They are trailing me through the Italian Quarter. Bad business in their brain cells. Bad blood in their moneybags. Time to lope away, bow-legged and bashful. Some football losers get in the way, screaming obscenities into the wind like failed actors eager to make an impression; perfect smokescreen; perfect backdrop, so I take off, squeeze between the pilasters and past the old dears begging and then I have to slow down for they are in danger of getting lost in the [throng/throbbing/thrusting melee]
These hooligans are no worries to me but a useful excuse to change tack so I scurry away,
Best to appear afraid: I’ve learned my lessons well, and I make sure they don’t lose me, though they do their best to do so, as I duck and weave through the dregs of society.
They’re well behind. Time to stagger, time to play the soft sailor. Make sure they don’t lose me. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because I have so many possible destinations – they know me everywhere - that there’s always one nearby to choose so I can select a route there to make sure they don’t miss me. Stay in touch, boys.
In order to keep them in touch I have to stop around longer than I would regard as ideal so I end up getting deeper into a maze of alleyways when ideally I would have struck out more into the wide-open spaces. No matter, as long as they stick with me, things are all right and I know one good place to go, not ideally situated but pleasant and comfortable inside.
I arrive and see the door with its new coat of paint and ignore the doorbell. There is no code – they will let me in no bother – but I decide to knock three times anyway. A woman of my acquaintance lets me in.
They wait outside. We sit and drink tea. She looks out from time to time to check their position and their attitude. They have the patience of a woodshed full of devils.
They wait and they wait and are obviously prepared to wait all night if needs be. Thus we find ourselves in a dilemma. Exit via the rear? Exit brazenly via the front? Or invite them in?
We let them wait a while longer, let them choke in their own smoke as it freezes up a bit outside. We drink more tea. My acquaintance sends the servant girl to the door. She opens it. No words are exchanged. They enter. They stop to wipe their feet as they do so.
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