The Ballad of Peckham Rye (15 page)

‘No, I must inquire. Come inside, please. What name?’

‘Miss Coverdale.’

Miss Frierne left Miss Coverdale in that hall which was lined with wood like a coffin.
The sound of the typewriter stopped. Dougal’s voice called down from the second
landing, ‘Come up.’ Miss Frierne frowned in the direction of his voice.
‘Top floor,’ she said to Merle.

‘I’m miserable. I had to see you,’ Merle said to Dougal. ‘What a
nice little room you’ve got here!’

‘Why are you not at work?’ Dougal said.

‘I’m too upset to work. Mr Druce is talking of leaving the country for good.
What should I do?’

‘What do you want to do?’ Dougal said.

‘I want to go with him but he won’t take me.’

‘Why not?’

‘He knows I don’t like him.’

Dougal stretched himself out on the top of his bed.

‘Does Mr Druce mention any date for his departure?’

‘No, there’s nothing settled. Perhaps it’s only a threat. But I think
he’s frightened of something.’

Dougal sat up and placed one hand within the other. He shortened his eyesight and peered
at Merle with sublime appreciation. ‘Dougal,’ he said, ‘there is a
little place in Soho, would you not come to spend the evening and have a chat? Mrs Druce
is just a bit difficult, she watches —’

‘Oh, don’t,’ Merle said. ‘It brings everything back to me. I
can’t tell you how I hate the man. I can’t bear him to be near me. And now,
after all these years, the best years of my life, the swine talks of leaving
me.’

Dougal lay back with his arms behind his head. ‘What’s he frightened
of?’ he said.

‘You,’ Merle said. ‘He’s got hold of the idea that you’re
spying on him.’

‘In what capacity?’

‘Oh, I couldn’t say.’

‘Yes, you could.’

‘If you’re working for the police, Dougal, please tell me. Think of my
position. After all, I told you about Mr Druce in all innocence and if I’m going
to be dragged into anything —’

‘I’m not working for the police,’ Dougal said.

‘Well, of course, I knew you wouldn’t admit it.’

‘What guilty wee consciences you’ve all got,’ Dougal said.

‘Don’t do anything about Mr Druce, will you? The Board are just waiting for
an excuse, and if they get to know about his deals and all that it will only come back
on me. Where will I stand if he emigrates?’

‘Who tipped Druce off? Was it Trevor Lomas?’

‘No, it was Dixie, the little bitch. She’s been going in and out to Mr Druce
a lot behind my back.’

‘Ah well. Take some shorthand dictation, will you, as you’re here?’ He
got up and fetched her a notebook and a Biro pen.

‘Dougal, I’m upset.’

‘There’s nothing like work to calm your emotions. After all, you should be
working at this moment. Are you ready? Tell me if I’m going too fast:

“Peckham was fun exclamation mark but the day inevitably dawned when I realized
that I and my beloved pals at the factory were poles apart full stop The great throbbing
heart of London across the river spelt fame comma success comma glamour to me full stop
I was always an incurable romantic exclamation mark New para The poignant moment arrived
when I bade farewell to my first love full stop Up till now I had had eyes for no others
but fate — capital F — had intervened full stop We kissed dot dot dot a
shudder went through my frame dot dot dot every fibre of my being spoke of gratitude and
grief but the budding genius within me cried out for expression full stop And so we
parted for ever full stop New para I felt a grim satisfaction as the cab which bore me
and my few poor belongings bowled across Vauxhall Bridge and into the great world
— capital G capital W — ahead full stop Yes comma Peckham had been fun
exclamation mark” Now, leave a space, please, and —’

‘What’s all this about?’ Merle said.

‘Don’t fuss, you’re putting me off.’

‘God, if Mr Druce thought I was working in with you, he’d kill me.’

‘Leave a space,’ Dougal said, ‘then a row of dots. That denotes a new
section. Now continue. “Throughout all the years of my success I have never
forgotten those early comma joyful comma innocent days in Peckham full stop Only the
other day I came across the following paragraph in the paper —” Hand me the
paper,’ Dougal said, ‘till I find-the bit.’

She passed him the newspaper. ‘Dougal,’ she said, ‘I’m
going.’

‘Surely not till you’ve typed it out for me?’ he said. ‘There
isn’t much more to take down.’

