Lesson 4 – “Moonlight Meeting”

“Five minutes”, the voice at the other end of the phone said. “Cheers, love!” Sylvia said. She put the phone down, ripped the cellophane off a new pack of Bensons, opened the packet and lit a desperately needed ciggy.
She peeped through the gap in the curtains. There was a full moon out tonight. Very appropriate.
The car was still down there in the street, parked right opposite the block.
Sylvia tapped some ash from her ciggy into the stolen pub ashtray on the windowsill.
Sylvia imagined the inside of the car. Two bored coppers, wearing crumpled suits, smelling of sour sweat and stale farts. Paper cups of burnt, tepid coffee and a bag of dried out doughnuts. Same old procedure. Same old routine. Radioing in every hour to tell their boss , DS Smith, that “No, the suspect hasn’t made any movements. Not even a bowel movement!”
Sylvia looked at her watch. Five to eight. Time to get going. She’d arranged to meet Moony at nine at the Blue Posts. Not her favourite boozer, but good enough. A nicotine-stained little dive where you could sit in a quiet corner without being disturbed.
All she had to do now was to get those two coppers off her back. The last thing she wanted was to be followed and caught having a chat with Derek Moon, her former partner in crime. She and Moony had pulled off some good scams back before they got banged up by that slag DS Smith. But now she was out of jail. She was free, and all she wanted to do was put the past behind her and start from scratch. But the fact was that Moony owed her and if there was one thing Sylvia couldn’t stand, it was loose ends.
DS Smith would wet her knickers if she knew that Sylvia was meeting Moony. No chance of that though, Sylvia thought as she pulled on the fake mink coat she’d dug out of the wardrobe. She’d bought it years ago at Camden Market, before Moony had lured her into a life of crime. Quite a bargain, but she’d never worn it. Until now.
She looked at herself in the mirror in the hall. She looked good, and the fur coat gave her that final touch of glamour. She’d cut and dyed her hair herself that afternoon, and the blond look definitely suited her. A million miles away from her usual tough girl look, but she had to admit – it actually brought out another side of her. “Blonds have more fun”, she said to her reflection, and blew herself a kiss.
Two minutes later she opened the front door and stepped out onto the landing. She checked her bag to make sure she’d got her keys with her and then pulled the door shut behind her.
She was about to press the button for the lift, but stopped herself just in time. Don’t be daft! She told herself, then turned and pushed the bar down on the fire exit door. She stepped out onto the metal staircase. She looked down. The taxi was waiting there in the back alley behind the flats, engine ticking over. He’d said five minutes and five minutes it was. She started to walk down.