Give The Devil His Due (11 page)

       ‘Now don't moan Will, not until you've seen the end result. You can always wash it off if you don't like it.’ I sat there reluctantly, being made up by the party saboteur while the slug watched proceedings, grinning from ear to ear. I was beginning to think the three arseholes that had given Neil a kicking outside Mile End tube station weren't such bad guys after all. A quarter of an hour later, I heard the words from behind me.

       ‘There you are, all done! Go and have a look.’ I walked into the hall followed closely by the unfunny double act. Staring into the mirror; I didn't recognise myself. It was shocking. To be absolutely honest, I'd have to say I probably looked better as a trannie than I did normally.

       The more than ample breasts I'd acquired together with my mother's exceptional work on my ugly mug had, in all truth, turned me into a bit of a babe. It was a good job that Neil and ma were standing right behind me watching, otherwise I don't think I'd have been able to resist the temptation to feel myself up, especially with those tits!

       ‘Mmm, it'll have to do I suppose.’ No good letting her know what I really thought – I'd never hear the last of it. ‘Right mother, pour me a small Scotch. I need it before I go out in public looking like this. And bring a straw 'cause I don't want to smear my lipstick.’ She disappeared into the kitchen. Fairburn looked at me still grinning.

       ‘Nurse, if Denise does turn out to be a burglar’s dog, how much would you charge me for a BJ if you don't mind me asking?’

       ‘What's your intention with this BJ Burnsie – to give it or receive it?’

       ‘Very funny Will!’ At that moment mother appeared with two glasses and a little bowl of ice, all sitting symmetrically on a tray.

       ‘Before you go Will you'd better take a pair of my black tights. They'll hide the hairs on your legs, unless you want me to shave them for you?’

       ‘No thanks ma, the tights'll do just fine.’ We took our Dutch courage and it was time to leave.

       ‘Get in that chair Fairburn. At least when people see me pushing you up the road they won't give me a second look.’ Neil was giggling like a simpleton as he got in the chair, and off we went. Luckily I had tennis shoes on. They didn't look too bad with the rest of the outfit. God knows how I'd have managed if I'd have been in high heels. Checking my nurse’s pocket watch the time was now 6.23 p.m. Not wanting us to be the last to arrive I picked up the pace a bit.

       ‘Steady on you plonker. You'll have this bloody thing over and then I really
will
be the patient!’

       ‘Be quiet and let me drive Fairburn.’

       ‘This is a wheelchair, not a car. Besides you're supposed to be looking after it.’

       I ignored him and went like the clappers. After his ridiculing me at my having to cross-dress, I felt now was the right time to scare the shit out of him. Our arrival back at my place was timed by the nurse at 6.29 p.m. We left the wheelchair at the front and went inside. The dog needed feeding.

       ‘Before we go over there Will, have you got any Imodium? I don't feel too brilliant.’

       ‘There's some in the bathroom cabinet.’ Neil disappeared into the bathroom. I could hear some pretty unsavoury noises coming from that direction.

       ‘Are you OK Neil?’

       ‘Yeah, I think it's just a few pre-match nerves. Meeting new people and all that.’

       I hoped he was going to be all right. I hadn't meant the wheelchair ride to have affected him to this extent. Having given the dog his dinner, I started to get the tubs of meat and salad out of the fridge in readiness for the party. The front doorbell went. It must be Tegan, come to give us a hand with the stuff. I opened the door.

       In front of me stood a smiling policeman in uniform. Was this a party goer? I realised not, when the radio secured to his jacket blurted some sort of message out. He didn't answer. It must have been intended for someone else.

       ‘Good evening madam, I'm PC Adams, South Wales Police. Sorry to trouble you, but ...’

       ‘Let me stop you there officer. I'm a man.’ He looked at me. I'd fazed him for a second. ‘We're going to a fancy dress party shortly.’

       His face said, ‘Of course you are!’ Prompted by my revelation, he now wore a different expression, the smile had disappeared. This led me to believe that he hadn’t called round to forge a new ‘special’ relationship between cross-dressing party goers and the local constabulary. ‘Sir, I'm here because we've been asked by the store manager of the minimart on Stainton Road to investigate the theft of a shopping trolley. It's been reported to the store by one of the local residents that two males were seen earlier today with a trolley headed in this direction. While proceeding up this street, I happened to notice that you have a trolley on your property matching the description of the one we're looking for.’

