‘What did she do?’
‘She was a barmaid, who learnt soon enough that she could earn a damn sight more doing favours on the side. Trouble is, I’m still not sure if I was the result of one of those favours.’
William didn’t comment.
‘But the cash dried up when she began to lose her looks, and it didn’t help that my father gave her a regular black eye if she didn’t come home on a Saturday night with enough cash to pay for his next bottle of whisky and the chance to back another fourth-place nag.’
Fred fell silent, while William thought about his own parents, who usually went out to dinner and the theatre on a Saturday night. He still found it difficult to comprehend the tyranny of domestic violence. He’d never once heard his father raise his voice in front of his mother.
‘London’s a long way from Glasgow,’ prompted William, hoping to learn more.
‘It wasn’t far enough for me,’ said Fred, flashing his torch down an alley and grinning when a young couple scurried away. ‘I was fourteen when I left home. I jumped on the first tramp steamer that would have me. I’d seen half the world by the time I was eighteen and landed up in London.’
‘Is that when you joined the force?’
‘No. I still looked on them as the enemy. I spent a few months stacking supermarket shelves before becoming a bus conductor. Soon got bored with that, so decided to join either the army or the police. If the police hadn’t interviewed me first, I might be a general by now.’
‘Or dead,’ said William, as they walked onto the estate.
‘You’re just as likely to be killed in this job as you are in the modern army,’ said Fred. ‘I’ve lost seve
n colleagues in the past twenty years, and far too many others, injured and invalided out of the force. And at least in the army you know who the enemy is, and you’re allowed to kill them. We’re expected to handle drug dealers, knife crime and gang warfare, while most of the public prefer not to know.’
‘So why did you stick at it when you could have chosen a far easier life?’
‘We may have come from opposite sides of the tracks, Choirboy,’ said Fred, ‘but we do have one thing in common – we’re both a bit bonkers, but at least we’re doing the job we were destined for. And let’s face it, I’ve never had a job that’s half as exciting or rewarding as being a Met copper.’
‘Rewarding?’
‘I don’t mean financially, although if you put in the overtime, the pay’s not too bad. Deprehendo Deprehensio Vitum,’ said Fred. ‘Overtime Solves Crime.’
William couldn’t stop laughing, and Fred added, ‘Don’t worry, it’s the only Latin I know. What I enjoy most about the job is that no two days are ever the same. And, more importantly, this is my manor, and I know almost everyone who lives here. They may not always be one big happy family, but they’re my family, and although I’d never admit it in the canteen, I like to kid myself I’ve made a difference.’
‘And you’ve got two commendations to prove it.’
‘Not to mention three suspensions, but as I’ve only got a few months left before I hang up my truncheon, I won’t be stepping out of line again. Wouldn’t want to do anything that would affect my pension,’ he added as they strolled off the Barton estate.
‘It’s quiet tonight,’ said William.
‘They saw us coming, and like rats, they disappeared down the nearest drain. They’ll reappear the minute we’re out of sight. But then, we wouldn’t want any trouble on your last night on the beat, would we, detective?’
William laughed, and was about to ask another question, when Fred glanced across the road and said, ‘Silly old moo. But I don’t suppose she knows any better.’
William suspected that another piece of homespun philosophy was about to be dispensed, although he couldn’t see what Fred was going on about.
‘Number twenty-three,’ said Fred. ‘Mrs Perkins.’
‘Burgled a couple of weeks ago,’ said William. ‘A TV and a VCR, if I remember correctly.’
‘Five out of ten,’ said Fred. ‘Now earn the other five.’
William stared at No. 23 but was none the wiser.
‘What do you see, Choirboy?’
‘Two empty cardboard boxes.’
‘And what does that tell you?