Geoff Nicholson - Street Sleeper

As they tooled down the Mil past Audley End they were born to be wild. As they covered the miles between Ugley Green and Fiddler’s Hamlet they tried to get it on and they thrilled to the line that described how she was built like a car, with a hubcap diamond star halo; then miles and miles of the M25 and a lot, really an awful lot of Bruce Springsteen, endless references to shock absorbers and state troopers, girls in their best dresses and some strapping of hands across engines. The Dartford Tunnel saw Johnny Guitar Watson hitting the highway, and as they neared journey’s end they asked themselves why didn’t they do it in the road.

Sometimes Ishmael had a feeling they were being followed, but he shrugged it off, thinking this was no time to get paranoid.

As and when the music allowed Ishmael explained the nature of his quest to Davey. When he’d finished he said, ‘Davey, I’ve been thinking, I really do abhor violence, you know, but I’ve decided that if that scumbag father of hers doesn’t listen to reason he’s going to have to be punished.’

‘That sounds very reasonable,’ Davey said.

Then he unzipped his jacket to show his tee-shirt. It had big red letters on the front that read ‘LET’S DO IT TO THEM BEFORE THEY DO IT TO US’.

Ishmael realized it had been a good decision to give Davey a lift.

♦

‘And you made a pretty good job of it, Hirst.’

‘I believe so, sir, yes.’

‘Pretty bloody useful experience for when you get back to civvy street, I’d say.’

‘I’m not thinking that far ahead at the moment, sir.’

‘Nor me, Hirst. Tell me, have you heard of K-d-f Stadt?’

‘No sir.’

‘Have you heard of the K-d-f wagen?’

‘The Beetle? Yes, well to the extent that I read an article in Autocar , but I don’t know more than that. Is K-d-f Stadt where they’re made?’

‘Indeed, although the town is now called Wolfsburg. Forgive me if I get a little technical; the US 102nd Infantry took Fallersleben on April 10th, they were just a few miles away from the K-d-f factory but it wasn’t on any of their maps so they had no idea that it was there. In fact, I’m sure they’d have ignored it completely if it hadn’t been for the unpleasantness.’

♦

Marilyn’s parents, and for that matter Marilyn herself, at least for the moment, although it was Ishmael’s plan to change all that, lived at ‘Sorrento’, Hawk’s Lane, ‘Crockenfield.

Crockenfield is built in a valley. There is a meandering river, a very rustic old bridge, an Elizabethan pub with a very big car-park. There is a number of old flint cottages whose doors open right on to the road, and a lot of new houses with double garages set back in long gardens. It’s a nice place. It’s well worth a visit.

Hawk’s Lane runs parallel to the river but is set halfway up the valley. Detached houses are set at intervals along the lane. They have a lot of privacy. They have commanding views.

♦

‘Unpleasantness, sir?’

‘The only way the Nazis could keep the factory running, producing military versions of the K-d-f wagen, Kubelwagens I think they called them, was by using forced labour, prisoners of war. When the SS guards woke up to the fact that they were smack in the middle of the advancing American and Russian forces, they very wisely did a bunk, deserted. The prisoners broke free, smashed everything they could smash, looted the town, ambushed trains and threatened to set fire to the whole town.’

‘Good God.’

♦

‘Sorrento’ was one of the bigger, one of the more detached houses. It was very clean, very white. It had grounds, a croquet lawn, a patio with built-in barbecue, and a small swimming pool.

The gates that met the road were open. They were white and made from two wagon wheels. The drive was steep and uphill. Ishmael drove in as quietly as he could, then turned the car around so it was pointing out of the gates if he needed to make a quick getaway. Davey turned off the music. Ishmael turned off the engine. There was no sign of a Rolls-Royce but there was a brand new Japanese jeep parked by the front door.

Ishmael and Davey remained in the car waiting for something to happen. Nothing happened.

‘Turn the stereo on again,’ Ishmael said.

Ted Nugent’s ‘Motor City Madhouse’ filled the air. Something had to happen.

A woman came from round the side of the house. She might have been a housekeeper or cook. Certainly she had ‘servant’ written all over her.

‘Turn that racket down,’ she said.

It was turned down.

‘What are you selling?’ she asked.

Ishmael laughed a short, ironical laugh.

‘I’m not selling,’ he said.

‘What happened to your car?’ the woman asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

‘I’m here for Marilyn,’ Ishmael said, getting serious.

Clouds of gloom rolled over the woman’s face.

‘Oh dear. You’re not going to cause trouble are you?’

‘No,’ said Ishmael. ‘But I’m ready for it.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘I think I’d better talk to Marilyn’s father.’

‘He’s at work, isn’t he?’

Ishmael hadn’t thought about that.

‘It’s four o’clock in the afternoon,’ she went on. ‘Why aren’t you two at work?’

‘There’s three and a half million unemployed,’ Davey snarled. ‘Or hadn’t you heard?’

‘Would you like to see Marilyn’s mother?’

Ishmael hesitated. He didn’t have much faith in his ability to reach out and touch Marilyn’s mother. He hadn’t seen in her that capacity for communication that he’d seen in her husband.

‘Can’t I just see Marilyn?’

♦

‘All of which,’ Radclyffe continues, ‘I suspect would not have bothered the Yanks one whit if they hadn’t discovered that there were thirty children of American-German engineers being held in the camps there, and God alone knew what the looters were going to do next. The 102nd Infantry moved in, shot the odd looter to show they meant business, these Yanks look after their own. The children were discovered to be all in one piece, and the next morning there were two hundred US troops with Sherman tanks occupying the place.’

♦

‘Don’t be silly,’ said the woman. ‘Marilyn’s under lock and key, had her allowance stopped.’

Ishmael’s worst fears were confirmed.

‘And can you be surprised? Running around the country dressed like a harlot. Research she calls it. I’d give her research if she was a daughter of mine.’

‘Is that Marilyn’s room at the end there?’

‘No, it’s that one there.’

The woman pointed briefly to a dormer window set high amid eaves and chimneys. It looked impregnable.

‘Here, I shouldn’t have told you that. I suppose you think you’re smart. What’s your game, anyway?’

‘I’m here for Marilyn.’

‘Let’s not go through it all again, love. You can’t see Marilyn because she’s confined to her room and you can’t see her Dad because he’s not here. I can ask the lady of the house if she’ll see you, but I don’t know that she will, and if she isn’t willing to see you I’ll have to ask you to park your Volkswagen elsewhere.’

‘Hey,’ said Davey. ‘We’re on a mercy errand. We park where we want to park.’

‘Do you? I’ll give you mercy errand.’

‘Please, please,’ Ishmael said, ‘let’s stay rational. All right, yes, I would be prepared to talk to Marilyn’s mother if she has the time, if it’s at all convenient, please.’

‘Now that’s a much nicer way of talking to people.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ishmael.

It was a mistake.

♦

‘And all I can say is, thank God the Americans got there before the Russians did. As things are Wolfsburg lies four kilometres from the border with the Russian Zone, and such are the vagaries of war, Hirst, that despite the fact that the Americans captured the place they’ve handed it over to us and now it’s in the British Zone.’