Dave goes to Hackney find the only person he knows, who knows about antiques. Eveready or occasionally Everad is crusty with rich parents. He’s an articulate activist and the son of a famous antiquities dealer. Eveready ‘studied’ History at Oxford graduate gaining a 1st class degree. Collective 27 March 14.jpgMoved out of college and lived in a crusty commune down the Cowley Road and was hardly seen in classes being more likely to be found at dub parties and raves or down in the meadows on the solstice. After college, in the 1990’s, he lived in a commune outside Reading until it moved on mass to Hackney. It was moving into the Hackney squat Dave first met Eveready, they enjoyed long discussions about history and politics in which Eveready often admonished Dave, “History finished in 1916, you’re talking about current affairs!”
Dave parked the bike outside a big red brick Victorian Villa bearing the name Ranger Mansions cut into the stone above the door, after which had been tagged the word SQUAT in graffiti style spray paint. The once splendid property is council owned but had been left to decay. It became rat-infested short-term council accommodation dubbed “Danger Mansions” by tenants before Dave & Co moved in, displacing the crack addicts.
It wasn’t a glamorous place. On room was completely unusable, the floor had fallen away, so they just drew the door closed and tried to forget about it, the uncurtained broken window was visible from the street and you could also see huge evil looking icicles from around the water & soil pipes. Man, it was cold in winter. You would have to living in a really fucking awful place to want to move here. It was the sort of place you’d have to be certain you can look after yourself as a structural engineer and with the mad bad and dangerous to know people you’d find in side, or you wouldn’t even consider going in. In those early days there was squabble for the soul of the squat, it also functioned as a venue for what local residents groups described as an illegal rave venue profiting from drugs money. Dave’s posse turned it round after the drug fuelled raves stopped following a murder when some dealers fell out, and the party moved on.
Dave went up to the front door & knocked. The door was answered by a woman, unsurprising decked out in waist length dreadlocks.
“Kitcat!”
“Hi Dave. Long time no see. I won’t ask how you are”.
“Good, good”. Grinned Dave. “How are we? Still riding? How’s things in 177.”
“Yeah. So, so. But it’s not what it used to be. Loads more trouble with the bailiffs”.
“Same old, same old, then?”
“No. It’s much worse than it ever was”. She said dejected and weary. She tried to forget the trouble of the squat and genuinely pleased to Dave tried to let that cheer her. “Anyway what brings you this way? Tired of civvy street?”
“It’s got its advantages. I’m getting used to my creature comforts. Is Eveready around?”
“Still don’t follow the news, eh Dave?”
“Nope. It doesn’t agree with me.”
“Social networking? Facebook? Twitter? That sort of thing?”
“No. What’s that? An’ That? An’ That? Stop it! You’re making me ill”
“Well if you had any interest in the world around you, you’d know there has been some recent civil unrest recently”.
“The riots?”
“Yeah. And the wayward son of a well-known, well-to-do geezer got arrested”.
“Eveready’s not wayward!”
“Maybe, but he’s national news, man.”
“Really? So I’m not the only person looking for him? I wonder I that will that make him harder or easier to track down?”
“Well the law and the media found him easily enough.”
“Where’s he now, inside? There’s not a prison been built that could contain such a charming, well connected & entirely innocent young man.”
“You’re right, for once. They bailed him. The old man has friends in high places in the legal establishment, though word on the street is Eveready lives in a caravan or a cave on the edge of the Thames down Pimlico way.
“Interesting”
“What do you want him for?”
“Oh, I’ve got a mission for him. We need to pick that planet sized brain of his – what’s left of it.”
“I’ll give him a buzz.”
She phones
“Eveready, Always Good Dave has popped up! Yeah, yeah I know. He says he’s got a mission for you. You interested? Right where are you? He’s got an even more fuddy-duddy old man’s bike than he used to ride. It’ll probably take him ‘til the middle of next week to get to you. Right. See ya”.
“Right. Where is he?”
With Taffy Jackie on Spitalfields market, you know it?
“Funny. Really funny.”
Kitcat laughed.
Mounting his bike Dave asked, “Do you remember what the ‘80’s & ‘90s were like? An era before the advent of global communications. What was the world like? Sometimes good . . . sometimes bad. I think we had greater expectation back then. Coming home wondering what was for tea and whether the cat was in or out? But now with the CATCAM APP for iPHONE. You know before you come home. Everything is as you expect. Gone are the surprises in life”.
“Same old philosophical Dave. Take it easy old man.”
Dave rode down to Spitalfields market and found Jackie’s stall.
Eveready! Jackie! How’s business? Jackie was standing alone. Eveready was talking to a punter. Eveready nodded in acknowledgement of Dave’s arrival. Jackie answered
“Oh you know, recession, recession, recession but other than that pretty good.”
“Long time, no see. How have you been keeping?”
“Always good. Much like you. Trying to make ends meet. Some pretty neat stuff you got here, I’ll give you a tenner for the lot!?”
OK, but you’ll have to stand here all day in the freezing cold and try to sell to people with no money in their pockets.
“Fair point. Listen can I buy you and Eveready a drink I need him to take a look at something for me.”
“OK”
“Just a cup of hot water” said Eveready over his shoulder.
Jackie and Dave went over to one of the food stalls around the outside the outside of the market, on the way she asked Dave what he wanted.
The Cafe Caribbean Spitalfields Market.
“One coffee, one tea and a Cup of hot water please”
“Cup of hot worta? That’s a Welsh thing ain’t it?” came the reply in broad east London accent from an Afro-Caribbean guy with an equally broad 50 inch chest. He repeated “Cup of hot worta?” in his closest welsh accent with a good-natured smile.
