But it was around 11:20 when Russell drifted substantially over to Juli’s desk and coughed lightly to attract her attention as she slowly keyed in data to an Excel worksheet, and tried to remember which action to perform each time she wanted a result. He stood there plump and uneasy in a tannish brown tweed-effect suit, and canary-yellow waistcoat. Then once her attention was eased away from the spreadsheet, he chatted about this and that, polishing his round glasses. Lucy looked up alertly, ever willing to be of assistance.
Russell seemed upset about something, Lucy made him a mug of coffee, as he chatted with Juli about this. She refrained from offering Juli one, having received some haughty regardings of incredulity that made her blood run cold until she realised that Juli held the quite reasonable view that instant drinks were designed for pesticide; she had since given them up herself. Juli brought her own nicer stuff along and made it separately from other people. Just another small thing which endeared her to all.
“Yolanda ?” Juli enquired without much real interest, since other people’s love-lives held no fascination.
“Oh no, Juli: Yolanda’s been fine recently. It’s Happy Valley. One of the houses caught fire last night.”
Juli shuddered. “Wow. Was anybody… ?”
“Ooh no ! But the Tolands were cleared out of everything. And,” his voice broke with a greater self-pity, “they got the police to wake me up at 3:45. I dunno what they thought I could do. Anyway they put them in an hotel for the night, and now I’ve got to find an empty property.”
“Plenty of them about.” Juli answered, purposely obtuse, “Sometimes I reckon what with renovations and court orders, we sometimes have more vacant than occupied.”
“Thank you.” acidly, “No, well, I know what you mean; but that’s not the problem: I mean it’s the Tolandses.”
“I don’t want them as neighbours, so you can understand people’s feelings.” Juli said reasonably.
“I know, if they moved in next to me, I’d move to Turkestan; but that doesn’t help here. I’ve got to shove them as far away from their previous place as possible, and next to people who’ve not heard of them, or are too weak to protest much.”
“Who…” started Lucy.
“A/ They are not going to leave that estate, they’ve got about 80 relations there; and anyway they would rather be there than in a Cathedral Close. B/ Everyone on the estate does know them. C/ They’re not going to lose face from the Collingwoods and Hartleys.”
He groaned. Juli was correct.
“Who… ?” Lucy began again, and was unheard in their ruminations. She had heard of none of these, and only knew a tiny bit of the background: she had early asked — the day she started work — where Happy Valley was.
Juli sniggered: “My name for the Robert Owen Housing Estate. It’s ex-Council, and has got a lot worse since it was privatised. Bloody wasteland of falling panels, pram-pushers in clam-diggers, a cheap supermarket whose manager wants armed mercenaries, and gangs of youths at night.”
“H’how nasty.”
“Oh the drugs help.” she contended optimistically. “Something’s gotta.”
“Anyway, don’t go there, not unless you’re with a camera-crew in a jeep.”
Instruction seemed a trifle authoritative, especially at so early in a relationship, but Lucy minded no more than she who directed, who basically ever unconsciously chose to command without the slimmest doubt as to her own authority.
She realised the name Juli had coined seemed to have gained universal currency, at least in the office. Especially if Russell, who doubled as Housing Manager for Robert Owen, used it.
Now Juli was proceeding. “Three in the morning. Then it wasn’t a chip-pan. The Hartleys ?”
“Andra, I think: they owe him for the coke franchise, according to the cops. And Evan, young Evan, got in a fist-fight with his nephew Damien, and said he could whistle for his money until they made two grand.”
“Smart lad.”
“Oh I think it was the drink talking,” Russell said tolerantly, “His dad hit him with a spanner, and broke his little finger; spent ages on his mobile trying to apologise to Andra, the neighbours said, but he wouldn’t take his calls.”
“Andra’s a weird little cunt; but then it’s face again.” grossly misleading Lucy as to the fabulous Mr. Neill’s height. Unlike the popular conception of crime bosses, he was not 5 foot nothing in a hideous and hideously expensive suit, but 6’ 2”, and had allegedly been a paratrooper, and wore sports wear.
