Life on Mars: Borstal Slags. Tom Graham
perfectly feasible Andy Coren could have climbed into one when it was loaded up at Friar’s Brook, and been carried out inside it.’
‘Maybe easier to climb into one of them ovens than climb out again,’ said Gene. ‘Handy Andy’s not quite the Houdini he thinks he is. He might have got himself out of Friar’s Brook but he sure as shitty knickers didn’t make it out of that crusher.’
‘What if that was Derek’s job?’ suggested Annie. ‘What if Derek turned up to get his brother out of the oven, but somehow got it all wrong?’
Sam nodded, seeing a pattern emerge. ‘There were two lorries coming to the yard – Gertrude and Matilda. Andy was aboard Matilda – but Derek thought he was on Gertrude. That’s why he made off with it like that – he thought he was rescuing his brother!’
‘But instead all he got was a ton of old fridges,’ growled Gene. ‘Still, I know which is more use to society.’
‘Guv, a young man has died,’ Sam reproached him.
But Gene shrugged. ‘What’s the world lost? A thieving little tit. What you want me to do, drop big fat tears on my tie?’
‘Perhaps you should for once, Guv, yes, instead of dollops of ketchup. Whatever Andy Coren did, he didn’t deserve to die like that. He was just a kid.’
‘A flid, more like,’ Gene cut across him. ‘And his brother Derek’s an even bigger spastic than Andy. What a bloody pair. Not exactly The Great Escape, was it? Well, whatever. Case closed. There’s nothing here for us.’
‘You think so, Guv?’
‘Of course. It’s a ballsed-up escape attempt. Dopey Derek got the wrong lorry, and brain-of-the-week Andy Coren got put on the world’s fastest diet. What you want me to do, nick the crusher and charge it with grievous? Leave it to plod, let them sort it out.’
Sam shrugged. In one thing at least Gene was right: it looked very much like nothing more than a bungled escape attempt. If so, their job here was done. But when he glanced at Annie he could see at once that she wanted to speak.
‘Annie?’ he said. ‘Is there something you’d like to add?’
Annie looked from Gene to Sam to Gene again.
‘Well …’ she said.
‘Well what, luv?’ barked Gene. ‘If you’ve got an opinion that you think’s superior to mine then I’d love to hear it. It’s Monday morning, I need a laff.’
‘Well, if you really want my opinion, Guv,’ said Annie, ‘I reckon there’s more to this than just Derek accidentally getting the wrong lorry.’
‘Conspiracy, not cock-up, is that what you reckon?’ asked Sam.
Annie shrugged, then nodded.
‘And what do you base this supposition on?’ said Gene, giving her a sour look. ‘A hunch?’
‘Something like that, Guv.’
‘Hunches are for real coppers, luv, not for jumped-up secretaries. What you got ain’t a hunch – it’s called time o’ the month.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Guv, that is bang out of order!’ snapped Sam.
‘Keep your hair on, Marjorie,’ Gene said, examining his tie to see if it really did have ketchup on it. ‘Sometimes, Tyler, I think you’re like a bird an’ all.’
‘It’s that letter, Guv, the one from Andy Coren to his brother,’ Annie went on, keeping her cool. ‘It’s not normal. There’s something about it.’ Gene wasn’t looking at her. He was picking at crusty bits of food stuck to his tie. She carried on regardless. ‘You asked my opinion, Guv, and I’ve given it to you. There’s something suspicious about that letter and I’m going to do my best to find out what it is.’
‘Good for you, lass,’ said Gene, examining the crust he’d just plucked.
‘Look at the handwriting, Guv,’ Annie insisted, holding out the crumpled sheet of paper. Silently, Sam willed her to stand her ground, make her point, break through Gene’s macho carapace and make herself heard. ‘Look how all the letters are nicely spaced out, dead neat. Andy Coren’s barely literate, guv, he’s never in school, he’s always out thieving or getting himself nicked. You think he writes like this? And look how strangely worded it all is.’
There was a flicker of interest in Gene’s face which he tried to disguise.
Sam took the letter from Annie’s hand and studied it with renewed interest.
Dear Derek,
So brilliant you could make time for a visit. Really good to get time with you again. Tell Auntie Rose not to fret so much. Don’t forget to give Fluffy her special tablets – take her to the vet in Lidden Street if she gets sick again. It’s very very important I can trust you to look after her. See you again soon I hope.
Love, Andy
‘It’s very stiff and formal,’ he said. ‘No spelling mistakes. Commas and full stops in the right places.’
‘Exactly,’ said Annie. ‘I don’t see Andy Coren being up to writing this.’
‘Maybe he dictated it,’ said Gene. ‘Maybe he got some other inmate to write it down for him. It’s what cons often do.’
‘And how many cons use these turns of phrase, Guv?’ Annie said. ‘“Tell Auntie Rose not to fret so much” – “Take Fluffy to the vet in Lidden Street if she gets sick again” – Guv, I just don’t hear the voice of a borstal boy in these words.’
‘Oh? And what do you hear?’
‘A message, Guv. Not a message about Auntie Rose and Fluffy’s tablets – a hidden message, one behind the words. Besides, there ain’t no vet in Lidden Street. I checked.’
Gene gave her a long, level look, and then said, very slowly, ‘Think carefully what you’re saying, Cartwright. You’re getting very, very close to saying you suspect this letter’s written in secret code.’
‘And why not, Guv?’ Annie said, throwing caution to the wind.
‘Why not? Because you ain’t Nancy flamin’ Drew, sweetheart! Secret bloody codes, my arse! This is real life!’
‘This letter was rubber-stamped,’ Annie kept on. ‘Before it could be posted it was vetted by somebody at the borstal, somebody in authority. It had to be officially approved before it was sent. Now, if Andy wanted to get some message to his brother in this letter, and he didn’t want the borstal authorities to see it, then he’d need to find a way of hiding that message behind something that looks totally innocent.’
‘Codswallop!’ barked Gene. ‘You been reading too much Famous Five.’
‘And what’s more, one of the lads in that borstal hanged himself, Guv, just two weeks ago. And a month before that, a lad got his face burnt off.’ Annie’s voice was starting to become shrill. ‘A death, a suicide, a dodgy letter, a body in the junkyard, the violent theft of a lorry that don’t make no sense, and all of ’em connected to Friar’s Brook. Think about it, Guv. It’s not right! Can’t you see? There’s something not right!’
Her frustration had got the better of her, and she all at once realized it. Annie clamped her mouth shut and lowered her eyes, waiting patiently for her guv’nor’s rebuke.
But Gene seemed calm. He wasn’t about to be riled up by some bird. He smiled to himself, smoothed down his tie, and said, ‘You know what I really miss right now?’
‘No, Guv,’ said Sam ‘What do y—’
‘Not you, Granny Clanger. Her.’
With