Read Online Rob Johnson - Lifting the Lid by Rob Johnson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rob Johnson
Ads: Link
half-eaten food which had been dropped on the ground.
‘Come on, Milly,’ Trevor shouted when he turned to see his dog enthusiastically devouring what appeared to be a polystyrene tray of tapeworms but which, in reality, were probably some kind of noodles.
Now it was Milly’s turn to pretend to be deaf. Only when she had finished her meal did she canter jauntily over to him, scooping up half a sausage as she went without even breaking stride.
Glad to leave the nauseating stench of the food stalls behind him, Trevor spotted the locker area, which was surrounded by a temporary but sturdy-looking steel fence. Fixed to this was a large metal sign bearing the words “Safe and Sound” in black letters on a pale green background. Approaching the open gate in the centre of the front section of fencing, he noticed that a CCTV camera was mounted high up on each of the compound’s four corner posts and pointing inwards. He hesitated for a second and pulled up the hood of his fleece jacket to cover his head. He wasn’t entirely sure why except that he knew he was probably doing something he ought not to be doing and thought it would be wise not to have his identity recorded on film while he was doing it.
He walked over to where an attractive young woman and a slightly older man with Too Many Pies Syndrome sat behind a small trestle table immediately to the right of the gate. Each wore a tight-fitting T-shirt printed with the same words and in the same colours as the sign.
‘Hello,’ said the woman, beaming up at Trevor and displaying an impossibly white and immaculately proportioned set of front teeth.
‘Um, I need to get to my locker,’ he said and reached into his jacket pocket.
‘Certainly, sir. Which number?’
Trevor pulled out the brown paper envelope and extracted one of the two index cards. It was the one with the Bristol address printed on it.
‘Sorry. Wrong one.’ He smiled weakly at her and took out the second card.
The male attendant, who had been staring at Trevor without any trace of expression from the moment he had arrived, seemed suddenly distracted.
‘That your dog?’
Oh not again, thought Trevor. ‘Pardon?’
‘The dog. Is it yours?’
He followed the nod of the attendant’s head and saw Milly sauntering through the open gate and into the compound.
‘Ah. Yes, she’s a hearing dog.’
‘Good for her,’ said the man and proceeded to clean the dirt from under his fingernails with the plastic fork from an empty takeaway container.
Realising the attendant neither knew nor cared what a hearing dog was, Trevor turned his attention back to his female colleague, relieved that he didn’t have to reprise the deaf act. ‘C nine,’ he read out from the index card.
‘C nine,’ she repeated and began riffling through the pages of a large plastic-covered folder. ‘Here we are. C nine. I’ll just have to ask you a couple of security questions if that’s okay, sir.’
‘Fine.’
‘Could you tell me your memorable date?’
Trevor glanced at the index card in his hand. ‘Thirtieth of July, sixty-six.’
‘Football fan, eh?’ She treated him to the same dentally perfect smile as before.
‘Sorry?’
‘World Cup Final? England four, West Germany two? They think it’s all over?’
‘Oh yes, of course.’
She looked back at the file. ‘And your mother’s maiden name?’
‘Hurst.’
‘Quite a coincidence that,’ she said, closing the file.
‘It is, isn’t it?’ said Trevor, not having the slightest clue what she was talking about.
‘Right, that’s all, sir. You can carry on now.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ She beamed at him once again while the male attendant studiously continued to clean his fingernails with the fork.
Trevor headed towards the banks of lockers in the middle of the compound. By now, Milly had investigated the area thoroughly and, having apparently discovered little of interest, lay down for a nap.
Each of the blue-fronted lockers
‘Come on, Milly,’ Trevor shouted when he turned to see his dog enthusiastically devouring what appeared to be a polystyrene tray of tapeworms but which, in reality, were probably some kind of noodles.
Now it was Milly’s turn to pretend to be deaf. Only when she had finished her meal did she canter jauntily over to him, scooping up half a sausage as she went without even breaking stride.
Glad to leave the nauseating stench of the food stalls behind him, Trevor spotted the locker area, which was surrounded by a temporary but sturdy-looking steel fence. Fixed to this was a large metal sign bearing the words “Safe and Sound” in black letters on a pale green background. Approaching the open gate in the centre of the front section of fencing, he noticed that a CCTV camera was mounted high up on each of the compound’s four corner posts and pointing inwards. He hesitated for a second and pulled up the hood of his fleece jacket to cover his head. He wasn’t entirely sure why except that he knew he was probably doing something he ought not to be doing and thought it would be wise not to have his identity recorded on film while he was doing it.
He walked over to where an attractive young woman and a slightly older man with Too Many Pies Syndrome sat behind a small trestle table immediately to the right of the gate. Each wore a tight-fitting T-shirt printed with the same words and in the same colours as the sign.
‘Hello,’ said the woman, beaming up at Trevor and displaying an impossibly white and immaculately proportioned set of front teeth.
‘Um, I need to get to my locker,’ he said and reached into his jacket pocket.
‘Certainly, sir. Which number?’
Trevor pulled out the brown paper envelope and extracted one of the two index cards. It was the one with the Bristol address printed on it.
‘Sorry. Wrong one.’ He smiled weakly at her and took out the second card.
The male attendant, who had been staring at Trevor without any trace of expression from the moment he had arrived, seemed suddenly distracted.
‘That your dog?’
Oh not again, thought Trevor. ‘Pardon?’
‘The dog. Is it yours?’
He followed the nod of the attendant’s head and saw Milly sauntering through the open gate and into the compound.
‘Ah. Yes, she’s a hearing dog.’
‘Good for her,’ said the man and proceeded to clean the dirt from under his fingernails with the plastic fork from an empty takeaway container.
Realising the attendant neither knew nor cared what a hearing dog was, Trevor turned his attention back to his female colleague, relieved that he didn’t have to reprise the deaf act. ‘C nine,’ he read out from the index card.
‘C nine,’ she repeated and began riffling through the pages of a large plastic-covered folder. ‘Here we are. C nine. I’ll just have to ask you a couple of security questions if that’s okay, sir.’
‘Fine.’
‘Could you tell me your memorable date?’
Trevor glanced at the index card in his hand. ‘Thirtieth of July, sixty-six.’
‘Football fan, eh?’ She treated him to the same dentally perfect smile as before.
‘Sorry?’
‘World Cup Final? England four, West Germany two? They think it’s all over?’
‘Oh yes, of course.’
She looked back at the file. ‘And your mother’s maiden name?’
‘Hurst.’
‘Quite a coincidence that,’ she said, closing the file.
‘It is, isn’t it?’ said Trevor, not having the slightest clue what she was talking about.
‘Right, that’s all, sir. You can carry on now.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ She beamed at him once again while the male attendant studiously continued to clean his fingernails with the fork.
Trevor headed towards the banks of lockers in the middle of the compound. By now, Milly had investigated the area thoroughly and, having apparently discovered little of interest, lay down for a nap.
Each of the blue-fronted lockers
Similar Books
