Bill Bailey's Lot Read online

  ‘You mean, Mark and Willie?’

  He turned to Fiona, laughing and saying, ‘No, I wasn’t meanin’ the kids, missis, I was after meanin’ the boss’ men on the job.’

  And at this Bill said, ‘Aye, yes, one or two things have been happenin’ to them. It started when they were clearing the site for the new houses.’

  ‘One had his car pinched?’

  ‘Yes, he had.’

  ‘Well, I can tell you where it is.’

  ‘You can? That’s interestin’. But how do you come to know that? Did you have a hand in it?’

  ‘Now, Mr Bailey. No, I’ve told you, haven’t I, nothin’s gona get me to Durham again.’ There was indignation in the tone.

  ‘Sorry. But…well, go on.’

  After a moment’s hesitation Mr Love went on: ‘There’s two fellas have come to live round our way. I don’t know where, but I recognised one right away. He was one of the residents like when I was on holiday in Durham. Well, Kit Bradley, he’s the man who runs the pub, and atween you an’ me, I think he runs with the hare and hunts with the hounds, as the sayin’ goes, ’cos to see him chattin’ to a smilin’ bobby you’d think they were brothers at times. Anyway, these fellas were in the pub and they put it to him on the side if he would be interested like in a car that was goin’ cheap. They had bought it, they said, from a fella who was a brickie and who said he needed spare cash; they said his boss was soon goin’ out of business.

  ‘Now them words was the link up for me: his boss was goin’ out of business. It didn’t hit me at the time but it did after, if you get what I mean. Anyway, one said it had always narked him that brickies could go to work in their cars. The world had turned upside down, he said. I got all this from Kit, you understand?’

  Bill made a small motion with his head signifying that yes, he was following Mr Love. ‘Anyway, Kit went round to the spare plot aside Gallagher’s junk yard where the car was parked. He said it wasn’t what he was wantin’ but he’d pass the word round. I asked him if he was gona tell the cops, and he said, no, let ’em find out for themselves. That’s what I mean, you know, about running with the hare and huntin’ with the hounds. He’s a deep ’un is Kit. But anyway, news gets round, an’ I heard about this fella who was hoppin’ mad an’ had been to Gallagher’s junk yard lookin’ for his car ’cos apparently it was an eight-year-old banger but he had looked after it like a baby. I never saw the bloke meself, but somebody happened to say he was one of Bailey the builder’s fellas. Well, as you know, this all happened a couple of weeks ago an’ I suppose I could have let on then, but I said to meself, Love, mind your own business. And anyway, anythin’ to do with the cops brings me out in spots. An’ I’m not kiddin’ about that! I have a rash that comes out in me sometimes and I’m covered from head to foot with it. St Vitus’ dance has nothin’ on me when that hits me, I can tell you. Well, there it is.’ He spread his fingers wide.

  ‘Do you think the car will still be there?’

  ‘Well, they were in it up till yesterday. It’s a bit changed: they’ve painted it a different colour and the number plates are sure to be changed. It was a kind of grey but now it’s a blue. They’re barefaced buggers those two, an’ I don’t think they’d be clean fighters. It would be the knife, or chains. So, I’d tell your bloke if he goes after his car not to go alone.’

  ‘Well, if I’ve got anything to do with it’—Bill’s tone was grim—‘he’ll be accompanied by the police.’

  ‘Well, that’s up to you. But as I said, one good turn deserves another. Or did I?’ He grinned now at Fiona, and she was forced to smile at him.

  Bill too smiled now as he said, ‘Well, thank you very much anyway. It’s been an eventful evening. Our antique silver has been returned, then…given away again’—he glanced towards Fiona—‘Tommy Turnbull has the chance of getting his car back, an’ you’ve got the chance of a few week’s work. I hope it may be longer, but at the moment I can’t promise anything.’

  ‘You’re in for the job of makin’ that big estate some way out, I hear, on Sir Charles Kingdom’s land. Is that right?’

  ‘You get about.’

