Land Girls: The Homecoming: A moving and heartwarming wartime saga. Roland MooreЧитать онлайн книгу.
the looting, Amos had seen his shady little empire expand, filling the darkness left by lawlessness. Now he liked to think of himself as Mr Black Market, a man who could get you anything you needed even without a ration book. He had the police in his pocket on the understanding that Amos wouldn’t commit too many open atrocities on the streets of South London. But that was fine, the only people who usually felt his wrath were gangsters further down the food chain or those civilians, as he called them, who dared to resist his attempts at extortion and blackmail.
“Bit of rain is good for you,” Vince said, smiling.
Moustache Man and Eyebrows circled round to stand either side of Amos Ackley. Vince noticed that both the heavies had a hand in their pockets. It didn’t matter if they didn’t actually have weapons in there because, like the crushing handshake before it, he knew this was being done to intimidate him. To show him who was boss.
“Now then, I’m looking forward to my Sunday lunch, Vince,” Amos smiled.
“The sirloin is out of this world,” Vince replied. “Succulent.”
Amos laughed. “Hark at you, the flaming expert.”
“I’ve had too much bad meat in my time to not know the difference, Mr Ackerly,” Vince smiled.
“And you’ve lifted a lorry full of this stuff?”
Vince knew he didn’t have to go into specifics about where it had come from. Amos wasn’t interested in provenance. “It was supposed to be filling a load of yank stomachs, but their supply chain got broken, didn’t it? I just need the three hundred and it’s yours, van included.” He knew three hundred pounds was a lot of money, but then he was selling a huge amount of premier quality sirloin steak. And in a country where meat was rationed, the sales potential of that meat was phenomenal.
Amos cracked his knuckles. A dark smile flickered over his face. Vince felt uneasy. Had he misremembered how much they’d agreed on? Or was Amos going to try to short-change him?
Or, the worst scenario of all, did Amos know what Vince was up to?
That morning, Vince Halliday had opened his eyes without getting a wink of sleep. He’d been too nervous. This was the big one. It would be a day filled with danger but, if it went well, it would end in incredible rewards. Three hundred pounds would set him up. It would allow him to get out of the rat hole where he lived and start again somewhere else. He stared at the yellowing ceiling paint and the plaster rose around the light. All being well, this would be the last time he woke up in this run-down tenement.
There was a soft tap on the door. Vince swung his thick legs off the bed and pulled up his trousers, hooking the braces over his shoulders. He opened the door a fraction, saw the friendly face of a wide-eyed girl with a battered cloche hat, and let her in.
It was Glory. Her real name was Gloria Wayland, but Vince liked calling her Glory. Although she always wore her desperately unfashionable cloche hat, Vince had never bothered to ask why. He guessed it had some sentimental value; but delving into that area had little interest for him. She was seventeen, tall and thin. Gangly from being undernourished from all her years in a children’s home in Bow. When she left at the age of sixteen, she joined the Women’s Auxiliary Army and learnt to drive an ambulance. But one night, a road near Shockley Aerodrome had been bombed and Glory crashed her ambulance into a ravine. With trauma from the accident, Glory’s army career was cut short and she found herself on Civvy Street. It was a harsh place to be, and soon Glory was penniless and living on the road. That’s when Vince had befriended her. There was no romance or sex involved, just the simple and unedifying business arrangement which Vince had found had worked with girls so well in the past. He would befriend a woman who needed help and then turn her to a life of crime. Many of Vince’s scams would require a female face: someone to lure and distract his targets. This was particularly true of the wedding-ring scam. In this caper, Vince would encourage the girl to flirt with a rich married man (the target) in a bar or restaurant. Then the girl would take the man to a rented room, with the prospect of having sex. But once there, Vince would threaten the man with violence unless the man handed over his wedding ring. Then with the wedding ring in his possession, Vince could extort money by blackmail from the rich man, threatening to give the ring to the man’s wife and to explain how he’d come by it.
Glory was fairly good at the wedding-ring scam and they’d worked it successfully four times together. But just as often, she failed, due to her awkwardness and lack of confidence, to lure the man to the room. She knew that Vince had her on borrowed time. She had to prove her worth to him soon or she’d be replaced and out on her ear.
“Is it too early?” Glory asked.
Vince shook his head. “Haven’t slept a wink anyway.”
“Me neither,” Glory said nervously.
Vince pulled a suit jacket over his shirt. The fabric was shiny and old. He turned up the collar around his neck.
“I was thinking,” Glory said as she sat on the end of the bed. Vince looked at her sad and fragile face. “I was thinking that maybe we should just tick along as we are.”
Vince went to interject, but Glory wasn’t finished.
“I mean we’re making money each month from the wedding rings and everything.” She knew she was on thin ice; knowing that Vince wasn’t happy with her success rate.
“Not enough, though.” Vince bent down so his face was level with the young girl’s.
“Trouble is, it’s a lot of work keeping them in line,” he said. “Each time I go to collect a payment, I think that this will be the time they jump me or they’ll have a mob of mates waiting or the police.”
“But this is too dangerous …” Glory pleaded.
“By tonight, we’ll be out of here. Three hundred pounds, Glory.” He let the words sink in. “Think what we could do with that money.”
Glory had thought about it. A lot. With her share, she wanted to move to the country and put some money down on a cottage somewhere. She’d have ducks in the garden and then she’d find a husband and they’d live in the lovely cottage together. That was her plan. Each time she said it, Vince found it ridiculous, but he kept the thought to himself.
Vince planned to move up north and start a club. It’d be a club with roulette wheels and dancing girls. He’d make a fortune from the GIs and the business men up there. That was his plan.
Glory still looked scared and uncertain.
In truth, Vince Halliday was just as scared and uncertain. This wasn’t a business deal. Vince wasn’t really selling meat for money. That’s because he didn’t have the meat. Well, he had some, but not three hundred pounds worth. This was a scam. And if this scam, the big one, went wrong then he probably wouldn’t live to tell the tale. But if it went right, then all his Christmases would come at once.
He had to brave-face it for the young girl’s sake. Had to gee her up and get her on side.
“After tonight, we don’t have to grub around no more,” Vince said. “After tonight, we can relax and live all our dreams, yeah?”
Glory looked at him, searching for the truth in his eyes. Did he believe what he was saying? Wasn’t he scared? After a long moment, she decided he was being honest and that he really believed it. She didn’t realise he was lying.
“Right, that’s the spirit, girl,” Vince said, slipping on his brogues. “Let’s go and get a cup of tea …”
In the warehouse, a long, tense moment passed. Vince was certain that his heart was beating so loudly that everyone could hear it – like a klaxon warning of his guilt. Amos cracked a smile at last and revealed his hand.
“I ain’t paying the full three hundred,” he said, letting the words sink in without following them up. Vince gave a that’s-your-prerogative kind of smile, but inside he was fuming and he wanted answers and explanations. Who did this jumped-up idiot think he was, welching on the deal?