rr.thebrentfordtriangle-第27节
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aracter in the Victorian garb hard upon his heels？ If I wasn't half the dog I believe myself to be； I would be certain that that is none other than the famed American author； Edgar Allan Poe。 Scratching distractedly at a verminous ear； the dog lifted his leg at a neighbour's Morris Minor； and had it away for home。
Norman reached the allotment gates and peered around。 He had the uncanny feeling that he was being watched； but as there was no…one visible he put the thing down to nerves and applied his skeleton key to the lock。 A wan moon shone down upon the allotments； and when Norman had had his evil way with Small Dave's already depleted cabbage crop； no living being watched him depart with his swag。
The row of lock…up garages slept in the darkness。 As Norman raised the door upon its well…oiled hinges； nothing stirred in the Brentford night。 'Simon；' he said in a soothing tone； 'din dins。'
Having closed the door behind him； he switched on the light； illuminating the tiny lock…up。 Simon looked down from his unfortable eyrie； and Norman sought some trace of passion upon the brute's grotesque visage。 'Yum yums；' he said kindly。 'Chow time。'
If camels are capable of displaying emotions； other than the 'go for the groin if cornered' variety； Simon was strangely reticent about putting his about。 As he hung in the air； the great ugly…looking beast did little other than to drool a bit and break wind。 'You cheeky boy；' said Norman。 'It's your favourite。'
Behind him； Edgar Allan Poe eased himself through the closed garage door and stood in the shadows watching Norman making a holy show of himself。 Simon saw Edgar at once； and Simon did not like the look of Edgar one little bit。
'Waaaaaark！' went Simon the zero…gravity camel。
'e； e；' said Norman； flapping his hands； 'there is nothing to get upset about。 It's really only cabbage； your favourite。'
'Waaaaaark！' the disconsolate brute continued。
'Shhh！' said the shopkeeper。 'Calm yourself； please。'
'Waaaaaark！' Simon set to wriggling vigorously amongst the eaves。
'Stop it； stop it！' Norman frantically waved the cabbage leaves about。 'You'll have the whole neighbourhood up。'
Edgar Allan Poe was fascinated。 Times had certainly changed since he had shuffled off the old mortal coil。 Small Dave had spent a goodly amount of time impressing upon him the importance of finding a camel。 But to think that people actually kept them as pets now； and that they were no longer tethered to the planet of their birth by gravity。 That was quite something。 'Stone me；' said Edgar Allan Poe。
John and Jim were taking the long route home。 After the incident earlier that evening at the Swan they had no wish to cross the allotment after dark。 It was a brisk； cloudless night； and as they slouched along； sharing a late…night Woodbine； they were ill…prepared for the ghastly wailing cries which suddenly reached their ears。
'What is it？' Pooley halted in mid…slouch。
Omally peered up and down the deserted street and over his shoulder to where the allotment fence flanked an area of sinister blackness。
'It is the plaintive cry of the banshee；' said he； crossing himself。 'Back in the old country no man would question that sound。 Rather he would steal away to his own dear hovel and sleep with his head in the family Bible and his feet in the fireplace。'
'I have never fully understood the ways of the Irish；' said Jim； also crossing himself just to be on the safe side。 'But I believe them to be a people not without their fair share of mon sense； best we have it away on our toes then。'
Another horrific cry rose into the night； raising the small hairs on two ill…washed necks； and causing Pooley's teeth to chatter noisily。 This one； however； was followed almost at once by vile but oddly reassuring streams of invective； which could only have arisen from one local and very human throat。
'Could that be who I think it could？' Pooley asked。
'If you mean that very electronics expert with the brain of a veritable Einstein to whom you previously alluded； then I think that it might just be。'
The two men strained their ears for another sound； but none was forthing。 Slowly； they proceeded along the street； halting outside the row of lock…up garages。 'Would you look at that；' said Omally； pointing to where a line of orange light showed beneath one of the doors。 'Now what would you take that to be？'
'I would take it to be another trap；' said Jim。 'I have recently had a very bad experience through entering sheds without being asked。'
