Patterson finished the careful adjustment to his starched shirt cuffs, lining them up half an inch beyond the end of his jacket sleeves, before running his gaze over the group of short and stocky individuals standing before him; a slight furrow grazed his forehead, ‘there are five of you now and still he eluded you?’
Louis shuffled forward as if to offer an apology, feigning a sad expression, ‘the lad might’ve got away, but we’ll find him,’ he looked up, holding something out to Patterson with a triumphant grin, ‘look, he dropped this!’
Patterson held the grubby piece of cardboard between his thumb and forefinger, a look of distaste on his face as he examined it, ‘his Unemployment Benefit Card, there’s no address, how is it supposed to help?
Jimmy stepped forward, ‘allow me to introduce the newest member of our team,’ he indicated a fresh-faced young man, ‘this is Ron’s baby brother, Sam,’ Ron nodded, pushing his sibling forward, Jimmy continued, ‘he doesn’t say much either, but he has special skills.’
Patterson inclined an eyebrow.
‘Sam also has a job at the DHSS*,’ Shacker added; ‘don’t worry, Mr Patterson, you can count on us to catch up with Joey.’
*Department of Health and Social Security, responsible at the time (among other things) for the administration of Unemployment Benefits. The card which Joey dropped is a UB40**, the card you had to take when you went to ‘sign on’ at the ‘dole office’. It has the claimant’s National Insurance number from which Sam will be able to trace Joey’s address.
**From where UK band, UB40, took their name.The title of their song ‘One in Ten’ refers to the number 9.6, being the percentage of the local workforce claiming unemployment benefit in the West Midlands in the summer of 1981 when the song was released – the figure was double that in Liverpool by 1985.
Pacing her apartment, she waits for him to call. She stares at the phone, perched innocently on a side table. Wills it to ring. She strides to the window, grips the ledge, her fingers tightening as she views the busy street below. Couples laughing, children running, a solitary man consulting his watch. She turns away. Why doesn’t he phone? Damn him! Puts on her coat, grabs her keys. One last lingering look at the unforgiving phone.
waiting no longer she slams the door behind her: the phone starts to ring.
~~~~~~~~
Image credit: Tylor Heery @ Unsplash The image shows a rotary dial pink telephone, and next to it are cards showing the answering machine messages on different cards. “Leave us a message” , “After the tone” and “Thank you”
Joey returned the man’s gaze; it wasn’t that he was afraid, but something about the unwavering stare and the uncompromising stance of the cigar-smoking man made him slightly wary, framed as he was by the double-leaf doorway in an otherwise blank-faced building, like the gate-keeper to a secret world.
Glancing back into the alleyway, Joey saw that the five strange little men were now huddled together; although he couldn’t make out what they were muttering, by the way they were wildly gesticulating it was apparent that they were arguing amongst themselves. He wondered if he could somehow slip past them, it was either that or face the strangely intimidating man on the other side of the wall; Joey made his decision and eased himself down into the yard below.
Whilst Joey had been concentrating on his descent, the doors to the blank-faced building had closed; Joey jogged across the empty yard, the only sign that someone had been standing in the doorway was the still-smouldering cigar butt on the ground. Beyond the peeling wood, the strum of a rhythm guitar and the boom of a steady blues beat echoed inside the building.
Snow melt started the previous day. Soft rain fell all afternoon. Black ice formed overnight. Treacherous. Transparent. Deadly.
The driver took the corner badly. Wheels spun, slewed on the ice. Vehicle out of control. Screech. Impact. Silence.
In the distance a siren wails.
~~~~~~~~
Image credit: Oleksii S @ Unsplash The image shows three orange traffic cones placed on the road. There is ice on the road surface and foot prints can be seen on the ice.
Joey shot across the road and hurtled down the narrow alleyway that divided the terrace of tall buildings ahead of him, the northerly aspect of the dank thoroughfare rarely allowed the sun’s rays to penetrate, and his feet slid on the slippery cobbles.
Hearing a shrill whistle behind him, Joey skidded around a corner into an even narrower passage and then another, losing himself in the maze of Victorian dereliction. Behind him, pounding feet were closing in, their speed more than a match for Joey’s; he swung around the edge of another building only to find himself faced by a huge, crumbling brick wall. He turned to face his pursuers – five unusually short, squat individuals crowded in, filling the width of the alleyway.
Joey spun round and launched himself at the wall, fingers and toes desperately scrabbling for purchase in the missing mortar between the bricks; finally, with a heroic effort, he hauled himself to the top and straddled the wall.
Joey peered down into the yard on the other side, where a bearded man leaned on the edge of an open doorway, smoking an unpretending cigar; the man stared back up at him and slowly raised an eyebrow.
Returning to the steps where first they met, he sits awhile, alone, bereft. Crimson petals like blood red tears scatter on cold, hard stone. His heart bleeds for her, his loss, a future that will never be.
~~~~~~~~
Image credit: Yana Hurskaya @ Unsplash The image shows an earthenware jug filled with red tulips. The jug is sitting on old stone steps.
Ceridwen was clutching her tarot deck so tightly that the edges of the cards dug into her flesh; the air around her reverberated with disharmony as she silently contemplated the brace of cards she’d just dealt – the Tower and the Two of Cups (reversed) – she chewed her lip, her first card reading had spoken of exuberant adventure, but now the cards showed something darker in Joey’s future.
Joey, meanwhile, was teetering on the edge of a roof, in peril of falling, just as the Tower card so dramatically depicted; Patterson was closing in. A movement behind his shoulder caught Joey’s attention: a tawny-coated cat sprung from the overhanging roof and disappeared, greeted by the clank of metal as it landed not far below. The jade camel vibrated in Joey’s pocket and without hesitation, he dodged past Patterson and leapt after the cat.
Joey crashed onto the roof of a low outrigger; only momentarily winded, he let himself down to the ground, ran across the yard and climbed over the back wall, to disappear down the nearest alleyway.
Aurora’s salmon-coloured cheeks turned a vibrant shade of crimson, as her blood boiled; she directed her dismay at Patterson: ‘FIND HIM!’
Bemused, Joey sat on an expensive couch opposite Aurora in the grandest room he had ever encountered, sipping from a fragile cup of sugary tea, while Aurora issued instructions as if she were reeling off ingredients for a complex recipe; her suave companion nodded as he wrote in a small leather-bound notebook with an elegant silver pen.
Aurora paused, studying Joey for a moment; she set her cup down on an onyx and gold side-table, motioning Joey to do the same, ‘Come, Joey, I have something to show you.’
Joey followed her into the red-carpeted hallway through which they’d entered; Aurora glided up one wide staircase, then another, finally leading him out onto a roof terrace where she stood facing him, her steely gaze flicking to his pocket and back to his face. She advanced a step, holding out her hand: ‘I will be your passport to success if you give me that.’
Patterson appeared in the doorway and Aurora took another step towards Joey; the jade camel started to vibrate in his pocket; he retreated, his heart going into overdrive, racing away like his thoughts.
Joey looked over the edge of the building; it was a long way down.
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