Get Carter (13 page)

Across on the other side of the table, near the wall next to a teak cocktail cabinet that was the only new piece of furniture in the room was a chair also facing the telly and in the chair sat a man with a glass in his hand who was looking at me with some surprise.

“Hello, Albert,” I said.

“Christ,” said Albert Swift, “Jack Carter.”

The last time I’d seen him was eleven years ago after I’d come out the wrong side of eighteen months. I’d gone to see him to get my old job back but eighteen months had been a long time. They’d got a new driver and Albert had liked him very much because he hadn’t any form. Albert had been very sympathetic but sympathy didn’t go very far. So for three years I’d worked on my own. Until I’d decided to move to the smoke. But there’d been no hard feelings between me and
Albert. In fact he’d let me have a few bob to see me clear. We’d known each other too long for hard feelings.

I’d met him when I was fifteen. He was three years older than me. He’d got a gang in Mortimer Street. A right tearaway was Albert. The first real tearaway I’d met. Me and Frank had been playing billiards at the Liberal club, a big chapel-like building on Kenworthy Road. There used to be two snooker tables and a table-tennis table and as many Dandelion and Burdocks as you could get down you. Only us kids used the place in the week. An old twat called Waller Havercroft looked after it. During the day he worked on the Dilly Cart and by Christ he hated us kids. Especially me. Anyway, me and Frank were playing billiards on the far table at the gloomiest end of the hall, and there was just the billiard light on and the light from Waller’s office at the other end and it was really snug, the green cloth had that silent cosiness and we were really enjoying ourselves, saying nowt, taking our time, watching the nice straight angles the billiard balls were tracing on the table. Then the door’d burst open and Albert Swift and his gang had walked in. Albert’d been wearing a wide-boy’s jacket, double breasted with padding all over the place, tartan shirt and brown corduroy trousers. He’d looked round the place and said, “Jesus.” One of his gang’d spat on the floor. Old Waller’d been going to come out of his office and shoot them out until he’d seen who it was. He’d got a bit of the way out of his room and then he’d tried to get back in again without them noticing. But they did. Albert had turned to Waller and very sarcastically had said:

“Oh yes?”

Waller, still retreating, turning away to go back into his room, had mumbled something about something or other.

“D’you what?” Albert’d said. Waller’d closed the half-door with the little ledge on top that you used to put the money on for your Dandelion and Burdock.

“Did you say something, Old Cock?” Albert’d said.

Waller’d shot the bolt and lowered his eyes. Albert had taken out a cig and put it in his mouth and lit it and kept the match going then he’d taken a penny banger from his top pocket and lit the blue touch paper.

“I say, Old Cock. Were you saying something to me?” he’d said.

Waller’d retreated farther back into his office but there hadn’t been all that much farther for him to go. The banger’d started zizzing furiously. Albert’d flicked the banger over the top of the half-door. Waller’d almost fallen over a crate of pop bottles trying to get out of the way. The banger had boomed. Waller had shrieked. Albert’s boys had laughed. One of them had taken another banger out and lit it and he’d tossed it in the office as well. Frank and me had stopped playing billiards the minute they’d come through the door. We’d been the only two kids in the place. Albert’d taken another banger from his top pocket. Frank’d put down his billiard cue and moved to the end of the table that was nearest the gang.

“I don’t think you ought to do that,” he’d said.

Albert’d turned to face him.

“And who the fuckin’ hell are you?”

Frank hadn’t answered.

“Eh?” Albert’d said.

Albert and the gang had walked over and stood in front of Frank.

“You could hurt somebody,” Frank’d said.

“Did anybody ask you, cunt?” Albert’d said.

Frank hadn’t answered. Albert’d leaned forward and patted Frank’s face and ruffled his hair.

“Think you’re clever, do you?” Albert’d said.

Frank hadn’t moved. He’d just stood there not saying anything. Albert’d pushed Frank so that Frank had to steady himself on the edge of the snooker table.

“Come on, then,” Albert’d said. “Are you off to do something about it?”

“I don’t fight,” Frank’d said.

“What do you do then?” Albert’d said. “Smack handies?”

They’d all laughed.

