A partridge in a pear tree

(Partridges are basically ground birds. They live in fields and hide in hedgerows and are not designed to land on things like branches. So a partridge in a pear tree is apparently an old expression for something that is both rare and deeply unlikely)

He was running down the alley dodging rubbish and hopping over odd lines of bricks, old steps and pipes like they were the practice obstacles you see professional footballers stepping over as they train.
But he was sweating in a way that none of these icons do on film and he was wearing the sort of grimace that forms a permanent mask on dead people...ones that have been gruesomely killed, that is. Of course, he was not trying to act out some silly fantasy by dashing full pelt through this dark and dangerous space.
He was simply running for his life.
He was running so fast that he felt that his feet were hardly touching the ground, which was partially good - because that meant that he was flying like the wind away from his attackers.... but it also made him feel like he was not pushing hard enough; he was not getting the full grip he needed to project himself out of their grasp.
“What the hell did I do to deserve this?” He kept asking himself as he hoped they were not calling out the cars and motorbikes, the outlying gangs and the Mothers’ Union to nab him. But he already knew why, really, and it was all a bit of a formality unless he got away now.. this minute.. totally away.
As he neared the end of the dark passageway he began to realise he would have to stop. The balance between them catching him from behind was now tipping in favour of the threat waiting beyond the dark, in the well lit road ahead. He knew the area intimately and was thinking about what might be waiting for him.
Had they been quick enough to get anything there before him? Could he risk it and just head across the road to the next dark space?
Or, if it was still clear, should he make for an alternative exit route?
He had been debating the issue as he leapt over shit filled bags and skidded through the feathers and slime left by rank take-aways and seedy massage parlours, condemned butchers and gypsy greengrocers selling home-made booze. He knew them all and was counting off the detritus as he danced through the dark. There were even doors he could have slipped through but alliances were less than feeble here when one worthless life was at stake.
Deciding to stop at the last minute he stepped on something more oil based than an Arab state and landed on his backside, gliding across the paving stones towards a parked car. His feet bumped hard against the solid rubber of the tyre and his elbows left two bloody streaks behind him before he hit the stop.
Luckily, he was very low.
The legs of two people to the left were supporting guys he didn’t like the look of and to his right there were at least three others heading his way so he did the only thing he could and rolled under the car he had just hit and crawled diagonally from the rear nearside to the front offside before scanning any further.
Across the road he could see activity. There was one parking space about three cars down ahead of him and a big bastard of a car was slowly turning into that. He watched as several gorillas climbed out and did their thing, spreading out to cover that side. Another vehicle just parked alongside the first and more of the same squeezed out of it like malevolent toothpaste ready to scoop him up and brush him out of the neat little grid he had rattled.
“Well, what the fuck!” he thought. “there is nothing else to do!”
So he began to crawl, pausing at the front of each vehicle he passed under to watch the foot traffic as it passed. The he would wiggle as fast as he could from the shelter of one machine to the next. Once he crawled under a car just as it started it’s engine. He froze for a micro second then began crawling as fast as he could. Every inch seemed to trickle by, he felt like he must be leaving slime behind as he went, he was the snail that was about to be crushed! He didn’t care about the scratches and bumps, or the glass and the crap he scrambled across. He had committed to going forward because he felt he could not go back – backwards was too slow and backwards meant being stranded with a great empty space in front waiting to be filled by his enemies. He HAD to go forward.
He heard the gear shift as he reached the space below the engine and he thought this was going to be it but he just kept on going. The car moved then stopped almost immediately. A voice came from somewhere above. No words could be distinguished but it was just an additional sound that seemed to cut through the almost deafening rumble and whine of the motor. He looked sideways and saw the polished shoes of some one he did not want to meet at the moment poised on the edge of the kerb. The engine clunked into neutral again and the noise dropped to something less than overwhelming in scale. He noticed with some amazement that the car above him had shifted a small but significant distance without him realising. It was now almost touching the car in front. The driver had obviously moved forward in preparation to reverse bringing its front out into the traffic flow, ready to accelerate away.