  ‘Oh aye.’ Davey Love grinned widely now. ‘The Job Centre has more information than Pickford’s tourist’s office…Ah well, I’ll have to be goin’.’ He buttoned up his coat; then with an elaborate bow towards Fiona, he said, ‘It’s been a pleasure, ma’am, a pleasure. An’ you can always look back on this night as the night that you had a visit from an honest burglar.’ And he thumbed towards the hall, then added, ‘But it took a very red backside to make him come clean. As I said to him, there’s honour among thieves an’ as I’ve always said to him, don’t do as I do, do as I say. At least I used to afore I took that holiday, you know. Anyway, I mustn’t keep you good folks any longer.’

  In the hall they stopped and looked at the small figure sitting on the second step of the stairs, and it was apparent he had been in some sort of whispered conversation with the three heads at the top of the stairs.

  Mr Love looked upwards, a wide grin on his face, and he called loudly, ‘Goodnight, kids,’ and he was answered almost simultaneously by the three voices, saying, ‘Goodnight, Mr Love.’

  Fiona’s eyes were wide, her face straight. That was how they used to address Bill, calling, ‘Goodnight, Mr Bill.’ She was about to issue a stern order to her offspring when Mr Love, looking at her, said, ‘You’ve got somethin’ to be proud of there, missis.’ Then turning to Bill, he added, ‘And already made, I understand. He told me.’ The jerk of his head was towards his son who was now standing near him. ‘He gave me the whole rundown on the family. Never misses a trick, that ’un. Well, come on you.’ He placed his hand between the small boy’s shoulders and pushed him none too gently towards the front door which Bill had opened.

  ‘Be seein’ you, Mr Bailey.’

  ‘Yes, Davey, be seein’ you. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight to you. And it’s been a good night all round, it’s been a good night. Indeed it has that.’

  Bill and Fiona stood watching the tall and the small figure walking side by side towards the gate, and not until they had disappeared into the darkness did Bill close the door. Then, striding towards the stairs, he bawled up to the faces still there, ‘Goodnight, Mr Love,’ mimicking them. ‘You’ve changed your allegiance have you? Goodnight, Mr Love. It used to be, Goodnight, Mr Bill, didn’t it?’

  ‘Well, you’re not Mr Bill any more, are you?’ This was from Katie. ‘You’re Dad now.’

  ‘She’s right.’ Mark was nodding.

  But Willie, and in a small voice, said, ‘He asked if he could come back again Mam, Sammy, and I said yes. Is that all right?’

  Fiona did not take her eyes from her small son although she knew that Bill was looking at her intently, and her answer was non-committal. ‘We’ll see,’ she said. ‘We’ll see. Now get yourselves to bed this minute.’

  ‘Goodnight, Mam.’ ‘Goodnight, Mam.’ ‘Goodnight, Mam.’ The voices followed one after the other; then steps could be heard crossing the landing and now, like the descending notes on a scale, there followed ‘Goodnight, Mister Dad,’ from Mark, ‘Goodnight, Mister Dad,’ from Katie, and ‘Goodnight Mister Dad,’ from Willie, and a quick scampering of feet. Laughing, Bill put his arm around Fiona’s shoulders and, leading her back into the sitting room, he pulled her down to the couch and, holding her tightly, he kissed her, then said, ‘Well, it’s certainly been an evening. What d’you say?’

  ‘Yes, it’s certainly been an evening, Mr B. And wouldn’t it be a shame,’ she added, her head now to one side, ‘to waste it by spending the rest of it in the study?’

  He stared at her, his eyes twinkling as he said, ‘You know what, Fiona Bailey? You’re a brazen woman, and before you were a brazen woman you must have been a brazen girl called Fiona Vidler. All this refined veneer of yours is just mush; you’re sex mad. I could say I’ve got a headache but I won’t.’ With a jump he got to his feet and pulled her upwards. ‘Come on; I�
�ll give you half an hour, then I’ll return to the job.’

  ‘Not if I know it,’ she said.

  ‘Aw, lass.’ He pulled her to him and kissed her again hard on the lips before almost running her from the room.

