Part
31
Seraphema really didn't know what to make of her new
life. She felt she was being uncontrollably swept
along in the manic movement of it all. Although she
enjoyed variety, spontaneity and spice, she hadn't
come across so much of it at once before. Except,
perhaps, that time she witnessed a bar fight at the
deaf and dumb society meeting in Frampton Upon Severn.
Never had she seen such threatening hand gestures
and wild eyes. Until now. The peculiarities of Gloucester
and Daddy's hunt outfitters business, Tally Hosiery!,
seemed a whole universe away from the beguiling nature
of her new Leith surroundings.
As
everyone stared entranced by the whole Ryan saga she
tried to take stock of the situation. And failed.
'What
the hell am I doing here?' she yelled.
Now
all eyes were on her. It was like some chaotic tennis
match with multiple players in the Leith Police station
that day. But without the balls.
Sergeant Sturgeon, while completely empathising with
her sentiment, nevertheless felt duty bound to ask
her what the matter was.
'I'll
tell you what the matter is…' began Seraphema.
'Good. I was hoping you would,' said the sergeant.
'Are you being facetious?' asked Sylvester.
'Yeah, he's a fascist,' screamed Whitney.
'Fascist?'
said Jessie Kelso, confused.
'Fascist,'
echoed Jakey Rolling.
The
German tourists looked uncomfortable. Everyone else
looked bemused. There was an eerie second's silence.
Then the phone rang. Sergeant Sturgeon scooped up
the receiver.
'Leith
Police. Can I help you?' he said in such a way that
whoever was on the other end of the line would have
been thoroughly unconvinced that he could.
As
it happens, it was Dawson Creep on the other end.
'I
wish to report an assault,' he said. 'Ah, an assault,'
thought Sergeant Sturgeon, wistfully, as he envisioned
administering a hearty slap amongst the assorted crew
before him. Then, into the phone, he asked,
'Where
about, sir?'
'On
my person,' came the reply.
Now
who's being facetious, thought Sturgeon. 'And where
exactly is your person at the moment, sir?'
'I
am walking along Great Junction Street after receiving
a thump to my head from a match steward at Easter
Road by the name of Eddie Thomson. The ignorant thug
is currently lounging, no doubt bragging of his vicious
attack upon an innocent citizen, in Wilkies bar. Did
you get that? I shall expect the full force of the
law to bear down upon him with a mighty vengeance.'
Oh,
for heaven's sake, thought Sturgeon. The Care in the
Community programme must be having a special clear
out in Leith today.
'And
what is your name, sir?' he said, barely concealing
his utter disinterest.
'My
name,' began Dawson, resisting the urge to say "is
Michael Cane" or "J.R. Hartley", 'is Dawson Creep.'
The
sergeant jotted down the name and, peering at the
excitable freak show before his eyes, dreaded what
he was about to say next:
'Well,
seeing as you're in the neighbourhood, anyway, why
don't you pop into the station and we'll get all the
details. OK?'
Next
Week - Dawson lends a hand
|