He had seconds to take advantage and began crawling again with increased intensity.
As his legs began to slide under the next vehicle he heard the whine of the car increase and he threw himself forward in a rapid and frenzied horizontal surge of panic and movement. He kept on going onto the next vehicle and the next one carried by the sheer momentum of fear and adrenalin. He even forgot to check the spaces between vehicles. But, after the second car had been passed and the third was about to end he stopped.
How many cars had he crawled under so far? And how many before the street ran out? Would they have people waiting at the very ends of the streets, too? What were they doing at the moment, anyway?
He decided to take a look so he crawled to the edge of the kerb and tried to look up and along the street back to where he had emerged from the alley way. There were too many legs and shoes and not enough bits of information to tell him what was going on. He crawled back a bit and looked along the street ahead but got nothing worth processing from that, too.
Crawling to the road side of the vehicle he could see much more but most of it consisted of traffic and parked cars on the other side of the street.
Then he saw two of his pursuers run across the road to talk to the gorillas he had seen getting out of the cars earlier. One of them pointed back to the alleyway and he saw them shaking their heads. He pointed in one direction, then the other and they shook their heads.
He watched and his emotions rolled up and down the scales, bungey jumping like crazy as the lead searcher seemed to run through the options.
He watched them being sent to both ends of the road. He saw others being sent to check in all the buildings. Then he saw the guy point to two of the bruisers. It looked like he was saying to them, “You two, start checking under the cars. Yes, under the cars. Come to think of it, you and you, too. You two work on this side towards the ends of the street and you two take the other side of the road.”
Back to crawling before he even watched them crossing to his side of the road. How long would they take to reach him? Damn, his exit was also being cut off any way!.
Then he stopped with a curse as he watched a pair of feet appear in front of him. He heard a noise and saw the shape of what looked like a suit case bump down onto the road and roll on two small wheels to the middle. Another noise as a catch was released and then the case disappeared. Quickly the feet disappeared.
He grabbed the moment. Crawling out of the front of the car he stood up, keeping his upper torso bent low as scanned the area around the car. Someone was just entering a doorway wearing the same shoes he had seen from below. The car in front was a large SUV with a massive boot. One suitcase sitting quietly in the middle of the space and some old bags, blankets and other stuff up against the back seats.
No time to think, he climbed into the car and proceeded to cover himself in the stuff. AT best, he thought, he won’t be noticed, and at the worst he could be held and arrested.... Any way, it seemed worth trying - what else was on offer?
He lay still and heard another case enter the boot and the boot close. The person packing the car had obviously been more intent on leaving than they had been in checking out the state and contents of their boot. With a sigh of deep relief, he heard the engine start, felt the car begin to move and finally felt the surge as the car accelerated into the traffic stream.
Now, all he had to do was wait for the car to stop, then escape without the driver noticing he had even been there.
Simple.
With nothing left to do and no ideas for escape in his head he turned to the reason why he was there in the first place.
How had he managed to get himself into this crazy situation?
With the gentle roll of the big car’s suspension lulling him he began to review the last couple of hours.
First there had been the party. A couple of hundred people heaving around the dance floor in eccentric snapshots as the lights flashed and the bass boomed out; drinks on two long tables and so abundant there were half drunk glasses everywhere; drugs on offer and sex in even the not so dark parts of the place; rank toilets full of everything unmentionable, including people; a beautiful girl in front of him dancing in the best sort of way – close and sexy, a happy, easy, hungry look in her eyes (or was it just what he was thinking) and he felt relaxed, keyed in, ready to make a good night of it.
Then three guysjust barge in, blocking her from him. He taps the smallest one in the middle on the shoulder in a not unfriendly manner. He doesn’t feel threatened and does not believe the move is a deliberate act; just some guys she knows bumping into her and crowding him out without thinking. He smiles as the guy turns towards him and clocks onto three things immediately.
