The Potato Factory

Sparrer shook his head. 'Nah! If ya was Ikey, he'd o' caught me. We don't get 'nuff trainin' since 'e's gorn away.' He took a sip from his gin and looked up at Bob Marley with big eyes. 'Academy's fucked!'

'You'll do nicely, lad,' Marley said, giving Sparrer's shoulder a comforting squeeze. 'Very nicely.' He explained what he required. 'There's three sovs in it fer ya, plus the worf o' the lift, three sovs in gold, what's got the King's 'ead on it,' he emphasised. He stabbed a finger at Sparrer Fart. 'But mind ya bring me silver, a good 'un!'

Marley met Sparrer in the Hare and Hounds at ten the following evening. In a leather satchel he carried the one hundred fob watches Isaac Isaacson had obtained for him.

'Well then, lad, 'ow'd ya go?'

Sparrer dug into his pocket and produced a silver hunter which he handed to Bob Marley.

'Like ya said, Mr Marley, not too cheap not too 'spensive, sterlin' silver, worf fifteen sovs new!' Sparrer declared expertly.

Bob Marley examined the watch. 'Jesus, Sparrer, it be monogrammed! Look, J. R., that be the 'nitials o' the cove ya nicked it from!'

Sparrer shrugged. 'Ya didn't say nuffink 'bout that. Do I still get me five sovs then?' he asked hopefully.

Bob Marley counted five gold sovereigns into Sparrer's tiny hand, then added three more.

'Ya done good, lad. I didn't say nuffink 'bout no 'nitials.'

Sparrer looked pleased. He was rich enough to eat and get drunk for a week and sit in on an endless game of cribbage. 'Thanks, Mr Marley, I done me best, sorry I fucked up.'

'Got a yack o' yer own, then?' Bob Marley asked suddenly.

Sparrer shook his head in alarm. 'Too dangerous in me profession! Pigs might find the cove I nicked it from, it'd be the boat fer me, fer sure!'

Bob Marley's hand went into his pocket and produced a handsome nickel-plated fob watch which he placed on the bar counter. Then he pulled out a watch chain and dropped it beside the watch.

'Take it, it be your'n.'

Sparrer looked confused. 'Huh?'

Marley laughed. 'A present, fer yer birfday!'

'I don't 'ave no birfday,' Sparrer said quietly, still bemused. 'Ya didn't nick it, did ya? Cos, if ya nicked it I can't 'ave it.'

'Nah, it were a bonus for doin' a job, a little favour fer a friend like.' He pushed the watch over to Sparrer. 'G'warn, take it, everybody's got a birfday even if they don't know when it be.'

Sparrer picked up the watch in one hand and the chain in the other, appearing to weigh both in his hands. 'I ain't never before seen a new one what's not nicked.'

'Guaranteed, honest to Gawd nab proof that is. Pig come up to ya, ask ya where ya got it, tell 'im it's kosher, Isaac Isaacson o' Drury Lane, "Jeweller to Thespians and Gentlemen, Established 1792"!'

Sparrer's eyes shone as he realised that the watch was safe for him to own. 'Thanks, Mr Marley, thanks a lot!' he said clicking open the lid and looking at the pristine face of the watch. Then he closed it and clipping the watch onto the chain placed it into his fob pocket, looped the chain over his tiny belly and fitted the crossbar at its other end into its appropriate buttonhole. The chain was much too long for his narrow torso and dangled in an arc to below his crutch. 'I never 'ad a watch o' me very own,' Sparrer said excitedly.

'Mazeltov!' Bob Marley said, patting him lightly on the shoulder. 'One good turn deserves anuvver!' He pointed to Sparrer's fob pocket. 'What's the time then?'

Sparrer took the watch from its pocket and expertly clicked it open again. '

'Arf past ten o' the clock,' he said proudly.

'Read what it says,' Marley demanded.

The boy looked up at Bob Marley, then down at the inscription inside the watch cover as though he had seen it for the first time. He touched it lightly with his forefinger tracing the words inscribed into the metal as though by feeling them they might reveal their meaning to him. Bob Marley cleared his throat.

'No, don't read it, Sparrer! Lemme tell ya what it says,' he said quickly, rescuing the urchin. 'I sort o' composed it meself, see. So it be better said than read, knows what I mean?' Bob Marley leaned back as though thinking for a moment. 'It says: "To S. F. – A man's repitashin be more variable than gold! B. M."'

'What's S. F. and B. M. mean?' Sparrer asked.

'S. F. stands fer Sparrer Fart, that bein' you… and B. M., why that's yers truly, the same what's talkin' to ya and whose repitashin be more valiable than gold!'

'Thanks, Mr Marley. ' Sparrer touched the inscription again with his forefinger. 'S. F., eh? Blimey, that be me!'

Marley laughed and pointed to the watch. 'Tempus fugit, that means "Time flies", I gotta scarper.' He threw down what remained of his brandy. 'Ya done good, Sparrer, cheer'o then.'

Sparrer didn't quite know why, but as he watched Bob Marley's back retreat out of the tavern door he wanted to bawl.

At near enough to ten o'clock the following morning, Bob Marley knocked on Ha

'Bob!' Then she added quickly, but in a whisper, 'You 'asn't got 'em, 'as ya?'

Marley grunted and held up the bag.

Ha

'Elp yerself, love, I'll fetch yer money,' she said, leaving the room once more.

Half an hour after Marley had left the police arrived at Ha

Both of them were arraigned before a magistrate the following morning, Ha

The magistrate read Ikey's letter for himself and then looked up at Ha

Ha

'And how do you suppose these watches came into your possession then, madam?' the magistrate asked sternly.

Ha

'Im! I asks 'im to purchase on be'arf o' me 'usband one 'undred watches what's kosher, what's not nicked, but what's bran' new. 'E said 'e done it, but 'e didn't, did 'e? 'E gorn and got 'em on the cross!' Ha