Stone Ginger

From the start I knew Ginger was a brass. So what? I told myself. This was primo tail, type northern boyos were paying five-hundred a trick for and they don’t chuck away a monkey lightly. I mean, like it made a difference if the goods were pre-loved. So what? I was still sliding the bolt, night after bleedin’ night. I was having the time of my life, no question. Ginger even had the lads on the late shift eating chips out her knickers when she showed up to collect me in that little topless coupé. What a feeling it was, to be sorted like that, to get a bit of respect for doing not a thing. And to feel wanted, yeah, there was a bit of that too, at the start anyway.
‘Charlie Lamb, you old dog, said Bert Gault.
I knew my stock was up the minute they stopped calling me Minty. It wasn’t a name I minded – it’d stuck with me from the old school days – but when Ginger came along it didn’t seem to fit anymore. Y’know, like Minty and Ginger was a clash or a confusion, one of the two, anyway.
As I packed her off into a taxi old Bert placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘How the fuck did you land that?’
My glasses started slipping; I edged them up with my middle finger. ‘Oh, you know.’
‘No, Charlie, I fucking surely don’t know.’ Bert was gobsmacked, his lips pinching into a tight hole like he was about to suck one of his Senior Service fags. Ginger blew me a kiss from the taxi.
‘Well, I met her at the Prince of Wales. Tuesday nights she likes a drink and a sing-song and we hit it off over a bit of Dolly and Kenny Rogers. “Islands in the Stream”, you know it?’ ‘”Islands in the Stream”. No, I don’t know it, Charlie. I
don’t know what I bloody do know anymore.’ ‘What?’
‘Islands in the fucking ...’ He looked me up and down then put his hands in the pockets of his overalls and turned around. ‘I’ll have to keep an eye on you, Charlie, mate ... I’ve underestimated you; either that or your luck’s changed, and not for the bleedin’ worse!’
When I think about it now, yeah, of course I should have seen the signs. The boys on the back shift said we were a funny old pair, proper odd, what with Ginger being the best part of a foot taller than me – more, in some of her fancy high-heel numbers, like the top-teetering ones with the old leopard print and that. I just didn’t listen, straight up, I never. I suppose you could say I was blinded by all the attention, the affection, and bloody hell, the bunk-ups weren’t half bad, either.
Stell had never been that way. She was a once a month and don’t smudge my night cream sort of girl. She would have had a hairy fit if she’d known about Ginger, it would have fair unsettled old Stell to see me bagging a right goer like that.
‘Jesus, girl, you’re killing me!’
Ginger eased off, loosened the thigh-clamp she had me in. ‘I thought you liked me strapping my legs on you like this, darlin’.’
‘Shush, don’t talk.’ I rattled in a few more thrusts and then the riot hose went off.
‘See ... you see what happens?’
Ginger grinned under me. ‘Don’t worry, my honey, we’ve got all night.’ She slipped away from me and rolled off the bed into her silky gown. ‘I’ll make us some drinkies, okay, honey?’ ‘Yeah ... yeah. Murder a tin of Mick Jagger right now, I
would.’
She made for the kitchen. I heard the fridge door going, the ice cubes rattling. It was one of those strange, still moments, when everything seems to look suddenly different, like you’re outside yourself looking in. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so alone, it was eerie. As I got out of bed my first instinct, stupidly, was to turn over the picture of Stell that sat next to the night light, but it wasn’t there, hadn’t been for months.
I put on my gown and headed for the kitchen, felt like I carried a shiver with me as I went, until I spotted Ginger.
‘What the hell are you doing with that?’
Her eyelids shot up. ‘Nothing!’
I walked towards her, grabbed the briefcase. ‘How did you even get into it?’
She folded her arms, spoke: ‘It was open ... I thought you might have some matches in there.’ ‘I don’t smoke!’
‘Charlie, what’s wrong with you, love?’
A band of guilt tightened around me. ‘Nothing ... I saw you with my briefcase and, I don’t know, my mind did a flip. Only natural, innit?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ She moved up to me, turned round sharpish, and wiggled her backside in my groin. ‘Why don’t youflipmeoverinstead,lover?’
