The day the elephant came to town

“ It will be Seven Pounds fifty per day. “

The  words  poured  out of Mrs. Mac.Vee lips as she thundered,         “ This is including an English breakfast – sausage, egg, bake beans, two slices of toast and a choice of cup of tea or coffee, between the hours of 0730 to 0830 only, and check out must be latest by 1100 hours, ……. house rules “.

As I had already worn out my soles twice around the block, checking availability and prices advertised on signboards in front of houses, and some from their front windows, this was the cheapest I could find.  Besides, it certainly was not a nice stroll, when it took more than two hours under a pouring sleet and unkindly sky.

I blared out with my best smile, “ I’ll take it, thank you very much “, after all, it was the cheapest and so, a deal was struck at last. 

Mrs. Mac.Vee added, “ Aye! Also, no pets or friends allowed in the room, and do keep the noise down and totally silent by 2300 hours."

I smiled in acknowledgement, as my main priority was to rest my jelly legs and anchor my crumbling body in a dry room, away from the sleet, rain and unkindly winds.

The old hag further blared out, “ The toilet and wash room is down by the ally way on the right side “ and added, “ Have a few 50p coins for the hot water geezer, if you want any “.

The only words I could muster was, “ Thank you again Mrs. Mac.Vee, good to know. “

Thus ended our terms of contract with me handing her seven and a half pounds onto her worn out wooly gloved hand.

Peterhead is a North Eastern town on the coast of North Sea coast in Scotland, a small trawling outlet, with about eighteen to twenty thousand souls. Not a weather kindly place in my opinion. Still, people need to earn a living and Peterhead is good as any to earn a few bucks. I don’t think they have a niche market though.

Mr. Thornton Johnstone’s company consist of 34 artists, who considered their acts were of world class, and their work was of a true professional. Animals wise, there were 4 poodles, 2 zebras, 3 underfed lions, 2 monkeys and last but not least, a four years old Asian elephant.  The troupe would normally spend about two to three weeks in the town’s parkland before shifting to other greener pastures.

Likewise, a circus also trots from town to town, hoping their trapeze artists and wild animals will prove to be in awe for all those forking a few quids, satisfying their beagle eyes, and the colonel prayed that all goodness travels from mouth to mouth, and better still from town to town.   

The circus was headed by Mr. Thornton Johnstone, a wiry haired old colonel (retired), who wore his national health spectacles with much pride. He would let all new comers know, that he commanded the 6^th Indian Lancers for the crown, who fought fearlessly and would run his traveling circus under the same terms.  True or false, nobody knows, as the troupe only concern was they be paid every Friday, the rest can go to kingdom come for all they care.  The circus boss main aim is to make a profit.  Anyway, which way, does not really matter. As his circus was a traveling troupe, as such, Mr. Thornton Johnstone does not care much for banks either. He kept all his takings in his personal caravan cash box, underneath his bed. He felt safer that his hard earned money, is beside him and under his control at all times. This way, he could cut and run at any time, he sees fit.  This would be his last resort, should situation be called for.

He would stand beside his cashier cum juggler, during guests entry into the circus tent. It was not a matter of trust, but rather safe guarding his gross income. After all, it was a matter of investing not more than an hour which he finds time well spent. The show was three hours. One show only during the weekdays and two shows during weekends, four and a half pounds per seat and two hundred seats per show with no discount, under any condition.  Mr.Thornton Johnstone was well pleased with Peterhead.  A windfall for him especially for such a town in North Eastern Scotland, so much so that the circus would honor the town by staying an extra week there. The extra week stay was well posted on the town hall notice board and at the local church. It was also talk of the town in pubs and the local folks saw it as a good advertisement for their sleepy trawling town.

This was where ‘Ginger’ Howell heard of the circus extra week in Peterhead.  To ‘Ginger’, pubs were a great place to gather tit bits and news.  ‘Ginger’ was a small time crook graced from the slums of Glasgow town. His younger years were spent in a Catholic borstal up to the ripe old age of twelve. Not too bright in mind, but he did manage to hang on there till his exiting age.  A Glasgow butcher took kindly and offered him an honest trade and food.  He managed to hold down the job till his sixteenth birthday, as it also came with a place to lay his unholy body. From then on, thieving and pick pocketing came naturally to him. Mixing with the wrong crowd and yearning for a quick buck, found him as a returning guest of Her Majesty’s Prison Service for many a year. After all, prison offered him clothing, free lodging and three square meals a day.  Ginger’s holiday period in the real world never out lasted more than a year, one thing or other would lead him back as guest of Her Majesty’s Prison service. One would not be wrong to term him as a habitual crook.

