Give The Devil His Due (7 page)

       We carried on bouncing our way to London, videoless and unrefreshed, Enid reading Harold Robbins while I nodded off from time to time. Eventually we rolled into London Victoria. I looked at my watch; 3.38 p.m. Barry was
The Man
and although Alvin would probably disagree, having had to sit in a wet and smelly pair of trousers during the last part of the journey, for the rest of us, Bazza’s driving was spot on.

       By the time I’d said goodbye to Enid and disembarked, Barry had already unloaded most of the luggage from the lower side lockers. I grabbed one of my bags. I was about to pick up the second when a hand reached from behind me.

       ‘I'll have that.’ It was Peachy. ‘How was the journey then, Will?’

       ‘Not bad, apart from a spoilt brat across the aisle from me.’

       Just as the words crossed my lips, Tasha stepped past me and took a holdall from Barry. She turned around, gave me a snotty look. I thought
It's no good looking at me like that; you bred him love!
I hadn't realised she was nearby when I’d said it, but that still didn't alter the fact he was spoilt.

       She walked away with Alvin in tow and was soon out of earshot, Peachy said, ‘Let me guess – mother and brat?’

       ‘Peach, you are definitely a man with his finger on the pulse.’

       With a nod of affirmation, Peachy acknowledged my evaluation regarding his skills
de la perception
.

       ‘And now?’ I was curious to know what was next on the itinerary.

       ‘Well, we could stay here, have a sherbet or two and then make our way up to the gaff, or we could go now and have a drink when we're a bit closer to home. This time of day it's starting to get busy, so we're probably better off getting a move on,  rather than hanging about, but as you’re the guest it’s your choice?’

       ‘I’m a stranger in a strange land.’ I shrugged my shoulders and opened my palms.

       ‘It’s tube or bus. If we go by bus, the view's better, but it'll take longer.’

       ‘I leave it to you Peach.’

       ‘Tube it is then.’

       We travelled on the Circle line up to Paddington and changed on to the Bakerloo line. One stop later and Trev gave the order, ‘Shift, we're getting off.’

       I obeyed Trev’s command. We were at Warwick Avenue tube station. A short walk later and he revealed all.

       ‘This is where I live.’ We were in Little Venice. The houses were elegant and there were boats everywhere.

       ‘Where exactly, Peach?’

       ‘On there.’ Peachy pointed.

***

Give The Devil His Due
was Peachy’s narrowboat and his home. If I had to guess, she must have been nearly sixty feet long.

       Resting on the roof were plants, some of which I recognised; parsley, bay, chives – Peachy's herb garden. Next to it, a reasonable quantity of chopped wood with a tarp draped over.

       The stern had quite a large deck area, it could comfortably accommodate a good size table and chairs if ‘one’ fancied a meal
al fresco
, though at that moment the space was being used for a different purpose. It was home to Peachy's motorbike. There was a heavy-duty hoisting arm bolted on to the deck. The device could swing Peachy’s wheels out on to the towpath, should he feel the need to travel by road anywhere.

       The boat was painted a deep royal blue with gold coachlines. I looked at her and wondered what she was like below deck. Trev led the way.

       ‘Watch your step Will.’

       I climbed on at the bow end. We went through a pair of little doors that opened outwards. I stepped inside and immediately noticed that everywhere was fitted out in beautiful wood. The ceiling and sides were tongue and groove; the floor, wooden floorboards.

       ‘What
is
all that?’ I asked.

       ‘The wood?’

       I nodded.

       ‘American oak.’

       To my right was a little stove. Peachy invited me to explore. ‘Take a look around Will.’

       I walked through the boat leaving the saloon and came to the galley. It was much nicer than my kitchen. Trev had what looked like an Aga and a Belfast sink. I was shocked. I went through the first cabin which again had the wood-thing going on. Little portholes provided natural light, gleaming brass fittings adorned every door and drawer.

       I carried on into the walkthrough bathroom, from which the occupant could lock the door to either adjoining cabin.
Very clever
I thought; and then into the next cabin. This was obviously the Master stateroom. Who said people were roughing it on boats!

       ‘How did you discover this lifestyle then, Peach?’