  Chapter Three

  Mark had taken the bus to school in Newcastle, and Fiona had dropped Katie and Willie and Mamie off at their respective schools. Then having done quite a bit of shopping, she was now lifting two laden bags from the boot of the car in the garage when she heard the phone ring; and it had rung six times more before she managed to open the front door, drop the two bags, and pick up the receiver.

  ‘Fiona?’

  Fiona drew in a deep breath. ‘Yes, Mother,’ she said.

  ‘You’ve taken your time to answer. Where on earth have you been?’

  ‘I’ve been out shopping, Mother, and before that I took the children to school.’

  ‘I thought that person next door took the children to school?’

  ‘Only sometimes, Mother.’

  Fiona pulled a chair forward and sat down; this was going to be a long session.

  ‘I’m not feeling very well. The lights flickered last night, then went out just as I happened to be walking into the kitchen, and I tripped and stumbled and twisted my ankle.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Can you walk?’

  ‘Only just. But…but it isn’t only that. I phoned for the electrician. I got his private number; he lives above the shop in the High Street. And when I asked if Mr Green could come round at once and find out what was wrong, his wife laughed at me. She’s the one that serves in the shop, a common piece if ever there was one. And you know what she said?’

  Fiona didn’t say, ‘No, Mother,’ she just waited, and Mrs Vidler went on, ‘Her husband was at the club and when I asked if she could get in touch with him she said, “You’re asking something, aren’t you?” Those were her very words. And she said that if the whole High Street was plunged into darkness he wouldn’t leave the club at that time. And it was only nine o’clock, you know.’

  ‘Well, he’ll likely come today, Mother.’

  ‘He won’t. I was onto him immediately the shop opened and he said he would be round as soon as he could. How soon was that, I asked. Sometime tomorrow, he said; he was full up with work…so…’

  Fiona stared at the mouthpiece waiting for her mother to go on; when she didn’t she repeated, ‘Well so? What d’you mean by that? You don’t think I can come round and fiddle with electricity, do you, Mother?’

  ‘No, I don’t. But…but that…your…well, your Mr Bailey, he has men who do all kinds of things on his job, he could send one of them, couldn’t he?’

  ‘He could, Mother’—Fiona’s voice was sharp now—‘but he wouldn’t, or he won’t. He did you a big service moving your things and what was the result? You insulted him just because he had altered his voice…’

  ‘Altered his voice indeed! He pretended to be what he wasn’t, he ridiculed me.’

  ‘You always said he was a big-mouthed individual. Well, he just wanted to show that there was another side to him.’

  ‘Yes, and one that he couldn’t possibly keep up.’

  ‘Oh yes, he could, Mother, if he wanted to. Anyway, I don’t know how you have the nerve to expect him to send one of his men round there. There are other electricians in the town you could contact; surely one of them would come straight out?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose they would, but do you know what they want for coming out? I’ve already contacted two and the first one said there’d be an eight pound call-out charge; and the other one was apparently a self-employed man, asked if I could pay on the spot, sort of cash on delivery. I put the phone down. So you can’t say I haven’t tried.’

  ‘Well, Mother, you’ll have to try again because I’m not asking Bill to send one of his men round.’

  There was silence on the line for a moment; then Mrs Vidler’s voice, changing from a plaintive whine almost to an undignified yell, said, ‘Of all the most ungrateful women in this world, you are one. You would let me sit alone here in the dark, a woman entirely alone while you are sitting comfortably in the light, surrounded by your children, my grandchildren whom I never see, and your servant friend next door, not forgetting your loud-mouthed husband. But there’ll come a day when you’ll regret your treatment of me. Oh yes, there will.’

  When the phone was banged down Fiona sat back in the chair and, puffing out her cheeks, she let a long, lingering breath slowly deflate them before placing her own phone down.

  Her children, her servant friend…poor Nell, and her loud-mouthed husband. Her mind did not say poor Bill. Why did she always feel so terrible after her mother had been on the phone?

  Slowly, she rose from the chair, took off her coat, then picked up the bags of groceries and went towards the kitchen, saying to herself again, ‘Four children, a servant friend, and a loud-mouthed husband.’

  Her mother was right there. She was very lucky. Oh, she was, very lucky.

