“Okay, matey. A nice warm bed would be good. I’ll need to collect my things from The Albion. George said he’d keep an eye on them.”
“Yeah, he’s a great lad is George. So, let’s go grab your stuff and I’ll take you to our flat. Me and You.”
Using my mobile, I phone for a taxi and while waiting, I take my bike across the road to the front of Barclays Bank and lock it to the metal bike rack. I’ll collect it later today or tomorrow.
Chapter Thirty-Five
JAMES
Three minutes later, our taxi arrives. The driver says we’re not allowed cans of beer in the cab so Stevie gives it to one of the group. We both get in and I give him the address, The Meadowcroft Complex on Hills Road. It’s a small complex of only seven apartments close to the railway station. It’s set over four floors. Two flats per level with the penthouse occupying the entire top floor.
I pay the taxi driver and Stevie and I take the stairs to the first floor to number three. We walk into the spacious lounge. On the far side are floor-to-ceiling windows with beech colour frames and a door leading out to a large patio, large enough for a table with four chairs and a dome topped BBQ in the corner. The lounge area has a long black leather sofa which curves round ninety degrees and can probably seat six people. In front of it is a black coffee table. There’s also a maple wood table complete with four high back leather dining chairs. The TV is on a black glass stand with silver legs adjacent to the windows and between that and the table is a black wall unit containing books and ornaments. The kitchen can best be described as compact with only one partition wall between it and the lounge area.
At the front of the apartment are two good-sized bedrooms. Mine has a king-size bed. Stevie’s has a double bed. Both rooms have large floor to ceiling sliding door storage for clothes and both have en suite bathrooms with a shower bath.
The flat, or apartment as the letting agents prefer to call it, came fully furnished right down to the kettle and built-in microwave, with both probably seeing the most action out of everything in the apartment.
I show Stevie into his room.
“Okay, here we are. This is your room. I can see you don’t have much in the way of clothes. Maybe we can go into town in the next couple of days and find you a few things.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” he says in a more sober voice than earlier.
“Stevie, let’s get things straight. I’ve had some good luck and I’d like to share some of it with my best mate in the whole world. If it was the other way round, I have no doubt you’d look after me.”
“So who’s this best mate in the whole world, you mentioned,” he asks with a grin.
It’s at that moment I know I’ve got the Stevie I know and love back. His sense of humour has returned.
“It’s you, you muppet,” I say, leaving him in no doubt.
We give each other a big man hug. No can of beer to get in the way this time.
“Tell you what,” he says, “now I’ve sobered up, I’m feeling a bit peckish. Is there any food in the place?”
“You must be joking. I can’t cook to save my life. There’s a range of restaurants just across the road. Let’s go and see what you fancy.”
I put on the thick coat I purchased a couple of days ago. The nights are starting to get colder. Stevie puts on a coat from the bag he collected from The Albion. It’s seen better days and I make a note to remember to buy him a new one, but for now, food is our main concern.
We walk across to Clifton Square with its large selection of restaurants and two supermarkets. Stevie likes the look of Nando’s so we opt for that. It will give me a chance to explain to him my plans for transforming Asbury Park.
An hour and a quarter later, we are still chatting away. The idea seems like its grabbed Stevie’s imagination as he is full of suggestions. We are so engrossed in conversation that neither of us notices the blue BMW and its two occupants watching our every move as we cross the road and head back to the apartment.
Chapter Thirty-Six
DAVE
Dave’s anger is still at boiling point when he receives a phone call from his friend, Town Planning Officer, Peter Hogan.
“Hi, Dave. I’ve just got word there’s another bid going to be made for the Asbury Park site in the next couple of days.”
Dave erupts. “YAAAARH! Then put a spanner in its works! Come on, you owe me big time. Get moving and spike it!”
“Yeah. Okay, Dave.”
“Who’s behind the bid? Maybe I can have a word with them?”
“It’s a woman by the name of Susan Heffer. She’s been talking to one or two of the Planning Committee. I’m going to have a quiet word with them and hint that your bid is around thirty million pounds. That should put them off. There’s no way they’re going to bid that high. She’s part of some new charity and they’re looking for someone to do their PR. I’ve spoken to my niece, Alison. She’s going to apply for the position. If she gets it she can keep an eye on them for us.”
“Susan Heffer? Never heard of her,” says Dave.
“Yeah. She’s connected with some rich guy called James Sheldon.”
“Sheldon!” Dave turns purple with rage and flings the phone across the room before rushing downstairs, jumping into his car and driving over to the Premier Inn on Newmarket Road.
The fact the hotel doesn’t have a car park and he has to find a parking space two streets away does nothing to diminish his mood.
Arriving