Firstly, the small guy is not friendly. His face is dark with anger and aggression. Secondly, the guy does not like being interrupted and clearly is not used to being interrupted or, for that matter, touched. Thirdly, this little guy is not one of the lads, he is one of the local chiefs; he’s not someone you approach unless you have something to offer that he really wants... and even then, you go through his flunkies to offer it, you never approach him. He’s one of those older blokes with big bruisers watching out for him as young tarts hang on his every word.
Shit.
The fourth thing that rings like a bell or shouts at him like a fire alarm is that the girl is not co-operating with whatever the little guy is saying. Bad news for her, no doubt but the expression “collateral damage” has already started to flash at him in bright throbbing lights above the situation. He needs to excuse himself from the situation and leave the place fast.
The name of the chief suddenly enters his mind but he can’t remember if it is the guy’s street name which should never be uttered in front of him or if it is the name of respect. He usually knows such things but this is not the best of situations. Be begins to raise his hands in a sign of appeasement and realises he is still carrying the almost full bottle of beer in his hand. He sort of shrugs and tries to keep smiling in a non-threatening, and respectful while harmless way.
It is not working and he feels the prod of the gangster’s fingers poking at his chest as he says something. Despite the overwhelming noise the older guy does not even try to shout to make himself heard.
Thinking the best way to solve the problem is to turn and run, he shouts “sorry, mate!” then regrets the “mate” bit as he tries to turn away, still looking contrite and harmless.
A strong hand moves to his shoulder and redirects him back to the older guy “I’m sure his name is Charlie Diamonds... do I call him Mr Diamonds or is that a nickname? Damn!”
Old Charlie decides to shout at him this time and he makes sure he can hear at least some of what is said by presenting his ear to Mr D’s mouth. He heard something about “....bringing MY best little girl to a place like this........ more respect..... do about it!”
Trying his best to be heard while not sounding like he is screaming he apologises, explains he has just met her and would not have danced with HIS (Mr D’s) best girlfriend. He had no idea she was HIS and was very SORRY. No harm meant!”
Mr D just appears to get even more angry and shouts words that are washed away with the thumping beat. His two musclemen lean in to add emphasis to the words but all that comes to him is, “...I ...... sleep with my......... ...... you say?”
“Honest! I just met her. She’s a very lucky girl to have you as her lover. I’m truly sorry I offended you in any way.”
Mr D raises himself on his toes and rears back about a foot looking aghast. His face turns red and his two flunkies seem to switch into active/aggressive mode and the noisy dance floor seems to clear all around them just as the music stops with a thump.
“What did you say about me and my daughter?” Shouts Mr D and the whole place stops as he advances and aims a might blow to the head.
Circumstances could have been better. The blow could have landed but an instinctive jerk of the arm to fend off the blow sends an almost full bottle of beer smashing into the nose of Mr D and he drops to the ground like a stone.
The beer bottle drops too before a rapid exit between the two bruisers who cannot believe their eyes. As he exits the door of the disused factory he hears Mr D shouting, “GET HIM. GET HIM NOW!!!!”
And so the chase began.
As he ran through the alleys and streets, over empty parks and through people’s gardens he kept seeing flashes of the last few seconds in the party. Mr D’s growing anger, the amused look on the girl’s face which grew into open laughter, the shock on the faces of Mr D’s flunkies and the confused looks on those he passed on his way out.
Every bad, vaguely bad and slightly naughty person will be on the look out for him now. Every bored and stupid person, every hooker and addict, every dealer and pimp and probably half the police force, too.
He should have read the signs. He should have kept quiet, listened better, been more neutral and contrite. Four warning signs and you just blew it any way....
He was almost asleep with the heat from the car and its steady motion and level noise. Almost asleep when the ‘phone rang and he panicked thinking it was his until he realised that the guy in the car had a phone with the same ring tone as him.
