He was a blunt-spoken, retired Chief Petty Officer, and after much deliberation, and having listened to the vicious gossip about Barry that came from the women, he had decided to take the little man in hand. He knew exactly what his problem was, and it was nothing that a little practical advice and straight speaking couldn't put right. He had come across Barry's type in the Navy, although admittedly they were usually younger.
Barry covered what he was doing. 'I'm working on something important,' he said priggishly.
'No you're not. We both know what you're up to, and it's not work.'
Barry took off his glasses and stared blindly across the room. 'I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Oh, yes, you do, and it isn't healthy, son.' Glen moved heavily across the floor. 'Listen to me, a man of your age should be out having fun, not shutting himself away in the dark looking at snapshots. Now, I've a few cards here with some addresses and telephone numbers on them, and my best advice to you is to choose the one you like and give her a ring. She'll cost a bob or two and you'll need a condom, but she'll get you up and running if you follow my drift. There's no shame in having a helping hand at the start.' He placed the prostitutes' cards on the desk, and gave Barry a fatherly pat on the shoulder. 'You'll find the real thing's a damn sight more fun than a boxful of pictures.'
Barry blushed a fiery red. 'You don't understand, Mr. Hopkins. I'm working on a project for Mike Deacon.' He uncovered the pictures of Billy Blake and James Streeter. 'It's a big story.'
'Which explains why Mike's at the other desk helping you, I suppose,' said Glen ironically, 'instead of out on the town as per usual. Come on, son, no story's so important that it can't wait till after Christmas. You can say it's none of my business, but I'm a good judge of what a man's problems are and you're not going to solve yours by staying here.'
Barry shrank away from him. 'It's not what you think,' he mumbled.
'You're lonely, lad, and you don't know how to cure it. Your mum's the nosy type-don't forget it's me who answers the phone if she rings of an evening-and if you'll forgive the straight-speaking, you'd have done better to get out from under her apron strings a long time ago. All you need is a little confidence to get started, and there's no law that says you shouldn't pay for it.' His lugubrious face broke into a smile. 'Now, hop to it, and give yourself the sort of Christmas present you'll never forget.'
Thoroughly humiliated, Barry had no option but to pick up the cards and leave, but the shame of the experience brought tears to his eyes, and he blinked forlornly on the pavement as the front door was locked behind him. He was so afraid that Glen would quiz him on how he'd got on that he finally made his way to a phone booth and called the first number in the pile that the man had selected for him. Had he known that, in the simplistic belief that sex cured all ills, Glen habitually passed prostitutes' cards to any male colleague whom he deemed to be going through a bad patch, Barry might have thought twice about what he was doing. As it was, he assumed his virginity would become common gossip if he didn't fulfill Glen's ambitions for him, and it was more in dread of being the butt of office jokes than in anticipation of pleasure that he agreed to pay one hundred pounds for Fatima: the Turkish Delight.
*9*
'Now,' said Lawrence, when they were settled at a table with drinks in front of them, 'perhaps Terry would like to tell me why I'm here.'
Terry ducked the question by burying his nose in his pint of beer.
'It's quite simple-' began Deacon.
'Then I should like Terry to explain it,' said the old man with surprising firmness. 'I'm a lover of simplicity, Michael, but so far you've only confused me. I am very doubtful that Terry is who he says he is, which means you and I could be in the invidious position of accessories after the fact to a crime he committed previously.'
A resigned expression settled on Terry's face. 'I knew this were a bad idea,' he told Deacon morosely. 'For a kickoff I don't understand a bleeding word he says. It were like listening to Billy. He was always using words the rest of us had never heard of. I told him once to speak fucking English, and he laughed so much you'd of thought I'd just told the best joke in the world.' His pale eyes fixed on Lawrence. 'People get hung up on names,' he said fiercely, 'but what's so important about a fucking name? If it comes to that, what's so important about a person's age? It's the age you act that matters not the age you are. Okay, maybe my name isn't Terry and maybe I'm not eighteen, but I like 'em both because they give me respect. One day, I'm gonna
Deacon passed Terry a cigarette. 'There's no crime involved, Lawrence,' he said matter-of-factly.
'How do you know?'
'What did I tell you?' demanded Terry aggressively. 'Fucking lawyers. Now he's calling me a liar.'
Deacon made a damping motion with his hand. 'Terry ran away from care two years ago at the age of twelve, and he doesn't want to be sent back because the man in charge is a pedophile. To avoid that happening he's added four years to his age and has been living under an alias in a squat. It's as simple as that.'
Lawrence clicked his tongue impatiently, unintimidated by Terry's seething anger beside him. 'You call it simple that a child has been living in dreadful circumstances without education or loving parental control during two of the most important years of his life? Perhaps I should remind you, Michael, that it's only five hours since you were telling me you wanted to be a father.' He raised a thin, transparent hand towards Terry. 'This young man is no harmless stray who can be left to his own devices now that you've prevented the police from exercising their responsibility towards him. He's in need of the care and protection that a civilized society-'
'There were Billy,' broke in Terry fiercely. 'He were caring.'
Lawrence looked at him for a moment then took the photograph Deacon had given him from his wallet. 'Is this Billy?'
Terry glanced at the haggard face then looked away. 'Yeah.'
'It must have grieved you to lose him.'
'Not so's you'd notice.' He lowered his head. 'He weren't that bloody brilliant. Half the time he were off his
