The Criminal Escapades of Geoffrey Larkin (5 page)

‘Move dummy!' repeated Higgins, following up his cousin's remark with a push in Harry's chest, this however had no effect on Harry's solid stance.

By now a crowd had silently gathered around the trio, waiting in expectation for the outcome of this encounter, they too were hoping that something was about to happen that would break the monotony of the daily routine.

Another push, this time from Norton and much harder than the first, had the same negative affect on Harry. Seeing there was no reaction from the big lad gave the gang extra courage.

Norton threw a punch at Harry that hit him on the shoulder and another punch from Higgins hit him in the stomach. Harry still didn't retaliate so the rest of the gang piled in, throwing punches in the general direction of the still upright Harry Sutton. The gang were really in one another's way being so close together and could not get a lot of power behind their hail of blows that rained in on the unfortunate Harry.

Harry in the meantime had taken a lot of punches and was slow to react but when he had decided what he was going to do, he did it with amazing speed for such a large heavy youth. His two great hands shot out, grabbing Wilf Norton and one of the gang by the collars of their shirts. Closing his hands Harry banged both of his assailants' heads together letting the semi-conscious boys drop, then he continued with his arm in a flowing motion back-handing another one of the gang in the nose, who was unfortunate to be the closest to him and not fast enough to move out of the way.

Then, grabbing the surprised Dave Higgins in a great bear hug, he squeezed and squeezed and squeezed! There were only two words Dave Higgins could say before he ran out of oxygen,

‘Help me.' These were directed at the other two in the group who had quickly stepped back when they saw what was happening to their friends. But now they attacked Harry with renewed fury, punching and kicking at the big lad in a vain attempt to force him to release Higgins, whose face was by now the same colour as his bright red hair, and whose struggles, which initially had been quite violent, had now become quite feeble.

Harry eventually released Dave Higgins who collapsed on the ground gasping for breath. The two remaining members stopped their onslaught as soon as they saw Harry's arms were free; stepping back to join their dazed friend with the bloody nose standing several feet away, the wind had gone out of their sails and they obviously did not want the same treatment as their leader.

The other two members of the gang were still on the ground in a kneeling position, holding their throbbing and very sore heads alongside Higgins who had now struggled to his knees, still holding his chest and gasping in great mouthfuls of oxygen.

Even though his nose was trickling blood, his lip was badly swollen and his left eye was rapidly closing, Harry Sutton had not moved. He still stood in exactly the same position as when the conflict had first started.

The teachers arrived on the scene and quickly broke up the encircling group of lads, to a series of boos and cat-calls from the youngsters, disappointed that their entertainment had been so quickly curtailed.

The teachers, from past experience, knew that a confrontation like this could soon ignite several scuffles as the group of young men settled old scores amongst themselves, excited by what they had witnessed. The teachers had not seen what had happened, but so what, lads would always fight amongst themselves, they did not really see it as their problem.

As Geoff walked away with the Bolton brothers he was deep in thought,
That Harry Sutton would be someone to keep in with. He was a handy youth to know if in the future there was a situation where things got a bit tricky
.

The next twelve months at the institution seemed to go by very quickly. The routine was the same week in week out. Some of the pupils left but there were always more new entrants to replace them.

Geoff and the Bolton boys kept very much to themselves but what he did do was build up, ever so slowly, a relationship with Harry Sutton. During this time the younger Bolton brother, Derek, became very involved with computers. Several had just been introduced to the institution on the strength of a generous donation from a benefactor. The older brother, John, found he enjoyed working with his hands, spending much of his spare time in the engineering and craft workshop in the school.

Dave Higgins and his cousin, Wilf Norton, still leaders of the prominent gang in the school, continued to bully the rest of the pupils. Fortunately, as long as Geoff, the Bolton brothers and Harry Sutton kept out of their way, they were all left to their own devices.

Most of the resident boys in the school slept in bunks that were in long dormitories. There were several separate rooms that had just four bunks. These were previously store rooms that had been adapted to accommodate the increase in numbers of students in the institution. These rooms were highly prized luxuries.

Dave Higgins and Wilf Norton occupied one of these units with a couple of their gang. This was an arrangement made with the principal or so the rumour went.

In return, they maintained order amongst the pupils, as long as by doing so they did not cause any disturbance or create any problems for the staff. This suited Dave Higgins; with his gang it gave him an open licence to enforce his brutal brand of authority within the school.

The principal of this institution, Mr. Tattersall, took students who were interested in computers for extra lessons, of which there were only five, and four of those preferred computer work to the physical exertions of PE classes, which was the alternative.

