A Good Day

Darren Sant

A lone seagull circled high above the Longcroft estate. Her keen eyes looking out for food. She skirted around the smoke from a burning car on the waste ground near the old tannery. Her heightened senses spotted the youngsters smoking at the bus shelter as they waited for the school bus. She finally fluttered past Kebab King and came to land outside the Red Lion. A scruffy man with a short scraggly grey beard sat nearby drinking his first super strength lager of the day. She found a half-eaten kebab and began to peck at her first meal of the day.

The chill autumn air hit me like a slap in the face. A quick look around and I saw that the coast was clear. I raised the hammer and swung. The window on the rear door of the red BMW shattered first time. I grabbed the flash coat and briefcase that were begging me to steal them. I legged it keeping my hood up and my head down. My favourite tune the car alarm blues was playing as I had it away on my toes.

Earlier that day…

When you are on a heroin high time loses meaning. Floating in a blissful cloud your perception drifts and I don’t know what time it was when I came down enough to be aware of my surroundings. The street was quiet outside. All the drones had shambled off like zombies to their meaningless jobs. Worker ants lacking imagination and bravery.

Fuckwits.

I don’t own or care to have a watch. The only watches I wanted were those I nicked and fenced for money to buy gear. I stood up and stretched wandering over to the window feeling the last pleasant tingles slowly drifting away from me. The view from my window showed a busy and run down neighbourhood. Yards filled with old sofas and cars in disrepair. The kind of neighbourhood where politicians used the words ‘salt of the earth’ to describe the people whose services they would then cut the funding to.

Other folk used more colourful words for the Longcroft. A sprawling housing estate of some four thousand properties both council and privately owned and spread over a couple of square miles.

As I watched, a gleaming metallic red BMW pulled up to the kerb outside. My thieves hands twitched but I knew a new model like that, a Z4 I think, would have state of the art security that a scally like me couldn’t crack. The dude that stepped out of the car looked around shiftily. I’d know a guilty look from a mile away. He was middle aged with a bit of a paunch and fashionable glasses. He wore a sharp pinstripe suit that could not hide his middle aged spread adequately. From the look on his boat race I’d say that he liked being in this neighbourhood about as much as he loved finding a turd floating in his Jacuzzi. There could only be a couple of reasons someone like him was here. Possibly he had a mistress around here well away from his side of town. Maybe he was in the legal profession. I chuckled to myself. The folk of the Longcroft estate always needed legal representation for some misdemeanour or other.

I lived in a flat in a large Victorian house that had been divided up into student accommodation. The fat fuck waddled up to the door of my house and rang one of the buzzers. He looked shiftily around again, muttered into the intercom, and stepped inside. My curiosity was aroused as I watched. I heard him come up the stairs. Noisy git. Looking through the spy hole I saw him stop at the flat opposite mine and as the door opened a little he slipped inside. Dodgy, very dodgy. Still I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I grabbed a hammer, stuffed it under my hoody and crept downstairs out of the house.

***

I rapped smartly on Davey’s door. The big dopey sod was wiping sleep from his eyes as he answered.

‘What’s up man?’ was his lazy ass greeting.

I smiled my most winning gap-toothed smile and showed him the briefcase.

‘Let me in lard arse I want to jemmy this fucker.’ Once inside I told him of the fun that I’d had that morning. Half an hour and a shared can of Special Brew later we had the briefcase finally open. There were work papers in there, the guy was some kind of legal executive for a firm called Brown and Sons. There was nothing inside that I could turn to my advantage for blackmail purposes either. Still it was a decent briefcase and his coat was designer so it would fetch a few quid. Just as I closed the briefcase I noticed a piece of paper scrunched up in the corner. It just had the address on for the flat opposite mine. Nothing else, no company logo. How peculiar.

I had a few cans with Davey and a chat about general shite like the fact that United seemed to have lost the ability to score. He likes his beer and a spliff now and again but he wasn’t into the hard stuff like me. I like to have a friend or two that wasn’t into the skag. To be honest I could never trust my druggie mates, they were always nicking from me or begging gear and I had known Davey since we were little kids.