Albert’d lit the banger he’d taken out and offered it to Frank. Frank wouldn’t take it. Albert’d held the firework against Frank’s pullover and Frank’d tried to wriggle away from Albert but Albert had got him pinned against the snooker table. Just before the banger was due to go off Albert’d stuffed it down Frank’s pullover and jumped back. Frank’d managed to shake his pullover in time and the banger hadn’t exploded until it was about a foot from the floor in its fall from Frank’s pullover. Frank’d jumped up in the air to try to get out of the way. They’d all laughed. Frank’d pulled himself together and he’d walked back to where his cue had been and picked it up.

“Your shot, our kid,” he’d said, his voice shaking.

I’d felt sick. At that moment I’d hated Frank. I could have killed him. I’d lost everything I’d ever felt for him. He’d shown himself up. He hadn’t wanted to fight. He’d let Albert scare him by not doing anything. I’d felt like crying. I’d stared at him for a long time after he’d spoken.

Then Albert had begun walking round the corner of the table to where Frank was so I’d made the shot but I hit it as hard as I could so that the red flew off the table and just missed Albert. Albert’d stopped and looked at me. I’d straightened up and stared back.

“Sorry,” I’d said. “Me cue slipped.”

Albert’d carried on looking at me.

“Want to make owt of it?” I’d said.

“Jack,” Frank’d said.

“Fuck off,” I’d said. Then to Albert: “Come on then. Or are you frit?”

Albert’d bellowed with laughter.

“I eat four of you every day before breakfast,” he’d said.

I’d thrown my cue down and I’d run round the table to get at Albert but Frank had got to me first and he’d managed to hold me back.

“Your bloody kid’s got more spunk than you’ll ever have, cuntie,” Albert’d said.

Frank’d let me go and he’d turned to face Albert.

“Come on then,” Albert’d said. “Put ’em up.”

For a minute I’d thought Frank was going to stick up for himself. But he hadn’t tried to do anything. Albert had given him three or four quick punches that had put him on the floor and made his nose bleed. Frank had sat up and taken out his handkerchief and wiped his nose. I remember that seeing him do that made me realise something I’d always been aware of but never thought about; Frank always carried a clean handkerchief.

Then Albert had turned and walked away and his gang had followed. When he’d got as far as the door he’d paused. “Come on, Yukker,” he’d said. “Leave the pansy to his knitting circle.”

I’d looked down at Frank. He’d made no attempt to get up. He’d been looking at the spots on his handkerchief and at Albert’s words he’d looked up at me but he’d already guessed what I was going to do.

At that time, Albert Swift had been very good looking. He’d had black hair, well greased, and long sideboards. His teeth were white and he’d had very clear light grey eyes. The shape of his face had been sharp and square. The man who sat in the chair across the room on the other side of the kitchen table looked nothing like the man I’d known at that time. There was no hair on the top of his head though he still had his sideboards. His teeth were very brown. The sharp, clean features had sunk without trace, hidden behind lined fish-coloured skin. His eyes had a yellow tint and glowed red at the edges.

After he’d spoken, he sat there for a bit staring at me and the room while it sank in that Jack Carter was actually there standing in the room, living and breathing. Then when it finally got through he started to get up. No, that’s not quite right—an exaggeration. He gave the impression he was going to get up but there was no movement significant enough for
you to be able to guess that that was what he was going to do. His shirt might have creased a little bit but that was about all.

I walked round the kitchen table.

“Don’t get up, Albert,” I said.

Mentally he sank back in his chair. I opened out a metal garden chair that was propped up against the table and sat down and lit a fag.

Albert didn’t look very well at all.

“How are you keeping, Albert?” I said.

“Not too bad,” he said. “You know.”

There was a silence.

“Jack Carter,” he said. “Who’d have thought it?”

“Didn’t you know I was in town?”

“Well, you know, I don’t get out any more, Jack.” He tapped his chest. “Me tubes. I stop at home and keep warm. I only get to know what Lucille tells me.”

I looked at the woman in curlers who was still staring at the television.

“No,” he said, “Lucille, the wife—that’s Greer, her sister.”

Greer carried on with her staring.

“I didn’t know you’d got married, Albert,” I said.