Of the five, only Derek Bolton was a really keen student. It was during these lessons that Derek found by accident that Mr. Tattersall was a collector of first edition and rare books. Several days later during a casual conversation he happened to mention this to Geoff. Things began to click in Geoff's brain at the mention of this.

Information was an asset; information that no one else knew was an even greater asset. With information you could make decisions, without reliable information you couldn't. ‘
This was a little gem of knowledge',
as Sir Reginald had aptly put it. Geoff racked his brain for days after his conversation with Derek. He had information so he should put it to good use for his own benefit. He had always envied Higgins and Norton sleeping in the small four bunk dormitory while he shared the main noisy dormitory with half the boys in the school.

After many sleepless nights he eventually came up with a scheme that, if successful, had the possibility of them acquiring a four bunk room. The bonus was, if he could pull it off it would gave him the opportunity to involve the Bolton brothers and, hopefully, finally bring Harry Sutton into the fold.

The scheme required helpers, so he approached John, the eldest Bolton brother. At first he was adamant he and his brother did not want to be involved. ‘Me and our kid are happy where we are, we keep our heads below the parapet and don't attract any attention, that's how we like it, and that's how we want to stay.'

But Geoff persevered; he was not going to be put off so easily. ‘Think of the benefits, John, if we manage this you and Derek won't have to spend any more time sharing the big dormitory, with each of you watching one another's back. There are only four bunks in those rooms so you'll have all the space and privacy in the world.'

‘No! No! No! Not interested,' was the constant reply. But after a week of gentle persuasion, Geoff sensed that John was beginning to weaken.

‘They'll throw the book at us if we get caught,' John said wearily.

Geoff smiled at John's innocent but funny remark. ‘What more can they do than they are doing already?' came back his instant reply. ‘We're already locked up. What would be so different?'

It still took a lot of time and many attempts on his part before John's objections were worn down and he was eventually persuaded, although very reluctantly, to participate in the scheme. Geoff's ultimate aim was twofold – consolidate his own little group by getting away from the general noisy community dormitory and, just as importantly, it would also enable him to put into practice the long-term plan that he had in mind for this little gang he was beginning to form around him.

Some of the single teachers lived on the premises but the P.E. instructor, who was of a similar slim build to Geoff, lodged outside the school grounds. He arrived every morning on a motor scooter at eight o'clock. He then helped to supervise the breakfasts. After assembly he would change from his regular clothes into a tracksuit and a pair of trainers, his other clothes he placed and locked in his locker.

Geoff had noticed that once changed he did not change again until after the boys' tea break at five o'clock. He would then go back to his lodgings on his scooter, leaving the school at just after 5.30pm. This was his regular routine, which he did for four days of the week.

Geoff knew he could slip out of school without being missed; he had done it before, but not for the length of time the scheme he had in mind required. It would involve him and John absconding for most of the day, plus he needed a key to the P.E. instructor's locker.

Obtaining a pattern for the key to the locker was not a problem as the teacher, Mr. Shelly, regularly left the locker keys in the pocket of the top half of his tracksuit.

Shelly was a novice student in the art of judo, taking every opportunity that arose to try and impress the boys in the P.E. class with his knowledge of the sport, using them to improve his skills. During one of these demonstrations against the eldest Bolton brother who was to be an opponent for the teacher. Geoff had manoeuvred himself into a position close to the teacher's tracksuit top. This had not been difficult as most of the lads tried to keep well clear of Mr. Shelly when he was looking for someone to throw onto the rough coconut matting, used as a makeshift softer surface, rather than the hard wooden floor. While John Bolton was feigning a minor injury, attracting the attention of the teacher and most of the students, Geoff deftly obtained an imprint of Mr. Shelly's locker key on a hard piece of soap.

At the nod from Geoff, John's injury suddenly seemed to be less serious than he had first portrayed, quickly getting back on his feet and joining in with the rest of the group.

John Bolton had no difficulty in the workshop the following day, behind the teachers back, making a replica key during the craft lesson. The plan was going smoothly, the adrenalin and excitement was beginning to build in the young mind and body of Geoffrey Larkin.

He called a meeting with his friends that day after tea, that was when the students had a couple of hours' free time. The staff had been instructed to call them students as it was regarded as politically correct and was supposed to give them an incentive to study.

Most of the boys were playing football on the school playing field or just standing about watching the game if they had not been picked to play by the individual captains. Geoff and the Bolton brothers were in the corner of the field out of earshot of anyone else while they waited for Harry Sutton, who Geoff had invited to join them, but it now seemed obvious he was not going to be a willing partner.