Russell looked slightly shocked, possibly at Juli’s language, but more likely at her plain speaking, because Andra was not a nice person, and for that reason people did not remind others, and least of all himself, of this fact.
“Still, I reckon he won’t want them out of the estate. This was a warning then.”
He looked sceptical: “Well, it was a very small blaze, considering; the Firemen arrived within a few minutes, but that might just have been providence. It won’t be structurally safe though for a bit, so we can’t put them back there. You don’t think he’ll do them over again ?”
“Nope, there’s still the franchise to work: and he won’t give it back to the Hartleys. Too much trouble.”
“Um, you’ve got a point.” reflectively, “Old Hartley’s clinically insane.”
“So was Margaret Thatcher, didn’t stop her. No, I was thinking of the fact none of them can get in a car without gunning it to 60, and that’s in built-up areas. Makes the police work easier. Tell you what: I’ll make a couple of calls to the estate, I may find out where they can go.”
He brightened. “Oh please, Juli. That’d be great.. Uum, to… ?”
“No doubt. On the other hand, I’d better be clear about this. It’ll be our lot picking up the insurance, right ?”
“Unless the Tolandses pay premiums more regularly than they pay him, which I doubt. Mind you, they’ll be in breach if they didn’t, and so we could wash our hands of them. Theoretically.”
“I can see it now in the News of the World: ‘Housing Association refuses to rehome Brave Family burnt out by Vicious Thugs’.”
He shuddered violently.
“So the point is I can’t proceed unless we are definitely not going to go to court willingly against anyone. If the Tolands go the estate will fall into the hands of the Hartleys. Which is pretty ghastly in itself; but then they’d come to go head-first against Neill sooner rather than later, especially since they don’t like him that much. I’d put money on Andra winning, but it would mean whatever the outcome the estate degeneration would accelerate massively.”
“Oh sod. I know, I know.” he acceded.
“Even if they didn’t run to some idiot young New Labour councillor, that crew would still enquire enough to possibly queer our pitch in buying that old motor track down at Sunwick from them, and they are delaying that long enough at any rate for us to up the price. If we can’t afford it that’s a hideous new set of 2 & 3-bedroomed undesirable residencies we won’t be able to spoil the view with.”
He started to stiffen, possibly at the split infinitive, and possibly at her unique and unkind beliefs on architecture, which he like most was never quite able to come to terms with; but then he just sighed.
“It’s up to you and Jimmie, and Jimmie’ll go along with what’s best, won’t he ?”
“All right, all right. I won’t contact the police with any suspicions: I wasn’t going to against Andra anyway; and I’ll back them up in whatever wild tale they can invent consistent with the Fire Service report. Andra’s men wouldn’t have used petrol anyway, and the cops were very snippy about the fact most of them were fully dressed. Some of them claimed they’d been to clubs, or staying with friends. I suppose they’ll have a story pretty soon. Even the women were dead schtumm just then, but that could be from shock I guess. Not a chip-pan confession: though they eat nothing else. But they’ll probably claim a cigarette was left burning somewhere.”
“If you see old Ian Toland, you might mention that one of his foul brats could have pulled some wires from the walls, if they inherit the full feeblemindedness of their maniac forebears.” Juli said meditatively. “Not in so many words of course.”
“Right.”
“The cops will be just as glad if you keep quiet… ”
“W’who-are-the-Tolandses,-an’-who-are-the-Hartleys,-an’-who-is-Andra ?” Lucy got out in a rush.
They glanced at each other.
“Lucy, remember I told you not to speak on any call from that place ? Just to hand it over to anybody who already knows it ?”
She nodded.
“One of the reasons is that some nasty people live there, and you may get a load of abuse. Really bad abuse.” Russell blew out his cheeks, wholly agreeing. “These people are not as bad as some,” — “Andra is.” he interposed — “Um, yeah, he is, but the Tolands and the Hartley are just two clans who have a hereditary hatred dating back as far, according to legend, as the 1950’s. Which is when the estate was created, I think. Andra is that Mr. Neill, I mentioned, and he runs a few of the rackets, mainly drugs, but a bit of fencing, around this area. He has friends everywhere, including the police, the local legal crew, local Councillors, and, according to some, providence, since no one can get anything on him. You will never meet him. I met him twice, both times with Russell here, and as Russell will tell you, while he wouldn’t do you harm, or anyone harm outside his rackets, he is a very annoying character.”