He found the paragraph and said, ‘Put this bit in quotation marks. Are you ready?
“The excavations on the underground tunnel leading from the police-station yard at
Peckham are now nearing completion full stop The tunnel comma formerly used by the nuns
of the Order of St Bridget comma stretches roughly six hundred yards from the police
station bracket formerly the site of the priory unbracket to Gordon Road and not comma
as formerly supposed comma to Nunhead. Archaeologists have reported some interesting
finds and human remains all of which will be removed before the tunnel is open to the
public quite shortly full stop end quotes.”’

‘Is this a police report?’ Merle said. ‘Because if so I don’t
want to do it, Dougal. Mr Druce would —’

‘Only a few more words,’ Dougal said. ‘Ready? New paragraph “When
I read the above tears started to my eyes full stop How well did I recall every detail
of that station yard two exclamation marks The police in my day were far from
—”’

‘I can’t go on,’ Merle said. ‘This is putting me in a difficult
position.’

‘All right, dear,’ Dougal said. He sat up and stroked her long neck till she
started to cry.

‘Type it out,’ Dougal said, ‘and forget your troubles. It’s a
nice typewriter. You’ll find the paper on the table.’

She sat up to the table and typed from her shorthand notes.

Dougal lay back on his bed. ‘There is no more beautiful sight,’ he said,
‘than to see a fine woman bashing away at a typewriter.’

‘Is Mr Douglas in?’

‘He’s up in his room writing out his reports. He’s busy.’

‘Can I go up?’

‘I’ll see if it’s convenient. But he’s busy. Come inside, please.
What name?’

‘Elaine Kent.’

‘Come up,’ Dougal called from the second landing.

‘You may go up,’ Miss Frierne said. ‘Top floor.’ Miss Frierne
stood and watched her climbing out of sight.

‘You’ve been putting too much water in the plant,’ Elaine said, feeling
the soil round the potted ivy. ‘You should water it once a week only.’

‘People come here to cry,’ Dougal said, ‘which accounts for an excess
of moisture in this room.’

She took a crumpled brown-paper bag from her shopping basket. They were Dougal’s
socks which had been washed and darned.

‘There’s talk going round about you,’ Elaine said. ‘Makes me
laugh. They say you’re in the pay of the cops.’

‘What’s funny about it?’

‘Catch the Peckham police boys spending their money on you.’

‘Oh, I would make an excellent informer. I don’t say plain-clothes policeman,
exactly, but for gathering information and having no scruples in passing it on you could
look farther than me and fare worse.’

‘There’s a gang watching out for you,’ Elaine said. ‘So be
careful where you go at nights. I shouldn’t go out alone much.’

‘Terrifying, isn’t it? I mean, say this is the street and there’s
Trevor over there. And say here’s Collie Gould crossing the road. And young Leslie
comes up to me and asks the time and I look at my watch. Then out jumps Trevor with a
razor — rip. rip, rip. But Collie whistles loud on his three fingers. Leslie gives
me a parting kick where I lie in the gutter and slinks after Trevor away into the black
concealing night. Up comes the copper and finds me. The cop takes one look, turns away,
and pukes on the pavement. He then with trembling fingers places a whistle to his
lips.’

‘Sit down and stop pushing the good furniture about,’ she said.

‘I’ve gone and worked myself up with my blether,’ Dougal said. ‘I
feel that frightened.’

‘Leslie was waiting for Mr Willis at five o’clock the day before he went on
his holidays. I saw him standing behind Mr Willis’s car. So I hung on just to see.
And then Mr Willis came out. And then Leslie came forward. And then Leslie said
something and Mr Willis said something. So I walked past. I heard Mr Willis say,
“Have you left school?” and Leslie said, “What’s that to
you?” and Mr Willis said, “I should want to know a good deal more about you
before I took notice of what you say” — or it was something like that, Mr
Willis said. And then Mr Willis drove away.’

‘Ah well,’ Dougal said, ‘I expect to be leaving here next month. Will
you cry when I’m gone?’

‘I’d watch it.’

‘Come on out to the pictures,’ Dougal said, ‘for fine evening though it
is I am inclined for a bit of darkness.’ On the way out he picked up a letter
postmarked from Grasse. He read it going down the street with Elaine.

Dear Douglas,

We arrived on Saturday night. The weather is perfect and this is quite a pleasant hotel
with delightful view. The food is quite good. The people are very pleasant, at least so
far! We have had one or two pleasant drives along the coast. Quite frankly, Richard
needs a rest. You know yourself how he forces himself and is so conscientious.

