A short story by DJC
"Bing! Bing!"
"Louise?"
"Is that you, Ken?"
"Look, Louise, I'm sorry, but I'm going to be a bit late."
"I was about to call you. What's the problem?"
"Well, I've got the bread rolls ok, but this smart-looking geezer hanging about outside has just offered me ten quid to deliver a carrier bag to someone at the end of the street."
"What?! What's in the bag?"
"It's a package - quite large, really. It smells sort of sweet."
"Don't do it! It might be drugs or something."
"It's ok. It's easy. It's only a couple hundred yards."
"You idiot! You might land yourself in all sorts of trouble. And no one is going to give you ten quid unless it's worth a lot of money."
"What should I do then? Ask for fifty?"
"No! Just give it back and bring the rolls - or go to the police."
"No. It's ok, Louise. This guy looks friendly enough. He's smartly dressed too. And it's not far. I can see a man waiting. I think he's a street musician."
"Street musician? He might as well be a blind lookout!"
.....
Ken crosses the road and heads for the street musician. To his surprise, the smartly dressed man follows, some way behind. Ken quickens his pace.
"I've brought you this bag. I think you're supposed to give me ten quid."
"Ah," says the man. "I've only got a few coppers with me. Follow me."
"Your bag..."
"Could you bring it? I've got to carry my cello. Why have you got two bags?"
"Bread rolls for my girlfriend. Haven't we met before?"
"Not very likely," says the man, apparently finding the question somewhat amusing.
.....
"Louise?"
"Where are you now?"
"I just have to go round the corner here, to pick up my money."
"Are you insane? Stop this right now! If it's just the money you're after, I'll pay you ten quid instead - fifty if you want."
"Nonsense!" says Ken. "I'll call you when I've got the money."
"You really are incorrigible! Obstinate as usual! What more can I say? I give up."
.....
"Louise?"
"At last - you've got the money then?"
Ken hesitates, as he wants to talk privately on the phone.
"There are some steps here that go down to a basement flat," he whispers. "I can hear music."
"Surely you're not going down there, are you?"
"Hush! The music just stopped and a light went out." Noticing the smartly dressed man was now very close, Ken adds, "I have to go..." He turns to the musician. "Was that music?"
"Oh, yes - er - we like to practise - er - our singing," grins the man.
Ken follows nervously down the steps and follows the street musician through the door. The smartly dressed man also follows.
"Louise?"
"What now?" says Louise, sounding quite irritated.
"It's dark, but I can just see a table in front of me. It looks like plates of food, but I can't see clearly."
The musician interrupts. "Could you just put the package on there and open it for me?"
Ken is trembling nervously as he drops the bread rolls to the floor, and proceeds to do as he is asked. He unwraps the package. "It's a ... It's a cake!" Thoughts of cake sold in Amsterdam's coffee shops flood into his mind, and he can hear rustling and suppressed whispers all around.
"Read the lettering on the cake," says the musician.
Ken squints at the cake in the near-darkness. "It says - erm - 'Happy birthday... KEN'!" just as the lights come on and a crowd of well-wishes spring from hiding, all singing "Happy birthday!"
All, that is, except one, who cannot control her laughter. Tears of joy are in her eyes. It's Louise.
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