Chambers Kimberley - The schemer

Table of Contents

In loving memory of

Helena Ann Lewis

19702011

Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Speckled Band

The woman sat on the deck sipping a glass of vintage champagne. The weather was glorious and the heavenly smell of the ocean always had a calming effect on her. As the man reappeared, the woman smiled at him lovingly. Usually when they sailed their boat, they brought friends along with them, but today the man had insisted they sail alone. I wanted it to be just the two of us for once; thats why I never told you we were going out on the boat until this morning. I wanted to surprise you and spoil you rotten.

And surprised and spoilt rotten the woman had been. Mussels in garlic butter, salmon en crote, strawberries and cream were all prepared and served up for her by her wonderful man. She had a surprise for him also and, as soon as he sat back down, she would tell him what she had been dying to tell him for weeks.

Come over ere, babe, and look at this, the man said, gesticulating for the woman to join him.

The woman walked over to the right-hand side of the boat and put her arms around the mans toned, suntanned waist. I cant see nothing. What am I meant to be looking at? she asked, rather bemused.

Knowing it was now or never, the man forcefully grabbed the woman by the shoulders, and swung her around so that her back was positioned against the gunwale. Im sorry, but me and you are over. I dont love you any more and Im going back to England.

Stop mucking about. Youre not funny, the woman said, with a hint of panic in her voice.

I aint fucking mucking about, the man replied, as he put one hand around the womans throat and used his other to lift her up by the crotch.

Please God no! Why would you want to do this to me? Why? the woman screamed, as her feet left the safety of the deck.

Because you know too much about me, the man replied, his face devoid of emotion. With one last movement, he threw her to the mercy of the sharks. The last words he heard her scream were, Im pregnant. Putting his hands over his ears so he didnt have to listen to anything else she might yell out, the man then calmly returned to the helm.

Coming January 2013

If you trap the moment before its ripe,

The tears of repentance you certainly wipe;

But if once you let the ripe moment go,

You can never wipe off the tears of woe.

William Blake

1965

Unable to make himself heard above Sandie Shaw belting out Long Live Love, Donald Walker made his way over to the Wurlitzer jukebox and turned the volume down.

Dont do that! You know I like Sandie, Mary Walker said, as though she knew the singer personally.

Theres somebody knocking at the door, Donald informed his wife.

Mary walked over to the door and unbolted it. She was greeted by a sturdy-looking woman in a dark grey overcoat. Mary guessed she was probably in her mid-fifties, but it was hard to be sure because of the curlers and hairnet on her head. Hello. Can I help you? Mary asked, politely.

No, but I can help you, the woman replied, barging her way past Mary and into the premises.

Donald and Mary knew very little about the East End or its natives. They were North Londoners and had lived in Stoke Newington for many years, but this caf in Whitechapel had been far too cheap to turn down, which is why they had decided to up sticks and move.

Hello, Im Donald and this is my wife, Mary. As you have probably already realized, we are the new owners of the caf. We officially open for business tomorrow but, would you like a cup of tea or coffee? Donald asked, politely.

Shaking her head, the woman held out her right hand. Im Freda. Freda Smith. I live just around the corner.

And how can you help us? Mary enquired. She had a feeling that Freda was about to ask for a job, but there was no chance of that, as her and Donald had spent every penny they had refurbishing the rundown caf and were in no position to employ staff just yet.

I can help you by telling you why this caf has been empty for eighteen long months before you bought it, and why you probably got it for peanuts, Freda spat.

Mary gave her husband a worried glance. This caf had been half the price of any others they had looked at, and the only one within their meagre price range. But this woman seemed unhinged, somehow, and Mary wondered if she held a grudge against the previous owner.

Would you like a glass of water? Donald asked. He had noticed that beads of sweat were forming on the womans forehead and had now started to drip onto one of his brand new melamine tables.

No, dont want nuffink. Just come to let you know the score. No one else round ere will tell you. Theyre all too bleedin well frightened of em, but I aint.

Frightened of who? Mary asked, perplexed.

Frightened of the Butlers. They own that snooker club just around the corner. Old Jack who used to own this caf, they killed his son, Peter. Broke his wife Ethels heart it did, and if you dont abide by their rules, theyll rip the heart out of your family too. I saw you move in. You got two little kids, aint ya? Well, if you just do as I say, youll be okay. Albies the dad. Hes a pisshead, a proper waster. The mother is the brains of the family. Hard-looking old cow called Queenie. Her sister is Vivvy, she has a mongol son, and Queenies kids are Vinny, who is the worst out the bunch, Roy, Michael and young Brenda. When they come in here, look after em. Serve em before any other customers and dont charge em for food or drinks, you get me?

Seeing the distressed look on his wifes face, Donald was extremely annoyed. Opening their caf tomorrow was meant to be one of the best days of their lives, and yet this mad woman was here, upsetting his Mary and threatening to spoil such a joyous occasion. I can assure you, Freda, that Mary and I will not be giving free drinks or food to anybody and our customers will be served in the order they arrive in. Now, if you dont mind, could I please ask you to leave? Mary and I still have lots of work to do before we open tomorrow and we have very little time left to accomplish that task.

Absolutely furious that her sound advice hadnt been listened to, Freda stood up, stomped towards Donald and poked him in the chest. Dig your own grave, what do I care? But, dont say I didnt warn you. The Butlers, remember the name, she yelled, as Donald escorted her out of the cafe.

Oh my God! What have we done, Donald? And who the hell are the Butlers? Mary said, when her husband locked the door.

Donald took his wife in his arms. At six foot, he towered over Marys five-foot frame. He was the man of the family and protect her he would. Do not worry yourself, my darling. Freda is obviously the mad local scaremonger. And even if that Butler family do come in here, we wont have any problems with them, I can absolutely assure you of that.

Nestling herself against Donalds broad chest, Mary breathed a sigh of relief. Her husbands instincts were never wrong.

Five minutes later the jukebox was back on and Mary and Donald were working happily side by side, singing in unison to the Beatles Help!. What they didnt realize was that, in the not too distant future, they would be needing help themselves. Every word that Freda Smart had spoken happened to be the truth. She wasnt mad, nor was she a scaremonger. She was just a realist who had done her utmost to warn a decent family of the perils of moving to Whitechapel.