Spend Game
“We’ve some repellent ones, but the White Hart’s as kindly as they come. I stood in the porchway pretending to be preoccupied with my coat, but really sussing out who’d got back from the auction. Tinker Dill was there looking like a derelict straight off the kerb in his tattered mittens and rubbishly old greatcoat. He was standing among a group of other thirsty barkers, all runners for us dealers. Tinker might be the shabbiest barker in the known universe, but he’s the best by a street. He’s als...o the booziest. He saw me and came weaving through the crowds, not spilling a single drop. A barker only lets go of his glass under anaesthetic.
‘Hiyer, Tinker.’ I spoke quietly. ‘Get my stuff from Val’s.’ ‘Eh?’ He goggled.
‘You heard.’ My eyes were everywhere. ‘First thing tomorrow.’ ‘Sunday: Bleeding hell.’ ‘That’s what she said.’ We fought to the bar. I chipped out for a refill and snatched at the barman’s eye for my usual. Tinker grumbled, but that’s nothing new.MoreLess
‘Hiyer, Tinker.’ I spoke quietly. ‘Get my stuff from Val’s.’ ‘Eh?’ He goggled.
‘You heard.’ My eyes were everywhere. ‘First thing tomorrow.’ ‘Sunday: Bleeding hell.’ ‘That’s what she said.’ We fought to the bar. I chipped out for a refill and snatched at the barman’s eye for my usual. Tinker grumbled, but that’s nothing new.MoreLess
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