“What do you mean you haven’t found him yet!” The voice was angry, spoken with a sort of heavily bunged up nasal tone to it and sounded just like Mr D’s.
“How many more men do you think you need? You know who he is, where he lives and he was on foot! Even fucking Noddy would have found him by now! Call me back in an hour to tell me you’ve found him – no ifs, no buts just do it!”
“Dad! It was obviously an accident. He never meant to hit you.”
“He broke my nose. My nose!”
“But you were going to hit him.”
“Look Charlene, we’ve talked about it. It doesn’t matter what you say. I run a business and no one can get away with what he did. Do you understand? No one.”
In the relative silence of the car two people sat in the front being cross with each other and one person lay in the back wondering who would come to his funeral. Then he wondered if they would give his body back to his mum to bury anyway. He was frightened to move but, at each slowing down of the car he peeled back some of his covers and checked out the tailgate. It looked like there was an interior handle but there were too many imponderables.
If he opened the door to make his getaway at a junction Mr D would notice straight away. A light would go on somewhere on the dash board, there might even be a warning noise telling the driver that a door was open and the interior lights may also go on at the same time. So, no silent slipping away unnoticed.
Then there was the problem of not knowing where he was. He could be in the middle of the suburbs, the middle of the countryside or somewhere else in the city. And what if Mr D had his two favourite body guards following in another car? Come to think of it, he had not looked into the car before getting in. They might be sitting in the back seat between himself and the Charlie/Charlene combo in the front.
Too much to worry about. Even the serendipity of the situation was too much for him. How had he managed to climb into Mr D’s own car? He had run for miles before scrambling sub-vehicle to the escape car. Did they have some sort of suicide magnet plugged into his brain? Was he actually going mad? How was he going to get out of this? And now his hip was hurting like hell. He had obviously damaged himself without realising it and was going to be disabled and helpless when they finally open up the tailgate and find him. What else could go wrong?
He was lying there feeling progressively worse when another two things happened at the same time. Perhaps, he thought, they were connected?
The first was the sudden slowing down and stopping of the car, along with a perfunctory “Shit” uttered from Mr D. The second was a slight shifting in his body which revealed that his hip had been resting on something very hard. A judicious fumbling of his left hand revealed the cause... a large wrench. Well, he thought, at least I have something to defend myself with.
“Must be a burst pipe or perhaps an accident.” He heard Mr D say.
“Look, someone is standing by the lights?” in the girls voice, then a door opened and he heard a third voice say, “Good evening Charlie. Out on our own, are we?”
“Fuck, Walter, what are you doing out here? We’ve not stumbled on one of your little jobs, have we? If so, just give us the room to turn around and we will get out of your way ASAP.” Mr D’s jollity sounded a bit strained but the two obviously new each other.
“No, my friend, you’re not causing me any bother. In fact, you’re just the man I want to see.”
After a brief utterance the other voice said, sharply,” keep your feet off the pedals. You don’t want us to mess up your nice new car, do we? Not with your darling daughter in the passenger seat.” The laugh was distinctly unpleasant. “In fact, let’s switch the engine off completely.” And the sound of the car died.
“What do you want?” Mr D’s voice.
“Oh, how about everything?”
“You’re crazy.”
“Well, that won’t be your concern in a little while so I shouldn’t get het up about it now.”
“Listen Walter. I’ll get out of the car now. Just let Charlene drive off and that will be the end of it, OK?”
The laughter was even more unpleasant now. “Sorry, old boy. No can do. She’ll just have to see how good she is at surviving once old papa is out of the way.”
“Look, I have accounts you will never be able to get at. Surely, there’s a price you’ll accept?”
“Mmmm. That sounds interesting. Perhaps you won’t rest quite so easily after all.”
Mr D’s “Shit!” was drowned with much louder laughter.
“I should have known when we couldn’t find the young bastard. He was one of yours. He was, wasn’t he? A neat little set up, I’ll give you that.”
