They All Came Knocking

Well, that was the thing, wasn't it? Walk into any entrance hall and there it was staring you right in the face, that first impression. Then, shortly after being hit by that, there was the natural reaction. A kind of deciding what sort of place you had let yourself in for. Standing there looking at the soiled, greasy carpets. Chipped, yellowing paintwork. Dull, deep maroon flock wallpaper peeling in the damp corners. Cracked, bulging ceilings with the inevitable question: is the lathe and plaster about to collapse? The flickering, inadequate light ing adding not much to an already gloomy space. The Bay View Boarding House in Eastbourne, two roads back from the front, did not disappoint. Add the wide shabby desk nestling into a neat alcove, piled high with unattended correspondence, and the description would be almost complete.    Hanging on the wall behind the desk, just above Gloria Dubonnet’s over-permed, ginger-blonde heaped up bundle, in seven lines a tall, wide sign simp...

Fortunately, way up in the attic sound was insulated from the rooms below. Look around the room and you would be surprised how spacious it was. Taking up virtually the whole area the bedroom seemed to meander around the roof timbers. A wide corner had been reserved for the unusually large bathroom that fitted snugly between the roof slopes. From the large dormer window, over the roofs of the houses behind, the sea was just visible crashing onto the pebble stones piling them high against the tall wooden quoins. Seagulls, wi th their continuously annoying squawking, plagued the chimneys, competed with hordes of pigeons for space on what in the bird world might be considered luxury perches. The two-seater sofa, sitting along one wall, looked inadequate in the large space. At that point the wall lacked height as the ceiling followed the line of the rafters. Against what would be the gable wall a wide bed stretched into the room. The covers pale pink. The curtains pale pink. The paintwo...

The pipes banged at exactly six-thirty. A resonating thumping that carried throughout the building most mornings. Trapped air and loosely secured old iron pipes carrying modern water pressure. A bad combination for sure. The cause: it was Derek turning on the cold water to fill the egg poaching pans at the same time as Gloria stood, pulled up her frilly French knickers and flushed the loo. On the sofa Dee stirred. Those bloody pipes. If the dragon ever drops dead they’ll be the first thing I fix.

Was square the best shape for a dining room? Ask Dee and she will tell you. Square and no larger than needed would be her answer. It enabled the tables to be neatly spread around the walls in an uneven circle. Those old wooden tables with a worn out through too much use look. Ring stains lifting the polish. Wooden chairs with the appearance of being snatched from some ancient and now defunct private school.  

Dee smiled. Just recently she smiled every time she came through the front door. From there she could see the reflection of the understairs cupboard door centrally placed in the hall mirror and most importantly her mother did not know. She walked back past her mother who snarled and suspended counting money to sharply say, “Did you see them all drooling, especially that smooth talking Dexter Cramichael . I know what you’re doing and it does not wash. Wear something more appropriate .” Then to emphasise , knowin g Dee would not be expecting it, added, “Please,” with a neat half smile. 

Get dragged off to war at eighteen and there was no option , things had to be learnt and to make them stick they were probably best absorbed the hard way. Come home at twenty-one with no work or prospects and the things that he had not necessarily wanted to learn suddenly became invaluable. Dexter Carmichael lived on the edge. That was one thing he had learnt. How to live right on the edge. After all, take away his early years and it could be argued he had spent almost half his life learning how to do just t hat simply to survive.   How did he do it? Good looks, a tough nature and a smooth-talking charm. Plus, of course, all those acquired skills that meant he could make a reasonable living as a ‘this and that’ man. Do a bit of this. Pick a lock and slip in the back door. Bust a simple safe hopefully full of cash. A rare occurrence it was true but it did happen. Steal a car for a lift home. His clothes? Lifted from a shop. The super posh brogues? Stolen. Easy, pick the lock, t...

Back in the hallway Dee momentarily stopped laughing but then she could not help it. She burst out laughing again. This time even louder, making her double over. The sight of her mother shaking, stomping her feet. Her hair bunched up on her shoulders and that look. She had not seen that look before. Tears leaked from her screwed up eyes. Teeth bared like a snarling wolf. Her rapidly heaving chest and the sound of hissing air. Dee dodged a swinging hand and watched as her mother slumped onto her chair landin g with a solid thump and the words, “I think I’m going to faint.”

Gloria was right about Tolly Parkin. The trip by train down from London was ‘business’ and that was where he had obtained the beezer . From the rack above a city suited gent reading a broadsheet. Middle-aged. Pinstripes and black consuls with black socks. What made Tolly look at the socks? He always checked the socks. Black socks, the look of a man of discretion and wealth. Tolly’s thoughts: you can tell a lot about a fella from his socks. About his character and of course his wealth potential. Snappy socks and you will meet the life and soul sort. Maybe a spiv , so w atch out. Patterned socks and there was the stable solid reliable type. Probably married and living a difficult life with kids and the worst part, always broke. No socks with leather shoes and you have got an out and out poser. Then, of course, the black socks and there you have the perfect mark. It used to be trousers. Those old-time baggy trousers with the old-time button on elasticated braces with loose fit waist...

Gloria’s head started to slightly spin as she downed the last of the gin but it had the right effect and the mirror over the fireplace had done its job. Her hair was now roughly back where it should be and the worst of the mascara runs had been wiped away.   “How could they do it, Jimmy? How could someone break into my safe?”   “Burglars, my dear. They are good at what they do… Shall I call the police?”   Gloria stared out of the bay window. A frown creased her eyes. She had her lips pursed. Jimmy asked again which snapped her back to the sofa. “What… No, Jimmy. They can’t be involved.”

