This is the fourteenth part of a fiction serial, in 886 words. **May contain swearing!**
So I worked hard, kept away from south-east London, and saved my money. The holiday to Tunisia was booked, my passport was still valid, and off we went to Sousse. It was the first time I had been on holiday ‘alone’ with a girlfriend, the first time I had flown in an aeroplane, and the first time I had been outside of Europe. I loved all the new experiences, and got on great with my new girlfriend too. Although we didn’t actually say it, it felt like we were going to be together for a long time.
Returning home to reality, I began to think about a career change. I wanted to try something that would be long-term, and still bring in as much money as I could make as a cab driver. But things at home had changed. My dad was out a lot, and not just because of his job. My mum was unsettled, and confided in me that she feared he was having an affair. I needed to stick around to support her, and postponed moving jobs as that might have involved moving out of home too.
Since the holiday, my relationship was more relaxed. It felt like we had known each other for years, and my girlfriend understood the pressures at home, as well as my need to stay focused on earning money with my cab. We saw each other when we could, and she continued to stop over occasionally.
The taxi work was busier than ever, but I made another decision. I would move taxi firms, and work from the one closest to home. That would keep me out of the area I wanted to avoid, and hopefully away from the people who knew how to contact me. So I handed in my radio in Greenwich, and went to work for a much smaller outfit in Albany Park. The rent was cheaper, and the local work was busy most days. I went back to taking old ladies to Bingo in the afternoons, picking up overloaded housewives from supermarkets with their bags of shopping, and dropping off groups of excited young girls at the favourite pubs in the area.
At weekends, the more affluent area offered lots of airport runs to Gatwick, pickups from various golf clubs and restaurants, and late night jobs from house parties. It was stress free, and a world away from the same work just 10 miles west. Everyone gave you a tip, and there were few aggressive drunks, argumentative customers, or people trying to jump out at traffic lights to avoid payment.
And no criminals.
Another benefit was the lack of traffic, compared to being closer to the centre of London. I could easily do three local jobs an hour, sometimes four, and that meant I had a good idea what I would earn each shift, as well as using a lot less petrol operating in a much smaller catchment area. Being flexible with my working hours, I soon developed a good relationship with the owner, who ran the place pretty much as a one-man operation. Most of the other permanent drivers had been there a long time, and at busy periods like Saturday nights, we had part-timers supplementing their income from normal day jobs.
For the first time since bumping into Nicky in Bermondsey the previous year, I finally felt I could relax. Nobody at the old place had known where I was going, so if anyone phoned and asked for me by name, or my call number one-eight, they would be told I had left, and that would be that.
Early summer saw me taking time off to go out with my girlfriend. I met some of her friends over in south-west London, and ignored the fact that they looked down on me, raised their eyebrows at my accent, or patronised me during conversation because I had not been to university. I was becoming a regular visitor to her parents’ house, though I never asked to stay over, and wasn’t invited to do so.
We did a lot of things I hadn’t done before. We went to Kew Gardens, took a boat out on the Thames at Sunbury, and had a picnic on Wimbledon Common. I started to take Friday nights off, and that became our night for going to the cinema, with a restaurant meal before or after. We were easy in each other’s company, and she ignored the snobbery of her friends, who were undoubtedly telling her I wasn’t good enough for her.
Then one week night in late July, I got home from work and my mum was still up late, watching TV. She told me there was a message for me. “Someone phoned earlier. I told her you were working until late, but she said you could ring when you got home, whatever the time was. Her name is Patsy, I wrote it down”. Mum handed me the piece of paper, and I got a cold feeling in my stomach. If Patsy had gone so far as to find my home number and call me, something bad had happened. I picked up the house phone in the hallway, and started to dial the number.
If my guess was correct, I was being drawn back in. Once again, just the driver.
Oh, no!! That was a surprise, and I fear not a good one.
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Definitely not a good one, Jennie.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Now he has to take a decision. xx Michael
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Yes, a big decision indeed.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Reblogged this on NEW BLOG HERE >> https:/BOOKS.ESLARN-NET.DE.
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Can’t say I’m surprised. It’s hard to get out once you’re in deep.
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It certainly was back then, Pete.
Best wishes, Pete.
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oh, no!
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Oh yes, Beth.
Best wishes, Pete.
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(1) About my doctor:
My doctor from Tunisia
Says his name is Dr. Sousse.
I think he’s got amnesia
Or perhaps a screw is loose
He drinks Milk of Magnesia
But claims it’s cranberry juice
(2) Macaulay Culkin once spent a holiday alone.
(3) “I needed to stick around to support her.” (Salvador Dalí, who had a crutch on Gala)
(4) There was a farmer had a dog / And Bingo was his name-o / Old ladies loved that dog-o / Those lades were so lame! (Note: The ladies in Las Vegas play Bingo at the Flamingo.)
(5) Cab instructions: In Sidcup and Bexley, drive. In Albany, park.
(6) Everyone gave you a tip.
…Aggressive drunks gave you a tip. (“Take this tip or I’ll smack you, yes I will.”)
…Argumentative customers gave you a tip. (“Stop your bickering, mate! Take the £82. G’day!”)
…People jumped out at traffic lights to give you a tip. (“Thanks for stopping! I was in the crosswalk, and was afraid you’d just run me over! So this tenner’s for you!”)
…Criminals gave you a tip. (“Always wear a loose pair of trousers when you go out at night, and be sure to carry a load of cash in your back pocket!”)
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg!
(7) I once had a picnic with Annette at Wimbledon!
(8) Paul’s friends are known for robbery. His sweetheart’s friends are known for snobbery.
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I thought you might have fun with ‘tips’, David. 🙂
(Guessing you looked up where Albany Park is.)
Best wishes, Pete.
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I didn’t think you would let us off with a happy ending.
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There is still time, Don. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Noooo! How does one refuse?
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No point refusing, Carolyn. She would never have stopped calling.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Actually evidence he can get away. Now. let’s see if he does. Warmest regards, Theo
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Patsy would never have stopped calling, Theo.
Preferable to get it over and done with.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Wow. He was just starting to get his life together.
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We will have to see if he gets dragged back to the people he was avoiding, Molly.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Oh no! Just as it seemed things were looking up ☹️☹️😢
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Yes, his old life caught up with him, Sue.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Boohoo
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Oh no, just when he thought he’d got away from them!
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Isn’t that always the way though?
Best wishes, Pete.
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Oh, no! And just when I thought things were looking up for our hero.
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That life has a way of dragging you back in, Liz.
Best wishes, Pete.
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That, it does.
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Not good news I suspect.
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Your suspicions are correct! 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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