Dave had found two cheap three-bedroomed houses. He put two single beds in both of the large bedrooms and one in the small bedroom for the girls to stay in when they weren’t working. Their work would all be done in either hotels or at their clients’ addresses.
Many customers became regular clients, and demand grew as word spread. Dave then put his best girls into their own apartments to do in-calls as well as out-calls with the cost of the rent being deducted from the girls’ share of the take. Dave learnt to watch out for girls who lied about the number of clients and kept some of the fees for themselves. They got dealt with in such a brutal way that word quickly got round and the others were too terrified to risk it.
In the three years since adding the girls’ escorting activities to his drug dealing, Dave constantly has to consider ways in which he can turn the cash into ‘legitimate’ income.
Having large sums of cash sitting around sounds good, but with all the checks banks have to carry out, you can’t simply pay it into your account or buy cars or property without a lot of awkward questions being asked.
Chapter Ten
JAMES
The noise from people starting to go about their daily business awakens me. I carefully begin to put my ‘bed’ back into the recess behind the refuse bins, so no one in the hotel management notices it and orders its removal or realises what’s going on. I can understand why non-paying guests are not so welcome.
My second priority of the day is to visit a local toilet. I won’t go into detail! Every Wednesday morning, usually between eight and nine, I try to sneak into St. Paul’s hostel and make use of their shower and washroom facilities.
If I’m able to time it for when the staff are changing shifts and busy with all the residents’ problems, I can be in and out in less than half an hour and no one is any the wiser. You might be surprised to learn that the facilities are not used to their full capacity because some of the residents are not very fussy about their personal hygiene. I take my own soap and use it as shampoo. I also have my own towel. I guess I still have some standards. My parents, God bless them, taught me well.
The residents of St. Paul’s are asked to leave by nine thirty am, so they tend to congregate around a couple of benches on a large roundabout in the centre of an area called Mitcham’s Corner. The name comes from ‘Mitcham’s’, a small independent department store which started business in 1909 and lasted until 1977. It was like a smaller version of the store in the TV series Are You Being Served.
After the department store closed, it became a sports shop, but nowadays it’s a furniture store. A group of up to ten regulars hang out by the benches: eight men and two women who spend all day chatting and drinking. They buy cans of beer from the small shop run by Mr Miah and his wife.
There is a public toilet nearby but it costs twenty pence to use. Being homeless you notice all sorts of opportunities and the group know about a dead-end alley, where refuse bins are stored between the organic farm shop and Barclays Bank. The back of this alley is ideal for use as a free toilet, especially useful after you’ve had a few cans and been caught short.
After I’ve managed to sneak in and have a shower in the hostel, next on my list is to find something to eat.
Thankfully, there are various charity and church organisations run for the homeless on different days of the week. On a Wednesday, my favourite place is St Matthew’s Church Hall where I can savour one of Emily’s homemade cakes washed down by a lovely cup of tea with three sugars.
On rainy days like today, after my free food and cuppa I usually head for the local library. Not the main town centre library as I prefer the one in Ascham Road. I walk along Milton Road and turn to walk the twenty yards up Ascham Road. The entrance consists of a huge grey stone surround which dwarfs the double door entrance. It must be twenty feet high and on either side of it are rows of three windows.
The library is small, but friendly and warm. Before mid-afternoon when the mums bring in their kids after school it is usually almost empty apart from a few people coming in to return books and choose new ones. As you walk in through the automatic doors, the entire area in front of you is filled with all manner of books. The ‘counter’ is located just to the right, and further along is an enclosed area for the children’s section. I always turn left as this is the side for the reference section area where anyone can sit and read a variety of the daily newspapers and current issues of a wide selection of magazines.
The librarian is an old-school type. Her name is Miss Heffer and she has time for everyone. She is also extremely knowledgeable on most subjects and is like a walking encyclopaedia of reference material and local history. She is a small lady, probably close to retirement age, who it seems has never been married. The rumour is her fiancé died trying to save someone in a fire two weeks before their wedding day and she never recovered from it. She wears thick-rimmed glasses which appear to be too heavy for her nose as they constantly slip down.
