Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2284174-Eddie-and-Dave-Ch-2
by Bruce.
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Friendship · #2284174
Trying for holiday money.
Chapter 2

Demon Dave had been friends with Scouse Les for over a year and wherever one was seen, the other was sure to be not far away. They knew the streets in East London well, and though they were often getting into mischief, they prided themselves in the fact that they always managed to evade capture from anyone that pursued them. They were both fun loving rascals, but Demon Dave was the devious one whereas Scouse Les was more forward and cheeky.

         Friday after school Demon Dave and Scouse Les were wondering how to spend the evening.

         "I've found out why Eddie has not been to school for a few days," Dave said.

         "Who cares?" Scouse replied.

         "No, listen. I saw him in the market and he looks like one of them racoons. He's got two black eyes."

         Scouse laughed. "How did that happen?"

         "He had a fight with Anne's ex and he didn't do too well."

         "I should think not. Her ex is sixteen years old. Anne never mentioned the fight to me."

         "Well, Scouse, she is probably embarrassed because she got Eddie beat up."

         Scouse laughed again. “Poor old Eddie. But what shall we do tonight, Dave?” Scouse asked. “We’ve got no money.”

         “Why have you stopped calling me Demon Dave? It’s my nick name, everybody calls me it.”

         "No, Dave, hardly anyone calls you it. It’s a bit daft and why would you want to be called a demon? Especially as you are a bit of a sissy.”

         “Less of it, Scouse, or I'll have to give you a slap.”

         “Carry on dreaming about that if you like, but if you ever try it, I’ll knock you out.”

         Dave gave a sarcastic laugh but did not pursue the matter. Anyway, Jaffa Bill wants some more army belts. We can go and get some and sell them to him in the morning.” Dave cast a look across to Scouse. “What about your pocket money?”

         “They have stopped it this week as punishment. It’s so unfair. That friend of theirs can sit in our house and insult me, but soon as I give her some back, I get in trouble.”

         The two fourteen-year-olds shook their heads and sighed at the unfairness, before setting off for the nearby army surplus dump. They were soon there and climbed up onto the wall, dropping into the yard only after they were sure no one was about.

         They knew where to look for the army belts. The belts were always in the same place, and they knew that as long as they did not take too many, they always would be there. They took two belts each and after they had adjusted the width, they clipped them around their waists. Dave was fitting a pistol holder to one of his belts while Scouse had picked up a shovel and was trying to prise open a large crate. Scouse managed to get the shovel part way under the timber lid, but despite many attempts, the lid would not budge. Dave walked over and helped to pull on the handle and after a lot of effort from them both, the lid sprang up.

         "Blinking hell," Dave shouted. He picked up one of the scabbards, took hold of the handle and pulled out the steel blade. "Bayonets, loads of them." They both stood looking down wide-eyed at the hoard of weapons that filled the crate. "We'll get loads of money from Jaffa Bill for these," Scouse said. "Southend, we'll be able to go to Southend-on-Sea tomorrow."

         Dave saw a canvas bag near where he found the pistol holder. He went to fetch the bag and they filled it with bayonets before climbing back over the wall.

         They were pleased with their booty as they set off for their secret camp near home, with Scouse swinging the bag as they went. They had not been walking long when they heard the sound of a bicycle's brakes squeaking behind them. They both looked round at the same time, in a slight panic at the sight of a policeman dismounting from his bicycle. Without any hesitation, Scouse swung the bag and threw it at him. It glanced off his shoulder spilling its contents over the road. The two youngsters jumped over a small railing and ran across the grass towards a large estate of council flats, knowing if the officer chased them, they could lose him in the labyrinth of alleys and balconies. The policeman looked at the bayonets in the road and decided to gather them up rather than give chase.

         When the pair saw that they were not to be pursued, they stopped running and began laughing as they continued onto the estate.

         "Well, it looks like we're not going to Southend, Dave."

         "Yes, we will. My uncle's got a job knocking down some old houses in Whitechapel. He said we can go and clean some bricks if we want. We can earn a couple of quid tomorrow, and then go to Southend on Sunday."

         “The way you keep getting work on the demolition sites you should change your nickname from Demon Dave to Demo Dave.”

         “Yeah, that's a good idea. I like that. I’ll start calling myself Demo Dave from now on. So, are you gonna stop just calling me Dave and start calling me Demo Dave, as you suggested?”


         They looked around to make sure that the policeman was not about, then made their way back towards home. "Let's go to our hideout and doss these belts,” Dave said. “And while we’re there we can see if we can get some deposit bottles from the bottle washer factory.”

         The wall of the factory was seven feet high, but long ago Dave had dug out bits of brick so that they could climb over. They dropped down into the yard and walked along a path through some bushes until they came to a disused toilet block. After looking all around to make sure that no one was about, they climbed up into their hideout in the roof space of the block.

         It was beginning to get dark, and they knew it was time for them to go home. They left the army belts and set off back towards the wall.

         "We might as well have a look about while we're here," Dave said. "See if we can find some lemonade bottles." Occasionally they would find some deposit bottles mixed up amongst the heaps of cheaper wine bottles, but they were rare as the deposit bottles were mostly kept inside the building.

         They left the bushes, walked out into the large yard and searched about for a while. "They're all crap," Scouse said.

         Dave spotted a wooden crate by the building and dashed over to it. "A dozen, a dozen Tizer bottles," he shouted. They were delighted at their good fortune realising the men must have sorted them out and then forgot about them. They took the crate to the wall, Dave passed it down to Scouse and they set off to the off-licence. There was a loud single ring as they opened the off-licence door, and they walked in and put the crate on the counter next to the draught beer hand pumps.

