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5.
"This!" Hissed Bradbury, and he pinned his finger on my chest.
"THIS is all your fault!"
"No Bradbury, this is what you get for two shillings these days. One
smelly old tweed jacked, patched, washed and ironed."
"It could have been two jackets, you imbecile! With two pairs of trousers
and two silk shirts!"
"Ah, come one! That shirt you picked was made for bloody closet queens,
all bundles of lace at the collar and trollop ribbons around the cuffs. Even
Oscar Wilde didn't dare to look like that in public."
Bradbury was not impressed. He stalked up and down the pavement in front of the
now barred and locked pawnshop of Mrs Jones like one of those sad feline
predators in the London Zoo stalking inside their tiny cages. Suddenly, he
halted and bolted with his fists on the door.
"Open up Doll!" He bellowed. "This is NOT how we made the
bargain, and you know it!"
"Tell her we gonna burn down her bloody shop if she's not coming
out!" Yelled Higgins, loud enough for a couple old folks strolling by to
raise their brows and walk around us in a wide circle. "With her and that
ugly old hag of a mother in it if we must! Bet they both will burn like real
witches! That will show her!"
I grabbed Higgins by his greasy shirt and slammed him with his back against the
wall.
"There will be no burning or showing of any kind." I sneered.
"And I would keep your sewage hole shut if I were you."
He gulped, his fat sausage fingers bald into puffy fists. Higgins was furious
at me. I could see the murderous rage showing on his face that was now swollen
and red like a big fat strawberry. He couldn't do much about it though, since
he also knew that I was stronger, that for every pound of fat he carried around
over his flesh, I had an ounce of lean muscle covering my bones. He was like
one of those sad French soufflés: large and perhaps impressive to look at, but
all weak and squishy in the middle.
"Besides, Higgs." I said, a cocky grin starting over my lips.
"You wouldn't have gotten anything out of this. There was nothing in that
shop that even came close to your size."
"Don't you dare to bully him!" Bradbury shouted, angrily pacing up to
us. "You were the one who tricked us, you charlatan! - Oh, it's all right
Brad!" He said, doing a really poor imitation of my Cockney talk.
"I'll pay Doll the shilling and make sure she packs everything up. You go
outside and look for the others. - And then, just when you walk out of that
bleedin store with only this lousy jacket, that little bitch slammed the door
shut and bloody well even barred it!"
"Yeah, that was pretty brilliant, wasn't it?" I grinned.
Bradbury's face turned into an unknown shade of dark crimson.
"It isn't that bad, fellas! We could still go to the opening! At least two
of us could. I have a quite proper looking jacket back at the doss-house that
we could patch up a bit." Pete opted, trying to put out the fire.
"YOU WORTHLESS TURD!"
"We might go borrow a clean shirt from the neighbours, and those pants
Will