  The groceries put away, she made herself a cup of coffee, and as she sat sipping it she told herself that she would go next door to see how Nell was. She had phoned her early on and told her to stay put for the morning, that she could manage and that there wasn’t anything to do really. Now that Mamie was at school she had more time to do things because Mamie was a child that demanded a lot of attention. There was a need in her for love brought on by the loss of her parents and her brother.

  So she worked it out, as she sipped at her coffee: after she had been in to see Nell she would tidy the children’s rooms and get down to some cooking. The freezer needed packing up again.

  But having arranged all this in her mind, she still sat on. Then of a sudden she sprang up saying, ‘Damn!’ It was a loud damn. And now she walked to the kitchen window and looked down the back garden, and the sight of the daffodils there reminded her that she must straighten that patch in the front garden where the young visitor had trampled the flowers down. What she actually did next was: she walked smartly from the kitchen, across the hall, and picked up the phone again.

  She had to wait some minutes before a voice answered and when it said, ‘Bailey Building Company. What can I do for you?’ she said, ‘Oh, is that you, Bert? I recognised your voice.’

  ‘Oh. Hello, Mrs Bailey. D’you want the boss?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘I’ll get him in a minute; he’s on the job. I just happened to be passing the hut.’

  It seemed a long wait, but it was only two minutes; then Bill’s voice hit her, saying, ‘What’s the matter? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing’s the matter, nothing’s wrong, at least not here, not with me or any of ours. But something’s wrong with…Mrs Vidler.’

  ‘Oh my God! What’s happened there? Is she dead?’

  ‘No, she’s not dead, Bill Bailey.’

  ‘That’s a pity; I could do with a break the day.’

  ‘Listen.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  She then went on to tell him what had transpired on the phone a short while ago, and before she had finished his voice came loud and clear, ‘No way, Mrs B. No way.’

  ‘All right. All right. Anyway I told her that it was an imposition. I said she had a nerve, but she said you had ridiculed her. And you know you had. Now you can’t get over that; you know you had.’

  ‘Well, you should be able to stand a bit of ridicule when you get a job done for nowt. Well not quite nowt: she gave the fellas five pounds each. But instead of fifteen pounds she would have had to pay fifty, if not more for that double journey. Oh, aye, she would at that, especially with the firm she picked. So no, no way.’

  ‘All right. All right.’

  ‘Then why did you get on the phone and tell me?’

  She paused, before she said, ‘Well, to tell the truth I’m lonely: Nell’s off colour, her face is in an awful state; our four offspring are at school; my husband doesn’t come home to lunch; I have a long day ahead of me and no-one to
talk to. So I thought it would be nice just to have a word.’

  ‘You’re a liar, you know that, and you’re not going to soften me up.’

  ‘Bill’—her voice had changed—‘I have no intention of softening you up; I’m just putting it to you straight because she said something to me and it keeps going round in my head. And I’ll tell you exactly her words. She said, there she was on her own, but what had I got? My children…her grandchildren, a servant friend—that’s what she called Nell; and a loud-mouthed husband. Yes, a loud-mouthed husband. Well, taking them singly or lumped together, I thought to myself, I’m very lucky. She is alone, and no matter how bitchy she is, she happens to be my mother and at times I feel responsible for her.’

  ‘Then all I can say to that is, you’re a bloody fool.’

  ‘All right, I’m a bloody fool, but that’s how I’m made. And…’

  ‘Don’t say it.’

  ‘Don’t say what?’

  ‘That if you weren’t a bloody fool you wouldn’t have taken me on.’

  She hesitated for some seconds before she said, ‘Bill, I wouldn’t ever say that even in joke.’

  His voice sounded flat now as he said, ‘All right, all right. Leave it, will you? Leave it.’

  ‘Bill.’

  ‘Aye?’

  Again there was a slight pause before she said softly, ‘I love you very, very much.’

  There was a longer pause before he said, ‘Doing seventy, I can get home within five minutes.’ She pushed her head back and laughed, saying, ‘You’ve got the mind of a frustrated monk.’

  ‘Well, I’m not the only one because I can see you climbing the convent walls any day.’