Land Girls: The Homecoming: A moving and heartwarming wartime saga. Roland Moore

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СКАЧАТЬ lot of work keeping them in line,” he said. “Each time I go to collect a payment, I think that this will be the time they jump me or they’ll have a mob of mates waiting or the police.”

      “But this is too dangerous …” Glory pleaded.

      “By tonight, we’ll be out of here. Three hundred pounds, Glory.” He let the words sink in. “Think what we could do with that money.”

      Glory had thought about it. A lot. With her share, she wanted to move to the country and put some money down on a cottage somewhere. She’d have ducks in the garden and then she’d find a husband and they’d live in the lovely cottage together. That was her plan. Each time she said it, Vince found it ridiculous, but he kept the thought to himself.

      Vince planned to move up north and start a club. It’d be a club with roulette wheels and dancing girls. He’d make a fortune from the GIs and the business men up there. That was his plan.

      Glory still looked scared and uncertain.

      In truth, Vince Halliday was just as scared and uncertain. This wasn’t a business deal. Vince wasn’t really selling meat for money. That’s because he didn’t have the meat. Well, he had some, but not three hundred pounds worth. This was a scam. And if this scam, the big one, went wrong then he probably wouldn’t live to tell the tale. But if it went right, then all his Christmases would come at once.

      He had to brave-face it for the young girl’s sake. Had to gee her up and get her on side.

      “After tonight, we don’t have to grub around no more,” Vince said. “After tonight, we can relax and live all our dreams, yeah?”

      Glory looked at him, searching for the truth in his eyes. Did he believe what he was saying? Wasn’t he scared? After a long moment, she decided he was being honest and that he really believed it. She didn’t realise he was lying.

      “Right, that’s the spirit, girl,” Vince said, slipping on his brogues. “Let’s go and get a cup of tea …”

      In the warehouse, a long, tense moment passed. Vince was certain that his heart was beating so loudly that everyone could hear it – like a klaxon warning of his guilt. Amos cracked a smile at last and revealed his hand.

      “I ain’t paying the full three hundred,” he said, letting the words sink in without following them up. Vince gave a that’s-your-prerogative kind of smile, but inside he was fuming and he wanted answers and explanations. Who did this jumped-up idiot think he was, welching on the deal?

      “Really?” Vince said, as neutrally as he could manage.

      Moustache Man sneered at him. Vince turned away from the underling with contempt.

      “I’ll pay two hundred.”

      “But Mr Ackley-”

      “Don’t Mr Ackley me, son. Three hundred’s a heck of a lot of money to find. Come to think of it, two hundred is too. It’ll wipe me out until I can sell on the meat,” Amos Ackley explained. “But the way I see it, you’ve got a van full of prime steak that’s going off by the second. So it’s a buyer’s market.”

      Vince looked the rotund figure in the eye. The moment hung in the air. Finally, he agreed. Okay, then.

      Amos grinned and laughed. His signet-ring-adorned hand came thrusting out and crushed Vince’s hand in a shake to seal the deal.

      “Deliver it here in an hour,” Amos said.

      Vince’s throat felt dry. Here was the moment of truth. The moment at which he had to pull the con.

      “It’s being driven to the common, at Barnes,” Vince said.

      “But I want it here,” Amos spat.

      “It’s too risky bringing it here. The old bill know about this place, don’t they?” Vince said. “The common is neutral. We’ve never used it before.”

      Amos Ackley looked at his colleagues. Moustache Man shrugged. It didn’t seem to make much difference, did it? It wasn’t that far to go.

      “Who’s driving it?” Amos asked.

      “Glory,” Vince replied. “That girl I work the rings with.”

      Amos thought she was a good kid. He liked her. He started to walk away. “My men will meet you there in an hour and they’ll transfer the meat into this van. And then I’ll give you the money.”

      “No,” Vince said, the word coming out a little too abruptly. Amos Ackley stopped in his tracks at this unexpected and potentially confrontational utterance.

      “What?”

      “I need a deposit.” Vince smiled.

      “How much?”

      “Half,” Vince said, eyeing Amos without breaking his gaze.

      A shark-like grin spread on Amos’ face.

      “Get lost.”

      “Come on, you’re already stiffing me on this deal. I need something,” Vince replied. His throat was hoarse and his chest felt like it would explode with his pumping heart.

      He knew that Amos was greedy. He knew that the gangster could make five hundred pounds selling all that sirloin. Slowly Amos’s hand went to his pocket. He pulled out a wad of bank notes. He counted out one hundred pounds and held it out in his jewel-encrusted paw.

      “You’d better be there, otherwise I’ll turn London upside down,” Amos growled.

      Vince reassured Amos that he would be: he wanted the rest of the money, after all. He tucked the notes into the inside pocket of his cheap jacket and said thanks, before turning on his heels and walking away. It was the longest walk of Vince’s life: with each step he was fearful that Amos would change his mind or he’d rumble the con and Moustache Man would whack him on the back of the head.

      But Vince made it out of the warehouse and found himself in the cool rain of the alley. He glanced up as he walked so the water could cool his hot, tired eyes. And then he strode away as quickly as he could. He had half the money. Now to con the rest.

      One hour later, Glory was waiting in an ambulance on Barnes Common. She’d killed the lights and was listening for any sound in the semi-darkness. The moon provided some illumination but she couldn’t see much. Shadows were all around and soon Glory imagined danger in every one of them. Any sound startled her, from the cawing of a crow somewhere in the trees to the whistle of a man seeking his dog. Her hands were clammy so she rubbed them dry on her dress. Swallowing hard, she started to hum a tune – ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ – to pass the time and to distract herself from the horror stories playing out in her mind.

      She was wearing her best jacket and her white blouse. As always, the cloche hat sat incongruously on her head.

      Suddenly, there was a tap on the window. Glory jumped out of her skin. But it was only Vince. He opened the door and whispered to her in an urgent voice, worried that someone might be in the dark listening.

      He told her that he’d got one hundred pounds in his pocket СКАЧАТЬ