Stories
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