“B’but why don’t the police arrest all these people ?”
Russell laughed gurglingly.
“Three things: evidence, expedience, and they’ll be let out anyway.” stated Juli soothingly. “One day Andra will bop a policeman or something, or not pay someone, and then the police will bang him up for a few years, and he’ll come back and start as usual, or go mad, or someone else will take over.”
Lucy considered “But you jus’ said he took revenge ‘cos he was owed: he’d pay his own debts, woun’t he, to protect himself. If he owed another criminal.”
It was Juli’s turn to look shocked, just before she and Russell again exchanged certain looks. “Lucy, kid, never call anyone a criminal unless they’ve been convicted. And even then, after all it might have been wrongful or unsafe.”
“But,” indignantly, “You called him a, a… “
“He is that, but that’s my opinion. The other is libellous, and, don’t you think, a little hurtful ?”
Lucy got faintly pink, but before she could recover from this rebuke, Juli went on. “Anyway, firstly I don’t think Andra considers debts he owes have the same priority as stuff owed to him. Most of us feel this way; him more than most. Secondly, I wasn’t saying he wouldn’t pay a real debt in the underworld. That would be too important, I guess.”
“Who else then ?”
“I was thinkin’ about when he’s at the golf club.” demurely.
Russell got up, “Thanks for the coffee, Lucy. And Juli, I would be very grateful if you’d make those calls. It would be a god-send.”
He moved away more happily to off-load the insurance worry on a colleague. And to make a phone-call of his own to the Jaggers Posthouse, where already the travelling salesmen and adulterous couples had made clear their disgust and horror at the incursion of Tolandses, particularly the youth, the quieter element of which were playing footie in the corridors.
Since no-one had actually been hurt, Juli was more amused at another instance of human folly than saddened as she should have been. A drawback occurred for one who wanted to get through about 50 form letters, mainly boiler-plating, so that she could resume a glance at her book on Danton. Undoubtedly he was unspeakable, but she couldn’t really say he was the worst of the revolutionaries, he wasn’t a Girondin after all. If it had been a useful introduction to the perils of the urban proletariat for her young friend, it would have been something better digested in silence rather than a topic for squeaking.
Lucy asked lots of questions. Juli patiently explained that people are as they are. Further she refused to condemn. To her mind there was nothing wrong in clan warfare if you like that sort of thing. She also never condemned where there was no possibility of sending thunder-bolts oneself: since this was useless. Most situations are of this nature. She thought it would be quite nice if Mr. Neill would be shot or stabbed by some aggrieved citizen who believed in the individual’s right to choose, but didn’t feel strongly enough about him or his ilk to care either way. If all the world’s oppressors, public and private, were slain in a twinkling, their places would be filled in a few hours.
“If he’s boss, does he sort-of roam about with henchmen ?” enquired the romantic Lucy.
“Andra doesn’t live on the estate,” Juli said horrified, “got a neat little bungalow complex — well, bloody awful place actually — two miles out, you can see it from the bus, on the way to Crewe. Patio and swimming pool, though I doubt if he swims much. Must have cost about 400 K, probably double after the improvements.”
“Improvements ?”
Juli paused. “People like that have a lot of incidental expenses.”
“Oh.”
“On the other hand, I’m quite sure they allow enough to cover every little thing.” she added briskly. “And he’s certainly got cronies, but they roam about by themselves doing little errands. He sits back and awaits their return. Probably doing endless accounts. Which reminds me, buzz off and let me finish this rotten spread-sheet.” Regarding the screen with marked disfavour.
“So has he got a gang or not then ?”
Juli sighed. “More a collection of like-minded individuals. They don’t go out on jobs all together. The jobs just happen to benefit him most of all. He doesn’t deal mano-a-mano with the thugs of Medellin; I daresay he’d describe himself as an entrepreneur. He’s got a gang when they go to a pub, if that’s enough: and chaps don’t throw up near him or nick his wallet. Mind you, I think he’s got a consigliare, Quent Bartholemew, as well, but he’s basically a dull little accountant rather than an Organiser of Victories. Talking of which… “
“OK, OK, I’m goin’.” But it was evident Lucy was in a slight quandary: “Can I pinch one of your tea-bags ? Run out self.”