On his forty sixth year, Ginger felt that he identified a fool proof heist with the circus boss.  A few thousand pounds would set him well in Brazil. A land of milk and honey, together with swinging shapely young ladies coupled with kinder weather, all the year round.  A short hop on a boat from Aberdeen to Rio would set him free for life.  Anyway, this was his understanding he picked up from the guildhall of correction. He would not let go this golden minimum risk heist. To Ginger, he could do this last trick alone with very little investment. It all made sense and what was required is a small patience only for a few days. So, Ginger set his mind for his last job in cold Scotland.

“ Do come on Colonel Johnstone, please join me to a wee bit of best pure malt of Scotland “, Ginger would toy. He further cooed “ the round is on me “

This was music to Colonel Johnstone ears.  A free drink with such a gentleman does not happen every week, and it was a pleasure to have a kindly ear with no talk back. Anyway, he already made acquaintance with Ginger since a few days back, and to the best of his knowledge, a good drinking partner.

Ginger would accompany the old colonel after each drinking bout in the late evenings, to his castle in a parked caravan. This was no charity on Ginger's part, it was a dry run before the main event. Ginger would check and recheck the old colonel’s caravan and it’s surrounding. Ginger made up his mind to undertake the main event on coming Thursday night.  This will be before the payday for the troupe where his takings would be at a maximum and being a weekday, there would be less people with prowling eyes.  The getaway to Aberdeen would be much simpler and he could board a container ship in the wee hours of Friday, which would be sailing for Rio at 0600 hours. A fabulous heist, and a watertight plan,  where  nothing can go wrong.

On Wednesday evening at the Red Lion Tavern, Ginger made an off the cuff statement, “ Colonel, please join me tomorrow night to celebrate my forty seventh birthday “, he continued, “ it will me my honor to offer the finest malt to such a gentleman as you and all will be on me “.

The old colonel beamed with delight and replied “ Let us do that and I hope that it will be a memorable one “.

Ginger smiled in delight and said to himself, that part one of the plan was under way.

Colonel Thornton Johnstone was all eyes on the takings that fateful Thursday evening. By 2000 hours, he estimated that the takings were about eight hundred pounds. He was a happy man. As he walked bristly back to his caravan with the evening takings, he thought to himself that he still could carry on the circus for two years at least. He lifted the mattress, and inserted his key to the metal box, and with a slight twist, the padlock was undone. He placed the takings into the cash box and counted himself lucky to be in this niche business. The Colonel was immaculate to check no one was watching, and his account books were also out of reach, should there be unforeseen prowlers. He also made sure the cash box key was well pegged on a chain, which was fixed to his belt loop on his trouser.  This was a foolproof exercise, and never been let down whatever his condition. He made himself a ham sandwich and a cup of Lipton tea. There was enough bread left for breakfast, including butter and margarine. All was ship shape in the caravan, and he made sure all electricity was off to save money. Once he was fully satisfied to the safety of his hard earned cash, and his castle of a caravan, he rushed for the Red Lion Tavern, not to be too late for his free drinks.

Ginger was ready and willing to execute part two of his action plan, and was in no way nervous, waiting at the Red Lion Tavern. He noted that he was not too smartly dressed, as he also needed to pass off looking like a liberty sailor, at a latter stage. Besides, the dark blue woolen trousers and overcoat should provide ample cover at the circus grounds, and Aberdeen wharf side. In short, he was all system go for his latest heist.

“ Greetings, my dear Colonel “ Ginger shouted across the hall.

 The Colonel approached him, all beaming and shook his hand. “ Many happy return of day my dear chap “ Colonel Johnstone returned the pleasantry.

“ May I offer you a wee drop of the best single malt? “ Ginger continued.

“ Why not “ was the return from the Colonel.  

They found a vacant slot by the dartboard, and Ginger went to work coolly unnoticed.  After about the fourth round, Ginger spiced sleeping powder to Mr. Thornton Johnstone single malt whisky.

