Free Angelique by Carl Leckey

missed the Merseyside humour and accents.
    About six thirty Norman appears I buy him a pint and we take a seat at a table in the corner. He listens in awe as I describe my life since my demob. I don’t believe it is appropriate to reveal my good fortune.
    I simply inform Norman I have a well paid job as a driver in France.
    His life has been totally the opposite than mine. When he was demobbed war production at the local shipyards had ceased on the announcement of the armistice. He was in a reserved occupation and had disobeyed by joining up. He had lost his job as a plater’s mate he found it was no longer available. He found it hard to find other employment and spent the summer on local farms as a casual labourer. When the spud picking finished he was out of work. The taxi drivers job came up he grabbed it even though it is poorly paid and dependant on tips to make a living wage.
    “Where did you learn to drive Norm?” I enquire.
    He explains. “I was in the Royal Engineers in Egypt posted to the Canal Zone. A mate of mine taught me to drive on the QT. My chance came along when they were short of drivers. I told the MT Sergeant I could drive. I got the job as a Senior Officers staff car driver. Nice cushy number except for the bullshit. You know Adam sometimes I wish I was back in the Army, except for missing the Wife and kids of course. Thinking back I never had a care in the world. I was pretty well fed not much money though but we got it regular. I was well clothed and shod and we usually had somewhere decent to kip at night. Mind you I was lucky based out there away from the action. All we had to deal with was just a bunch of thieving Arabs trying to steal our gear. Johnnie Turk made threats some times, but I never saw any real action except on the convoy out there.
    One of the troop ships was sunk by a submarine. Good God! The sea was full of fellows screaming and shouting for help. Our ship couldn’t stop to help because we were a target ourselves. I suppose, us being full of troops and all. Some of the lads called the Captain a bloody murderer when he sailed away and left them, but what could he do? I’ll never forget that sight Adam for the rest of my life.” Norman visibly shudders as he recalls the wartime episode. He adds as if apologising for surviving. “I never had it rough like other poor buggers suffered in Europe and Gallipoli. Believe me I realise how lucky I was to get a cushy posting. Anyway enough of me, what are you doing back on home ground?” I inform him. “You know I spent the first years of my life in that shitty orphanage? Well I have recently found my real Mother. I haven’t met her yet she is up here in Birkenhead somewhere and I am determined to find her. Here Norm you may be able to help me, do you know where this address is?” I pull the detective agency card out of my pocket and show it to him.
    “It’s off Exmouth Street! Course I know where it is, just at the top of Grange road.”
    I reply thoughtfully. “Top of Grange road eh?
    Well that’s handy I should be able to find it easily enough?”
    He enquires. “When do you plan going there?”
    I reply. “Tomorrow morning, the sooner the better I reckon. I have a few other places I want to go as well.” Norman advises. “You can walk I suppose it’s not that far, better still you don’t seem short of a few bob.” He scans my expensive clothes. “Why not hire my cab in the morning? I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. It will save me mooching about for fares and it will keep you out of the cold.”
    I enquire. “I was thinking about hiring a car but that seems a good idea. Do you own the taxi Norman?” He answers as if he is not sure. “Well half and half.
    The controller buys the vehicles then hires them to us. We drivers pay him back out of our earnings. Eventually in about ten years I get to own the Taxi. By then it will be knackered I suppose.” I point out. “Sounds a good deal for him Norm? Not so good