In town I managed to get a few quid for the briefcase and coat. Not enough for a score but I nicked a few bits and pieces from the shops that would enable me to top up my stash.

When I got back outside my flat the car had gone but there was glass on the pavement where I had smashed the window. One of the neighbours, Ernie, wandered out of the flats. I smiled at him

‘They’d nick anything that wasn’t nailed down around here.’ I said nodding at the glass.

He grunted and said. ‘Aye, that’s true lad. Hasn’t it always been the way? All sorts of comings and goings in our flats these days as well. Flash cars always pulling up outside. The noise from that flat opposite you, have they got bloody animals in there or something?’

I shook my head, ‘No idea mate can’t say I’d noticed,’ I didn’t add that it was probably because I was out of my face ninety percent of the time, ‘They only moved in recently, just a geezer and his wife I think.’

‘Bloody odd lad them noises I’m telling you. Keep an eye on ‘em.’

‘Sure thing mate. Say I couldn’t borrow a tenner could I?’

Ernie laughed shaking his head as he wandered off down the street. It was the height of optimism expecting someone round here to lend me money but you had to try.

***

I sat at home nursing a bottle of strong cheap cider trying not to think about the itching. Imagine a constant itch, well that was my need for smack. It wasn’t too bad at the moment and the cider was taking the edge off it. Eastenders was on the telly. No matter how bad my life got even I smiled more than anyone in that program did. I heard a noise on the stairs and although I’m not normally alert enough to be nosy I wandered over to the spy hole just in time to see another guy in a suit enter the flat across the hall. Again he looked well turned out. Sure enough through the window I could see another flash car parked right outside. I lacked the energy or presence of mind to try the same trick on this one. It was a bad idea to try the same trick so close to home twice in one day. I did have an idea though. I slept deeply that night aided by the strong cider.

I awoke feeling strangely energetic. Today was signing on day so I could get some new gear and maybe a bit of food. I switched on the TV and sat down to watch a bit of Jeremy Kyle. It never failed to raise a chuckle. Rumour round the estate was that one of Longcroft’s own teenage career mums was to be featured in an upcoming episode. Apparently they’d given her five hundred quid and she’d just made it all up as she went along, good lass.

I sat chuckling to myself as I ate some toast. My idea was turning over in my mind. It was risky but I couldn’t ignore it. I could never ignore anything that meant easy money. The flat opposite had been vacant for a long while. Only recently a couple had moved in. Now anyone who has ever lived on a council estate knows full well that everyone knew each other’s business. It was impossible to keep secrets. However, no one knew a thing about this new couple and this was highly unusual. It could also be highly profitable.

In the space of one day two expensive cars with two well-dressed guys turning up, this was also unusual for the estate. Whatever they were up to I guessed it was illegal. Wherever you have illegal activities you have money or goods. If I played it right I could keep myself in skag for a long time. I also knew that at this time of day they would usually be out. You didn’t see them much but I always heard the door close around this time of day and I’d heard it slam twenty minutes ago.

I wandered across the hall and knocked on their door. Nothing. I knocked again and waited. I knocked a final time, hard. Still nothing. Good. They were out. I tried the door handle and using my shoulder leaned on the door. Unsurprisingly it was locked. Anyone who left their door open around here came home to an empty house. I popped back into the flat and grabbed my crowbar. In the hallway I looked around a final time before applying lots of elbow grease to the door. It flew open under my efforts, the lock now useless. Inside and with the door closed I looked around. It wasn’t particularly plush in fact it was almost empty. No carpet, just a sofa, a TV and a small rug and strangely a couple of camp beds set up in the corner. This wasn’t the only oddity. There were no family photos, nothing that would make it a home. I gave the living room up as a bad loss, nothing worth having away with. Perhaps the TV would get a few quid but I’d take that last. The kitchen was almost as fruitless. I made sure to check the food cupboard and got twenty quid from one of those little baked bean tins that is really a storage jar. I chuckled to myself, everyone had those bloody things it was hardly smart home security. I wandered over to the bedroom. The flat was exactly the same layout as mine. As I wandered into the bedroom my breath caught in my throat and I gasped at what I saw.