“Sure. Oh, if I’m doing these calls, I can’t come out at the lunch break, Lucy. You go off and enjoy yourself.”
“OK, can I get you anythin’ ?”
“Na.”
The wait till lunchtime seemed to go slowly for Lucy, not that it was any of her business. Still, she was wondering what sort of mysterious calls Juli would make that Russell seemed loath to embark on himself. Since Juli did not possess any especial influence with anyone, it just appeared to be recognised that she had a knack for finding stuff out, and utilising it: apart from being persuasive with morons. Or that portion of the human race she decided were such. Definitely more than half, unfortunately.
The girl herself put the matter outside her mind until 12:30, when those around began their exodus, her staring at the slowcoaches. One or two noticed she was waiting, not noticibly patiently, and asked what was up.
She explained she had to make a few calls for the Association’s good. And why in the lunch-hour ? One’s a local businessman. Really ? sceptically. When she mentioned Mr. Neill’s name they vanished. She glanced around, alone at last. She hadn’t even had to shoo Lucy away, disappointed as she was that Juli wouldn’t be coming along. Actually, Lucy had hung about until the others left, then disappeared herself.
Juli called. One to Andra. Both very courteous.
“Mr. Neill ? This is Miss Sanders from Killegway Housing Association.”
“Ah ken you fine. Doin’ well ?”
“Fine, better than the Tolands indeed. I daresay you may not know their house went up this morning.”
“Oh, Ah heard. Turrible business. But no-one hurt thank goad.”
“Aye.” Juli found as others that it was easy and tempting to slip into the idioms of those spoken to, without intending parody. “I hope their pets were OK, though.”
“I doubt if that bunch ever had a goldfish since the awld granda’s dawg passed away. But no, I think they had enough notice to get the important things oot.”
“Blessings be.”
“Eh ?”
“They will have to be rehoused as innocent victims of fortune. I’m wondering, would it be suitable anywhere on Robert Owen ? I don’t think they want to make a great trek anywhere.”
Silence. Then: “Sure, I guess so. I wasn’t thinkin’ masel’ they’d be goin’ far.”
“I expect they’ll regard it as one of life’s little learning lessons; and be as right as rain in a few months.”
“Mebbe.” he agreed understandingly.
“I want to be sure they won’t be as careless again.”
“Aye well, Ah’m quite sure o’ that. I promise.”
“I expect the police will be looking into the matter; but as far as we’re concerned, we’ll just be pursuing their insurance company if I can find the right documents, and they make no… untoward statements.”
He breathed very deeply.
“Ah’m a grateful man, ah care about the people on the estate.” Slightly uncertainly.
“Yes well, all I want is your advice, ken ? And they’d better be more careful.”
“Umm.”
“And that they’ll be polite to Mr. Pumpkiss when he comes to sort them out. And no more breaking into other tenant’s houses.”
“That seems fair. You know,” deploying the age-old get-out “I never like that sort of thing masel’”
“Yeah.” Politely accepting this exculpation, while not denying it’s validity, scarcely considering it a valid excuse for other modes of behaviour. “Anyway, I’m sure they’ll take your concern more seriously than they would mine or Mr. Pumpkiss’s. Let alone the cops.”
“Oh, the polis do a wonderful job considering.” A near rebuke, since Andra was a devout conservative, certainly as regarding his own property values.
“Considering they’re not B-Specials ?” meanly, as Andra was rumoured to have Orange connections.
There was a distinct silence; but undoubtedly fortunately Neill either decided high spirits were in order, or prudently felt it was not worth taking offence.
“Whatever. But I shall use my best endeavours to quieten things down on the estate, most certainly.”
“Well, thank you very much. I hope you and Mrs. Neill are both keeping well; I shall call you to mention where the Tolands will be offered a new house.”
