“Come on, Jakie, get a move on. This is bloody heavy.”
“Well, there’s nothing to stop you putting your sack down too while I get this bloody thing open, is there?” Ash spilled onto Billy’s shoes from the almost spent cigarette precariously attached to Jake’s lips. Billy grunted, but kept hold of the sack, which was slung over his shoulder. Finally, Jake found the key in his back pocket and fumbled in the dark to insert the key and open the padlock. He pushed at the door, which creaked open stiffly. As Billy pushed in behind him, he reached out for the light switch.
Their journey to Shepherd’s Bush from Chelsea had not been without incident. The engine of Billy’s old Austin had overheated as they were coming along Holland Park Avenue and they’d had to leave the car and walk the last mile. A copper had stopped them and almost given them both heart attacks. However, he hadn’t asked them what they were doing or what was in the sacks, but had pleasantly enquired whether they needed any help. Having turned down this kind offer, they had almost been run over by a speeding fire engine as they crossed over from Shepherd’s Bush Green into Wood Lane.
Never mind. They were safe now. Billy began to empty his sack while Jake lit up another cigarette. “Let’s have a look then.”
Billy pulled out a finely gilded carriage clock.
“Eighteenth century, I think. Very nice. Want a fag?”
Billy shook his head and removed a small painting in an ornate frame.
“Another eighteenth century piece, I think, Billy. Or perhaps early nineteenth. Very soothing. A riverside scene out of town. Could be the Thames. Or perhaps it’s French?”
A steady flow of valuable objects followed the picture onto the dingy floor. Jake started unloading his sack as well. Fine pieces of porcelain, which the men had taken the time to wrap in newspaper before setting out on their journey from Chelsea, some miniature portraits, silverware, another landscape painting, ancient leather-bound volumes, candlesticks – all in all, a particularly good haul.
The two men sat down on the floor and laughed. “It’s a damn sight better when the Germans bomb Chelsea than when they bomb the Isle of Dogs, eh?”
“Watch where you’re dropping that bloody ash, Jake. We don’t want to damage anything. He should give us a bloody good price for this lot.”
“Yeah. Well, let’s not hang around too long. There’ll be plenty more pickings tonight from the sound of those planes.”
Billy nodded and the two men rose to their feet. They picked up the various valuable objects from the ground, carried them over to the back of the lock-up and loaded them carefully into some empty tea crates. Then they pushed the crates under cover of a large green tarpaulin, which already concealed several other full crates.
As they came out into the yard, a dog barked. They made their way to the street and saw a cluster of incendiaries falling not so far away. The sky to the east was aglow. They hurried on.
*