Between the Devlin and the Deep Blue Seas by Robert G. Barrett Read Free Book Online

the place out before he saw the caretaker.
    The doors on the flats upstairs were the same as the ones below: white with brass knockers and milk serveries in between. He pushed a door open onto the fire escape. It had a wooden staircase and a handrail made of pipe and cyclone wire which had been painted a garish red; more wires and leads hung off the walls and more pigeon shit smeared the dirty brown bricks. Another flight of stairs led to a door that opened out onto the roof. The roof was flat — plain grey tar with a few old boxes, bricks and other junk strewn around. A TV aerial jutted out to one side and behind that, if you twisted your neck around enough, you got a distant glimpse of a few swells out on the horizon. So that’s why it’s called Blue Seas Apartments, thought Les. The panoramic ocean view. He shook his head and walked down to the back yard.
    The concrete back yard held the empty clothesline and several long metal stakes jammed into the concrete held the back fence up. Someone had stacked a number of housebricks into two squares filled with soil to make a bit of a garden, and the few red flowers within, along with the cacti and dandelions out the front added the only colour to what was undoubtedly a very dismal scene. How could I have been such a mug thought Les again. No wonder I kept away from the prick of a joint. Hestared absently at the flowers for a moment then went in to see the caretaker, checking out the laundry as he did.
    The laundry was dark, dirty and stunk of mildew. Old papers, bottles and other junk littered the floor amongst the dirt and dust that seemed to be everywhere. There were five copper tubs with a gas meter above, each fitted with a lock. Cobwebs, dead flies and more dirt festooned the windows that overlooked the backyard. Water on the floor, a few pegs scattered round the tubs, and a couple of dried-up bars of Sunlight said at least someone had been in there recently. How could I have been such a mug? thought Les again. And again he shook his head.
    The storeroom was locked and the caretaker’s flat was next to the laundry. Les knocked, not too loudly, and waited. He heard a shuffling movement inside then the door opened.
    If Warren was half Les’s size, the caretaker was a quarter. He looked around sixty, with thinning brown hair edged with grey, little ears, a little flattened nose and a little mouth full of stained teeth, all set in a heavily-lined face. Wearing an old pair of shiny blue trousers and a matching flannelette shirt he looked up at Les through a pair of watery eyes.
    Norton gave a double blink at the wizened shape in the doorway. ‘Are you Harry Olsen?’ he asked.
    â€˜Yeah,’ was the tight reply.
    The caretaker being so puny Norton felt worse than ever. ‘Ahh... look, mate,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I’ve been sent down by the estate agents.’
    â€˜Yeah?’ The caretaker’s voice was tighter than ever. ‘And what do those two arseholes want?’
    Les was taken slightly aback. ‘Well, mate. They’re ahh... they’re thinking of putting on another caretaker.’
    â€˜Oh, are they?’ sneered the caretaker. He gave Les a pretty heavy once up and down. ‘And I suppose you’re it, are you?’
    â€˜Well, yeah — kind of, in a way,’replied Les sheepishly.
    â€˜And do you think I really give a stuff?’ The little caretaker puffed out his chest and raised himself up defiantly.
    â€˜Well...’
    â€˜Well, I bloody don’t. So there.’
    Norton gave another double blink. ‘Well, good for you.’
    The caretaker half smiled at Les. ‘Come in anyway, big fella. And I’ll tell you what’s goin’ on. And what you can tell those two slimy reffos to do with their greasy caretaker’s job.’
    Norton followed the caretaker into a gloomy sort of a bedsitter. The carpet was a threadbare brown and there was a grey vinyl night-and-day