“We are both well, thank you. Ah’ll take that as a kindness. I should reckon they’ll be needin’ a bigger hoose, ah was told a couple of the wimmin appeared to be expectin’” which was a genuine gift of generosity to those he so readily had injured.
Juli made a note: ‘Tolands in pod.’ “Goodness, I’ll remember that. Perhaps we should send one of those mobile Family Planning Units around the estate.”
“They’d probably eat anythin’ they gave out.”
“And the Family Planning Ladies too.” agreed Juli resignedly. There was a slight bleep on the line, and she wondered if he somehow had made or purchased a system for recording his mobile phone calls, not that she cared. “Well, goodbye. and be careful with the chip-pan won’t you ? Very easy things to forget, chips. I’ve had accidents myself.”
“I doubt that lassie.” and he chuckled not unkindly. “Goodbye, yoursel’.”
She smiled nicely to herself, a trifle unkindly. Then she picked up the phone again.
“Mrs. Fos ?”
“Yes.” with a timidity.
“This is Juli Sanders from the Association, I’ve had tea at your house a couple of times.”
“Oo’er ?”
It was evident that Mrs. Fos was quite hard of hearing, Juli had to speak up very intensely, which was another reason she had waited until the lunch-hour, Lucy didn’t have to be on an extension to hear at least one of the parties.
“Oh yes, dear, how are you ?”
“Very well, thanks. I’m calling about the Tolands, you’ll have heard… “
“Oh yes dear. Awful, but no creature hurt, I think. What awful things go on.”
“Awful things happen, particularly if Andra Neill’s anywhere about.”
“What, dear ?”
“Nuthin, tell me something, I’ve got to find another place to put them,”
“Back here ?” with horror.
“‘Fraid so. Personally I’d put them in Alaska, but there’s no real choice. They’ve always been there.”
“That’s not quite true, dear.” with the lust for instruction that overcomes everybody, “Me and my husband were among the first in 1953, when the estate was built; oh, it was such a nice place then,” she lamented, ‘I bet.’ thought Juli as sceptical as ever, “there weren’t none of these drugs about, and you could walk about on a summer night, and everyone was working. You should have seen it: when we moved in, it was like a dream come true after our old house, we didn’t have that nasty old landlord, he used to live right above us, such a tiny place it was, and so difficult to keep clean, he used to keep banging on the ceiling if the baby cried, that was Jackie, she was such a little love, very fat and bonny, but she would keep screaming, well, children will won’t they ?”
“Er… ”
“And George was so glad to have a garden, and when he came back from Korea, he was in the Air-Force, you know, I think I showed you his medals, he got a job immediately making machine-parts for lawn-mowers, that was before he went on and became foreman at Lewises, of course… ”
If she was unwittingly determined to make her auditor suffer just a little bit for bringing bad news, she succeeded. Juli never minded listening amiably, having found out early in life that it was one of the most important aspects of the absolute. And it happens even if you don’t like it. And also she had a fair interest in finding out. But one thing she could never get used to was rambling. That, and repetition, got on her nerves terribly. Hearing this over tea, sipped slowly if awful, on a friendly visit was one thing. She was always determined on the phone to get to the point as expeditiously as possible. After another four minutes she succeeded.
“Oh, the Tolandses, dear, well they came in 1957. Old Thom Toland wasn’t too bad, really. Very respectable old gentleman, worked on the railway all his life, and always wore a watch-chain in his waistcoat, don’t suppose you’ve ever seen one, have you, dear ? I can see him now, one of those frockcoats, which people didn’t wear much, even then, used to stroke his white moustache when he was talking to people, and he became a church-warden at St. Dominic’s. It was his son Ian who was a bad lot… ”
“Listen.” ruthlessly, “I’ve got to place them somewhere. I hope you can tell me all about them when I come over; but just now I want to ask you about which part of the estate will be most suitable.”
Mrs. Fos shut up immediately. Then she and Juli spoke more quietly and urgently Regarding the least desirable persons on the estate, with particular reference to dislike of animals, wife-beating, and dementia. Drug-taking, being commonplace, if one included draw; political vagaries; and car-theft, were not included in their consideration.
