Ugly Puggly 68

We drove back along the way we came. The nearest petrol station was just off Crow Road. The engine chugged and wheezed before it cut out.  

I flicked on the hazard lights. ‘Just let the van fuckin freewheel,’ I cried. 'And take yer foot aff the break.' There was panic in her eyes, but she did and we got within thirty yards of the petrol station. The traffic behind us had built up, and horns sounded but it wasn’t at peak level. There was enough space for cars and vans to get into the other lane and continue without slowing too much. Most drivers compartmentalised their journey and glanced out at us—Ugly Puggly, Dave and me—at the back of the Bongo pushing it towards the petrol-station forecourt. But it was just our luck that a set of neon lights appeared and the police Landrover crawled behind us with lights flashing. ‘Just let me do the talkin,’ I whispered to Dave and Ugly Puggly, out the side of my mouth.  

We were hardly likely to run away. But they waited until we were off the road and in the petrol station before they parked behind us and got out of the car. Two cops in their fifties strolled towards us, cap peaks hiding their expression. I put on the kind of fake smile they’d, I supposed, grown used to and expected.

‘Having a bit of trouble?’ the heavier of the two policemen asked.

I knew they’d have already checked the vehicle registration and who owned the van and would have been able to tell if it was insured.

‘Aye,’ I chuckled. ‘The wife, yeh know whit women are like. She forgot tae put petrol in it. Daft or whit?’

I invited them to smile, but he pursed his lips. ‘And is it your Bongo van, sir?’

‘Aye,’ I was conscious I was talking too much and waving my hands and arms for emphasis, but couldn’t seem not to. ‘Great for the campin. And we were jist away tae pick up a wee boat in Edinburgh. We can take it doon tae Loch Lomond and huv a wee whiz about on the water. You know whit I mean? Day oot for everybody, even in the rain.’

‘Can you give me your name and date of birth?’ he asked.

The cop behind him already had his notebook out. I told them what they needed to know, and doubtless already knew. But déjà vu. I also knew what the next question would be.

‘And who was driving the vehicle, sir?’

Ugly Puggly looked over at me and pulled his cap down more firmly over his head. I knew in my dishevelled state that if I said I had been they’d breathalyse me. And I wasn’t sure if I was sober enough to pass any test that involved not drinking booze but measuring it instead. But it was obvious that Molly had also been driving. I wasn’t sure that counted as an offence, but I knew she wasn’t registered on my insurance.

I blinked as I tried to think and fudged it. ‘Me,’ I said. The other cop was away checking out my story.

Dave looked up from his screen. ‘Robert,’ he said to the cop and gave him a warm smile. ‘It’s you. I didn’t recognise yeh wi yer clothes on.’ He gave him a little girly wave, even though they were standing close enough to bend over and kiss or spit or do both when they were doing the nasty courtship wiggle.

‘Oh, right,’ he said, but he wasn’t laughing. He sucked in his breath and looked over his shoulder to check his colleague hadn’t heard. He pawed his right foot back and forth against the ground. ‘It’s nice to see you,’ he said with the same kind of high voice I’d used earlier. And he started talking like me and waving his arms too. ‘I need tae be goin’, he said. ‘I think we had a call in, a bit of an emergency.’

He moved fast for a fat man in uniform, backtracking back to the vehicle. The lights and sirens were on and they speeded away.

‘Dave,’ I felt like hugging him and stepped towards him and almost did. ‘Fuck sake. I ne er thought you’d be much use for anythin much.

He shrugged and the hand holding the bright light of his phone fell to his side. For once he was modest, with the hint of a blush. ‘Jist a friend,’ he said.

Molly was holding her arms across her stomach and her hands jiggling her wrists as she danced back and forward. ‘My nerves. I need tae pee.’

‘See if they’ve got a toilet in there?’ I motioned towards the shop which took payment for petrol.’

‘I’ve already checked and they huvnae,’ she jiggled some more. ‘I need tae go.’

‘Jump in the van the noo,’ Ugly Puggly told me, and ignoring her. ‘And me and Dave will push yeh towards the pumps. You steer.’

I jumped in, pulling the door shut as they put their backs into it and we rolled towards the pump. I stuck the nozzle in and waited for the pump to thrum and go back to zero from the last sale. Ugly Puggly came and stood beside him. ‘I’ve nae money,’ I told him. ‘Much will I put in?’

‘Put a hundred quid in. See how it goes.’

Molly came tottering back quick step, still holding her stomach. Panic on her face. ‘They’ve nae toilet. I told yeh.’

‘We’ve got a thing we can use in the van,’ Ugly Puggly said.

She snapped back at him. ‘I’m no usin that. Whit dae yeh think, I’m ur?’

‘It’s a chemical toilet,’ he shrugged.

I watched the reels of the petrol pump turn petrol into tens of pounds.

‘I don’t care whit kinda thing you call it. I’m no usin it.’

‘Suit yersel,’ I pulled the nozzle out at £99.99. One penny super profit left behind for Esso. It all added up.

‘Suit mysel!’ She slapped my shoulder. ‘It’s aw yer fault for gettin me into this.’

‘I didnae ask you tae come,’ I reminded her.

‘Well, take me hame. And you’ll need tae be quick or I’ll wet mysel.’