THE PRICE OF SUCCESS – PART ONE

THE PRICE OF SUCCESS – PART ONE

By Bob French

Julie pulled open the door of the classroom and froze.  There standing in front of her was Mandy Thriftwood, the school bully.  Just behind her in the shadows of the corridor were her three bodyguards; Phillipa McGregor, Miriam Smith and Rashi Mohammad.

          “You’re late!”  Before Julie could explain, she felt the stinging slap across her face.  “Come on you little turd, hand over your lunch money, I haven’t got all day.”  There was hatred in her voice and Julie knew that if she hesitated or tried to give an excuse she’d receive a few more slaps and a couple of kicks from her three goons.

          Reluctantly, Julie slowly put her hand into her blazer pocket and took out the three pound coins her Mother had given her at breakfast this morning and handed them over.  Mandy snatched the coins from her hand, pushed her aside and vanished into the darkened corridor.  Miriam Smith, a particularly nasty person barged into her, knocking her against the door frame, then turned and smiled as though she was waiting for Julie to say something, her yellow crooked teeth showing in the dim light.  Then she too vanished into the darkened corridor.

          Julie felt as though the whole world was pressing down on her shoulders.  She had mentioned it to Miss Graham, her English teacher, who said that she would raise the issue with the Head, but she knew she hadn’t.  She sat looking at the small apple she had taken from the kitchen bowl on the way out to school when suddenly she felt someone climb in onto the bench next to her.  She froze again, thinking it was Thriftwood and her henchwomen.

“Hi Julie, you look down in the dumps today.  Anything I can help with?”

She turned and forced a grin.  She liked Jimmy. They had met up on the first day of their schooling at St Peter's Infant School.  That was ten years ago and they had remained friends ever since.

Julie thought for a moment, then turned to Jimmy.  “I’ve got a problem and it is really bothering me.  But I don’t know how to fix it.”  Jimmy looked down at the tray in front of Julie.

“Have you had lunch yet?”

“No, that’s the problem.  Thriftwood and her three goons demanded my lunch money again.  It was that, or get another good slap across the face.  I dread to think what that Smith girl would do to me given half a chance. I know my Mum can’t afford it, but….”  Her voice trailed off into silence.

Jimmy pushed his tray across in front of her.  “Here, it's a Marmite and cheese sandwich.  Get stuck in.  You have got to eat something while I think of a cunning plan.”

Julie discretely squeezed his hand, making sure that she was not seen by her friends on nearby tables and thanked him and began to tuck into the sandwich. suddenly Jimmy sat bold upright.

“What is it?”  Julie stared at him with a mouth full of sandwich.  Jimmy went on. “Pick up your sandwich and let’s find somewhere quiet.”

They walked out into the warm air of the mid-day and headed for the wide-open space of the sports field and sat in the middle of it.

“What’s the plan then?”

“First thing is for me to speak to Jenifer.  You know her, she’s in your maths class. She works in the offices at ECHO, the huge supermarket just outside town, at weekends.  Jimmy had known this because he had seen her on a Saturday afternoon in her posh uniform and had also seen, on numerous occasions, the McGregor’s doing their shopping there.  “Then I think I need to spend some time with Frankie and his brother Louis, see if they can help me.”  Julie studied the expression on Jimmy’s face.  He seemed miles away.  The voice of Alex interrupted the silence and both turned to see Alex walking toward them.  Julie noticed that Alex had hitched up her school kilt a little and smiled as she noticed the fresh coat of lip-stick on her face.

          Julia turned and faced Jimmy who by now had a worried expression on his face, then he swore under his breath.  Jimmy stood and brushed himself down as Alex came up to him and stood very close to him.

“What you doing all the way out here then Jimmy?” ignoring the presence of Julia altogether.  “I thought we were going to have lunch together.”

“Sorry Alex, something came up.”  Then he turned to Julia.  “What I need you to do, is to carry on as normal OK, but try and keep out of the way of Mandy Thriftwood and her goons.”

Alex, not wanting to be outdone by Julia, linked her arm through Jimmy’s and steered him back to the school building.

