EARLY the next morning, the Colonel discovered his ‘guest’ once lived with an elderly man, who lived in a house near The Retreat. He had died six weeks before and the cat vanished. He now had a new ‘friend’ and he had to keep her hidden from the council, who banned pets.
Jock was beginning to despair at finding a decent getaway car in Crabby. He might have to look further afield. Then, out of the blue as he walked down Sandways Road, on his way for a tipple at a seafront bar, Eureka, in the driveway of a large house, a red Mark Two Jaguar was parked. The keys were still in the car. Seconds later, it careered out of the drive and drove towards the Retreat, narrowly missing a large Tesco re-supply lorry which swerved to avoid hitting the Jag. The lorry slowly fell over on its side.
A bemused tenant of the house returned and found the Jag was missing. It was due, along with another car, to be shipped to Holland that day. It had arrived with him that morning having been ‘acquired’ in Warwick overnight.
As the car was being hidden in the garage attached to the Retreat, the Colonel was discussing the missing garden with farmer George, who told him he knew the identity of the garden thieves. He said he’d seen two men loading a large van with garden furniture and many plants, including the greenhouse stuff. Both, he added, used the Talbot pub and one was known as Dave the Dip. “Ah! The two of ‘em have set up a small gardening shop in Felthorpe. Talk is they sell drugs. Their place is next to the Swan. Seems they suddenly get a load of stock. It wuz them ’aright. D’ yer think I should tell the plod?”
“Not just yet. Let’s make sure it’s the stuff from here,” the Colonel said. “Not just yet.” Here were two-character types he despised – stealing from the elderly and selling drugs.
Later, he met the other three. “I think we’ll pay him a visit. He might need a talking to.”
At lunch-time, they met in the Swan next to Garden’s Is Us. “Right,” the Colonel growled. “Let’s pay the little blighter’s a visit. Some of that gear is from our place. Little tykes. Gotta be taught a lesson.”
They finished their drinks and prepared to head for the shop when Lenny spotted a familiar face. “So, he does have a body.” “Wotcha on about, Lenny?” Reg asked.
“It’s him, yer know, that fella whose face pops up and now and then, no body, then vanishes. It’s him alright.”
Just as he finished, the landlord arrived collecting empty glasses. Lenny tugged his sleeve and pulled him closer, and in a whisper, said, “George, who is that geezer at the bar, the one in the green jacket and cap?”
"You should know. He’s got a flat at your place. Stranger blighter. Says he’s a retired Daily Telegraph Reporter. Load of tosh. He was a driver with the local evening paper when after a few months, they got rid of him. Used to claim he wrote the pieces that appeared in the paper. What a clot! He has a nickname of ‘Bent’ from his days as a crooked, used-car salesman.
"He had to give that up when the Trading Standards prosecuted him for selling clapped out old cars. He wouldn’t know the truth if it stared him in the face.
“He claims the story about the animal saga was all his. I know for a fact that people in cars and on the train sent in pictures and text. Tell ’im something ridiculous and he’ll try and sell it to a gullible newspaper. Oh! Well we’ll let him dream on.”
With that, he collected more glasses and headed for the bar.
After the landlord’s departure, the Colonel said, “We’ll have a refill, then pay the two idiots a visit.” With that, they headed for the bar.
After finishing their drinks, they stood opposite the garden centre and watched Dave, the Dip, and his pal moving around the plants and furniture and enter the shop. The four followed them inside and Dave, the Dip, approached them, “Can I ‘elp you, gents? Lookin’ fer somethin’ special?” As the Colonel was about to say something, Reg blocked the entrance to the street, and Lenny did the same with the rear door. Jock stood next to the Colonel.
“How’s yer dad, still in Wandsworth nick? Let me see got nicked fer robbin’ old folk, wasn’t it?”
The young assistant found his escape routes were blocked. Dave looked worried, but bravely said, “What der want? If yer don’t want anythin’, get out.”
The Colonel smiled, "Followin’ in yer dad’s footsteps, eh!
Now nickin’ stuff from old folk’s homes ain’t sensible."
“Look ’ere, if you lot don’t clear off, I’ll get the cops.” All Four laughed at the threat, Dave began to look worried. The Colonel patted his cheek and said quietly, “Now that sounds a good idea, if yer want to spend time in nick, you silly boy.”
Reg added, “Idiot, I spent some time banged-up wiv yer dad.”
Dave, in an attempt to wriggle out of his dilemma, pointed at the Colonel, and said, “Go on prove it, old fella.”
“Simple, yer see these two benches. They’ve got brass plaques on the back, saying they were a gift to the Retreat from, let me see, oh! Yes, the Borough Council. Then, there’s this wooden flower box. It says it was a donation from a Mrs Jennifer Watson to, let me see, oh! The Retreat. Then, you’ve got on display some plant pots we know came from the Retreat. We can go on. Not very bright, are we?”
Dave gulped and coughed, his younger accomplice groaned.
"You’ve also nicked stuff from other old people’s homes. I should think that all this stuff you’ve got ‘ere has been nicked. As fer yer threat to call the cops, well, they already know someone’d been thievin’ from these places. You ain’t very bright, are yer?
“Now,” the Colonel paused, “If the nicked things find their way back, like today, then we won’t tell the cops where t’ find the stuff. This offer applies to all old-age premises you’ve nicked the stuff from. Got the message?” The Colonel patted Dave, the Dip’s cheek.
“Lenny and Jock here will stand over yer, ter make sure my suggestion is carried out. Got the message?”
Dave stepped out of range of the Colonel’s hand and nodded. His accomplice said in a nervous voice, “We gotta do that, Dave, we gotta do that, ain’t we?”
At six in the following morning, the Colonel took an early constitutional. He was delighted to see the plants and garden furniture were back in place. He noticed the greenhouse plants were also back.
The geraniums, as Guy referred to them, had a distinctive look of cannabis plants. Their few days on ‘holiday’ had left them looking in urgent need of water, heat and light. The Colonel had a pathological dislike of drug dealers, cannabis growers and anyone connected with drugs. “Those plants have t’ be destroyed,” he muttered.
From the branch of the oak tree, Minnie watched the entrance to the Retreat. It was quiet. She stretched, then jumped on the balcony of the Colonel’s flat and climbed through the small open window. She was sitting by the front door when the Colonel arrived. “Oh! I see you’ve made yourself at home. I’ve bought some special food for yer. If you’re gonna stay, then we’ll have to make sure it’s in secret. OK?”
Minnie’s tale swished, and she gave out a quiet meow. The Colonel had found a lady friend with a difference.
As this was happening, Reg was sitting in the library. He’d worked out that he needed to read a dictionary to discover what the fancy words in the book about autism meant. He now knew that neurodevelopmental disorder meant a brain problem. “Gawd, this ain’t simple,” he muttered. He discovered that some with the condition couldn’t talk to others properly. He also found out that autistic people can be very clever and often could make friends with the most unlikely.
He went home happy that he knew about James’ problems.
That night, he finished his pencil drawing of James.