UNDERCURRENT.

'Hey up, he's off again!'

Joan winced as she heard Harry's side of the bed creak. 'He'll

see you one of these nights,' she hissed.

Too late. Harry was already in position peering through a gap

in the curtains.

'He's gone round the side carrying some boxes,' he whispered,

straining to get a better look.

'Will you come away?' she said, thumping on the bed to encourage

him back in. 'It's two o'clock in the morning!'

'You'll change your tune when he waltzes off with the telly,'

Harry replied.

Nothing else seemed to be happening so he reluctantly got back

in bed.

An hour ticked by and as soon as he heard footsteps on the gravel

next door he was out of bed and back at his post by the window.

'There you are! He's just gone in with a video. His wife

must be in on it you know.'

Joan tried to ignore him by putting the pillow over her head.

'You'll suffocate like that you know,' he said, momentarily

distracted from the job in hand.

Harry had disliked their neighbour from the moment he moved

in. He was a rough looking man who always seemed to need a

shave, which didn't go down too well with Harry. He was a spit

and polish man, known to the local children as Captain

Mainwaring.

Rough Man came and went at all hours through the day and night.

He drove an unmarked van and although he'd tried a few

pleasantries when he first moved in, Harry was having none of

it. The wives nodded to each other in the shops, prefering

the more polite approach.

Harry was friendly with Bob who lived three doors down and

confided in him that he thought Rough Man was dealing in stolen

goods. Bob was a light sleeper and said he'd keep an eye on

Harry's neighbour as well.

The two pensioners spent many a sleepless night watching the

comings and goings at number twelve, and compared notes at the

bowling club.

'I think he's robbing to order,' was Harry's conclusion after

his neighbour had been seen going in and out all night with

boxes.

Descriptions of robbers in the local paper were scrutinised

to see if any of them matched the villainous neighbour.

On the twenty first of June every year Harry and Bob went on

a trip to Southport with the bowling club. Same coach operator,

same people, same boarding house.

'Don't forget you're on window duty while I'm away,' Harry said,

poking his head round the kitchen door. 'Write everything down

in the notebook.' He tapped the side of his nose knowingly

and winked.

Joan sighed and carried on making the rice pudding. That's

what you think she said under her breath.

'Don't forget you know what,' he yelled as the coach set off.

She waved and Bob gave her a wink from his window seat.

Any more winks and I'll flatten the pair of them, she smiled

with clenched teeth.

Southport came and went and, for once, Ted the driver had got

them home with half an hour to spare.

A unanimous decision led them into the 'Dog and Hare' and as

the drink took hold, Harry and Bob decided to tell the rest

of the lads about their Rough Man suspicions, teasing them with

taunts of 'We've got something to tell you lot later’.

Harry was just setting up another round when Len came in.

'How did it go lads?' he said, patting them on their backs as

he passed.

There were the usual moans and groans and he took a seat next

to Harry.

'Shame about that bloke next to you isn't it!'

'Why, what's up?' said Bob, shooting a glance at Harry.

'All the hours he put in,' Len said, sipping his pint. 'He mended a few things for me and he made a belting job of them.'

Harry and Bob looked at each other.

'The beggars won't let you do anything now will they?' Len

continued. 'The police were ringing him up nearly every night

to say someone had broken into his shop again so he ended up

taking most of his stock back to the house where he could keep

an eye on it. Poor devil had only just started up as well after

being made redundant. He hadn't even had time to paint his

name on the van so with all the messing about and runnning

backwards and forwards, he was losing money all the time. As

if that wasn't bad enough he'd fell behind with the mortage

so he chucked the towel in and handed the house keys back.'

The bowling club tutted and a few voices chipped in saying how

good he'd been when their washing machines and microwaves had

given up the ghost.

Len fumbled in his pockets.

'I've got one of his cards here.'

He passed it to Harry.

'Dave Roberts' it read. 'Electrical retailer and domestic

repairs. 24 hour service.'

'Right Harry,' came a shout from the next table. 'What was it

you and Bob were going to tell us?'

by BERYL LOMAS