       ‘Is this some sort of a wind up?’

       ‘I can assure you sir that it isn't.’

       ‘Look, we didn't steal the trolley. Somebody just left it at the top of the lane that runs behind those houses over there. We only used it to take some heavy things to the party we’re about to attend. I was going to return it to the store in the morning.’

       ‘I'm afraid things aren't quite as simple as that sir.’

       ‘Why not?’

       ‘Because the store manager is of a mind that, due to the persistent theft of trolleys from the minimart, on this occasion they will be looking to prosecute. I'm afraid I'm going to have to arrest you on suspicion of theft.’

       This was getting heavy. ‘I'm an extremely good customer of that shop. Is there no way I could take the trolley to the store now and smooth things over with the manager? He knows me personally.’

       PC Plod was thinking. ‘OK sir, here's what I'm going to do. Providing the store manager is in agreement, I shan't arrest you, but you will be cautioned. If you could accompany me to the store with the trolley sir …’

       ‘What? Now?’

       ‘Yes, now sir.’

       Fucking great! I just hoped Neil's diarrhoea continued to flow with gay abandon. I didn't want him coming down the stairs and both of us receiving a caution. It might mess up his badge application. If PC Jobsworth knew that my accomplice to this heinous crime was nearby, he would probably radio in for reinforcements and we might have a real cabaret going on in the street.

       ‘I'll just have to get my house keys.’

       ‘If you must sir.’ I closed the porch door and dashed upstairs. I whispered through the bathroom door. ‘Neil, listen, don't talk; stay in there. I've got a minor emergency. I'll be back in ten minutes. Whatever you do don't answer the front door.’

       Neil groaned. ‘OK.’

       I grabbed the trolley and accompanied Poirot up the street. As we neared the end, Rupert the Bear and Wonderwoman rounded the corner heading towards Tegan's. Rupert, not realising the severity of the situation and that I was a gnat's whisker away from being given a thirty-year stretch, tried his hand at comedy.

       ‘Evenin' all,’ (as he bent both knees
à la
Dixon). ‘Party's the other way matron.

       Poirot, completely poker-faced, responded instantly. ‘He's not a matron. He's a staff nurse and at this precise moment in time he's not coming to your party.’

       Rupert suddenly caught on that this was a real police officer and took the hint, shut up and carried on walking in the opposite direction.

       As we approached the minimart, a few of the Deans were hanging about near the entrance. They'd be trying to get some of the local 18-year-olds to buy them booze. It was Saturday evening. They were dressed, not in school uniform, but in their best James Dean clothes – trying to look even cooler and meaner than normal. One of the Deans spotted me; perhaps my nurse disguise was not as good as previously thought.

       ‘Given up taxi-driving have you mate?’ another joined in.

       ‘Had it cut off have yuh? You pervy bastard.’ I ignored them, left the trolley outside and went into the shop with PC Jobsworth.

       Derek Elliot was the store manager. It said so on his badge. Derek knew my face, and well he ought. I was in his shop at least three or four times a week, due to my forgetfulness and thus intermittent emergency need of milk, bread, dog food etc and video rentals.

       Jobsworth started off proceedings. ‘This gentleman says he knows you Mr Elliot.’ Derek looked blank.

       ‘It's me Derek. Will Rees from number 30 Armadillo Street. Video club membership 3172.’ The penny dropped.

       ‘Ah Mr Rees, I didn't know you were a ...’

       ‘... Nurse. No I'm not. It's a fancy dress party.’

       Derek looked almost disappointed. ‘Oh.’

       Jobsworth took control again. ‘Mr Rees was found in possession of your stolen trolley.’

       It was time for me to say my piece. ‘I didn't steal it Derek. Somebody left it at the top of the lane. I saw it there and just borrowed it to move some heavy things across the street for the party.’

       Jobsworth interjected. ‘Nevertheless you took property that you knew was not yours and did not return it to the shop after you had used it.’

       I had to shut him up. ‘Derek, I was going to bring it back in the morning. I just didn't want to have to come here dressed like this. I'm sure you understand. Please can you explain to the officer that I am a regular customer and have been for many years and that I'm not a thief?’

