Alexander (12)

12

After his final night in the empty house, Alexander made his way to town. There was little point walking to the Co-op car park. He knew that gang-master Terry wasn't going to offer him any work. Lady Brook, he was sure, had told Terry about Alexander's impertinent questions. What's more, they probably believed that Alexander had disclosed information about the manor - about the young black girl in the back of the Rolls Royce, as well as the man in the mask. Suddenly, Alexander felt vulnerable. If they could dispose of Luther, what hope was there for him - a poor, Polish immigrant ? Lady Brook’s words once again came to him: “If you don’t want to suffer the same fate...”

He crossed the river bridge to the church. Then he sat on the bench outside the municipal building, watching the café, waiting for Terry.

But he wasn’t able to sit for long; the sound of police sirens pierced the morning air. Several squad cars were driving in the direction of the viaduct. Alexander went to take a look.

What he witnessed was the demolition of the encampment. The immigrants who slept there were being ordered to move on. Burly men in black combat trousers and jackets marked SECURITY were dragging a number of homeless men away while bailiffs dismantled the tables, chairs and the plastic sheeted entrance. Police officers looked on; some were engaged in a heated debate with Tomas and the elders. Alexander joined the crowd that had gathered on the pavement. Some onlookers were shouting ‘Shame! Shame!’ Others were applauding, shouting that it was about time ‘foreign scum’ were removed from the streets. Alexander wanted to protest at what was happening, but knew he had to keep quiet. There was nothing he could do. Getting involved would lead to arrest or worse.

He made his way back to the municipal building. This time Terry's van was parked outside the cafe.

The cafe was busy with office workers; everyone, it seemed, was talking about the police operation at the viaduct. Terry was sitting at a table, attending to his paperwork. Alexander stood in front of him and said: ‘Why is there no more work for me at the manor house ?’

Terry indicated that Alexander should take a seat. He called out to the waitress: ‘More coffee over here.’

Alexander, standing, continued. ‘What happened to Luther ?’

‘I told you’ Terry said. ‘Luther’s gone - moved to pastures new.’

‘He's dead, isn't he.’

Terry gave an unconvincing laugh. ‘Dead ? Whatever gave you that idea ?’

‘A man died in police custody. They haven’t released a name. It was Luther, wasn’t it ?’

Terry continued going through his paperwork. ‘Who knows ? We’ll just have to wait and see.’

‘What about the girl, the waitress who worked here - Alicia. Is she dead too ?’

Terry laid down his pen and stared at Alexander. ‘I think you're barking up the wrong tree, Sonny Jim. Alicia has moved on as well - gone to live with her dead beat boyfriend, probably. People come, people go. That's the way of the world.’

‘You know that’s not true’ said Alexander.

The waitress brought a mug of coffee and placed it on the table. Alexander stubbornly remained, waiting for an answer. Terry took a gulp of coffee and wiped his mouth with his arm. ‘Still here ?’ he said.

‘I’m not going anywhere until you tell me the truth’ said Alexander.

Terry collected his papers and stood. ‘Well, if you’re waiting for the truth you’ll be waiting for a long time. Tell you what: turn up at the car park as usual tomorrow morning and I'll see what I can do.’

The gang-master walked out onto the pavement. Alexander followed. ‘Luther told me everything’ he said. ‘He gave me evidence. He told me to go to the police.’

Terry stopped. Alexander had called his bluff.

‘If you know what’s good for you, take my advice!’ said Terry jabbing a finger directly at Alexander’s head ‘Keep your mouth shut.’

Terry got into the old Transit and drove off. Alexander – shaken - needed to confide in someone – anyone - who could help. But who ?