‘Which is not a crime actually. Under the Vagrancy Act, the location of begging holes and who belongs in them is supposed to be public knowledge. Of course, you should’ve got permission first.’
‘You know the details?’
‘I used to be one.’
‘A beggar? When was this?’
‘You can’t play that domino, by the way.’
‘What?’
‘It doesn’t match.’
‘They think I know where this Celia is, but I don’t.’
‘Celia?’
‘The beggar we were looking for. Celia Hobart. Tell them! I don’t know where she is.’
‘I think they can hear you.’
‘OK, so I did wrong. But locking me up for a night? For opening a door? For that? And not telling me anything. It’s not right.’
‘No. It’s not right. Are you telling me everything?’
‘Yes.’
‘I see. That’s another wrong bone, by the way.’
‘Yes. I know.’
‘Right. I’ll do what I can. Domino, by the way.’
‘Well played.’
‘You too, Daisy. Keep the bones.’
Crawl was on him as soon as he came out. ‘What was all that? Some kind of secret code?’
‘Just a gentle game.’
‘Your daughter has certain information.’
‘Evidently.’
‘All she has to do is give us that information and she goes free.’
‘The location of a beggar? Since when have beggars featured large in the police’s concerns, I wonder. This must be a very special beggar.’
‘Who is this “friend” your daughter refers to?’
‘I wouldn’t know. I wish I did.’
‘I called you in good faith, Mr Love.’
‘In the hope that I would make her see sense? Or just to watch us talking? Really, your methods are most primitive.’
‘You are free to go.’
‘My daughter?’
‘Not quite yet.’
‘She has rights, as a citizen.’
‘Oh, she does. Unfortunately, I have more rights, as a policeman.’
Jimmy left the station. His mood was strange. A drink would cure it, but that wasn’t an option. Not if what he suspected was true. In Albert Square, he sat down on a bench. It was Sunday, quiet, peaceful. A few young lovers, hand in hand. Some children. Laughter. A police car travelling slowly across his vision, circling behind the town hall. The third time it appeared, he waved nonchalantly at the driver.
He could wait.
Daisy was a good player, he’d seen to that. Of course, not a master. Not yet. He’d seen to that as well. She made mistakes, sure, but one thing she never did was play a mismatched bone. In their last game she had played two. It was a message. Despite his warnings, Daisy had gone ahead. Now she was paying for it.
Something was wrong with the bones. It had started. The maze was open once again. He would have to go back in.
Play to win
Jimmy Love had, of course, accepted Hackle’s offer to ‘meet the old gang’. It was 1977, and any chance of a better life was not to be lost. They drove out to West Didsbury, where Hackle had bought a house. To help with the mortgage he had rented out two of the rooms; one to Malthorpe and Susan, the other to Georgie Horn. It was actually very nice to see them all again, especially good old Blank-Blank. They greeted each other:
‘Blank-Blank!’
‘Five-Four!’
As though still in the classroom.
Malthorpe looked on, the same old dark eye, now made bitter by years. Susan Prentice was pleased to see him, which was a surprise; she’d totally ignored him at school. Amazing these two had stuck together, were lovers even, because you wouldn’t place Paul Malthorpe as the settling kind.
Hackle poured them all a drink and Malthorpe made a toast.
‘Play to win!’
‘Play to win!’
They had talked for a while, mainly about the past and what had happened in between. Jimmy was slightly ashamed of his failings, compared to this team of evidently self-confident, successful people. Hackle was a teacher, just starting at the university, hoping to make his way up in the world. Malthorpe was working the stock markets, making a nice little packet. Susan was a top executive at a city-centre bank, in charge of investments. Jimmy’s dormant socialist leanings were roused by all this; how could they pervert Miss Sayer’s teachings in this way, turning numbers into money. He didn’t say anything.
And Georgie?
Georgie was Georgie was Georgie was Georgie was Georgie.
Good old Blank-Blank, doing nothing, happy to be living off the others’ earnings. Yeah, they looked after him; fed him, clothed him, pampered him. Jimmy couldn’t see the reasons for this; maybe a guilt thing, related to their salaries? Whatever, Georgie Horn was their pet.