Tolly Parkin strolled away from the Bay View unaware that Dee stood on the step watching. His step had a spring to it. His head high and, even with the weight of the beezer , his arm swung the case almost with a free abandon although he found the weight a bit of a struggle. Satisfaction was a great word. Apart from having to stay in what, quite frankly, he considered a bit of a dive, his trip to Eastbourne had been extremely lucrative in more ways than one .

The solid rap on the door of room four of the Paradise Hotel broke Walter Jones’s concentration. Sitting on an easy chair his fingers held the curtains slightly back so he could observe the Bay View opposite. One more glance and the curtain gap closed as he stood and moved towards the door. Turned the key and said, “Come in,” to the man standing in the dim light of the hallway. Then he turned, walked back to the window, eased back the curtain and continued watching.

The case was tucked tightly between Tolly’s legs as the train started to fill. Was he nervous? Of course not, he was just being protective. That was what light-fingered villains do. They expect others with the same inclination to be on every train. One thing was certain if there was anyone sneaking a peek, no way would they hit the jackpot at his expense. He watched the crowds pour onto the train as they approached London. Nodded at the man sitting next to him wearing a red tie, no hat, no case but who glanced more than once at the beezer . The man lit a Woodbine and blew smoke his way as he stared out of the window. Tolly pushed his case nearer the side and wedged it securely with his foot.  

As her mother stormed from the room Dee slumped back into her chair. Looking at the back of her hand she saw a slight graze and a bruise forming. She had put all of her power in that blow and it had hurt. Was it worth it? Definitely. All the years of abuse. The way her father had been treated. All of it contained in that one violent slap. Did it make her feel better? You betcha it did. Years of pent-up emotion suddenly released. Her shoulders sagged. Tears rolled down her face but she did not cry. Would not cry. Even though she was not there she would not give her mother that satisfaction. She had never made her cry and never would. All it had done over the years was fuel her resentment and hate.

As soon as the last guest had cleared the dining room Dee was standing in front of her mother sitting at her desk in the hall. “I’m going to see Dexter now,” she said, “I can’t wait until tomorrow. I want to get this done but I’ve got to go now or it’ll be too late. Derek said he’ll clear away the plates and tidy up.”   “That suits me just fine,” replied Gloria. “Just make sure you bring back all of my money. Remember I know exactly how much there is so don’t think you can pilfer any.”   “I know that. You count every halfpenny and cry if you lose a single one … I’ll be back in about two hours.”

By ten the Pally was bursting. Half price night dragged all the girls out on the town and, of course, all the men followed. The small stage had somehow managed to cram a ten-piece jazz orchestra onto its vibrating boards as it crashed out all the popular numbers. The blonde lady in the long red dress standing to the side almost shouted out the words but in a most harmonious way. She had no trouble with the tops. Eased her way up and held the high for as long as she was able. The drummer, a wild man, full of flams and paradiddles making the beat more complicated than it needed to be.

Walter Jones dropped the curtain as he watched Dee stride towards the seafront. That’s one for the scrapbook, he thought as he put down the camera. He had counted ten going in. All clackers. That’s good they’re easier to categorise than the beezers . Not that it makes much difference. After all, a guest is a guest and all that. One more day’ll do it. That’ll give us enough to make a case.   He pulled the curtain back enough so he could stare at the Bay View. Watched Jimmy Raynott standing smoking on the front porch. That’s one the boys will be interested in for sure .  Picked up the camera and snapped a couple of shots. Parasites, that’s what they are. Making cash out of people's misfortune. How did that one ever avoid prosecution during the war I don’t know. Now though it was a different matter. All those tins. No labels. Dodgy for sure. I’ll pass on the info. Track those tins and there might just be a big pile of worms somewhere. That fella drives a near new van....

The smell of aftershave followed Dexter into the bedroom as he returned from the bathroom. Slipped on his casual trousers. Wide turn-ups on the loose fit legs. White shirt. Left off the tie but pulled his grey suit jacket off the hanger. He did put his tie in his jacket pocket though. Sat on the bed and pushed his red socks into his brogues and tied the laces. Stood in front of the mirror and brushed back his quiff . Flicked a black cotton thread off the jacket sleeve. Why was he being so meticulous? Chase s omeone down and questions need to be asked. Asked by a scruffy fella who might be smelling a bit strong and the questions might be ignored. And that would be the polite way to describe it. Show some style. A touch of class and there was respect. Add a bit of authority and the necessary charm and answers might be freely given.  

  The boarding house woke about six every morning to the same routine. Gloria stomped to her desk just after six-thirty. In the kitchen Derek wrestled with one of the latest tins of fruit while listening to the cacophony of pipe noise vibrating through the floors. Dee carried a pile of the thick paper tablecloths to throw over the tables. So, of course, Jimmy had no difficulty leaving by six-thirty for his rendezvous with Dave Wilson at seven. At that time of day he could drive the thirty minutes in twenty wi thout having to speed or avoid other vehicles. At that time of day in Bexhill there was no danger of being questioned.

  Dexter took pretty much the same route as Tolly. Rocked and rolled on the London train reading the broadsheet of the fella next to him as the guy spread the pages wide. Watched the scenery flash by. Trees and green fields turned to the drab greyness of the suburbs as they approached London. Rows of brick-built terraces and the long low spreading expanse of warehouses with the bombed-out gaps waiting for rebuilding to commence . 

Ten was the time. A great time to wake up after a night out. Tolly wandered downstairs to find Cap in the kitchen sipping coffee. “Morning,” Cap said, “Coffee?”   “Sure,” replied Tolly. “What about some toast? I’m famished.”   “Coming right up. How about eggs?”   “Sure. What about bacon?”   “Anything else?”   “Nope, that will do just fine , thank you. You been up long?”   “Half hour maybe.”