Confessions from a Luxury Liner. Timothy Lea
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handy and hold it in front of them.
‘Welcome ashore, maties,’ says Sid. ‘You have a good trip, did you? I’m glad you’ve shown up because there are a few things my friend wants to ask you. I’ve got to—’
‘You bastard!’
‘No need to get excited,’ squeaks Sid. ‘We were only playing charades – ooh!’ He stops talking when one of the herberts belts him in the Newingtons. The girls start screaming, Mrs Burgess is still trying to bash the wall down and the record player packs it in with a shriek of agony second only to that of the geezer who cops both Sid’s plates in his mug as our hero swings from the light fitting and lashes out with his tootsies. It is very Errol Flynn, with the subtle difference that the light fitting stayed in the ceiling when Errol swung from it. This one comes down with a blinding flash and a cloud of plaster. The room is plunged into darkness and all that can be heard are screams and thuds as Sid and I try to avoid copping an Irish face-lift.
In fact, we do rather better than that and by the time the police car arrives (Mrs Burgess must have rung for it) both the homecoming mariners are stretched out on the floor taking forty blinks and Natalie is having hysterics.
‘Oh, Henry! Henry!’ she screams. ‘Why did you have to hit him with the coal scuttle?’
‘Because he was trying to rearrange my cluster with a poker!’ shouts Sid. ‘Control yourself, woman! A few stitches can only improve that Jem Mace. Get out there and stall those bules.’
At the same instant there is a banging on the side door and both Sid and I put a foot in the same trouser leg.
‘We’ve got to get out of here!’ says Sid unnecessarily. ‘Grab your clobber and follow me.’
‘Supposing there’s someone waiting at the back?’ I say.
‘There won’t be,’ says Sid. ‘Ta ta, Gloria. Thanks for everything.’
Gloria is cradling the nut of one of the blokes who is groaning on the ground. ‘You bastard!’ she says. ‘What am I going to tell him?’
‘Tell him you love him,’ says Sid.
Sid is right. There is no one waiting outside the back door. We are over the wall, through the cucumber frame and two streets away before I realise that I have taken the wrong jacket.
‘That’s marvellous,’ I say. ‘They’ll get me for thieving now. What a wonderful end to an evening. We must do this more often.’
‘You’re not nice when you’re sarcastic,’ says Sid. ‘What’s it got in it, anything worth nicking?’
‘They’re going to trace us from the car,’ I bleat. ‘Oh my gawd. Why didn’t I stop at home and watch World in Agony? I can’t stand doing any more bird.’
‘Fifty quid!’ says Sid, thumbing through a bundle of notes he has produced from one of the pockets of the jacket. ‘Blimey, he must have been planning to buy Britain.’
‘We’ll have to send it back,’ I say, getting desperate. ‘I don’t want to get lumbered with that.’
‘Umm,’ says Sid. ‘We’ll have to see.’ He puts the money in his back pocket and produces another piece of paper. ‘This is interesting. “Memo to cabin staff. Owing to the breakdown of the refrigeration system, the ship will call at Southampton for repairs. Crew members who obtain passes from me will be allowed ashore until 0600 hours on the 24th. P.Pervis, Purser. SS Tern”.’
‘Lucky swines,’ I say. ‘That’s where we ought to be.’
‘Just what I was thinking,’ says Sid thoughtfully. ‘It’s Waterloo for Southampton, isn’t it?’
‘What are you on about?’ I say. ‘You’re not thinking of taking their places, are you?’
‘This seems like as good a time as any to take our leave of the old country,’ says Sid. ‘I can always send Rosie a postcard from Port Said.’
‘But what about when the other blokes roll up?’ I say. ‘The police aren’t going to hold them, are they?’
‘I don’t know so much,’ says Sid. ‘One of their suitcases burst open during our little frackarse and I couldn’t help clocking a butcher’s at the contents.’
‘Three month’s dirty washing?’ I say.
‘Not so much as a soiled cuff let alone an unmentionable stain,’ says Sid. ‘Watches.’ He dives a hand into his pocket and produces a flash job with a metal bracelet and enough dials to launch a space probe. ‘Handsome, isn’t it? There were about two hundred like that.’
‘And you nicked one, Sid? That’s downright dishonest. You don’t have any scruples, do you?’
‘I got one for you as well,’ says Sid.
‘Oh.’ It’s difficult to know what to say, isn’t it? I don’t want to hurt Sid’s feelings even though he has been naughty. A generous impulse should not be punished, especially when in Sid’s case it may never be repeated. I shove the watch deep into my pocket and clear my throat. ‘Ta, Sid. You think they were – er, half-inched, do you?’
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