       ‘It's a long story, but to cut it short: when I was working at the BBC I had to research for a documentary on Little Venice and live-aboards. We went on a number of the boats and I fell in love. That was it, I decided to take the plunge and move from dry land to a life on the ocean wave!’ You had to take your hat off to him. He'd got a house-and-a-half here. The clock had been ticking; it was now past five.

       ‘Yours is the cabin next to the galley, Will.’ I’d guessed correctly. ‘Stow your kit then we'll go ashore and get some grog down you.’ Was I going to be in for nauticalisms all night, I asked myself, or would Peachy knock it on the head after the first swig of rum?

       I decided to join in. With my best Roger-the-cabin-boy voice I replied, ‘Aye, aye cap'n.’

***

By the time we got back on board it was dark. The boat didn't look half as inviting as when I'd first viewed her in the afternoon. I sat down. Peachy opened the little stove and lit the fire. Within seconds the interior of the boat was transformed by a warm glow. It looked amazing. The aroma of the wood burning and the crackle from behind the glass just added the finishing touch to the atmosphere. Trev turned the galley lights on and handed me a bottle of Rioja.

       ‘Crack that open Will. Corkscrew's in the drawer over there.’ I duly obliged. Peachy was busying himself with some sort of casserole dish in the fridge. ‘Here's one I prepared earlier. This morning as a matter of fact.’

       ‘What is the delicacy of which I am about to partake?’ I asked.

       ‘
Coq au Vin
.’ He took the dish and put it in the oven. I sat down again in one of the easy chairs. As Peach laid the table, I poured the wine. He then walked over and joined me.

       ‘Should be just right in about forty-five minutes.’

       ‘Here, this one's yours.’ I passed him a wine glass. ‘This is very nice stuff, Peach. Where did you get it, if you don't mind me asking?'

       ‘No I don't mind. A colleague of mine goes to Spain three or four times a year and brings home a car load, so I usually strong-arm him for an order.’

       ‘Oh?’

       ‘Yes, Senior Archivist has its perks, one of them being I'm in charge of the work and holiday rotas so he knows better than to refuse.’

       ‘A bit like Don Corleone then?’

       ‘Sort of, but I haven't resorted to putting a horse head in his bed just yet.’

       ‘He's got race horses, this colleague, has he?’

       ‘No, but he's got a cat!’

       I had visions of Peachy trying to lure some librarian's poor, unsuspecting cat with a saucer of milk in one hand, meat cleaver in the other (hidden behind his back) ready to lop the bloody thing’s head off as soon as it bent down to drink.

       By the time we'd chatted for a few minutes, the smells of dinner were filling the boat, I was beginning to salivate. This man could obviously cook. I sipped the fine wine and felt totally relaxed. We were set up. A very enjoyable and civilised evening ahead of us.

       ‘Peach, what happens when the electricity runs out?’

       ‘It doesn't. I've got a little generator at the stern, if I need to charge the main batteries off the engine, I can – even in the middle of the night.’

       ‘What about noise?’

       ‘There's hardly any at all. The boat's got a hospital silencer fitted. It's whisper quiet.’

       ‘And gas?’

       ‘There’re two big bottles in the bow and they last ages, so don't worry.’

       I wasn't worried, just curious. This boat totally amazed me.

       ‘Forget the barge for a minute, Will. There's a problem we need to talk about.’

       Oh dear, this sounded ominous. I could tell by the sound of Peachy's voice it was not something trivial.

       ‘What's that then?’

       ‘It's Neil. He's homeless.’

       I was speechless.

Chapter 6

Friday 7.30 p.m. London
When I met Neil at the reunion, something hadn't seemed quite right, but to think of our old friend sleeping rough and living on charity was more than depressing.

       ‘Are you sure Peach?’

       ‘Pretty much. I saw him the day before you first rang me at the office. I know I said nothing was wrong, but it wasn't something I wanted to discuss over the phone.’

       I could understand that. ‘How did you find out?’

       ‘I was visiting one of our repositories in the East End. I came out of a tube station, and there he was.’

       ‘What, on a bench?’