         The man walked out from his living room and looked at the crate of Tizer bottles on the counter, but he knew the pair and showed no sign of surprise. "Hello, been over the wall again?"

         "No, we like Tizer don't we, Dave?"

         "Yeah, we drink it all the time and we've been saving the bottles up."

         The man laughed but took the bottles. When they left the off-licence, each had a jingle of change, a bag of crisps, a Chocstick and a bag of lemonade crystals.

         Demo Dave was waiting when Scouse Les called at eight o'clock the next morning. They had sometimes worked on Saturdays earlier in the year at one of Dave uncle’s jobs and Dave knew that they would earn at least a pound each. It was a great deal of money to him, and a lot more than he would get for his weekly pocket money. They caught the Underground train to Whitechapel and then walked down to Old Montague Street.

         Dave's uncle had the contract to demolish the whole Victorian terraced block. It was half completed, and a huge pile of bricks was heaped up in the middle of the site, waiting to be cleaned for resale.

         They got through a hole in the fence and saw a young boy smashing some of the bricks with an old cast iron sash weight. Dave shouted and started to run towards him, expecting the boy to run off, but the boy just looked at them and carried on smashing up the bricks.

         "Oy, what do you think you're doing?" Dave said as they reached the boy.

         "What's it got to do with you?" The boy replied.

         "Put that lump of iron down an' I'll show you what it's got to do with me." The boy gave a sarcastic laugh then continued to smash the bricks. "Oy, pack it in," Dave shouted.

         "Make me." He gave a look of contempt as if he thought that Dave was powerless against him.

         There was a fruit crate amongst some rubbish and Dave picked it up and smashed it over the boy's head causing him to scream out in pain. Dave grabbed the sash weight, but the boy would not let go of it. A strong tug on the weight was enough to pull the boy forward and when he was close enough, Dave punched him in the face. The boy let go and fell back onto the rubble.

         "Not as tough as you think you are, are you?" Dave tapped the sash weight on the boy’s arm a couple of times. "What do you think Scouse, shall I break his arms?"

         Dave laughed as the boy jumped up and ran off.

         “That was a bit over the top,” Scouse said. “He’s only a kid.”

         “Well, he’s learnt a lesson.” They found the trowels stashed under a piece of sacking where Dave’s uncle had left them. Dave had cleaned the mortar from no more than a dozen bricks when he noticed the boy coming back onto the site through a hole in the fence. "That brat has come back for some more, looks like he's not on his own though."

         Scouse looked over. "Well, if there's just the four of them, it's only two each." They both reached down and picked up short pieces of timber.

         Six boys had come through the hole in the fence, and there were still more coming. Dave spotted another group coming in through a missing panel further up. Dozens of boys had started running across the site towards them shouting and only stopping to pick up sticks and lumps of wood.

         "Shit," Scouse muttered, and looked to the hole that they had used to enter the site, but there was another group coming in from there. "There's bloody hundreds of them."

         They ran across the site, through one of the derelict houses and out through the front door, closely pursued by the large gang of youngsters. The gang were shouting and screaming like an uncontrolled mob of rioters as they chased them back up the road and into the high street.

         "The bus," Dave shouted. "Jump on the bus." The bus just started to pull away from the traffic lights. They sprinted along and made it onto the open back platform before the bus began to speed up. They turned around and began laughing while giving V signs to their pursuers.

         The bus conductor told them to move off the platform. They went up the stairs and sat on the back seat of the bus puffing heavily while laughing aloud.

         "Well, who wants to clean bricks anyway?"

         "What shall we do then?" Scouse said.

         "Let's go down to the canal,” Dave said. “See what we can nick from the barges."

         To their disappointment, there were no barges on the canal that day, which meant not enough money from the army belts so no trip to the seaside. The day had been a disaster and they set off for home to get some dinner, arranging to meet up later.

         Scouse knocked on the door of the old Victorian terraced house. A tall heavily built Liverpudlian man opened the door. “Hey up, Our Kid,” he said. “I thought you were out for the day. Anyway, your ma wants to speak to you. She’s in the back room.”

          “Now what have I done?”

          “Nothing, apart from having your hair cut again. It’s far too short, you look like a…”

          “Lesley,” her mother shouted, and Scouse Les walked along the passage and into the room. “I’ve just finished sewing this dress. Get your hands washed and try it on.”

          “Oh, Mum!”

          “Don’t, oh Mum, me. Your cousin’s getting married next Saturday and you’re not going there looking like a boy. Now hurry up and get it on so I can see if it needs altering.”

          “But it’s horrible. Why can’t I wear my jeans?”

          “Just do as you’re told girl,” her father shouted from the door. “Or you’ll be losing another week’s pocket money.”

          Scouse Les made her way to the kitchen to wash her hands, mumbling under her breath about how unfair it all was.

         The next Saturday the crowd left the church for the short walk to the nearby hall. Scouse Les was trailing behind, still sulking a little because she was made to wear a dress. She saw Eddie coming from the opposite direction. "That's all I need," she muttered to herself and looked down at the pavement hoping to avoid eye contact.

         Eddie stopped in front of her. "Do I know you?" he asked.

         "Maybe you do and maybe you don't," she replied and started to walk off.

         "Wait a minute, I know that Liverpool accent. You look a bit like Scouse Les. Are you his sister?"

         "No, I'm not his sister. My name is Lesley. I am Scouse Les. Go on then, have a bloody good laugh."

         "I'm not laughing. I would never have thought you were a girl. You look beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous."

         "Piss off," she said and hurried away.

 Eddie and Dave. Ch 3.   (18+)
Eddie and Anne meet Demo Dave at the Two Puddings.
#1973429 by Bruce.
© Copyright 2022 Bruce. (brucef at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2284174-Eddie-and-Dave-Ch-2