       ‘Mr Rees isn't a thief, officer. I'm sure there's been some misunderstanding.’

       Well fuck-a-doodle-do! At last the voice of sanity prevailed.

       ‘There has not been a misunderstanding Mr Elliot. You have made a complaint of theft to South Wales Police. We have acted on that complaint, located your stolen property and the person in possession of it. I am now going to caution Mr Rees. Are you willing to accept a caution Mr Rees?’

       ‘Derek!’

       ‘
Officer!
’

       ‘If you are now saying that the trolley was not stolen and that Mr Rees had your permission to take it, then I shan't caution Mr Rees. Is that what you are saying Mr Elliot?’

       ‘Yes officer.’

       ‘In that case Mr Elliot, I'm afraid you're going to have to be charged with wasting police time.’

       Shit. Derek had tried to help me and now he was getting shafted by Jobsworth. I looked at Derek and silently mouthed sorry. Jobsworth took his notebook out and started writing. Derek for a moment stared at Jobsworth imperiously scribbling away. Then, without warning asked the greatest question I've ever heard anyone put, albeit only six words long.

       ‘Officer, do you know Richard Elliot?’ Jobsworth stopped writing and looked up.

       ‘Would that be our Divisional Commander, Superintendent Richard Elliot sir?’

       ‘Yes.’

       ‘Why? Is he a relative of yours sir?’ Derek didn’t reply, he just glared at PC Jobsworth, who was now starting to appear a tad nervous. I don't know what made me do it. Probably the fact that in the very short time we'd had the displeasure of meeting Jobsworth, he'd been a complete knob to both Derek and me. I suddenly felt my mouth open and the words leak out.

       ‘He's Derek's uncle!’ Knobsworth suddenly looked like a man who could do with a change of underwear. Knobsworth was thinking.

       I felt like saying – why don't you write
that
in your fuckin' notebook? but thought better of it. Instantly he had somewhere more important to be.

       ‘There obviously has, as you say, been a misunderstanding, Mr Elliot. I'm glad that everything's been cleared up to your satisfaction. Good evening.’ He walked out the front door of the shop. I looked at Derek; he smiled.

       ‘Please tell me Richard Elliot is your uncle, Derek?’

       ‘No, he's not, but he comes in here for his videos.’

       ‘Bugger, I've probably really dropped you in it. Columbo's bound to find out, and he'll come back here and arrest the both of us.’

       ‘My arse will he. Think about it. Is he going to go up to the Big Boss and say “Hey, I nearly did your nephew for wasting police time?” I think not. He's gonna be too embarrassed to mention this to any of his colleagues in case it gets back to Richard Elliot. He'll just spend the weekend wondering if he's going to be reassigned to directing traffic for the rest of his career.’

       ‘Derek you're a fucking genius!’

       ‘One tries one's best.’

       ‘Does one want to come to a party after one finishes work?’

       ‘Why not?’

       I knew I shouldn't really be inviting people to Tegan's party without asking, but Derek and I had just endured stress
big-style
due to Knobsworth. I gave Derek Tegan’s address.

       ‘Listen Derek, I'd better go. I'm really late.’ It was now past 7 p.m. ‘You can't tell me who reported us for stealing the trolley can you?’

       ‘Sorry, I didn't take the call. One of the girls did. All I know is it was a male, who wouldn't give his name.’ I had a pretty good idea who it was. Who could possibly have wanted me arrested so I wouldn't be able to attend the party? I wondered.

       As I walked out of the shop I noticed Knobsworth was doing a stop-and-search on one of the Deans. The other Deans were standing against the wall in silence, each awaiting their turn. He must have known who they were otherwise they would’ve run like rabbits. There were two large unopened bottles of cider on the floor. The Deans’ curiosity had got the better of them. By loitering with intent to watch me being carted off, the underage drinkers had let their guard down. It was now booty confiscation time!

       I was tempted to shout – leave them alone, they're Richard Elliot's grandsons… but didn't. The nurse gave the one who'd called her a pervy bastard a smile but he didn't smile back. I was confident Knobsworth would get them all banged up, serving life sentences. Me, I had a party to go to and I was late.

Chapter 10