Free Dream On by Gilda O'Neill Page B

his hands on his handkerchief.
    â€˜Sorry I’m a bit late,’ she puffed, ‘but I’ve been doing that bit of overtime, because I know Nellie’s had her heart set on a new wireless. So I went and put a deposit on one. For her birthday.’
    Ted looked at her for a long moment. Sometimes he really wondered if she was taking the piss with all her kind little thoughts and all her concern for Nellie. Surely she must have known that his mum now felt nothing more than contempt for the pathetic doormat she had let herself become.
    But who cared, so long as she kept the place nice and did as she was told? And, it had to be said, she wasn’t too bad at the other, considering she was his wife. Good little figure. Pretty face. And a lovely pair of pins. If he wasn’t in such a hurry . . .
    â€˜Ted? Is something wrong? You’re staring.’
    â€˜Eh?’
    She looked into his eyes and lifted her gloved hand to her cheek as though she was using him as a looking-glass to reflect the blemish she was sure he was staring at. ‘Have I got a smudge or something?’
    â€˜No.’ Ted walked round to the driver’s side and got in. ‘Don’t wait up,’ he said, then slammed the door and drove off.
    Ted whistled softly, a short, high note followed by a lower, longer one – the prearranged signal for Al to let him in.
    â€˜Hurry up, Al,’ he grumbled, as the young man fiddled around with the locked gate. ‘It’s brass monkeys out here.’
    â€˜I’m sorry, Ted. You know me. I’m nervous,’ was all that Al could offer by way of defence.
    â€˜You’re what?’ Ted tutted irritably. ‘We’ve been doing this for how many months now? And you’re still acting like some bloody big girl.’ Ted reached through the bars of the gate and held out his hand. ‘Give it here. Come on. Or we’ll have the sodding dock coppers on our backs.’
    With practised ease, Ted held the torch in his mouth and slipped the key into the lock, then switched off the torch and swung the gate open without a sound, just enough to let him edge through.
    The experience Ted had gained going on the creep during the war – breaking and entering houses and shops that might, or might not, be occupied – had stood him in good stead, and not just for sliding into Dilys’s bedroom without disturbing her mum and dad. Ted’s skills had equipped him to manage in all sorts of delicate situations.
    He shoved Al in the direction of the deserted office. ‘Move yourself, for Gawd’s sake.’
    Inside, Al pulled down the old black-out blinds that nobody had bothered to remove, checked that the door was locked securely, then turned on the green-shaded clerk’s lamp on his desk.
    Ted sat himself down in the battered, high-backed leather chair and leaned back with his fingers linked across his taut, muscled stomach. ‘What you got for me tonight then, Al? Something tasty?’
    Al went over to the window and lifted the edge of the blind, a nervous checking that the dock police hadn’t suddenly taken it into their minds to alter their nightly routine patrol.
    Ted was losing patience. ‘Look, Al, I don’t need all this. This ain’t the only dock office with a bit of bent gear to sell. I’m flaming freezing, I want a drink and I ain’t got all night. Okay? So are you gonna show me what you’ve got or shall I take myself off down the road and see what’s on offer down there?’
    â€˜Sorry, Ted. It’s all that stuff they’ve had in the papers about the black market. They’ve been having all these checks.’
    Ted sat up straight. ‘When?’
    â€˜Earlier.’
    â€˜They catch anyone?’
    â€˜Yeah, Arthur Waters.’
    â€˜What, red-headed Arthur?’
    Al nodded miserably.
    â€˜Don’t look so worried, Al. That’s good news.’
    â€˜Is it?’ Al