The Girl from Cotton Lane by Harry Bowling Page A

two in the back,’ Freddie said smiling.
     
    As the policeman stepped down and walked to the rear of the lorry Billy turned to Freddie and shook his head slowly. ‘Yer shouldn’t ’ave mentioned those ovver two,’ he grated. ‘If that rozzer sees Chopper ’e’s gonna twig somefing’s up. Chopper looks more like ’e’s on the run from Dartmoor than a bloody Salvation Army bloke.’
     
    The policeman returned to the front of the vehicle. ‘There’s no one in the back,’ he said. ‘There’s nuffink in the back. I thought yer said yer was bringin’ the seats. Yer did say that, didn’t yer?’
     
    Freddie laughed. ‘No, officer. I said we was sent to set up the seating and the pulpit.’
     
    ‘But yer said there was two more of yer in the back,’ the policeman persisted.
     
    ‘No, I said at the back. I meant in the ovver lorry. It’s following up. That’s a bigger vehicle and it’s full o’ benches and suchlike,’ he said, a note of desperation beginning to creep into his voice.
     
    The police officer gave the young man a strange look and Billy cut in quickly. ‘We’d better give the lads an ’and,’ he said, nudging Freddie.
     
    ‘Well, thanks for all your help, officer,’ the Nark said, following Billy and Tony on to the waste ground.
     
    The tent riggers looked surprised and mystified as three strangers started to lend their muscle to the ropes. Freddie groaned as he saw the policeman coming over to him.
     
    ‘I’ll walk up to the main road. Your mates might be stuck in that traffic ’old-up at Lime’ouse,’ he said to Freddie.
     
    ‘I’m much obliged,’ the would-be warehouse-breaker replied, shaking the policeman by the hand. ‘We’d like to get finished soon as possible.’
     
    The policeman nodded. ‘I ’ope so too. We’re guardin’ this tent all night an’ it looks like rain. I’d much sooner guard it from the inside,’ he grinned.
     
    Freddie smiled and began pulling on the rope.
     
    ‘Oi! What yer doin’?’ one of the riggers shouted at him. ‘If yer pull on that one the ’ole bloody lot’ll come down.’
     
    Freddie glanced fearfully in the policeman’s direction but he was already walking smartly along the narrow street. ‘C’mon, you two. Let’s be orf,’ he hissed.
     
    ‘Oi! Give us an ’and wiv this rope,’ the foreman rigger called out to them.
     
    ‘Poke yer poxy rope! I ’ope the ’ole bloody lot falls down,’ Freddie snarled at him.
     
    Soon the lorry was rolling once more. Freddie the Nark sat back in the cab, feeling very pleased with himself for the way he had handled such a tricky situation. Both Billy and Tony had praised his coolness, and they were puzzling over the fate of their confederates.
     
    ‘They might ’ave fell out when we pulled up,’ Tony volunteered.
     
    ‘Nah. They jumped out more like,’ Freddie laughed. ‘They must ’ave seen the rozzer.’
     
    ‘Nice bloke, wasn’t ’e?’ Billy remarked, grinning broadly.
     
    ‘Chopper an’ Frankie’s got a long walk ’ome,’ Tony said.
     
    ‘Not if I know Chopper. ’E’ll most prob’ly get a cab an’ then do anuvver runner,’ Freddie laughed.
     
    The three lapsed into silence until the lorry was rumbling over Tower Bridge, then Freddie slipped his hand into his coat pocket and took out a handful of silver. ‘’Ere, Tony. There’s the dosh fer yer pal. Yer’ll all ’ave ter ’ave a whip round ter pay yer share. I can’t stand the lot.’
     
    Billy nodded. ‘I wonder if that ole boy did phone the police,’ he said.
     
    ‘Yer can bet yer life ’e did,’ Freddie said positively. ‘I could feel it in me water. I can smell trouble o’ that sort a mile orf.’
     
    Freddie was right. Jack Price had hurried to the phone and informed Dockhead police station that there was an attempted robbery in progress at the Clark Wharf. Freddie the Nark’s impersonation of a police officer had sounded convincing to him, until he said that Peggie had