Stories of the Street - Forty one

Tony finishes serving a customer. She has a bacon roll and a cup of black coffee in front of her and she is deep into the sports section of the Daily Mail.

As he turns away from her he looks out of the window onto the street.

Immediately in front of the café he sees a black-cab driver beeping his horn and shouting to a heavily tattooed skinhead in an old Ford Cortina. Tony is just thinking he has not see a Cortina for a while when the skinhead seems to unfold himself from the car and stomp towards the cab.

The Cab driver is saying “Hurry up, I have a fare to pick up and your in the fucking way!”

The skinhead shouts, “Why don’t you just fucking back up your cab!”

Tony sees that there is a growing line of cars behind the cab and wonders why the skinhead doesn’t just move his car forward so the cab can drive around it.

“Don’t be so fucking stupid, you dozy idiot, just move your fucking car!”

“”Don’t you call me a fucking dozy idiot!” shouts the skin head as he walks up to the cab driver’s open window. The cabbie rapidly closes the window and Tony thinks he has locked his doors, too. The skinhead punches the window, then the door panel and tries to open the door. Tony can’t see all of this clearly but it is obvious that this is what is happening.

As the skinhead rants and raves at the cabbie, Tony moves a little to one side and writes down the number of the Cortina, then the taxi. He then fishes out his mobile ‘phone from the top pocket of his shirt and scrolls through the numbers. As a local business man with a cash-till, he knows the local police numbers and keeps them close.

Tony is waiting for the number to ring when he sees the skinhead open the boot of the Cortina. He watches the young man pull out a long, thick, heavy chain with a massive padlock fixed to one end.

The skinhead then proceeds to shout at the cabbie as he walks around the taxi smashing all of the lights with the chain, swinging the metal snake around above his head and then in loops to one side of his body, then the other.

Tony narrates the events to the woman on the other end of the ‘phone and dictates the two number plates then provides his own personal details.

The skin head is in the process of smashing the chain repeatedly onto the bonnet of the taxi cab when Tony hears the faint call of an approaching police siren. He thinks it’s a shame they are sounding the siren as it might cause the skinhead to escape but the young man is too intent on destroying the taxi to hear anything until it is too late.

Along the road comes the very loud siren and the whine of the police car’s engine. It stops at an angle in front of the Cortina and two policemen step out of the vehicle with grim looks on their faces.

Tony quietly walks up to the front door of his café and pulls out his keys. Two quick turns and the door is locked. He does not want the young man running through his café swinging a chain. As it is the skinhead drops his chain and looks to the approaching policemen, then to the people crowding the pavement on the other side of the taxi, then to the café.

With some athletic grace he swerves past the taxi and runs full pelt at the café door, thinking he can push the door aside along with Tony, then exit through the rear of the café.

Not so gracefully, he bounces off the locked door and seems to ricochet onto the paving stones. The two policemen are almost laughing too much to pick him up and handcuff him. They wave at Tony as he unlocks the door. “We’ll pop back in an hour or so to get your statement.” says the older one.

Tony nods, thinking, “That idiot skinhead is going to cost me two free lunches. Still, best to keep the local police on your side. It’s an investment, really….”