Fudged

Squatting on the upturned box, Johnson dragged his holdall across the wooden floorboards towards him and pulled out a crumpled white paper bag.

“Here, squire, do you wanna bit of fudge?”

The other man did not appear to break his meditation.

            “Take your mind off, like…”

“Thanks, but no thanks.  I don’t actually want my mind ‘taken off’.”

“A bit of fudge won’t hurt, though.  I say, a bit of fudge won’t hurt.  Like a bit of fudge, me.  It’s the sugar.  Instant hit, it gives you.  Keeps you alert, like.  Right on the money.  Always have a bit of fudge on me, y’know, for that instant hit, if I’m feeling a bit dopey or whatever.  Go on, have a bit.”

The other man slowly opened his eyes.

“Really, no thanks.”

“It’s coffee flavoured – you like coffee. That’s a good pick me up, too, isn’t it? Coffee.  Sets you right on your feet.”

“Have you checked recently?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve checked, I’ve checked.  No need to worry about that.  They’re not due yet, anyhow.  I keep me eye out, y’know.  I’ve got eyes like a proverbial, I have.”

“Yes, but have you checked recently?”

“I.. I.. I’ll check now – set your mind at rest.  We don’t want to miss the moment as it were, do we, the crucial moment.  That would be a shame now, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.  So check.”

“All right, all right, don’t get ‘em twisted!  Look I’m checking, I’m checking..”

Johnson went over to the window and edged back one side of the grey blanket that he had hung across it some hours previously.  He peered down into the street below.

“Nah!  There’s no sign.  No sign of nothin’.  No sign of nobody.  Yeah, Ali, wouldn’t be best pleased if we missed the moment, would he?  Hahaha!”

“Just keep your eyes on that corner.”

“Will do, squire, will do.  I’m a tea man m’self.  Always have been.  You don’t drink tea, do you?  Don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink a cuppa tea.  Not into tea, are you?”

“No, not particularly.”

“Coffee, that’s you, isn’t it.  Black coffee, isn’t it.  My old mum used to say, you can’t trust a coffee drinker.  Tea’s an honest drink, she’d say.  Always liked her tea, my mum.  Don’t think she’d have liked you much, tbh.  Ha!  Mind you she’d ha’ been right, wouldn’t she, eh?  Not trusting you, eh?  She’d ha’ been right on the money with that one, eh?  Hahaha!  Cuh!  Don’t know what she’d have made of this mullarkey, I really don’t.  This is a fine fandango!”

“Johnson! Will you just quit your yap and concentrate on the situation.”

“’Course, squire, ‘course I will.  You won’t hear another word.  Not another word.”

“Thank you!”

Johnson fell silent.

He peered again around the edge of the scruffy drape.

            “Sorry, squire, I always talk a lot if I’m a bit on edge. D’y’know what I mean?  Always getting in trouble for it at school.  Keep your trap shut, Johnson!  That’s what I got all the time.  Shut it!  Couldn’t help meself, though, even when I knew I was winding ‘em up.  The teachers, like.  Couldn’t help meself.  Ohh, hangabout.  Something’s happening, something’s afoot, as they say!  Better get over here – owh...”

His companion was already pushing him aside, taking control of the window and assessing the situation below them.  The bolt action rifle had been in position, sights checked, within fifteen minutes of their arrival, but as Johnson moved to get out of the way he tripped over his holdall and as he did so launched the small bag of fudge across the room.  Johnson snatched at the air to try to grab it but managed simply to bat it with greater force towards the gun.  He fell against the other man with a considerable force, and was instantly deafened by a loud bang and the sound of shattering glass

He managed to regain control of his body as he heard a cracking thud from the street below - something heavy landing on the roof of a car - and then the sound of the wind flapping the blanket at the now empty casement.