She wasn’t sure. Was wanting a cup of hot water alone a Welsh thing?
“Normally I bring my, own in a flask” her nerves forced to say.
“It’s the accent,” he said pulling 3 Styrofoam cups from the stack. Grinning he said, “I’m from Port Talbot. I grew up on the Sandfields estate. I hated it. I was bullied, terribly”.
“What a big boy like you?” asked Dave.
“I wasn’t so big then. David James, I think his name was his name. I think he’s a farmer or something now. Boy, would I like to meet up with him now”.
“I bet you would”. They Laughed.
After picking up their drinks Jackie & Dave chit chatted for a while, until Eveready had made the sale. Jackie said, “I’ll go back to the stall and send him over. Good to see you again. Now careful with that worta”
“I will. You too.”
Eveready came over and sat down, after taking a sip of his water he said. “Thanks. Good to see you. I gather this is not just a courtesy call, but you’ve something for me? What have you been up to? No good I hope.”
Dave produced an A4 manila envelope. “Maybe. Take a look at these”. He said and pushed it over the table to in front of Eveready. Leaning back he said, “I hear you’ve been quite busy yourself recently.”
“The riots? Yeah I just went over as mere spectator, you know? It keeps me out of trouble. I get to meet new and interesting people”.
Dave looked unconvinced.
“Well, OK I did take an active part, er a minor part, in the riot but also I took pictures – pretending to be a photo journalist. Good cover right?”
Eveready took another sip of the water and removed a number A4 sheets from the envelope. He studied them quickly and said “Dave I m impressed. There has been a considerable improvement in your taste since you’ve become a rent payer”.
Dave almost blushed. “Obviously they’re not mine. The objects that is, not the photos- their not mine either, come to think of it”.
“Easy Dave. Do you know what you’ve got here?”
“I was rather hoping you could tell me. I found them in a copper’s house. When I was doing a bit of . . . shall we say, private investigating”
“Interesting.” Eveready now studied the pictures more carefully, turning each piece of paper from side to side trying to ascertain the best perspective. “Evidently you’re not quite the pipe and slippers man Kitcat would have me believe. Well what you seem to have here are a collection of artifacts from different ethnic groups around the world. However, they don’t seem to be a completely random mixture of objects. I would hazard a guess they all serve a common purpose in each culture they are extracted from.”
“Which is?”
“Well, this I why I wondered if you are aware of what you had found. They are all involved, in my opinion, used in aspects of the occult. . . Admittedly many artifacts in many cultures are linked with religious practices or afterlife etc. But these I think it’s fair to say are used for communicating with the other-side. The Victorians assembled similar collections, when they got carried away with their “Cult of Death.”
“What witchcraft? At a copper’s house? That’s fantastic!”
“That would seem a fair assessment David. I’ve always known those bastards would stop at nothing. Now it seems you’ve unearthed the truth. They are in league with Satan.” He tapped his finger on a picture as if to prove his point. Eveready took out a pack cigarettes, offered one to Dave adding, “It’s a no smoking zone here”.
“I’ve quit smoking except for weed, Em made me”.
“Except for weed, obviously.” Eveready repeated holding out the packet.
Dave shrugged, took one and they lit up.
“As luck would have, if your interested in this sort of thing I believe there are some nice examples of these in a good collection, not too far from here.”
“Where? In some private collection?”
“No the Horniman Museum in Forrest Hill.”
“That’s weird. That’s where the guy I’m helping lives. He’s the guy who wanted to look around the place & he took the pictures. It wasn’t my idea but I’m just being helpful to him.”
“Well then there’s nothing stopping you two from getting over to the museum and taking a look. Any more questions ask the staff there. I’m sure they will only be too pleased to incriminate them self as accessories to burglary and god only knows what else. So, what’s your next step? Or shouldn’t I ask.”
“Dunno. I just wanted to know what we are up against”.
“Up against?”
“The geezer I‘ve been helping took the pictures, we’ve looked at, right?” Dave said his eyes fixed on Eveready’s.
“I think I get the picture. You used this expedition break into and rob a coppers house, you freak”
Dave pursed his lips & shrugged noncommittally.
“So what did you take, Dave?” replied Eveready returning Dave’s gaze.
“It’s like your reading my mind, but it’s no big deal”. With out taking his eyes of Eveready’s Dave slid right hand palm down over the table. Eveready felt the broad, flat, backhand coming towards his belly. They both looked down as Dave removed his hand, revealing the contents in his palm on the table.
“Fuck”. That’s too much Dave. It’s gonna be to hot”.
“I doubt anybody’ll come looking for it. I’ve heard the copper topped himself in prison”.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, he hung himself apparently.”
“Too bad. In which case leave it with me and I’ll ask around and see what we can get for you on the un-open market.”
“Cheers,” said Dave, standing up.
“Oh. How should I get back to you?”
“If I don’t hear anything, I’ll pop by 117 and see if anybody there can locate you.”
“Fine or I could just give you my number?”
Dave shrugged again, “Fingers crossed, take it easy”.
On returning to Brixton Dave informs Jess & Billy about the collection of ornaments in the photos at Livery’s house having something to do with contacting the sprit world & similar collections were amassed during the Victorian Death Cults.
Billy got excited “I knew there are powerful forces surrounding the Golden Wonder Murder!”
Dave does not let on about his investiture with Eveready, but prefers to remain quiet about it.