On the stroll back across the sports field, Jimmy asked Alex if she would be prepared to help in his plan.  Alex was reluctant at first, but when she realized that she herself would not be involved, she agreed.  It took him fifteen minutes to go over what he wanted her to explain to her elder sister who worked in Dalton’s, the fashion shop before she finally agreed.  Her only question was that Dalton’s weren’t having a sale, but Jimmy explained that Dalton’s always had huge signs in their windows declaring a sale. Alex nodded her agreement, then stipulated that for her contribution to his plan, he had to promise to be taken on a real date; to a place of her time and choosing.  Jimmy nodded and reluctantly agreed.

That afternoon Jimmy met up with Jenifer and talked through a theory of his about ordering food and things online and having them delivered.  After a few minutes, Jenifer became suspicious and asked him what he was up to?  Jimmy explained what he had in mind. When he had finished, she readily agreed to help.  Her weekend job at ECHO was to consolidate all the orders taken during the week, including all the last minute orders or things forgotten from the original lists; cost them, check credit card payment details, then organize the drops for the following week. The last thing Jimmy asked her was to make sure the McGregor’s got their delivery on Friday morning, the thirteenth.  Jenifer smiled and nodded and when she left, was already working out her part of the plan.

It wasn’t until the end of the school day that Jimmy caught up with Frankie and his brother Louis.  They talked for about half an hour about the plan.  Jimmy kept emphasizing the need for timing. After some impressive bargaining, Jimmy agreed that if Frankie pulled off the task, he would reluctantly give him his card collection of the Brazilian football team; Jimmy thought the trade-off was worth it. 

On the way home, he caught up with Mark, a timid boy who had a stutter and was in the year below Jimmy.  Mark had fallen prey to Thriftwood and her bullies on many occasions.  After a few minutes, Mark agreed to participate in the plan.  Jimmy wasn’t after the direct services of young Mark, but his elder brother, who worked for the local gazette.  Jimmy promised he would let Mark know when and where his brother should be if he wanted to get an exclusive.

Saturday morning, after his paper round, Jimmy dropped his bike outside the newspaper shop, then walked along the depressing row of shops on the High Street, many already closed down and boarded up due to lack of customers or rents being too high. When he reached the narrow alleyway next to the Betting Shop, he slipped down into the darkness and the smells of another world.  He knew, like any street-wise kid, that on Saturday, just after mid-day, Josh would be in one of the garages selling his Kentucky Blue or Mexican Red tablets to those who wish to really enjoy their Saturday night rave, which was coming up next Saturday.

As he came up to the entrance of one of the dimly lit garages, a tall black kid who had hatred in his eyes, intercepted him.

“What the hell do you want ya, little runt?”

“I want a word with my mate Josh.” And went to push past the guard.

The black kid grabbed Jimmy by his hair and yanked him up against the wall.  Jimmy yelled out in pain.  Suddenly Josh appeared.

“Leave him be Bert.  He’s a friend.”

Jimmy straightened his hair then nodded to the back of the garage, indicating that he wanted to speak.

“Thanks, Josh, can I ask a favour?”

“Sure, what is it?”

I want you to set-up a real nasty piece of work at school, you know full blow drugs raid at school and her home torn to pieces.”

Josh studied the litter strewn floor of the garage, then looked up at him. “Who is it? Do I know her?”

“Yes. Her name is Philippa McGregor.  If I’m not mistaken, her Dad was the guy who blew the whistle on Barry last year.  He claims to be an upstanding man of the local community, but he’s a crook, always on the take. If he can be dragged down as well, all the better. Oh, and can you lay your hands on a couple of stolen credit cards?”

Josh nodded to confirm he knew who McGregor was. “Give me a couple of days notice to set things up.”  They spoke for ten minutes, going over details whilst the big black kid stood guard at the entrance.  When he was done, Jimmy thanked Josh and left, nodding to the black kid as though he was family.

At Sunday School, Jimmy made a point of sitting next to Padma, an Indian girl whose family lived five doors down on the same street as he did and were Christians. He liked her because she sometimes helped him with his homework.  When they broke up into groups, Jimmy asked if he could have a chat with her after.  With a puzzled look on her face, Padma agreed.

They sat on the benches in the church courtyard and talked quietly for a bit.  He could see from the expression on her face that she did not like what he was proposing, but when she weighed up the brutal racist treatment, she had received from Rashi Mohammad and her friend Smith, she agreed.  As she left the bench she turned and told him in no uncertain terms that he had to make absolutely sure the plan would work.  Jimmy stood, crossed his heart as a promise “Hope to die.”

Copyright Bob French