‘I think Thursday is the best time to do this job,' stated Geoff, starting the discussion.

‘Why do you think that Geoff?' asked Derek Bolton.

‘The key fits. I tried it this morning,' interrupted John Bolton.

‘One thing at a time,' said Geoff, turning to answer Derek's question.

‘Well,' he continued, ‘Shelly goes back up north to visit his parents at the end of every month after he's finished on Thursday and that Thursday is this week,' he finished smugly.

‘Yes, everyone knows that,' replied Derek, looking rather confused.

‘Well, if things don't go to plan and there's any minor mishap, Shelly won't want to stay behind reporting us with all the messing about that's involved. If he did, he'd miss his train! He'd put it off until the Monday and by that time it won't look as bad, it might even be forgotten. We'd probably just end up with a couple of hours' detention!'

Both the Bolton brothers were thinking about what Geoff had just said. Even though they had both been persuaded by Geoff and agreed to go along with his scheme, they were secretly quite apprehensive about the whole idea, but they could not back out now; they would lose face.

Geoff meanwhile had cleverly given their brains a straw to grasp. If it did go pear-shaped and they were caught all they would end up with was a couple of hours' detention, this, their young minds could cope with.

The fact that they could all face the serious charges of stealing, breaking into the locker of one of the staff, playing truant from the school and anything else the headmaster could throw at them could mean they would possibly be sent to a more rigidly controlled detention centre. They conveniently put this fact out of their minds! Their plan had been formulated and agreed for the day after tomorrow.

The final whistle had been blown for the football game and they left the sports field with the rest of the two football teams and the spectators. As they slowly strolled from the field, looking around him, Geoff could see no sign of Harry Sutton.

‘I don't think you got through to Harry Sutton, he's obviously not interested,' said Derek as he watched Geoff looking around the playing field.

Thursday started off as an overcast day with the possible threat of rain later on. Assembly finished and the pupils went to their various classes, all except Geoff and John Bolton. They hid in the changing room showers while Mr. Shelly's P.E. class was getting changed.

Once changed the class, led by the teacher, jogged off to the playing field. Geoff stood behind John Bolton as he attempted to open the locker. After several failed attempts by his friend he had to take the key from John Bolton's hand as it was shaking so much he could not place it in the cheap lock.

The duplicate key worked a treat and Mr. Shelly's trousers, shirt, pullover, socks and shoes were quickly and quietly placed in a black plastic dustbin bag, the locker door was closed and securely relocked.

The two boys then made their way from the main entrance to the rear of the single-storey brick workshop opposite. From here they were out of sight from any casual observer looking from the windows of the main school.

Moving quickly to the end of the structure they slipped behind a thick privet hedge that ran parallel to the boundary fence of the school. This hedge shielded them from the school and the sports field where several hundred feet away Mr. Shelly was supervising the boys in a series of strenuous press-ups.

Once at the end of the privet hedge Geoff and his fellow conspirator carefully unhooked the previously prepared chain link fencing from its support pole, slipped through the gap and refitted the fencing. Only on a close inspection would anyone see that it had been tampered with. In a clearing by a clump of bushes Geoff changed into Shelly's clothes.

‘They fit you a treat, mate,' commented the eldest Bolton boy admiringly as he stood back to view. Geoff was pleased; it was important that he looked reasonably smart for the important part of his plan and not just like another school boy messing about.

He placed his own clothes in the plastic bag and left them well hidden in the bushes.

‘This next stage is a bit tricky,' said Geoff, more to himself than his companion. ‘The secret is not to look as if you're hurrying but not dawdling either.'

From the clump of trees to the road it was about a hundred yards and this stretch was in full view of the sports field and the school. Once they reached the road they should be safe, as there were always several people walking on the footpaths on both sides of the road.

Geoff waited until the group of lads on the playing field were just turning on the corner nearest to them. The class was being led by Mr. Shelly and they were alternately walking, sprinting and then jogging for short spells around the pitch

As soon as the teacher turned the corner he had his back to the two boys. They quickly left the cover of the trees, walking briskly towards the road.

‘Don't turn round,' whispered Geoff loudly as John Bolton started to look behind him.

Both lads were sweating when they reached the road, not with the exertion of the brisk walk, but with the expectation and the fear of hearing any shout of recognition from the direction of the playing field.