“Well …” he said. “I mean, you have to, don’t you?” He smiled in a certain way. “You get too old for work, don’t you.”

“What are you doing these days then?” I asked.

“Nowt much. This and that. Anything I can fix up without getting out of me chair.”

“You’re very lucky,” I said.

“Not really,” he said. “Not my own choosing. Doctor’s orders. I miss the old life.”

There was a silence.

“You’re looking good, Jack,” he said. “Very good. I hear you’re doing very well.”

“Oh, you’ve heard that much,” I said.

“Heard that years ago, Jack. When I was out and about.”

A door opened. The door was at the opposite end of the kitchen from where the telly was. I looked round and Albert half turned his head. A man and a woman came through
the door. The man was wearing a donkey jacket and overalls. He had a knapsack over his shoulder. He lit a fag as he came through the door. The woman was wearing a man’s tartan dressing gown. I wouldn’t know what she was wearing underneath. Her hair was ginger and naturally it was in curlers. She was already half-way down a Woodbine. The man in the donkey jacket began to walk towards the back door. The old bird who’d let me in had been sitting on another of those garden chairs pushed up against the kitchen table. The minute the bloke started for the door the old bird got up off her seat and stood in his way.

“Would you like to give something to Ma?” said the woman in the man’s dressing gown.

The bloke stopped and put his fag in his mouth and undid his donkey jacket, took a roll of notes out of the top pocket of his overalls, peeled off a ten bob note and gave it to the old bird. The old bird took the money and sat down again without saying anything. The bloke continued on his way to the door.

“Goodnight, Len,” said Albert. “See you again.”

The bloke nodded and went to open the door but before he could get his hand to it the oldest of the little girls jumped up from the floor and shot across the kitchen and opened it for him.

“Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight,” she shrieked, grinning all over her face.

“Goodnight,” the bloke said to her, and went out. The little girl beamed all round the room and went and sat down again.

“ ’Jack,” said Albert, “meet the wife. Lucille, this is Jack Carter. Friend of mine from the old days.”

“ ’Lo,” said Lucille.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said. I didn’t stand up.

She walked round the table and got a chair that had been standing underneath the window and put it next to the stool where Greer was sitting.

“ ’Lo, Lucille,” said Greer.

“ ’Lo, Greer,” said Lucille.

“I’ve brought Club,” said Greer and reached down to her shopping bag that was on the floor by her stool and took out one of those big mail order catalogues and she and Lucille began to go through it. Albert threw his fag into the fireplace and took his packet out of his cardigan pocket and offered one to me but I was already on. He took one for himself and lit up. Outside there was the sound of a motor cycle starting up.

“You heard about Frank, of course,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, inhaling. “Bad business.”

“You think so?” I said.

“Why yes,” he said.

“What do you know about it, Albert?” I said.

“What do I know about it?”

“That’s right.”

“What I saw in the paper. That’s what I know about it. Same as everybody else.”

“Stop playing silly buggers, Albert. You know Frank was finished off on purpose.”

Albert looked me straight in the eyes.

“That’s a very interesting remark, Jack,” he said.

“Put it another way; if Frank was knocked off then you’d know that that was the case. Wouldn’t you? Just as you knew I was in town and just as you’d know that I wouldn’t leave until I’d squared things up. And I know Frank was knocked off. So there you are.”

Albert blew out a lot of smoke.

“It doesn’t really matter if you don’t want to tell me anything, Albert,” I said, “because I’d understand. But do me a favour. Don’t play silly buggers.”

Albert looked towards Lucille and Greer but our talk was strained by the row from the telly and their own chatter so there was no need for him to worry.

“Jack,” he said, “all I know is that it struck me as being a bit funny. Knowing Frank. The circumstances, like. But if I did know anything for certain that summat like that’d
happened, then you know it would be very hard for me to tell you anything about it.”

There was a silence.

“Who was it, Albert?” I said after a while.

Albert kept looking at me. He didn’t say anything.

“All right,” I said. “I shan’t ask you again.”

I lit up a fresh fag.

“Then tell us this; who’s Thorpey working for these days?”

Albert inhaled.

“Thorpey?” he said. “Steelworks Thorpey?”

“Steelworks Thorpey.”

“Isn’t he still working for himself, then?”