The Midnight Bakery

Chapter 11

11

William

Since the last time they’d spoken, Stuart had made no more mention of needing William’s help at any ‘special’ parties, but he was pretty certain they were a regular event. If he had to make a guess, he’d say the games being played were poker, and not just the friendly kind either. Instead, the kind where large sums of money were bet, the kind which were illegal because Stuart certainly didn’t hold a gaming licence, nor was he running a casino. So, apart from anything else, if William had helped him out, it would have made him complicit simply by being there. He didn’t need that kind of complication in his life. Not now.

The fact that in all of William’s nine months of working at the club he had never twigged what was going on was of little comfort. Stuart might be good at keeping his money-spinner a secret, but even so much as a whisper in the wrong ear could change all that in a heartbeat. If William was to do what he came here to, he needed to stay as close to Stuart as possible even though his instincts were telling him to run. He might be trying to do the right thing, but he’d learned the hard way that there were special rules for people like him. It wasn’t so much about being honest, it was about never becoming involved in the first place.

At first, gaining the job at the club had seemed as if the universe was finally giving him a helping hand, but things were turning out to be far more tricky than he’d imagined. He was walking a very fine line and it wouldn’t do to put his foot over it by so much as an inch. Not until he was ready. So, here he was again, on another Tuesday night, praying nothing untoward happened.

There was a much livelier crowd here this time, but Stuart’s supercilious smile was just the same. And as William watched him ingratiate himself with the punters, he realised that being there might not be so bad after all. If he was patient, and clever, there might be another way he could protect himself. He could give himself a little insurance policy, one which would wipe the smile from Stuart’s face once and for all. And to do that all William needed was information.

With something of a plan in place, he felt a little happier, and although the hours of drink-fuelled entertainment dragged interminably slowly, he was eventually rewarded for his vigilance. His attention had been caught by Stuart in conversation with a bloke at the bar. William couldn’t hear what was being said, but it wasn’t the subject being discussed that had concerned him; more the manner in which the conversation was being conducted. There was a way in which people ordered drinks, just as there was a way in which people engaged in banter with staff, and this interaction fitted neither of those stereotypes. The conversation was brief, and although Stuart’s head was bent close towards the other man, he never made eye contact. Instead, he looked past him as they spoke, eyes roving the rest of the crowd in the room. He checked his watch, gave a curt nod and the bloke he’d been speaking to returned to where he’d been standing. Judging by the eager expressions on the faces of the man’s two mates, they had been waiting for whatever information he was about to impart, and the glances which subsequently flicked across to where Stuart was now polishing glasses were cautious, but curious.

On his previous shift at the club, William had left as soon as he’d been able, and he did so again tonight. The last of the punters had been ushered out and were on their way home and while it wasn’t exactly quiet, it was at least calm, which was exactly how William liked it. Tonight though, his only thought was not how quickly he could get to bed, but where the best place might be for him to wait unnoticed. Pulling his jacket tighter against the chill wind, William lost himself in the shadows.

He didn’t have very long to wait. Soon, much sooner than William had anticipated, Stuart came through the club’s side door and made his way purposefully down the street where Vipers was situated. The club’s neon sign was now switched off so there was nothing to light his way, and Stuart was quickly swallowed into the dark. It was a simple matter for William to slip out behind him and follow from a distance. It was half three in the morning, and there wasn’t a soul about. William could hear the squeak of Stuart’s trainers as clearly as if he’d been standing beside him.

They had reached the car park now, or what passed for one. For as long as William could remember it had been nothing more than a small, open space between buildings – scruffy, with an air of disuse about it – no barriers, poorly lit and with no security cameras. In short, it was very private.

During the day, a guy sat by the car park’s entrance, charging a quid for its use, but he was old when William was a youngster, and was positively ancient now. He knocked off at five though, so those in the know could park there for free after that time. Even so, hardly anyone was there tonight – a handful of cars, and a grey van parked up in the corner. And waiting by the side of it were the blokes from the club.

The car park was dark enough that William could have moved closer if he chose but, as he was pretty certain what was about to happen next, he hung back. No point in getting involved; all he needed were his suspicions confirmed. Following them up could happen another time.

The men were silent as Stuart approached, the greeting between them no more than a nod. And Stuart was quick – he unlocked the van and slid open the side door in seconds. At this distance William couldn’t be certain what the men were buying, but he could hazard a good guess. The whole exchange lasted no more than a minute. A quick flash of cash and that was that. It saddened William, angered him too, but he stayed in the shadows, silent and waiting.

