Flaming Sussex. Ian SansomЧитать онлайн книгу.
all interest in his pie and mash and who was now staring at Miriam, fascinated. It was always the way. I wasn’t quite sure how she did it.
‘I like dogs who are – what’s the word, Sefton?’
‘I’m not sure, Miriam,’ I said. ‘Docile?’
‘No,’ said Miriam.
‘Ferocious?’ offered Willy.
‘No, no,’ said Miriam.
‘Loyal?’
‘No.’
‘Obedient,’ said Willy.
‘Yes. That’s it. That’s the word.’
‘Obedience is important,’ agreed Willy.
‘Isn’t it,’ said Miriam. And she laughed, throwing back her head in studied abandon.
I was beginning to see that this was not really a conversation about dogs at all, except perhaps that like a dog spying an open gate, Miriam was taking off in whatever direction her whim took her.
‘And, remind me, what is it you do, Mr …?’ she asked.
‘Mann,’ said Willy.
‘Mr Mann. Curious name.’
‘It’s German,’ said Willy.
‘Ah. Sprechen Sie Deutsch?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Willy. ‘My parents came here many years ago. Their first language was Yiddish.’
‘Ah. The Mame Loshn. Das schadet nichts,’ said Miriam. ‘I do like to practise my German whenever I get the chance.’
Miriam’s tea arrived, in an actual cup, in an actual saucer, with an actual jug of milk, the café owner also seemingly having donned a fresh apron for the sole purpose of visiting our table.
‘Can I get you anything else, miss?’
‘No, thank you,’ said Miriam dismissively, returning to her captivation of Willy Mann. ‘So what brings you here this morning, Mr Mann?’ The freshly aproned café owner shuffled away. ‘You have business in these parts?’
‘I have business in many parts of London,’ said Willy.
‘Well, lucky you,’ said Miriam. ‘But here in particular?’
‘Willy and his business partners help protect the local community from the Black Shirts,’ I said.
‘Is that right?’ said Miriam.
‘That’s certainly a part of what we do here, yes,’ said Willy.
‘Well, that’s very good of you,’ said Miriam. ‘And you do that entirely out of the goodness of your heart, do you?’
‘We do, miss. Absolutely we do.’
‘Gratis, for nothing and entirely for free?’
‘Well, of course a business like ours—’
‘A protection racket,’ said Miriam.
‘We wouldn’t call it that, miss.’
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t,’ said Miriam, taking a sip of her tea and wincing slightly. ‘But I would. Go on.’
‘A … service such as ours costs money, miss, as you can imagine.’
‘I can imagine, yes,’ said Miriam, who was looking around the café. ‘How much, exactly?’
‘Well, it depends, but let’s say as little as a shilling a week for your safety.’
‘A shilling.’
‘Very reasonable, don’t you think, miss?’
‘I certainly do not think,’ said Miriam. ‘There are by my count almost forty people currently in this establishment. If each of them paid you just a shilling each you’d have two pounds; is that correct?’
‘Your maths is impeccable,’ said Willy.
‘So that’s two pounds per week, making eight pounds per month from the patrons of this café alone.’
‘But not everyone in this café would be paying us a shilling a week.’
‘I’m sure they wouldn’t. They’d be far too sensible. And if they don’t?’
‘If they don’t what?’ said Willy.
‘If they don’t pay you their shilling. I presume there’s the implied threat of violence.’
‘We offer protection,’ said Willy.
‘Which of course implies a threat,’ said Miriam.
‘Not from us,’ said Willy.
‘Really?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘So all your clients have willingly entered into a voluntary contract with you?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘A contract that essentially consists of you granting them protection in return for the payment of a small cash sum.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So in effect your clients stand in relation to you and your associates as, say, children, or women – or indeed property – who are in some way incapable of protecting themselves and who therefore need protecting?’
‘You could put it like that,’ agreed Willy.
‘Which makes them effectively chattels or slaves,’ said Miriam.
Willy was about to speak but Miriam held up her arm, commanding silence, and then turned to me. ‘I had thought, Sefton, that you might have kept rather better company.’
Willy did not look amused. He looked – well, he looked – emasculated.
‘Anyway,’ said Miriam, ignoring Willy’s obvious irritation. ‘I really shouldn’t be barging in on you boys. I’m sure you have lots to discuss. Racketeering. Extortion. Fraud. White slavery, also?’
Willy got up from the table.
‘You’ll excuse me, but I have other more serious business I need to attend to,’ he said.
‘Oh, really?’ said Miriam. ‘What a shame.’
‘It’s been a pleasure, Miss Morley.’ He didn’t offer his hand.
‘Hasn’t it just?’ said Miriam.
‘Sefton, you know where to find me,’ he said.
‘I do, thanks, Willy.’
‘Byesie bye!’ said Miriam. ‘Mahlzeit!’
And with that, he was gone.
I noticed then that the hubbub in the restaurant had died down. We were drawing attention to ourselves. Or, rather, Miriam was drawing attention to us.
‘Miriam,’ I said quietly, ‘you were really terribly rude to the poor chap.’
‘Oh, come on, Sefton. He’s big enough and ugly enough to take it,’ said Miriam, not at all quietly. ‘Well, maybe not ugly enough. But you know, you really have the most appalling taste in friends and acquaintances.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ I said.
‘And so you should,’ she said. ‘It’s a mark of your character. Anyway, enough about him. I’m so glad you called.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’