Every now and then massive waves of pale golden hair drifted down to tickle the desktop as Juli wrote a note down on her pad. Being of a neatly cast mind; and even if the information could not be utilised in this instance, it would be urgent material for persecution at some later date.
There were about 15 possibilities after a while, and as Mrs. Fos spoke Juli scanned an open map to get a feel for the ground.
“Geoff Makepiece, who turned his hose on the cat, was it a one-off, d’you think ?” she interrupted, with scrupulous fairness.
“Ooh no, dear. He’s often told Mrs. Tibbens that if she didn’t keep her Shelley out of his garden, he would strangle her.”
“Errm. Trouble is, don’t the people opposite have an autistic son ?”
“That’s right. Simon. I think perhaps not then, dear.”
“Karyn Potter chucked the hedgehog back, or her boyfriend ?”
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t make any difference, you said. Poor little thing.”
“Oh I know, but it’s nice to get it straight. If he’s living with her, I can set our legal lot on her for suspicion of taking rent.”
They cursorily glanced at each person once more, then Juli rang off, not before Mrs. Fos had exacted a promise to keep her word regarding coming over for tea again, within a week or so. It is probable that being consulted had improved her day, as since her husband died, time hung rather heavy.
Juli then made another, slightly more secretive phone-call to a sort of friend of her own age, a Jimmy Stanhope, who lived on the estate. Of studious habit, since he was on the dole, and had been since leaving school, he would have gladly prolonged the call, but the time was nearly up and the others would soon return, so she rang off apologetically. Then she began matching her jottings with a map of the estate, and a list of vacant properties, until she found a juncture that suited all things well. Tearing off a new sheet recklessly, pleased at having worked out a neat solution, she wrote down her conclusion and was gazing at it admiringly when the phone rang back. By two minutes, Andra had forestalled her.
“I was wondering lassie, how you got ma mobile number ? Ah’m no complainin’ mind, but it is meant to be off fra’ the listings.”
“Mr. Neill, just about to call you back myself.” Pleasedly. “Oh the mobile.” she thought a moment considering whom to nominate, “Well, I can’t be sure, and you won’t be saying I told you this ? Just between us ?”
“Aye. Don’ fash.”
“I think it was Ritchie Hartley who was kind enough to let me have it. The 19-yr-old, you know ? I happened to say I wanted to contact you over some rent arrears of your cousin, and he gave it out very generously; but that was ages ago, and the Association’s got your home-phone anyway. Well they would have.”
“Aye, they would.”
“Well.” she babbled on, “But he wasn’t doing anything wrong. I mean he let everyone have it. He’s very proud of being associated with… well you know what I mean.”
“Yes.” a bleak sough came rifting down the ether.
“Still, you won’t say I told you will you ? I don’t want to worry him.”
“No. But he shouldn’t have done it. Anyway Ah’m no blamin you. Anyway ye were sayin’ ?”
“Oh yes, Holland Road: there’s a vacant house. On one side a Mr. Open who joins in badger baiting with the Hartleys, of course the Tolands not being a major part of the Hartley fan-club, he may get some stick from them, but we needn’t worry about that.”
“Badger-baiting.” Even Neill had some ethics.
“Ouum, and on the other side there’s quite a respectable little family the Pakenhams, I would take it as a favour if you could indicate to the Tolands,” and getting a bit reckless, “before you next you give them a house-warming,” long pause “gift, that they might lay off the poor Pakenhams and not keep them awake at night. Their other new neighbour can take his chances.”
He broke out laughing, almost uncontrolled. “Ach aye. Ye’re a card, yung leddie. I’ll guarantee that. But this fella Open, badgers ye say ?”
“Um. Horribly cruel. But let’s hope he turns over a new leaf.”
“Aah well lassie, ah can tell you he may do an’ he may not. But one day he’ll regret sich cruelty. Ye see, ah always say whatever goes around comes around, Kharma you see.”
“Is that what you call it ?”
“Aye.” complacently as any Buddhist.
“Anyway there’s a lot of bad stuff on the estate if you like animals. I’ve just made a list of some offences, Open’s pretty nasty, but there are others.”
“Oh aye. Ah’m no an animal lover like you, but that stuff’s always unpleasant.” A pause. “I wouldn’t min’ seeing the list if you like.”
