Kimberley Chambers - The Schemer

Marlene took a sip of her gin and tonic. If the men didn’t start buying them drinks soon, they would have to start ordering halves of lager just to make their money last out. ‘Yep. I made him buy me a load of shopping at Sainsbury’s last weekend, then told him I couldn’t see him no more as I felt guilty he had a wife. Gutted he was, even rang me up on Monday crying, but I warned him if he contacts me again I was gonna go round his house and tell his wife everything.’

‘I thought he was quite handsome. He had a fit body,’ Marge said. She had a thing about black men and had been quite jealous when she had first laid eyes on Winston.

‘He had a big black cock, I know that much. Made my bleedin’ eyes water, it did,’ Marlene said, laughing.

‘You must be mad finishing with him.’

‘Didn’t have enough money for me, mate. A Ford worker is hardly gonna keep me in a life of luxury, is he? Especially a married one with three poxy brats.’

‘Don’t look now, but I think that old bloke’s coming over,’ Marge said, nudging her pal.

‘Good afternoon, ladies. I was wondering if you’d allow me the honour of buying you both a drink,’ the man asked, resting his gaze firmly on Marlene.

Marlene smiled. The man was old, short and was certainly no looker, but he reeked of money from his Rolex watch to his shiny leather shoes. Marge had never been backwards in coming forwards. ‘Yes please, mate, we’ll have two large gin and tonics.’

When the man pulled an enormous wad of fifty-pound notes out of his pocket, Marlene’s eyes lit up like beacons. She waited until he walked up to the bar and then turned to her friend. ‘I’m gonna snare this cunt, Marge. Watch and learn, girl.’

Stephanie Crouch was enjoying one of the best days out she had ever had in her life. After Barry had bought her the red sweatshirt, he had insisted on buying her pie and mash for lunch. He’d then bought her a red rose off the flower stall, two drinks in the Needle Gun pub, and UB40’s new single ‘Red Red Wine’, which Stephanie absolutely adored.

‘I’ve had such a fab day, Barry, thanks ever so much,’ she said, joyfully. She had never had a proper boyfriend before, and walking along Roman Road holding Barry’s arm felt that good, she thought she might burst with happiness.

‘The day ain’t over yet, babe. We’re going to meet me old man now.’

‘Is his real name Smasher?’ Stephanie asked, seriously.

Barry laughed. Steph’s naivety was one of the things that endeared her to him so much. ‘Nah. His real name is Barry. I was obviously named after him, but everyone calls him Smasher as he used to be a fighter years ago. He used to smash everyone’s lights out, he did – hence his nickname.’

‘Really?’ Steph exclaimed.

‘Yeah, back in the day he used to fight for money. They were illegal bouts, but he’s proper hard my dad. Only ever lost twice in his life, he did.’

‘So, where’s he going on holiday then?’

‘What you on about?’ Barry asked, bemused.

‘You said he was going away next week,’ Stephanie reminded him.

‘He’s going to prison, Steph, not Butlins. He got caught with a lorry-load of knocked-off TVs,’ Barry said, chuckling.

Feeling a bit stupid, Steph quickly changed the subject. ‘Whaddya wanna do when you leave school, Bal?’

‘I wanna be just like me dad. He’s always wheeled and dealed and he’s loaded. I don’t mind the markets, but I ain’t never gonna work nine to five for some mug who orders me about. I’m clued up enough to get by without all that. What do you wanna do, girl?’

‘I want to get a good job in a bank or an office up town. My typing teacher, Mrs Belson, reckons I’d make a brilliant secretary. I think one day I’d like to run my own business, but not until I’m much older.’

‘A girl with ambition, eh? That’s what I love about you, Steph.’

At the mention of the word love, Stephanie felt her face turn beetroot red and she quickly changed the subject once again. ‘I bet it’s horrible for you starting at a school where you don’t know no one, ain’t it? Have you made friends with any of the boys yet?’

‘Don’t you worry about me. Get on with most people, I do. Anyway, I’ve got a good pal in the year above us. He used to live across the road from me in Bethnal Green and we used to hang around together as kids. Saved me life once, he did, when I was a nipper. I couldn’t swim and I fell into a river. He jumped in and dragged me out.

‘Aah, that’s nice. What’s his name? I might know him.’

‘His name’s Wayne, babe. Wayne Jackman.’

Cath had just unscrewed the lid on her and Pam’s Saturday treat, when there was a tap-tap at the front door. Busy cutting up a giant-sized pork and egg pie, Pam turned to her friend. ‘Answer that for me, Cath.’

Cath did as she was told and ran back into the kitchen. ‘It’s the police, Pam. They wanna speak to you, mate.’

Pam immediately thought that one of her girls had had an accident and, ashen-faced, ran to the door with the big knife still in her hand.

‘Whatever’s wrong? Is it my daughter?’ she gabbled, near to tears. The police had turned up on her doorstep like this on the day that her wonderful husband had been killed, and just the sight of the PC brought back terrible memories for her.

‘Do you mind putting that knife down, Mrs Crouch?’ the officer said in a jovial tone.

‘Is it my Steph? Or is it my Angie?’ Pam cried, handing the knife to Cathy who was now standing by her side.

Realizing that Mrs Crouch was becoming very distraught, the young PC held his hands up, palms facing her. ‘Calm down. It’s nothing too serious. Can you just confirm that you have a sister called Linda Tate? And if so, we need confirmation that she lives here with you.’

‘Yeah, Linda lives here. She’s my younger sister. Is she OK? What’s wrong with her?’ Pam asked, in a panic-stricken tone.

The young PC smirked. ‘Nothing, unless you count being extremely drunk. There was a minor incident earlier in the Trades Hall Social Club, Mrs Crouch, and when our officers arrived at the scene, your sister tried to attack the female PC. We had to arrest her, and she will receive a caution for being drunk and disorderly. No charges will be brought against her for the attack on the policewoman, as there was no real harm done.’

Pam gasped. She was mortified. ‘I am so sorry, officer, and I can assure you nothing like this will ever happen again. As you are probably aware, Linda suffers from dwarfism, and because of this she gets drunk very quickly. I shall be having a serious chat with her later, don’t you worry about that. Is she on her way home now?’

‘No. We thought it best to let her sober up a bit first, and then we’ll either get an officer to drive her home or call her a cab. I wouldn’t be too hard on her. Linda has been rather amusing back at the station. She originally gave us her name and address as the Queen Mother who lived at Buckingham Palace.’

Pam was fuming. ‘I’ll give her the Queen Mother when she gets home here, officer. Thank you for being so understanding. Linda’s condition makes life difficult for her at times, if you know what I mean?’

When the officer nodded understandingly and walked back to his colleague who was waiting in the car, Cathy burst out laughing.

‘Don’t laugh, it ain’t funny,’ Pam said, cursing her younger sister under her breath.

‘I’m sorry, mate, but she is a fucking case, your Linda. The Queen Mother, Buckingham Palace. What must the Old Bill have thought of her? And she’s tried to beat up one of ’em.’

Unable to see the humorous side of her sister’s outrageous behaviour, Pam shook her head in despair.