Wendy hummed. “You are. Anyway, let us know if you think of anything, alright, Ted?”
The pharmacist nodded enthusiastically. “Will do, PC Truelove!”
Wendy reached up and planted a hand on Johnny’s shoulder again, turning him towards the main entrance. She all but marched him across the car park and towards their car, which was waiting for them at the end of the road.
Ancient fucking thing.
“Listen here, Billy Big Bollocks,” she said once they were safely inside the vehicle. “This isn’t the city; we don’t interrogate the general public.”
Johnny scoffed. “You think that was an interrogation? I simply asked if the shop had CCTV.”
She nodded. “Aye, but it’showyou ask. These folk aren’t like you West Newtoners. You have to…” She waved a hand. “Go softly. Pink and fluffy. No big words, or quoting the Theft Act, or asking about CCTV. It freaks them out.”
Johnny scoffed. “The man had his shop robbed.”
“Sure, sure. And you might treat it like the crime of the century. Slap someone in cuffs and take ’em away. But, in reality, all they want is a nice jolly bobby patrolling the town, keeping the peace and visiting the care homes every now and again. You—” She flicked her hand up and down his body. “—you’re a bit much. Too serious.Definitelytoo handsome. Honest to God, boy, do you even shit like the rest of us?”
Johnny stared at her, mouth hanging open. “Pardon?”
She nodded, seemingly to herself, before pulling her seat belt on. “That was probably too much. I apologise. I’m sure you do shit, but only once a year. On a full moon, right?”
Johnny spluttered. “I have regular bowel movements, thanks.”
“Sure, sure. Anyway, I think Taylor gets Dingly,” she continued, letting out a whimsical sigh. “Lovely lad. Does nicenails, too.” She nodded at Johnny’s own fingers as he gripped the steering wheel. “You’re lucky. Having a man like that.”
Well, they could agree on something, at least.
The drive to the retirement home took less than ten minutes, and Johnny could already feel his insides shrivelling at the sight of two white birds criss-crossing one another behind the words Turtle Doves Care Home. The gravel driveway was immense, and it took them as long to navigate as the high street.
“Just pull up outside those big bay windows,” Wendy said, pointing towards three massive arches surrounded by ivy. “They love it when we put the lights and sirens on; gets them hopping right out of their recliners.”
Johnny sighed, turning on the lights.
“There they are!” she said, smiling as a dozen or so wrinkled faces appeared in the window. It reminded Johnny ofDawn of the Dead(something else Taylor had made him watch multiple times), and he fully expected to see the reception doors boarded up, with ‘DO NOT ENTER. DEAD INSIDE’ spray painted across it.
Glancing towards reception, he steeled himself and followed Wendy inside. She giggled as a receptionist led them through a set of flaking white doors and down a parquet floored hallway. Wendy had a big black sack thrown across her shoulder that she refused to let him see inside, stating it was a ‘surprise,’ but he was pretty certain it had something to do with all the fake money.
He could smell the piss and incontinence pads already, and it got even worse as they were swept into the huge, oval shaped dining hall.
“Look out, everyone! The police are here!” Wendy called, which was met with a round of excited squeals and grunts.
The receptionist gave Johnny a sympathetic smile and said, “They’re all yours,” before nodding towards an army of care staff in their blue tunics.
“Thank you kindly,” Wendy said, wiggling her eyebrows and shifting the sack to her other shoulder.
There was a chorus of zombie-like groans, followed by gummy smiles and shaky hands heading straight for them. Johnny stepped back, but Wendy grabbed his wrist. “Let them scent you,” she whispered as a tiny old man rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “Some of them can’t see, so you have to let them smell you.”
Johnny pressed his lips together and looked up at the ceiling. “Right,” he said, gritting his teeth as two dozen rough and wrinkled hands descended upon him.
He could do nothing but stand there and let them run their hands all over him, the taller ones making a beeline for his hair. They pulled and pinched, acting as though it was some kind of curiosity.
“Oookay,” he said, dipping out of their grasp and backing towards the care staff. A few of them giggled and batted their eyelashes at him but did nothing to help.
Taylor would have been in his element—he loved touching things and being touched, which meant kids and old people fuckinglovedhim.
“And now for the big surprise,” Wendy said, smirking as she tossed him the bag. “Go on, open it.”
The smile on her face made his balls wither, even more so when he pulled open the draw-string and found a custody tracksuit with the words BAD BOY printed across it, along with a swag bag full of the fake money.