“Why certainly. I’ll send it along.”
“Ye can fax it now, sweetheart.” He read out the number “Since ye ha’ ma mobile.” dryly.
“OK, well see you about then.”
“Goodbye y’sel.” agreeably. And the matter had been concluded to mutual satisfaction; excepting Juli’s edited report for Jimmie and what records would be kept. Jimmie would certainly agree to any recommendation, even more because it swiftly disposed of an upsetting occurrence. What was good was that nothing had to be sold, since selling, as distinct from logical persuasion, wasn’t one of her skills.
Lucy considered Juli dangerously indiscreet regarding the mobile number. Even she, and she felt a little faint at talking to nasty people like these, would have had more sense than that. Couldn’t she have just said it happened to be in the address book ? Still, dismissing it from her mind, she was mainly concerned with how she could tag along to the next putative cup of tea at Mrs. Fos’s.
***
Later…
Just now her small friend had been divulging some of her family history and had proudly revealed Percy’s grandfather seemed to have been a Captain in the merchant marine; dad having said he ran a single ship from Cardiff, but not seeming to want to talk about it much. Juli had spluttered a little and said her coffee had gone the wrong way: brushing her soft pink skirt reflectively she had instantly vowed never to reveal that the venerable old sod would have been a bucket-shop promoter; Lucy seemed so romantic in her briny illusion, now staring out of the window thoughtfully. Later she thought it would probably be best, truth being the sweetest thing, and it not being that much worse than a regular job in the City. Juli’s musings on her putative gift were interrupted by Lucy enquiring how that clan-warfare thing worked out, were the Tolands homed now ?
“Like happy little felons in prison.” declared Juli, glad of the outcome. But Lucy spoilt it by casually asking if the person who flung a hedgehog on to a bonfire ( in this case rescued by another, who had kicked the thrower in the hip fortunately ) was still about the estate. Juli couldn’t recall mentioning any such thing to Lucy and a little fuzzy about what her new pal knew, cautiously told her that direct use of housing to punish was wicked as an abuse of power. Although it could be argued looking for a loop-hole to persecute someone for ill-treating either children or hedgehogs could be an infringement of that doctrine. No doubt what she meant was that depriving the wretch of their home, because one could, would be a step too far: making their lives more thoughtful was acceptable. Had the Tolands done in this instance, in her perview, something unforgivable, they might not have been so quickly rehoused. As it was, it was true, they were displaying their usual unquenchable thirst for living.
As to the Pakenhams, if they didn’t like their new neighbours, they gave no indication there was any cause for complaint, apart from noise, for which abatement the Council was responsible and sent around several vans for the monitoring thereof. The sound-levels created by the youngest offspring on seeing these kill-joys was enough in itself to warrant action. Unfortunately, as one of the Tolands remarked, music-centres may easily be confiscated: kids, although not replaceable within the hour, or any time less than ten months, cannot be. For the unfortunate Mr. Open, the few weeks before he was hit by a souped-up Ford were a living hell, and he was a frequent, and increasingly frantic, visitor to Hoggward House, where Juli always appeared to be the person who regretfully could not help. Which took the strain off her colleagues, as well as amusing her in her Teutonic-fun-sense; when he didn’t turn up for a few days running, they, very nearly most of them, felt almost concerned, as well as relieved: but he had something else to think about. Although, as Juli remarked to them all, not to any apparent disagreement, it was almost worth being in a hospital bed with a broken spleen and 3/4 limbs amending, if a Toland wasn’t in the next couch.
Juli posted a card with a drawing of a Badger sweeping her set, over-dressed in a pinnie and pearl necklace, to Mr. Open for when he regained consciousness. As she said, despite the fact she neither appended her nor the Association’s identity, beforehand kindly showing it to Jimmie, who did not, since she confided things on a need to know basis, get the joke, how would a Badger afford pearls ? And later on she determined a paperback copy of ‘The Cold Moons’ might cheer him up when able to sit up and realise the Hospital reading stock in Britain is never up to much. Following the truest of all injunctions, this charity too would claim no credit at all.
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