as she drew hard on the fag. They roared through a sleepy market town. In the market square, across from the church, was a brightly lit café. It looked cosy.

“I’ve been in that bloody place all night,” she said. “Ended up spending half a crown on grub and tea. None of them lorry sheiks even staked me a cup, right mingy lot of bastards they were. None of them would give me a ride, neither. Never thought I was going to touch lucky, not until you came in. You can’t deny the Old Bill are right mustard about lorry girls these days but how many plod do you reckon are going to be out on this toby on a night like this?”

Billy stared resolutely ahead, hardly hearing her. His mind was racing.

“I’m just trying to get myself a bit of money together. Just a little–get my hair permed, just the ends, mind, that ought to do me nicely. You can get off alright if your hair looks nice under your hat. Riding in wagons you don’t need to take your hat off.” He didn’t pay her any heed. “You a London bloke, then?”

“Yes.”

“Which part?”

“Here and there.”

“I’m from the Angel. Originally, that is–on the road most of the time these days.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t say much, do you?”

“Not as much as you.”

“Right charmer, you are.”

“Got something on my mind.”

“Go on then–a problem shared’s a problem halved, or whatever it is they say.”

Billy tried to relax but it was no good. He needed to get it off his chest. “You ever been let down before?”

“How’d you mean?”

“By a friend. Someone you thought you knew. Not like a misunderstanding, more than that–someone really disappointing you.”

“I ain’t really got that many friends. My line of work–”

Billy wasn’t listening to her. He just wanted to talk and she was in the cab: she would have to do. “I’m pals with this bloke, right? Been chums for years, ever since we was nippers. Best mate, that’s what I always thought. He goes off to the war and I didn’t and when he comes back he’s got this new mucker, this bloke he met out there. Not my type, he ain’t–he’s been to University, thinks he’s a right clever sort, looks down at the likes of me like I’m the shit off the bottom of his shoe. Joseph don’t see it, though. This is my mate. He don’t see it at all. Thick as thieves, the two of them are. Living together now and all. I try and tell him something ain’t right but he ain’t listening. Next thing I know, this bloke’s been brought into our business.”

“What business is that, dear?”

“Doesn’t matter what business it is. You need certain–certain qualities–to be any good at what we do, and this bloke don’t have none of them. There was this time, a couple of weeks ago, my pal gets himself arrested and he’ll never go and say it but I know for sure that the only reason he got pinched is because of this bloody cowson he’s been dragging around with him. Bad luck, straight he is.” A private car rushed past without dimming its lights. “I don’t know why that cowson gets under my skin so much, but he does. I’ve been working hard for years to make a name for myself, carve out a reputation. My chum gets back and I seen my chance. I’m no mug, see–my mate’s going to be a big noise, a proper face, like his old man was before him, like his uncle is now. I know I’m not like him–I don’t have his brains, and I know I’ll never make as much of myself if I work alone. That’s why I’ve tried to work on our friendship, tried to make myself what you’d call indispensible. By rights, I should be his right-hand man–he’s known me for years, he knows he can trust me, it’s obvious, right? And then this Fabian comes along–bloody Fabian, his head up his bloody arse–and it all goes wrong. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

They rode in silence after that, mile after mile ticking off on the speedometer. Billy had said what he wanted to say and neither had anything else worth mentioning, certainly nothing that was worth shouting over the noise of the engine.

Eventually, the girl looked bored. “Come on then, mate,” she said. “You got a present for me?”

“You what?”

“I’m not here for the good of my health, you know. How’s a girl supposed to eat? I could be very nice to you.”

“I’m not after any of that.”

“What you mean? You don’t like me?”

“I just want to talk.”

“Talking ain’t going to pay my bleeding rent, is it?”

“I’m giving you a lift…”

“Bloody hell, mate, don’t talk silly. Give me half a dollar.”

They were approaching London, the lights of the city glowing beyond the rim of the North Circular. A filling station was on the road ahead. Billy changed down through the gears and swung into the forecourt. He reached into his pocket and took out a handful of loose coins: half a crown, a florin and six-pennorth worth of coppers. “Here you go,” he said, giving the coins to the girl. “Out you get.”

“We ain’t in London yet,” she protested. “I’ll never get a ride here.”

“Not my problem. Go on. Get.”

She muttered darkly but opened the door and stepped down. Billy cranked the lorry into gear again and pulled away. He glanced in the mirror, the woman stamping her feet against the cold, and then turned his gaze to the road ahead and, beyond that, the lights of London. His thoughts turned back to Joseph, and then to Edward. Talking about it hadn’t helped at all.

He needed to do something.