She put the kettle on the stove and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. There was no margarine left so she took out a bowl of dripping from the fridge and spread it onto her toast. She sat down and started to write out a shopping list, licking the lead of the pencil as she decided what she needed. She’d still got some leftover stew so they could have that for their dinner, but she was out of potatoes. The kettle boiled and she looked at the filthy clothes left by the washing machine. John’s jeans and T-shirts were covered in grey powdery dust and his boots were caked in soil beside them. She put the clothes in a plastic bag, picked up the boots and placed them back down on an old newspaper. She decided to take them to the launderette later, but it would have to wait until after the funeral of Nancy Phillips’ grandson. She went into the bathroom to wash her hair.
Half an hour later Renee went into the kitchen where a bleary-eyed John was sitting in his dressing gown reading an old paper. He was exhausted, and every muscle in his body ached from being cooped up in the cramped tunnel lifting the Kango drill. He’d poured himself a mug of tea from the teapot, but it was tepid and he piled in the sugar stirring it hard. He looked up and saw his mum with her hair still wrapped in a towel. She hardly spoke to John as she fried bacon and eggs, made a fresh pot of tea and set the table around him as he slurped the dregs from his mug.
‘How’s David?’ he asked.
‘Not well. He’s still got bronchitis and by the looks of it a high temperature. I’m worried stiff about him and in two minds to call the doc again. ’
‘Just keep givin’ him the medicine,’ John grunted, and poured a fresh mug of tea. She finished the fry-up and put two platefuls of food with thick wedges of fried bread on the kitchen table along with a bottle of HP sauce.
Clifford walked in and sat opposite his son. Picking up the HP sauce he slapped the bottom twice and a large splodge fell onto his plate. He ate with his mouth open, making a terrible chewing sound. Some egg yolk dribbled down the side of his mouth which he wiped away with the back of his hand.
‘Nothin’ beats a fry-up.’ Clifford spluttered, his mouth full.
‘Go dry yer hair, Ma,’ John said, and as Renee left the kitchen he got up and kicked the door closed behind her.
Despite being pleased when Clifford had said he’d take over from David, John felt his father hadn’t done a very good job as lookout. His dad had stunk of brandy when he picked him up, and John was afraid of him falling asleep on the job because of the booze.
‘Mum says David’s still pretty bad so I can’t risk takin’ him as lookout. You’ll just have to fill in again, Dad, but lay off the brandy this time.’
‘Bollocks to that, it’s freezing up there at night and the brandy is the only way to keep warm. In fact get Danny or Silas to be lookout and I’ll help out in the café.’
It was something John had considered, but the last thing he wanted was his father looking over his shoulder all the time and nagging him.
‘Your guts are too big for the hole we dug and Silas has to be at the café as owner in case anyone comes calling. Danny’s younger and fitter, plus he’s kosher with the electrics and will check for any alarm system we might have overlooked. If we start earlier today I reckon we’ll be in the vault by late evening.’
‘Are you sure of that? Seems a bit quick after where you left off this morning.’
John was certain they would break through into the vault, and because the area was quiet at the weekend they would have more opportunity to use the Kango drill without being overheard. He knew that once the job was done the break-in would not be discovered by the manager until the bank opened for business on Tuesday morning, after the Monday bank holiday.
‘I told Silas and Danny I wanna work during the day as it’s a Sunday. All the shops round there are closed and there’s very little foot or vehicle traffic.’
Clifford looked surprised as he gulped down a mouthful without chewing it properly. ‘I’ll stand out like a spare prick at a wedding in daylight.’
‘No you won’t, only if you stand up all the time. Did you not notice the gaps in the wall for the rainwater to drain away? Just look through them till it gets dark.’
‘Fuckin’ brilliant and what about daytime security, or anyone who comes up to the top floor to park?’
‘Don’t worry about it. According to Silas, because that patch borders the City, all the local businesses are closed at weekends so it means there’s nobody to use the car park and no attendant on duty in the pay kiosk. If anyone did drive in there’s loads of room on the ground floor so why go all the way to the top.’
‘I was thinking that now I’m the lookout, as well as one of the persons who put the job up, I deserve a slightly bigger cut than I’m getting, don’t I?’
‘You’re a greedy old sod, Dad. OK, I’ll slip a bit extra on the side for you.’
‘Shake on that, son,’ he said, putting out his hand.