“Hah, that’s the beauty of it, old boy. I don’t even know who he is! He is just a lucky occurrence, something that pushed the calendar forward by a few days. No matter. He is probably being reduced to a pulp by your boys as we speak – no chance for me to thank him or for you to take your revenge. Shall we vacate the banger, now?”
It occurred that now was a good time to also leave the car. With at least one door open and all the focus on the front of the vehicle now was the time to go. And, anyway, what would they do with Mr D’s corpse? Put it in the boot? Certainly time to go.
He pushed down the door handle quietly and tried his best to slip out of the narrowest of openings. In his hand swung the heavy wrench. He pushed the door back and kept as low as possible listening to the sounds of the two men.
“Keep her in the car!” came Walter’s voice.
With only the interior car light (he was convinced the tail gate was closed so he felt that Charlie’s door must still be open) and with the red glow from a small, portably road-works traffic light ahead, the visibility was limited. Thankfully, most of the last hour had been spent either under cover of darkness or in a light-free car. The crunch of footsteps was coming towards him but he feared that someone was also heading for Charlene’s side of the car. He almost slid under the car but thought better of it. Sneaking a peek down the driver’s side of the car he saw Charlie and Walter heading his way and another figure climbing into the driver’s seat. Scurrying back to the passenger side he saw the front door open then close and a voice from the driver’s side saying, “Sorry, lass. The boss does not want you to do anything. Just sit there and it might turn out alright in the end.”
He was sure he could hear her scoffing at that and he felt some affinity with her.
Charlie and Walter walked off at an angle from the back of the car and he decided to take a loop around the shadows then follow them. He listened as they walked.
“Let’s talk sense her, Walter. You’re going to overstretch yourself if you try to take over my patch. You should be doing a deal with me, not doing this!”
“Oh, I’ve done my deal already!”
“I heard you were talking to Jazz!”
“You should have taken more notice, then!”
“I did. I helped him with that deal on Hillside two weeks ago. That must have cost you a bomb!”
“Wonderful, isn’t it? That was part of our deal. We just let you cover part of the cost of your own downfall” The laughter again hid everyone’s footsteps. Then they stopped just as this exchange ended.
“Look, old boy. We have your daughter in the car and I have a couple of men at the end of this path waiting for me with a van and a car. You can either sit in the car with me or lie on the floor of the van with a bleeding leg. I won’t kill you either way now. Not until we’ve talked some more. But I will spend some quality time with your lovely daughter and well... you have other family. The possibilities are endless.”
At this comment Charlie made a lunge at Walter and the two scuffled briefly.
“Well well well. What will go POP when I pull this trigger, do you think? Is your fist fast enough? C’mon Charlie, you know what the score is.”
He could see the two figures separate just ahead of them. Both were so focussed on each other they had no idea he was there. So he hit Walter as hard as he could on the back of the head. This was probably a mistake that cost Walter his life, but he had no scale to measure his blow with. Too light and the gun would have been on him. Too light and he would have been one of three dead people.
He stood there and made a “Shhh” noise.
“Sorry,” he said. “I am the guy who was dancing with your daughter. It was all just an accident and I tried to get away by hiding in the boot of a car. I had no idea the car was yours!”
“Hah!” came the voice of Mr D. “Hah!” He watched as Mr D checked out the dark figure of Walter. It took a few minutes but when he stood up he was very close.
In a whisper he said, “Can you hear me, son?”
“Yes, I can hear you very clearly. What should we do next? Your daughter..”
“Shh. She will be OK for now. Do you have any other weapons on you?”
“No, just the wrench from your car. I..”
“Shh, OK, I don’t think Walter had many men in on this little venture. In fact, I doubt there is any one through there.” He pointed with his head towards the end of the path. “You see, he has the keys to a car in his pocket. Why would he keep them with him?”
“For safety’s sake?”
“Well done!” came the whisper.” Let’s go! Quietly.”
