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Despite the blustery overcast weather, the Ironmen of Anthony Gormley’s Another Place stood silently and stoically watching container ships leave Liverpool behind.
In the public car park next to Crosby’s Coastguard Station the occupants of the unmarked police vehicle had no idea if the tide was coming in or going out. Neither did they care.
“Here y’are, Alfie.”
The hoodie-wearing officer from the Matrix Covert unit handed Alfie ‘that weasel’ Kehoe, a bundle of money wrapped in a plastic carrier bag.
“Ow cum ahm gettin’ it now? Yuz sed yer’d giz it wen everythin’ wuz sorted?”
“Well, there’s grateful,” the Officer said, as he offered Alfie a notebook and pen. “Sign there.”
“Ahm not sayin’ like, ahm not yuh know, buh... yuh know wha’ a mean like, Carlo?” Alfie signed the notebook with a flourish.
“Let’s just say Crimbo’s cum early an’ things ‘ave moved on,” Carlo replied, shaking his head as he saw Alfie’s scribble now obscuring several of his earlier entries.
“Giz a bit more time, an meybe ah can find out wear exactly it’s gonna ‘appen, like,” Alfie offered.
“Alfie, lad, yer dedication is commendable, buh, as I said, things ‘ave moved on.” Carlo looked out of his side window as a seagull attempted a landing on the wing mirror. “Look, I busted me gut to get yuh this, so listen very carefully. Don’t ask me how I know, buh yuh definitely need to take a little holiday right now an’ I mean now. If yuh stay in Liverpool yer gonna encounter some life changin’ health issues, know wha’ I mean? If yuh look in the bag yer’ll find directions to a place in Skegness. It’s a B n B run by me cousin. Be there tonight!”
Alfie shifted uneasily in his seat. “Buh wha’ bout me dog?”
Carlo exhaled sharply. “Yuh can’t take the fuckin’ dog ‘e doesn’t do fuckin’ animals! Get yer Ma to look after it, she’s dunnit before. Yuh never took the fuckin’ dog to Teneriffe did yuh!”
“Ah know, buh – ”
“Look, don’t tell anyone where yer goin’. That includes yer Ma, yer bird, the fuckin’ dog. Anyone! An’ don’t go back to yours. If yuh need any gear, an’ I’m talkin’ toiletries here, toothpaste, soap and so on, then get ‘em at a petrol station or motorway services. If yuh need any clothes, Danny, me cousin, will tell yuh where’s best in Skegness.”
“That’s gonna cost a bit tho’. Ar yuz payin’ me expenses?” Alfie thought it was worth a try.
“Alfie, are yuh taking the piss, lad!? I’m doin’ you a favour. If yuh don’t go buyin’ designer crap yer’ll ‘ave more than enough.” He glanced at the seagull shit on the wing mirror. “Now yuh’d best do one an’ give me a bell when yuh get there. Alright?”
“Yeah, ok.” Alfie put the package inside his jacket and started to get out of the car.
Carlo turned in his seat and took hold of Alfie’s arm. “Trust me, Alfie, don’t fuckin’ tell anyone where yer goin’. Don’t come back to Liverpool until we’ve spoken an’ I’ve told yuh it’s ok.” Then he added, as an afterthought: “An’ get rid of that ‘skunk’ factory yer building in the loft at yours in Tuebrook before the local bizzies clock it.”
Alfie tried to look unknowledgeable. “Wha’? Dunno wha’ yuz on about.”
Carlo looked back at him disdainfully. Alfie surrendered and said, “How d’yer know?”
“I know a lot of things, Alfie. Yer sudden interest in fuckin’ hydroponics for one thing. There’s only so much I can ignore, so get shut of it when I’ve said yuh can come back. OK?”
Alfie nodded. Carlo looked at him. “Take care.”
“Yeah, an’ youse.” He closed the door, pulled his hoodie up and walked back to his Ford Fiesta, two cars away.