The van was the first to leave. It was too dark and too far away for William to get the registration number, but if Stuart had parked there tonight then William was pretty certain he would do so whenever he was on duty. William could easily pop back to check another time.

Now that the men had got what they came for, William could see the mood relax. With Stuart gone, the threat of discovery was over and now they were just mates out for the night, all tanked up and nowhere to go. It was time for William to head home.

Waiting until the men were out of sight, William ambled across the car park and into the road, fishing in his pocket for his keys. The night was catching up with him and he longed for a soothing cup of tea and the relative comfort of his bed. He’d hardly gone fifty yards, however, before the silent night was suddenly filled with raucous laughter and catcalls.

‘Oi, giss a bite, love.’

If there was a reply, William couldn’t hear one, but whatever was said was followed by another gale of laughter.

‘Aw, don’t be like that. I asked nicely.’

The familiar scent in the air told William exactly where the men had stopped, and he caught up with them in seconds.

Light spilled into the alley from the open bakery door, and silhouetted against it was a figure, bent double as it tried to retrieve something from the floor. As William watched, one of the men kicked it away amid more raucous laughter.

‘Whoops…butterfingers!’ It was another man speaking this time, unsteady on his feet.

‘Think it’s time you lads headed home, isn’t it?’ William’s voice was soft, unthreatening.

Now he was closer he could see the figure was a woman, already small, but looking much smaller in the presence of the three men. One of them moved to block her path back into the safety of the bakery, effectively marooning her in the alleyway. William took several steps closer.

The nearest man turned to William, jabbing a finger at his chest. ‘You the sleep police, or what?’

‘No, just the voice of reason.’

‘Oooh, hark at him.’ The second man convulsed with laughter, catching at the arm of the third. ‘All right, no need to get your knickers in a twist.’

More laughter followed, which William ignored. He stood silently, his narrowed eyes holding the man’s belligerent gaze until a second or two later, his expression cleared.

‘Hey, I know you…you were at the club tonight.’

‘I was. Which is why I’m asking you to leave before we have to get anyone else involved…like Stuart, for example.’ He was aware of the other two men moving closer, but he stood his ground. He could put all three of them on the floor in seconds, but he’d rather not, given a choice. With any luck, somewhere inside their fuddled brains a shaft of reason still existed and given what had just taken place, William didn’t suppose any of them were keen to lose favour with Stuart.

‘Yeah, and what’s it to you? We have every right to…’ The man trailed off at a nudge from his mate.

William nodded, acknowledging the wisdom. ‘Just call it a night, that’s all I’m asking. That way no one’s in any trouble.’

For a moment, William thought the mouthy one was going to make something of it, but then, with a broad grin, he slapped William’s arm as if he had just told the funniest joke ever. ‘Come on then, let’s get going. These two have no sense of humour.’

He pushed past William and went swaying off down the street, pitching against the woman as he did so. ‘Oopsie.’ He giggled.

William watched until all three men were well on their way before turning his attention to the woman still standing stock-still. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t suppose they meant any real harm.’

‘And that makes it all right, does it?’ The woman was tiny, particularly in comparison to his bulk, and much older than he’d first thought. In fact, her hair was as grey as his, tied back into a loose plait. William had an overwhelming urge to pick her up and carry her back to safety.

‘No, it doesn’t make it okay at all,’ he replied. ‘But it seemed like something I should say.’ He held out his hand, palm uppermost in submission. ‘I’m William. Tactless, but basically harmless.’

The woman jerked her head in the direction the men had taken. ‘Friends of yours, are they?’

‘Hardly.’

‘But you know them?’

‘I’ve had the dubious pleasure of their company this evening, but that’s not the same thing.’

The woman gave him a long look, ignoring his hand with an audible sigh. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘It was good of you to intervene.’ She moved to stand inside the doorway, steadying herself against the door frame. ‘Bloody hooligans,’ she added, her face pale as she stared down the alley.

‘Aye…idiots,’ William agreed. ‘Too much booze to remember their manners, let alone anything else.’

‘So, I’m supposed to ignore them simply because they don’t know what they’re doing?’ She bent to pick up what William saw was the remains of a sandwich, now lying on the floor, its filling spilled onto the cobbles. ‘ That was my lunch,’ she said pointedly. Then she tutted. ‘I suppose I should be grateful it’s just my lunch that’s ruined.’

William bent to assist her, scooping up some fallen lettuce. ‘You didn’t deserve anything to be ruined. Don’t be grateful to them for—’ He stopped suddenly. ‘Sorry, I’m not trying to tell you what to do.’