“ Do drink up my dear Colonel, the night is still young “ said Ginger around eleven o’clock.

After about the sixth malt, the old Colonel started to feel the affect.

Ginger put his arms around the old man and said, “ Not to worry Sir, I’ll see you to your digs as usual."

The old man was happy as Ginger guided him slowly through the crowd, and thence a short walk through the green and onto the Colonel’s caravan. By the time Ginger opened the caravan door, the Colonel was already in seventh heaven. He dropped the old man on the couch, while he went through methodically to the contents of the caravan.  At long last, Ginger found the locked cash box under the mattress. Now, all he needed was a key as the cash box was bit too large to be carried around.  Something told Ginger, to search the old man too, where he found the key latched on a chain. The contents of the cash box yielded fifty five thousand pounds, a bonanza with a bonus thus Ginger smiled.  With this cash booty, he latched the key back to the chain, and put the old man on the mattress to sleep it off, while also to have ample leeway during his escape.

Ginger stuffed the cash booty into his trouser and overcoat pockets, and was thankful the old man kept only cash. Now, all he needed was to hide somewhere till the end of the show and mingle with the homeward bound crowd and hop onto a bus for Aberdeen. The plan was working well, like clockwork.  During the last act of the show, Ginger hid behind the elephant stall, and waited for the going home crowd. 

That night, little Miss Wilson who lived across the green, crossed over to the elephant hall to offer three bananas. Old Thornston Johnstone kept the animal’s food intake just below the required amount, so that they respond promptly to the instructions of the handlers. This was so, as there would be some kind of treat once the instructions were carried out, it worked wonders.

Miss Wilson hissed,  “ Come on lass, take the banana."

To this, Marlar the four year old Burmese elephant moved forward and took the bananas with her trunk. Marlar was chained to the solid pole. and could only manage a sway forward and back. Thus after securing the bananas, Marlar swayed back to her normal position. While swaying back, Marlar’s back touched the hall’s side, which crumbled under her weight, and caused the death of Ginger Howell.

Seven and a half pounds secured me a room at the back of the house, and the window overlooked a vegetable patch over grown with weeds.  I did not need a sea view. After all, the wind was wild and strong from the North Sea. Mrs. Mac.Vee, does not have double-glazing, and this would only make it colder and it was also not in season. My room had a single 40watt bulb hanging from the ceiling without any shades. The brightness was nether here or there, so I switched it off and sat on the easy chair by the coal fire. The bed by the window was cold, not to mention the view was much to be desired. My main theme was warmth, thus rapped myself with available blankets and grounded my laurels on the easy chair.  After some time, I noticed that my backside was uneasy, so on checking, I noticed there was a newspaper under the seat. I yanked the old newspaper out and reseated on the easy chair. Nothing to do, I started to skim the local paper at hand. It was dated Friday, 14^th January of last year. The paper was a free local paper for the county of Aberdeen. On the second page, there was an article on Ginger Howell, a petty criminal who died on account of the wooden wall crumbling onto him. The picture of Marlar, the four years old female Burmese elephant was nice. It was reported that there was quite a stanch of cash  on him. The crime was theft, and death was due to misadventure. I read a few more pages and threw the newspaper into the fire.  It made a nice glow for a few seconds, soon I fell asleep due to the tiredness and warmth of the coal fire.

Early next morning, I found out the reason why the newspaper was under the seat. It was in lieu of a lazy spring, thus my bum was sagged. I did my number one and two and cleaned myself with cold water. Soap was missing, but what to do? The English breakfast was so called only. After eating it, I was still hungry,   it must have been my large tummy.  At 0800 hours, I was off waiting for the green bus.

I waited for 10 minutes at the bus stop and it was no fun as this place was one of the coldest in Scotland.

Once on it, the conductor commented, “ Where to lad?” The Jamaican accent was all but gone.

I said, “ To the town center please."

The conductor continued, “ Should you be wanting the station, it will be two more stops after the center and it will be 35p."

I forked out 35p, and replied, “ Thank you, “ while wondering,how the hell he knew, I’ll be wanting the rail station.

As I stood on the platform, Mrs. Mac.Vee English Breakfast came to mind again. The airline meal portions were gigantic compared to my English breakfast I just had. Once in Aberdeen, I’ll change train for the South.

Manchester, should be nicer…. still, life goes on!