Omally shuddered。 The thought of those icy…black subterranean waters was never far from his mind。 'Caution then？' he asked； creeping close to the door and pressing his ear to it。
It was at that exact moment that Edgar Allan Poe； who had been badly shaken by the floating； screaming camel； chose to make his exit from the garage。 Passing discreetly through the solid wood of the garage door he slid right into the skulking Omally。 For one ghastly moment the two forms； one solid and smelling strongly of drink； the other ectoplasmic and probably incapable of bearing any scent whatever； merged into one。
'Holy Mary； Mother of God！' screamed Omally； clutching at his head。 'The very devil himself has poked his clammy finger into my ear。'
'Who's out there？' Norman spun away from Simon； who was now silent beneath the falcon hood of a potato sack which had been rammed over his head。
'Night watchman；' said Pooley unconvincingly。 Twelve o'clock and all's well。 Goodnight to you； stranger。'
'Pooley； is that you？'
'Norman？'
The garage door rose a couple of feet and Norman's face appeared； peeping through the opening。 'Is Small Dave with you？' asked the persecuted shopkeeper。
'That vindictive grudge…bearing wee bastard？ Certainly not。'
Norman crawled out under the door and drew it rapidly down behind him。 'Just servicing the old Morris Minor；' he said。
'Sounds a bit iffy；' said Omally。
'A bit of gear trouble； nothing more。'
'Let me have a look at it then。' Omally was all smiles。 'I know the old Morris engine like the back of my hand。' He extended this very appendage towards the garage doorhandle； but Norman barred his way。
'Nothing to concern yourself about；' he said； 'nothing I cannot handle。'
'Oh； no trouble； I assure you。 Nothing I like better than getting to grips with a monkey wrench and a set of allan keys。'
'No； no；' said Norman； 'I think not； it is growing late now and I have to be up early in the morning。'
'No problem then； I have no a。m。 appointments； to me the night is yet young。 Leave me the garage key and I will post it through your letter…box as soon as I am done。'
'You are kindness personified；' said Norman； 'but I could not impose upon you in such a fashion。 My conscience would not allow it。 I will just lock up and then we shall stroll home together。' He stooped to refasten the padlock。
'You'd better switch the light off before you go；' said Jim Pooley。
Norman's hand hovered over the padlock。 A look of terrible indecision crossed his face。
'Allow me；' said John Omally； thrusting the shopkeeper aside and taking the handle firmly in two hands。 'I should just like to have a look at this car of yours before we depart。'
'Please don't；' whined the shopkeeper； but it was too late。 The door flew upwards and the light from the lock…up garage flooded the street； exposing Norman's secret to the world。
Pooley took a step backwards。 'My God；' was all that he had to say。
Omally； however； was made of sterner stuff。 'Now； there we have a thing；' he said； nudging the cowering shopkeeper。 'Now there we have a thing indeed。'
Norman's brain was reeling； but he did his best to affect an attitude of bland posure。 'There； then；' he said； 'satisfied？ Now if you don't mind； it is growing late。'
Omally stepped forward into the garage and pointed upwards。 'Norman；' he said； 'there is a camel asleep in your rafters。'
'Camel？' said Norman。 'Camel？ I don't see any camel。'
'It is definitely a camel；' said John。 'If it were a dromedary it would have but one hump。'
'You have been drinking； I believe；' said Norman。 'I can assure you that there is nothing here but a Morris Minor with a tetchy gearbox。 I have read of folk suffering such hallucinations when they have imbibed too freely。 e； let us depart； we shall speak no more of these things。'
'It's definitely a camel；' said Jim。
'Dear me；' said Norman shaking his head； 'another victim of Bacchus； and so young。'
'Why is it in the rafters？' Pooley asked。 'I was always of the opinion that camels preferred to nest at ground level and in somewhat sunnier climes。'
'Perhaps it is a new strain？' said Omally。 'Perhaps Norman has created some new strain of camel which he is attempting to keep secret from the world？ Such a camel would no doubt revolutionize desert travel。'
Norman chewed upon his lip。 'Please be careful where you stand； Omally；' he said。 'Some of the primer on the bonnet is still wet。'
Omally put his arm about the shopkeeper's shoulder。 'Why not just make this easy on yourself？' he asked。
'Although I accept that mentally you are a fearsome adversary； surely you must realize that the game is up？ Cease this folly； I beg you。'
'Don't scuff the