After eight years in the RAF, Jack Shelly had decided not to sign on again because he wanted to get married. His girlfriend was unhappy about the long periods of separation that were forced upon them, so Jack had decided to take one of the many government sponsored courses that had been made available for forces personnel to help them obtain a position in ‘civvy street'. The studies and exams that followed had given him the necessary qualifications for the only job that was available without any previous experience, this was teaching at this approved school; it was not what he'd originally envisaged!

First, it was a hundred miles from his parents' and girlfriend's homes. It also meant taking lodgings. But on the positive side he did get a long weekend free every month, which was much better than having to wait three months or longer to obtain a few days pass, as was the case when he was in the RAF. His plan was to obtain the experience here, then apply for a teaching position nearer his home.

Over the months, Jack had become very disillusioned; he found trying to instruct these lads in anything at all was very hard work. In the RAF he had been a leading aircraftman. When he had given an order it was usually carried out ‘at the double' and the personnel were smart, clean and alert. He had found the pupils at this school completely the opposite. They were sullen, pretended they had not heard your orders or did not understand what you were saying to them. Their responses were slow, a lot of them were scruffy and lazy and they only completed half the tasks they were given to do.

If you turned your back on them for a moment, in no time at all, they were messing around and acting the fool. When he had first taken up his position at the school, he had tried being one of them, friendly, understanding and encouraging, but none of this had worked.

As time went by, he had become increasingly frustrated, resorting to verbally degrading them in front of the class, making them stand for hours on end in the corner of the room, placing them on detention for the smallest of their misdemeanours and crashing a training shoe on the desk with a great crack to gain their attention. This action quickly earned him the nickname, ‘Jack the Slipper', first amongst the pupils in his class and then very quickly it spread to the rest of the school.

The group he was with at the moment were no different from any of the others, all the exercises he gave them to do were done half-heartedly, with no vigour or effort, and they simply went through the motions. He had exercised them up one side of the football pitch and was bringing them back the other way, they were supposed to be sprinting but they had hardly raised their pace at all. He looked up at the grey sky in frustration, ‘Is this all I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?' he asked himself mournfully.

A movement caught the corner of his eye; two figures were at the side of the road nearest the boundary fence, he started to turn.

‘Can we start playing football now please, Mr. Shelly, sir?' Jack Shelly turned back in surprise as he recognised the voice, perhaps he was getting through to these lads after all, this boy had never spoken to him directly before or even acknowledged he was there.

‘No Sutton! We are completing the exercises first and then we may have a short game of football but only if there is sufficient time.' Turning around again he looked back to the road but, by now, there was no one in sight. ‘Right lads one last sprint to the corner and then a quick game of football!' he shouted.

Geoff and John Bolton quickly made their way along the road to the local railway station. John noticed his friend was limping slightly.

‘Why are you limping, Geoff?' he enquired.

‘Shelly's shoes are too big, they're rubbing my heels,' he grimaced. On the way they passed the bus station. They never used the buses for transport, as they had to pay the driver, the trains were much easier. Once you'd slipped on to the platform you could use the trains to go anywhere in the city, for free!

John Bolton slipped into the bus station, much to the annoyance of Geoff as they had a tight schedule to keep, he returned a short while later with a bus timetable which he folded over several times, he then passed it to Geoff. Geoff took the folded paper, looking rather confused at his friend. ‘It's for your shoes where it's rubbing, put it down your socks at the heel.'

Geoff duly obliged then carried on walking without the limp, a smile appearing on his face. ‘Cheers Mate!' he voiced to his companion.

Geoff had a particular shop he needed to visit. He would attract too much attention in these premises unless he looked reasonably smart, and much older than he really was. That was the reason for lifting of the clothes belonging to the PE teacher, Jack Shelly.

It was 12.30pm and there were more people about now. ‘What are we waiting for?' asked John nervously.

‘Just till those two young shop assistants go for their lunch,' was the reply. ‘There they go now! We don't want them chasing you, do we John?'

Both lads stood near the entrance to a small bookshop with a sign saying ‘Antique Books & 1st Editions'. ‘Stay here near the window and you can see me in the shop, when I give you the thumbs up give me a minute before you come in.'

‘How do I know a minute will be up?' enquired John, looking at Geoff with a puzzled frown on his face. Geoff smiled and pointed to a large clock hanging from a jeweller's shop window across the street.

When John Bolton again turned around Geoff was already entering the swing doors of the bookshop. He knew exactly what he was looking for and slowly made his way to a separate rear room where the rare books and first editions were kept, protected behind locked, sliding glass partitions. An assistant had just removed a leather-bound book for a customer and relocked the glass door. Both men were studying the book, which was opened out on the counter.