They stepped quietly through the path in the dark undergrowth and emerged on another narrow country lane. Walter obviously not only knew the route that Charlie would take but also the way in which the country lanes were laid out in this area.
“Stay back.” Charlie walked cautiously towards two dark vehicles. He tried the keys in the van, which was the closest one then moved on to the car. He stopped by the driver’s door and began to fumble with the key when another shadow emerged behind him.
“Can I be of assistance, Mr Diamond?” the big man asked as he stretched out towards the smaller man.
Two steps and a serious swing with the wrench resulted in a whispered utterance from Mr D of “Timber!”
But they both crouched down and began to move around the car as quietly as they could. Was there someone else in the dark? At the back of the car he saw Mr D shrug at him speculatively. He understood what Mr D was suggestion, nodded and stood up, walking towards the passenger side of the car as he quietly whistled. “Are you there?” he called in a stage whisper.
A dark shape appeared at his side and just as he was about to tell Mr D to keep low he realised that his new companion was much taller than either of them. That was when the great dark figure grunted and dropped at his feet.
“We are about even, son.” Said Mr D as he pocketed the gun he had used to slug the bruiser. “The decider is about to be worked out.”
It took three minutes for Mr D to explain what was going to happen next, five minutes for him to get into place and a life time for the events to pan out.
First, he slipped back along the little lane, avoiding the immobile lump that was Walter. Then, he found his way across the road to the rear of Charlie’s car and worked his way up in the undergrowth past the front of the vehicle. He got there just as the other car arrived behind the first car. Headlights on full almost gave his position away but he had been ready and had kept himself low and his eyes both closed and averted.
With his peripheral vision he detected the lights going from full beam to normal and kept his vision shaded with his hand as he waited.
Mr D had said that he would signal for the minder to get out of the car.
At first he suspected that this was not going to happen.
Then he saw Charlene getting out of the car. As she stood up by the door the minder got out and pointed a dark lump at her. He waived it and she began to move towards the back of the car.
After the silence of the night, the new car behind was making a lot of noise. The car revved a couple of times and while it seemed to add urgency to the whole thing what it really did was cover the noise of footsteps. As both the thug and the girl reached the back of the car a shadow joined the larger shadow, something shiny arced through the air and a dull crump was followed by a sigh and a lolloping bump on the country road.
Mr D stepped out of the car and a muted cry of “Daddy.” accompanied footsteps to the other car.
He took his time getting there. He was now becoming aware of the cuts, bruises, bumps and smells of the night that were now closing in on his sensibilities.
“Can you drive?” asked Mr D.
“Just about.” A quizzical look brought an additional response,” Of course I can. I am just not used to this sort of evening. I’m a little bit... brittle?”
Mr D laughed. Sit with Charlene and drive. I have a few phone calls to make. She’ll tell you where to go.”
He drove with Charlene’s hand on his thigh as he cautiously steered the car through the country lanes listening to Mr D’s instructions to his many, many minions.
He looked at the dashboard. He had arrived at the party around ten pm and had spent only a short time there before meeting with Charlene and starting to dance with her. It was now just coming up to one in the morning.
He was not someone who drove big posh cars. He was not strong or brave or even someone who thought he had a violent streak inside him.
Out of his depth, out of his environment and out of his mind.
Charlene squeezed his thigh one last time as he slowed down at a set of large metal gates.
“Oh, and by the way. The lad you were looking for? He ran rings around you all and then he saved not only my life. He saved my daughter’s life, too.”
After a pause, “Yes, I think you are only just beginning to understand what that means.” said Mr D, before he dropped the phone back into his pocket.
“I don’t know about you,” he said to the two of them. “But I’m ready for a really stiff drink, eh?”
As the gates opened he noticed the name of Mr D’s mansion. It was Partridge house.
Noticing the look Charlene said, “When daddy bought the plot he had no idea what he would call the house but when he looked at the name of the little road it became obvious.”
“That’s right, lad. This is number one Pear Tree lane.”