I never thought I’d ever be the sort to hang around with Vinnie Wise. He was the pack leader on the back shift. Vinnie had the highlights in his hair, the three-litre Supra and a string of conquests to depress the rest of the crew with. Hairdressers mainly, and a few wide-eyed schoolies he’d had over the barrels round the back of the Prince of Wales. He’d never had a woman to rival Ginger, mind you.
‘How’s it going, Lambo?’ Vinnie called out.
‘Oh, hello, Vin.’
‘No Ginger today?’
‘Eh, no, as it happens. She’s up west doing some shopping.’ He grabbed his boiler suit at the balls, ‘She’ll be getting that beaver spruced up for you!’ He collected a round of applause from the others. It rattled me a bit; I was still feeling a little uncomfortable after the night before.
‘What’s wrong, Lambo ... she over-revving your engine?’
More laughs. I gripped the handle of my briefcase; how could I tell them what I really felt? I mean, they were the lads on the shop floor, always up for a bit of a giggle at someone’s expense; it was a jest, but in good sport; you just had to play along.
Vinnie made to block my path as I headed for my office in the production unit. ‘Hey, you know who I think Ginger looks like?’
‘I have to get going, Vinnie.’
‘I saw her on the TV last night – the big chickie out of Thelma and Louise ... can’t remember her name for the life of me, mind you.’ He snatched my forearm and started to grip tightly.
‘Vinnie, we’ve got a big old order in today, I need to crack on, mate ... this place pays our wages, remember.’
‘Yeah, Gina something, so like Ginger with the long legs and the big mouth ... Jesus, I bet your Ginger knows how to work that gob of hers, eh!’ He turned to the lads. ‘I say, I bet she’d slobber more than a car wash.’
I snatched my arm away and headed off to production.
‘Slobber, slobber,’ shouted Vinnie as I went. That got some more applause, it did.
As I got to the door I was gulping air so fast my lungs were pinching. My heart was ramping, too, going like the bleedin’ clappers. The laughter hung around, Vinnie even ran up the steps to pinch my backside for a bit more comedy, like I was one of his schoolies down the drinker. I felt like he’d proper pulled my pants down.
Inside, I leaned on the back of the door and tried to steady my nerves. I was panting, going dizzy, I was. My hand was gripping the handle of my briefcase so tight the sweat was squelching like a mop. Was it what I saw the night before or was it Vinnie taking the piss? I couldn’t decide, but something had shook me. It was like I’d been found out fooling myself, living a lie, and now the delusion was sitting up in front of me saying, ‘See, see? You knew it was too good to be true, Charlie.’
I went to my desk and put the case on the floor, sat myself down. I thought I’d been like a hero to the back shift, pulling Ginger, but now I was wondering if she was pulling my plonker and everyone but me had seen it all along.
I tried not to think about it, to put it out my mind. I took out the order book and looked at the day’s workload. We had three-quarters of a million’s worth of stock shipping out – Ginger would have to wait. Someone had to be on the ball; it wasn’t going to be Vinnie and the boys downstairs with their jobs on the line if that stock didn’t ship on time.
I checked the numbers were all cushty, totted them up again just to be sure, then decided to take the chits down to the wagon drivers. I got as far as one leg in my overalls when the door to the cabin burst open, battering the handle into the wall so hard it jammed there.
‘What in the bleedin’ blazes ...?’
‘Shut it!’ the words came at me like a roar from a face so distorted it took another few seconds to spot the Pretty Pollys on his head.
‘Christ Almighty, you’ve got a gun.’
That laugh. The bald one’s laugh. I think I’ll remember that for the rest of my mortal days.
‘Well, it’s not a pea-shooter, guv ... Now get on the fucking deckbeforeIblowyouanewcunt.’
‘Had you seen any of them before, Mr Lamb?’ The police officer seemed mildly frustrated with me; when he wasn’t drumming fingers on the table he was fidgeting in his chair.
‘No. I told you. Never seen them before in my mortal.’
The plastic chair squeaked beneath the detective as he leaned back; he tucked his hands behind his head and showed me two sopping-wet pools of sweat in his armpits.
‘This is pointless ...’