       ‘No, he was selling
The Big Issue
. I'm almost positive he clocked me, even though I was quite a distance away, because he turned and made tracks at speed. In no time at all he’d disappeared. Even if I’d got to him before he hurried off, I’d have had no idea what I was going to say.’

       I was shell-shocked, and losing my appetite. The thought of Neil under a bridge somewhere leading a miserable existence was getting me down.

       ‘You're closer to him than either Phil or me, Peach. Why didn’t he tell you?’

       ‘Neil is a very proud man. For him to admit that he'd been to prison in front of everyone at the reunion must have been a huge ordeal. When I heard him say it, I was surprised. Maybe he was gauging our reactions, and decided by the look on our faces not to tell us about the homeless thing.’

       It all seemed to make sense now; the not-wanting-to-travel-together. I bet he was hitching, because he didn't have any money for the train fare.

       ‘Do you know where he is now?’

       ‘I haven't got a clue. I tried ringing his mum, but there was no reply. Maybe she's away. But by the manner in which he scuttled off when he saw me, he obviously feels ashamed of his situation.’

       Peachy was probably right.

       ‘I got to thinking afterwards. Even if I do contact her and she asks him to get in touch, he's probably not going to. I'm too close to him. I reckon he feels more embarrassed at the thought of me knowing than anyone else.’

       Maybe there was another solution. ‘What if I try and reach him?’

       Peach smiled. ‘I was hoping you'd say that.’

       Suddenly something occurred to me. ‘When did his drink-driving conviction and the prison thing take place?’

       ‘I can't remember exactly. I got so shit-faced the night we got back together a lot of what we talked about became a blur; why do you need to know?’

       ‘Because if he’s got a current driving licence and the conviction is far enough back, it might be possible to get him a badge.’

       ‘What do you mean – a badge?’

       ‘A cabbie's badge. Where I drive, it's not like London. You don’t have to spend two years doing
The Knowledge
. If Neil was up for it, he could probably get a badge within a couple of weeks and be on the road earning. He could stay with me till he's fully back on his feet.’

       Peachy's face was beginning to light up.

       ‘I know the local taxi inspector pretty well and could vouch for Neil if there were any misgivings at the licensing office, especially with the jail thing. Plus, if he stayed with me, he'd have a proper address.’

       Peachy was thinking, he had a question, ‘What about a cab? They're expensive to buy. I'm strapped at the moment and I know you were moaning about your debts. I doubt if Phil has got a spare fifteen or twenty grand lying about the place.’

       ‘It's not a problem, Peach. I own mine, but you don't have to be an owner-driver. There are owners out there that have twenty or so cars. Neil could hire one of those. Everything he makes after his fuel and the weekly hire charge would be his.’

       He was nodding, and really getting into this. Of course, there was just one small stumbling block. ‘Right. Now we've got Neil's life mapped out for him, don't you think we ought to tell him?’

       ‘Yeah. So, what do you think is the best way to go about it?’ The ball was back in my court.

       ‘Well, I don't think anything should be done until I've talked to the inspector. If he says no, it'll be a big balls-up and back to square one. Say we manage to get hold of Neil and let him think he's got this great opportunity to turn his life round and then his hopes are dashed because I’ve cocked up the red-tape part of things, it could push him over the edge.’ Peach took my point but was still trying to put the whole picture together.

       ‘What about his folks, do you think they’re aware he's homeless?’ I could only offer him conjecture at this point.

       ‘I'm guessing not. You know he didn't get on too well with his old man. He was always putting Neil down as a failure. That's why Burnsie developed the in-your-face salesman persona. If he’s as proud as you say, I'm guessing he's managed to keep it from them. No doubt he rings them from time to time, but I'm betting they don't know where he is. They can't have a phone number for him, can they?’

       ‘You could be right there Will.’

       ‘Look, here's what I think we should do ...’

***

We decided that I would first OK everything with the licensing office then get in contact with Neil's mum. I'd tell her to ask Neil to ring me because I needed his advice on something and that it was really important. I’d leave it vague in the hope Neil would return my call. Once I'd got him on the line I could do the job/house offer thing. If he hung up after that, at least he'd heard it and hopefully he’d want to get his life back on track.