Richard is very pleased with the arrangements we came to the other evening. It will be so
much better to have someone to support him as there are so many Drovers in the firm now.
(I almost think, quite frankly, the firm should be called Drover, Drover, Drover Willis
instead of Drover Willis!) I hope you yourself are satisfied with the new arrangements.
Richard instructed the accountant before he left about your increase and it will be
back-dated from the date of your joining the firm as arranged.

I feel I ought to tell you of an incident which occurred just before we left, although,
quite frankly, Richard decided not to mention it to you (in case it put you off!). A
young boy in his teens waylaid Richard and told him you were a paid police informer
employed apparently to look into the industries of Peckham in case of irregularities. Of
course, Richard took no notice, and as I said to Richard, there would hardly be any
reason for the police to suspect any criminal activities at Drover Willis’s! Quite
frankly, I thought I would tell you this to put you on your guard, as I feel I can talk
to you, Douglas, as to a son. You have obviously made one or two enemies in the course
of your research. That is always the trouble, they are so ungrateful. Before the war
these boys used to be glad of a meal and a night’s shelter, but now quite frankly
…

Dougal put away the letter. ‘I am as melancholy a young man as you might meet on a
summer’s day,’ he said to Elaine, ‘and it feels quite nice.’

They came out of the pictures at eight o’clock. Nelly Mahone was outside the pub
opposite, declaiming, ‘The words of the double-tongued are as if they were
harmless, but they reach even to the inner part of the bowels. Praise be to the Lord,
who distinguishes our cause and delivers us from the unjust and deceitful
man.’

Dougal and Elaine crossed the road. As they passed, Nelly spat on the pavement.

M
ERLE
C
OVERDALE
said to Trevor Lomas, ‘I’ve only been
helping him out with a few private things. He’s good company and he’s
different. I don’t have much of a life.’

‘Only a few private things,’ Trevor said. ‘Only just helping him
out.’

‘Well, what’s wrong with that?’

‘Typing out his nark information for him.’

‘Look,’ Merle said, ‘he isn’t anything to do with the police. I
don’t know where that story started, but it isn’t true.’

‘What’s this private business you do for him?’

‘No business of yours.’

‘We got to carve up that boy one of these days,’ Trevor said.
‘D’you want to get carved alongside of him?’

‘Christ, I’m telling you the truth,’ Merle said. ‘It’s only
a story he’s writing for someone he calls Cheese that had to do with Peckham in
the old days. You don’t understand Dougal. He’s got no harm in him.
He’s just different.’

‘Cheese,’ Trevor said. ‘That’s what you go there every Tuesday
and every Friday night to work on.’

‘It’s not real cheese,’ Merle said. ‘Cheese is a person, it
isn’t the real name.’

‘You don’t say so,’ Trevor said. ‘And what’s the real
name?’

‘I don’t know, Mr Lomas, truly.’

‘You won’t go back there,’ Trevor stated.

‘I’ll have to explain to him, then. He’s just a friend, Mr
Lomas.’

‘You don’t see him again. Understand. We got plans for him.’

‘Mr Lomas, you’d better go. Mr Druce will be along soon. I don’t want
Mr Druce to find you here.’

‘He knows I’m here.’

‘You never told him of me going to Dougal’s, week-nights?’

‘He knows, I said.’

‘It’s you’s the informer, not Dougal.’

‘Re-member. Any more work you do for him’s going to go against
you.’

Trevor trod down the stairs from her flat with the same deliberate march as when he had
arrived, and she watched him from her window taking Denmark Hill as if he owned it.

Mr Druce arrived twelve minutes later. He took off his hat and hung it on the peg in her
hall. He followed her into the sitting-room and opened the door of the sideboard. He
took out some whisky and poured himself a measure, squirting soda into it.

Merle took up her knitting.

‘Want some?’ he said.

‘I’ll have a glass of red wine. I feel I need something red, to buck me
up.’

He stooped to get the bottle of wine and, opening a drawer, took out the corkscrew.

‘I just had a visitor,’ she said.

He turned to look at her with the corkscrew pointing from his fist.

‘I daresay you know who it was,’ she said.

‘Certainly I do. I sent him.’

‘My private life’s my private life,’ she said. ‘I’ve never
interfered with yours. I’ve never come near Mrs Druce though many’s the time
I could have felt like telling her a thing or two.’