Chapter IX

VAL'S PERFECT CRIME

"I've just got to have a bike," said Val to himself during the first week of the Easter holidays. If I had a bike I could get away from Shorty's gang and go fishing and exploring, and see the world.”

But the question' was, how to get the money? Now Mum was not working, cash was shorter than usual. There had been no pocket money at all lately.

Val thought hard as to how he could make money.

He tried the newsvendors, but they all had boys. Then he went along to see Mr. Copley at the stationer's. But everyone knew Val’s reputation.

"You're a bad lad," said old Mr. Copley, looking at him over the top of his spectacles. "Everyone says so. Always fighting!"

"I don't want to fight." muttered Val, standing sideways to hide a black eye that was fading too slowly.

"Then why do you do it?" asked the old shopman. "Look at your coat! It's all ripped. And not a button on it I want a smart lad."

Val turned up his arm. Mum had practically given up mending for him. "It's a waste of my time," she had said.

"If the boy you've got now goes, would you take me on then?" asked Val.

"No, I want a steady boy," said old Copley and turned away.

Val could not explain that he wanted to be steady, that he hated fighting. No one would have believed him. Then, he was proud, too proud to make excuses for himself.

Next he tried the grocers and the laundry.

"Don't you want a Saturday boy?"⁴ he asked. "I'll come evenings too."

But they all declared they had boys. and the laundry woman cried, "Go home and wash your face before you go asking for a job."

Val hadn't thought of that, so he stood there, taken aback.

The woman sniggered. "Tell your Mum to put you in the next bag wash."

Being laughed at was too much! Val could feel tears in his eyes, so he ran away, with the giggling of the laundry girls still in his ear.

Despate now, he went back to the flat and really washed his face, but not to his ears or behind them, so that he looked like a negro who had put on a pink mask. Cleaned up, he went to call on Mrs. Crawley and Mrs. Doherty and some of the other women and asked them all for errands; but everyone replied, "Run along, Val, and don't bother me. Last time you did my shopping you broke the eggs; and forgot the bread."

"I couldn’t help about the eggs," said Val. "That was Thompson."

But all the housewives were like Mr. Copley and wanted a steady boy who did not get involved in fights.

At last he gave up his search for work, and went out into the yard. It's enough to drive you to crime, he said to himself. ‘Tisn't as if I wasn't wanting to earn the money honestly.

He went across the Common and down the High Street, pressing the buttons B⁵ in every telephone booth he passed; but someone else had thought of that. He scrumped an apple off a stall, not because he was hungry but as a revenge on a society that did not want him. He went and looked at the lovely, shining new bicycles in the shop windows. Val stood there imagining himself racing along to the sea. He asked himself why other boys had bikes and he didn't. And he said to himself, "It's not fair."

He began to hate everybody, and to feel the whole world was against him. He hated a community that refused to let him even work for a bicycle. Wandering on, he came to the Supermarket where there was a great crowd of people doing their shopping.

I could bring young Len here to do a bit of scrumping, thought Val. Then he remembered that Len was now eight and so responsible for his own actions. Much as Val hated the world, he did not want to involve his little brother with the police.

While all this was going through his head, he was watching a fat lady in a nylon fur coat. She had collected some bananas and was holding them out to be packaged. For a moment she had put down her purse on the counter. Scarcely thinking, but acting on impulse, Val picked up the purse, pocketed it, and dived away out of the crowd. It was done in a second and he was out of sight before the woman had noticed her loss.

So this was what casual scrumping had led to! Val had thought nothing of pinching an apple or a cake, and now here he was stealing money.

Going at a brisk walk, but not really running, he slid into one of the back alleys that ran behind the High Street.

The purse was burning in his pocket. He was so scared at what he had done that his mouth was dry and his legs felt weak at the knees. At all costs, he must avoid the gang or the police until he had got safe home and hidden the purse.

As soon as he reached the flat, he locked himself in the lavatory so as to examine the purse in peace. With fingers that trembled, he opened it and found eight pounds in notes and about eight shillings in silver. Enough money to buy a second-hand bicycle!

He did not feel particularly guilty now that he was home.

The lady at the counter had never seen him, and would not be able to describe him. No one else had noticed him. He had really committed the perfect crime.

But while he stood there looking at the money, he realized that there were still complications. He could not go out and buy a bike, for his parents would at once wonder where he had got the money.

What a fool he was! Why hadn't he thought of that before? He left the lavatory, went into his room, and sat down on the bed. He had been a thief and all to no purpose. Then suddenly, he saw what he must do. He would have to pretend to get a job. This would mean he would have to disappear every Saturday, and on most evenings. No one in the family would have the time or energy to check up as to where he went.