‘Good, because I’m not grateful, I’m bloody furious that people think it’s okay to throw their weight around…and insinuating that because I don’t find their so-called humour funny, there’s something wrong with me.’ The woman stared at him, holding his look for a second before dropping her gaze.

‘Are you okay?’

She swallowed. ‘Yes, I’m just…I’m not very good with confrontation.’

With the light behind her, her face was in shadow, but William could see enough of her expression to know that she was far from all right. She looked badly shaken.

‘So how come you were at the club tonight?’ she asked, holding out her hand for the remains of her sandwich. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you look a little older than the average raver.’

William grimaced. ‘I work there as a doorman.’

Her mouth flattened into a thin line. ‘I see.’

William shrugged. She obviously didn’t approve of his career choice, but he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t think much of it either.

‘That must be fun.’

‘What can I say? It’s not how I’d choose to spend my evening but I don’t question how others choose to spend theirs.’

The woman studied him for a moment, her expression inscrutable. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to give you the third degree when you were only trying to help. I don’t get any visitors, it’s usually just me and the night – quiet, calm and peaceful. I am grateful to you, though.’ She looked down at her hands still holding the remains of her sandwich. ‘I should get back inside – I’ve got work to do. And a cup of tea which is probably stone cold by now.’

‘Then take a few minutes and make yourself another,’ he replied. ‘That wouldn’t hurt, surely?’ She stared at him again and he suddenly realised it might sound as if he wanted one too. ‘I’m going to do the same,’ he added, moving slightly away. ‘It’s been a long night.’

She nodded, her expression closed and still tight with anxiety.

William wracked his brain for something else to say. He ought to go, but he also felt the need to stay. ‘Listen, I’m sure there’ll be no repeat of earlier, but make sure you keep this door locked.’

‘I’m never bloody opening it again. I don’t usually, and it’s always locked. I just wanted some fresh air; it gets hot in here. I guess I won’t be doing that again. Thanks, guys.’ Her gaze dropped to the floor.

‘Sorry, that was thoughtless,’ said William, clearing his throat. ‘I didn’t mean to alarm you. Or make you feel vulnerable.’

‘ More vulnerable…’

He dipped his head slightly, acknowledging her reply. He felt a need to apologise for a whole lot more than just his comment. ‘You shouldn’t have to change your behaviour because of someone else.’

The woman looked up into his face, one eyelid twitching. She rubbed at it and tucked a wisp of hair firmly behind her ear. It had come loose from her plait. ‘Agreed, but some people don’t make that easy, do they? They think everything is about them.’ Her face was stony.

William nodded. ‘True enough,’ he replied mildly. ‘ Some people…but not everyone.’ He held her look for a moment. ‘Anyway, let me get on home and leave you to your tea.’ He doffed an imaginary cap and turned to go.

‘Hang on, wait…’

He turned around to see the woman disappearing back into the bakery. The smell coming from inside was incredible, and it was warm and comforting. He couldn’t imagine anywhere he’d rather be on a cold winter’s night, and his stomach gave an appreciative lurch. As if reading his mind, she reappeared moments later, carrying a small paper bag.

‘Have these,’ she said. ‘With your cup of tea.’ The beginnings of a small smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. ‘And thank you.’

William took the bag and peered inside, his mouth suddenly watering as the two fat croissants which nestled there released a rich, buttery aroma. He used to dream of food like that.

‘Am I allowed?’ he asked. ‘I don’t want to get you into trouble.’

She did smile then. Almost imperceptible, but it was there. ‘You won’t. It’s no problem,’ she said.

William was about to reply when he realised that she was leaning against the door frame again, almost as if without it she would slide to the floor. He scrunched the top of the bag closed, patting the contents gently.

‘Thank you. You wouldn’t believe how long it is since I had these.’ He dipped his head. ‘Now go and have that cuppa.’

He’d only gone a few steps when he turned back, aware that the door hadn’t yet been closed behind him.

‘Listen, don’t take this the wrong way…’ William was torn. He hadn’t really thought this through, and he absolutely should not be doing this. Whatever happened to not getting involved? ‘I’m not really sure if I should say this or not, but I only live around the corner—’ He could see the woman’s eyes open wide. ‘So, if you ever feel threatened again, or get locked out, or…I don’t know, anything, and you need some help, I’m by Turner’s estate agents, do you know it? There’s a green door to the left-hand side. Just bang on that, it doesn’t matter what time, and I’ll come down.’ He waited, but there was no reply. Had he really expected one? ‘Anyway, night then.’

This time he walked resolutely away, so that by the time her voice reached him it was nothing more than a whisper on the breeze.

‘Night, William.’