Made Birmingham - historical crime fiction series

An extract from Book One of Four - 'Black Over Bill's Mothers - a storm is coming': https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1916168035/

Extract One: ‘Chapter Fifteen - ‘Love Is a Many Splendoured Thing’ (Four Aces) 1955.

The film ‘Blackboard Jungle’ had crashed into the UK teenage world in November 1955, with its ‘satanic’ rock and roll anthem ‘Rock Around the Clock’. The ‘Teddy Boy problem’ continued to puzzle older heads who had never seen a teenage cult before. Further afield a ‘state of emergency’ was declared in Cyprus as the ‘EOKA’ guerrilla campaign began, and more British troops were sent to keep the peace in a part of the Empire that was more than three and a half thousand miles away.

Lombardi’s was thriving, and with it the gang’s new side-line.

Sid had proved a real asset. He was good at selling and had an instinctive grasp of how to maximize the market without drawing unwelcome attention from the adult world. Despite that, he could never be a full part of the group. He had no interest in bikes and was drawn to other tribes.

Despite his size and looks, Quinn quickly realized that the crater-faced youth lacked the internal fire and aggression that drove the likes of him, and in fact had no interest in, or propensity for, violence. He also had a dangerous secret, one that Joey had confided to Quinn early in the business arrangement.

Sid clearly preferred boys and was struggling with the internal agonies of accepting this revelation in a world where acting upon his desires, even in private, was vilified and still an offence in the eyes of the law.

Quinn hadn’t been bothered and hadn’t told the others. It was a weakness but one that he could exploit if necessary. In the meantime, he was content to file the knowledge away and keep a benevolent eye on his new business partner.

Joey on the other hand, was a perfect fit. He had proved himself with his fists on a couple of occasions when other groups had tried to challenge the bikers. He loved the thrill of riding together and the new friendships he had forged. Mr. Lombardi clearly approved, and a symbiotic arrangement had emerged.

The café benefited from the extra custom and the bike boys keeping order, Joey had a job and friends, and the gang had a base, a market for goods - and free coffee.

It was Christmas Eve 1955, and the café was packed, windows steaming and streaming, the Seeborg blasting out ‘Rock Around the Clock’ repeatedly, interspersed with relics of a dying musical era such as Slim Whitman’s ‘Rose Marie’, ‘Unchained Melody’ from Jimmy Young, and Dickie Valentine’s ‘Christmas Alphabet’.

Quinn and Joey were sat in the usual corner seat viewing the mayhem. She came in with a squat, burly male. They were arguing. Quinn couldn’t hear them but his instinct for trouble had instantly zeroed his attention onto the couple.

She was taller, but he looked older, in his early twenties, against her late teens. She wasn’t a classic reed-like beauty, more of an Amazonian build, but she had an intelligent, interesting face crowned with russet hair cut in a boyish ‘Audrey Hepburn’ style.

She was shaking her head and he liked the way she stood up to the man, facing him down, and clearly contributing in full to the argument. Some of the other customers were beginning to take notice and Quinn caught the eye of Mr. Lombardi who indicated the couple in the doorway with a nod, the usual sign he wanted something done.

Quinn stood up and motioned Joey to stay where he was, “I’ll sort this.”

As he approached, he saw the man take hold of the girls arm tightly, clearly causing discomfort as she tried to break free. He could hear them now. “Slut, I’ve told you before to keep your eyes to yourself.”

She slapped his face with her free hand as Quinn reached them. As the man pulled his arm back for a punch Quinn caught hold of it and straight-armed the man up onto his toes. He twisted the hand inwards evoking a gasp of pain and a profanity. “Big man, you are, fighting a woman. Let her go or I’ll snap your wrist.” He gave the arm another twist for emphasis.

The man did let go but only so that he could try and twist around and free himself. He was strong and Quinn struggled to hold him. They danced a few steps then Joey was there, holding the door open at the behest of his father who had one eye on the damage potential. Quinn propelled the man out onto the street and hurled him away into the road.

The man stumbled a few steps then turned, snorting out breaths. “I’ll kill you” he snarled, then charged head down, a tactic suited to his squat build that would probably have worked with any normal opponent found on the Worcester streets.

Quinn watched his approach then performed his trademark sidestep and delivered a crushing blow to the kidneys, and then a push that assisted the charging man into the door stanchion which shook with the impact. As the man rebounded Quinn crashed a foot down behind one knee forcing the man to his knees and delivered a double-handed blow to the back of the neck. It was over in seconds and Quinn was kneeling on the man’s back.

Quinn whispered into a visible ear. “I promise that if you don’t fuck-off when I let you go, I’ll do you a serious injury or worse. I’ve done it before and to harder men than you. I think you and the girl are finished too – Oh and by the way you’re barred from this café.”

Quinn stood up and backed away several steps. It took a minute or two before the man recovered enough to stand, wobbling and with blood streaming from a nasty cut on his forehead courtesy of the door pillar. Quinn could see him assessing the percentages and the risk of further public humiliation. Seconds passed then Quinn knew it was over – for tonight at least.

The man shot him a look of hatred as he backed away, “This isn’t over you dirty bastard!” then limped off into the evening. Quinn returned to the café. The girl was still stood inside the door, rubbing her arm. He could see livid finger marks that must have hurt. He was impressed – not a tear in sight. She had guts. “Come and have a coffee with Joey and me, it’s on the house, Joey here is related,” he said. Joey smiled in encouragement and led the way to the corner seat.

Quinn was surprised to hear a smattering of applause as he walked through the crowd. The moment passed and it was back to normal, but Quinn knew that he had made a mark tonight. Word would get round. The girl sat and smoothed her clothes. She spoke with a soft Worcestershire burr that he immediately liked. “Thanks, I can usually handle him, but he was a bit pissed. I think our time together had come to an end anyway. It’s ‘Take Your Pick’ time and as Michael Miles says on the telly, I think I’ll say No!”

They all burst out laughing at her quick wit, “I couldn’t stand his insane jealousy any longer. You need to watch him though, He can be nasty, and he’ll never forgive you for showing him up in public.” Quinn shrugged, “What’s his name in case I have to teach the lesson again?” “Johnny Gray. He lives in the Arboretum,” she responded, slowly relaxing. “More importantly, what’s your name? I’m Pat, Pat Quinn.” “Jennifer – Jenny Lea. I mean it about Johnny, he won’t forget what you did, and he’ll think you did it to pick me up which’ll make it worse.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow, “What makes you think I didn’t?” She laughed and turned on a coquettish expression. “What would a nice-dressed girl like me see in a rough biker?” ….’

#books #historical #crime #fiction #holidayreads #gangs #IRA #bikers #birmingham #madeinbirmingham #writers #bostinbooks

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