A little boy sat on a small uncomfortable stool. His hands were handcuffed to a metal rail that was set securely into the floor. He must have been cuffed a while because his wrists were raw and bleeding. A filthy rag was tied across his mouth. He was naked except for a pair of dirty underpants. He was, I guessed, about four years old. His little body was filthy and covered in scratches. The look he gave me as I walked into the room I will never forget until my dying day. I have never seen such fear in the eyes of another human being. I hope I never see it again. His eyes were a piercing blue and his hair was naturally blond. I could see that in other circumstances he would be a fetching little boy.

My first words, ‘What the fuck…’ Then I spotted the video equipment, the PC, lighting and recording equipment. No bed, no room for one. It was a fucking paedophile ring it must be. I nearly lost my breakfast when I saw some photographs on a worktop that confirmed my fears. I live a selfish life, it’s all about me and my next score. I’d robbed family, friends, old people, young people just about anyone to get a score. This equipment must be worth a few quid. For once it never crossed my mind to gain for myself. I was just a junkie and I couldn’t handle this situation. I whipped my mobile from my pocket called the pigs and explained the situation. I knew I couldn’t explain my presence here, I’d come clean about breaking in. I sat beside the wee lad.

‘Don’t worry son you’re safe now.’ I patted his head and he flinched, his eyes wild more like a frightened rabbit than a boy really. I didn’t dare ungag him yet for fear of the noise he might make. I was unable to remain seated my heart was pounding. I stood facing the door. I held the crowbar up. I’d have the first bastard that came through the door paedo fuckers. I never heard the pigs enter the flat, they chose not to come sirens blazing. They burst into the room and I lay the crowbar down and explained it was me that had phoned them. Making sure they had officers guarding the flat they took me to the station and read me the riot act for being a thieving prick. It was nothing I hadn’t heard before. Their words lacked the usual conviction. I was a hero. I laughed aloud at the thought of that. I explained the events that led up to my break in and even gave them details of the guy at Brown and Sons.

Their operation to apprehend the inhabitants of the flat opposite me went down flawlessly apparently. They had coppers hidden and covering all exits and they jumped the fuckers when they returned to the flat. I was pleased to hear that the paedos had gotten the shit beaten out of them in the struggle. The video equipment, PC and photos provided the police with all the evidence they needed for an easy conviction. The little lad was reunited with his family. I got away with the breaking and entering. The landlord didn’t want the hassle and the C.P.S had no interest in me, they had bigger fish to fry.

***

I awoke to the sound of hammering from the front door. Who the hell was this at such an ungodly hour? I looked up and the wall clock confirmed it was 9.30am practically dawn for me. I opened the door.

‘WHAT?’ I bellowed at the guy who stood there.

He looked taken aback. He was a well-dressed, regular kind of guy. He stepped back a little at my show of aggression.

‘I wanted to thank you for saving my boy.’ He said quietly.

The pigs must have told him where I lived. He looked at me and I could see that his thank you came from his mouth but also shone from his eyes as he shook my hand. I smiled, nodded and mumbled some embarrassing shite about it being what anyone would do. He turned to leave and I quickly swiped a wallet from his back pocket. I could never resist an easy mark. Back inside the flat I was delighted to see that it was stuffed with twenties. I rubbed my hands together. Today would be a good day.

He slipped from shadow to shadow behind the bookmakers called You Better You Bet. Like almost all of the cats on the Longcroft estate he carried battle scars. One ear had a chunk missing from a battle long ago. He had a long scar down one side of his face. He also walked with a slight limp caused by a spiteful boy’s airgun pellet. The bookies never provided any food so he moved on next door to the back of Kebab King. The smell of stale lamb assaulted his senses making his mouth water but there were no pickings here today. His keen nose picked up something and he rounded a corner and spotted a tasty morsel. A fat seagull was pecking at something on the ground, its attention focused on its meal. He slunk behind it slowly, his belly almost touching the ground. Finally he leapt and brought it down in a flurry of feathers and a cacophony of squawking. He settled down to his first meal of the day as the light left the seagull’s eyes.

© Darren Sant 2023

If you liked ‘A Good Day’ then you’ll love this…