‘Can I go, then?’
He shot forward. ‘Look, is there nothing about today’s
events, or those of recent weeks, that has made you even remotely suspicious?’
‘No.’
‘Nothing?’
‘Not a thing, guv.’
‘I find that strange. Y’see, normally these sorts of jobs involve quite a bit of planning. This was a professional outfit, not some looney tunes standing over the local Shell station. Sure you didn’t see someone strange hanging about, or maybe someone you know asking funny questions?’
‘I’ve already told you a hundred times, chief ... my answer’s not going to change, no matter how you put up the question.’ My mind was filled with a million suspicions all right. Like the night in the Prince of Wales when Ginger showed up, smiling at me and crossing those long legs just enough to let me see her stocking tops. I’d even clocked Phil behind the bar giving her the once-over and asked if he’d seen her before: ‘... I can say for sure and certain, Charlie, my old son, that’s a no,
because I’ll definitely remember those tits all my days!’
And then there was the time she said she wanted it on my desk at the office. We shipped back there after the boozer because she said she had the notion, just got it into her head, she had: ‘I can’t explain it, I’m just hot for it like that!’ Bloody hell, Minty, she saw you coming ...
‘Okay. Get out of my sight,’ said the woodentop.
‘Eh? What, you mean, I can go?’
‘You can leave, for now. But don’t forget to pick up the phone if you have a sudden jolt of memory, or conscience.’
I can tell you, I didn’t need to be told twice.
This whole turn of events, well, I just couldn’t Adam and Eve it.
For a while there, months, a year maybe, there was a lot about Ginger that played on my mind.
Vinnie had his teeth smashed in with a cosh – he’s never been the same since. He wasn’t alone; a fair old number on the back shift lost some bottle, not to mention their bonuses for the year.
The insurers eventually coughed for the losses, but not until the entire business was on the brink of going under; nobody can live on the kind of temporary credit terms the banks offered. There’s none of us will see pay hikes for a good stretch.
But it could’ve been worse.
Nobody died.
Except me, in a way, just a little, on the inside.
I called, but her number was dead. I went back to the Prince of Wales every night for two months after, but Ginger never showed. Phil the barman kept an eye out, but never had a thing to report.
The boys on the back shift seemed to follow my story that I’d cracked up since the raid. I told them Ginger didn’t want to know on account of me being loop the loop. After all, much of it was true; how could they doubt it?
When I saw her that day up west, a hoard of posh carriers stuffed under her arm, I was glad she seemed to be doing okay. ‘Hello, Ginger,’ I said.
She didn’t look like she even recognised me, just shuffled a bit on her heels, then pushed up her Ray-Bans.
‘Oh, it’s you, Charlie.’
‘That’s not much of a welcome.’
‘Well, what do you expect?’ She slid the sunglasses back on her nose and sighed. ‘Look, Minto, or whatever your bleedin’ name is, it was nothing personal.’
My chest got a bit tight, my cheeks went all warm. ‘What did you say, Ginger?’
She was impatient now, lowering her packages to hail a cab. ‘Business is business, my darling.’
It didn’t sound like when she used to call me darling, not one bit, it never.
A cab pulled up and she looked at me. ‘Five-hundred a trick is bloody good business, you can’t fault a girl for that.’
The driver got out, all smiles he was, they really put it on for the rich birds in this manor. He started to load up her bags and Ginger got in the back.
‘Are you still here?’ she said. She had a little mirror out now, dabbing her nose with powder. ‘Look, you have to understand something ...’
My mouth dried over, but I got the words out. ‘And what’s that?’
She snapped the compact shut and wet her lips as she leaned out the window. ‘Well then, it’s simple enough, you’ve either got the readies or you ain’t.’
She flung herself back and started laughing. As the cab pulled out she was still going at it, rolling and rocking, laughing me right up, she was. I stepped nearer the road to watch the cab go out of view, must have been a good minute before I
realised she’d gone, rounded the corner and clean out of sight. I dug a hand in my pocket and emptied the contents.
‘Fifteen sous, eh ...?’
I never had the readies for a girl like Ginger, not before or after, but I was still counting the bleedin’ cost.