The Locksmith Linda Calvey (phonics readers .txt) 📖

told me to sort the money – and I did. So, leave it. I got us a good deal, don’t push it. Freddie let slip that Charlie Beaumont’s been eyein’ up the same job, so we know it’s kosher. I feel bad enough for doin’ it, just trust me on this, eh?’

‘We’re doin’ the right thing,’ said Ruby hastily. She didn’t want Bobby backing out now. ‘It’s for Mum, it’s for George. Just don’t forget that. Sometimes you ’ave to do bad to do good.’

Bobby shrugged but his face didn’t change. He didn’t like it, that much was obvious, but he was a loyal son and brother and he would do it for their mother.

‘I need to know, though, Rube: are we plannin’ on doin’ more jobs or is this a one-off?’

Ruby looked over at him. Her face was in the shadow cast by the overhead light in the kitchen. She didn’t reply, not knowing how to.

Bobby wouldn’t let it drop. ‘Is this just for the thousand pound, to make sure we can pay the bills and give Mum a proper send-off?’

‘I think so, Bobby,’ she replied, noticing she naturally led their conversations. It was strange for it to be the other way around. She wasn’t sure, though, if this was a one-off. Their financial problems wouldn’t end with the funeral, she saw that. They would still be there, lying under everything they did, under every conversation, every word or action. Who knew where this would lead? Who knew what would happen?

‘Let’s just get this done properly, and without you gettin’ caught. That’s all that’s important, Bobby, then we can talk again,’ she finished, unsure who she was convincing, her brother or herself.

CHAPTER 13

Ruby pushed the old-fashioned black pram down the grimy street flanking the docks. Huge warehouses loomed over her along with large cranes and chimneys spewing out thick smoke. The dock sludge swayed in oily motion, the water filled with the detritus of industry, a sheen of rainbow-coloured petrol lying over its murky grey depths. Ruby cast a strange figure, walking through the haze. The Isle of Dogs was a place of extreme contrasts, bankers mingling with dock workers, large tower blocks in various stages of development climbing into the sky amid the historic wreckage of London’s dockland past.

In the past ten years, the island had become a thriving industrial hub under Margaret Thatcher, with brand new skyscrapers springing up, the gleaming tower blocks of corporate offices and luxury apartments now half empty as recession bit at the redevelopment of this ancient tongue of land jutting into the mighty Thames river.

Ruby glided through a mix of office workers and men clad in fluorescent jackets and hard hats, pushing baby George. She was all but invisible to everyone except a handful of young male bankers who whistled as she walked past.

Ruby wore sunglasses and had pulled back her hair into a tight bun, looking for all the world like a young mum out for a stroll in the weak spring sunshine. Taking her little brother out with her had felt like the perfect disguise. After all, who really noticed a young mum? Who really cared what she was up to? Ruby felt as invisible as if she’d worn a wig and glasses, blending into the background, looking as innocent as it was possible to be.

Thankfully, George had been sleeping peacefully as she bumped the pram down from the DLR, getting off at Island Gardens and walking north along Westferry Road. She was heading for Millwall Docks and the offices inside an old warehouse, which was the target of the heist agreed with Freddie. Ruby insisted to Bobby that she’d case the joint beforehand. She didn’t trust a hair on Freddie Harris’s head, and so she’d set out that day, at around the time that workers took their lunch, hoping to be less visible among the crowds, even if she was stalking through the less salubrious parts of the docklands.

She walked for a while then slowed as she realised the building was coming up on her right. As luck would have it, there was a bench overlooking the water almost directly in front of the offices she was scouting out.

‘Our luck’s in, little George,’ she murmured as she manoeuvred the pram to the seat and sat down at an angle, pretending to fuss with the sleeping baby’s blankets. As she did so, she was afforded a full view of the site where the robbery was due to take place that evening. She hooked her sunglasses onto her head and turned to inspect the site.

Unfortunately the building was flanked by large security gates, which meant she couldn’t get access inside to scout it properly. It worried her that she was limited to walking round the building, looking for possible exits, checking the number of people coming and going, and getting a feel for the building and its surroundings. She was starting to realise that she would have to take Freddie’s word for it that this job was kosher, but he was the last person she wanted to trust.

Luckily, the alarm system was clearly visible, the main entrance below it. Ruby didn’t know anything about locks or alarms but she could see the brand was a security company she recognised, and she could give Bobby that much information.

She looked around for security guards or cameras tracking her movements but could see no one or nothing that would cause problems.

‘We’ll wait ’ere for a minute, George, and see if anyone comes,’ Ruby said, stretching her shoulders back and gazing out at the river. Her eyes rested on a large tanker that was negotiating the stretch of water, but her senses were on full alert. Nothing much happened over the course of almost an hour. Someone who looked like a foreman came out and stood smoking a cigarette. He even said ‘hello’ to Ruby, who smiled back at him. She got up and walked around the building as best she could, but