Living my life on the edge of what is and is not legal sort of happened without a plan or deliberate action on my part. It just happened and … well it took a car crash to make me take stock of my life.

Wheeling and dealing with sometimes slightly dodgy goods, was the norm for me so spending three months on my back and then in a wheelchair recovering from two broken legs and a fractured pelvis came hard, really hard for me. As someone who was out and about morning, noon and night the enforced idleness hit me hard.
Who am I?

Well, my name is Tony Spencer or, just plain ‘Spence’ to my friends. I am a native of the Perry Barr area of the fine city of Birmingham, UK.

Now I’m twenty-five and boy, how the years have passed since I left school with no qualifications and just fell into a bit of wheeling and dealing. Somehow, I nearly always made a profit so I continued and continued until I’d become quite good at it. I like to think of myself as a more successful ‘Del Boy’ from the TV show, ‘Only Fools and Horses’. Sure, some of the things I dealt in were a bit dodgy and may have even fallen off the back of the proverbial lorry but as long as I made a profit and I kept just the right side of the law then I was up for it.
Then it all changed for me. To put it simply, I got too big for my boots. I became involved with something very illegal and it all went very pear-shaped. The people who put up the money for the deal wanted it back with interest and all eyes seemed to point in my direction as the cause of the failure of the enterprise. I turned out to be a convenient scapegoat because, on the day of the deal going down, I was hit by a car as I walked along the street. That made it impossible for me to defend my corner but after a period of reflection, I was glad that I didn't have to.

I’d been sort of killing time until I drove to the agreed place for the deal to go down. I’d had a coffee in my favourite café in West Bromwich and was walking back to my car when a driver of a Ford Fiesta collapsed at the wheel as it came in my direction. Well, in the direction of me and a woman who was pushing a baby in a pushchair. Instinct took over and from what the Police told me, I probably saved the woman and her child’s life. When they told me what I’d done, I was surprised as I didn’t remember a thing after finishing my Coffee.
As I was being taken to hospital, a few miles away on an industrial estate close to the M5/M6 Motorway junction the 'deal' that I'd been involved with was going down when it was rudely interrupted by the Police who arrived all sirens blazing and armed to the teeth. Some of the players in the deal were known to carry guns so, in retrospect, it was understandable.

To cut a long story short, everyone but my good self was carted off to various Police Stations around Brum by the Plod. Two of the nastier specimens of humanity that were now under arrest were taken down to London to a top security Police establishment.

Meanwhile, I was oblivious to all those goings-on and was in the hospital undergoing several operations to fix the injuries that I'd incurred in the accident.

Two of the main ringleaders had been nabbed by the police a few days later when they met to discuss what went wrong. They started singing like canaries and soon a good number of their associates were also in custody. This was a major PR triumph for the police. The police accidentally revealed that they had a source inside one of the parties to the deal. As I was the only participant not in jail, the finger was firmly pointed in my direction.

I had several visits from the Police while I lay in my hospital bed, but in the end, they decided that my alibi was rock solid and it wasn’t in the public interest to prosecute me but that was scant relief for the pain that my injuries were giving me.

Eventually, the day came for me to leave the Hospital. I was not looking forward to having to fend for myself in my current state of mobility so my lawyer had arranged for me to spend a few weeks in a rehab centre. Yes, I had a lawyer. My fairly frequent brushes with the law meant that I had one on what the Americans call ‘speed dial’.

The rehab centre I was sent to, was a disaster. It was full of old folk getting over their falls and strokes. It wasn’t their fault but the facilities at the centre were built for their problems, not mine. I just didn't fit in.

I lasted just over a week before I called my Lawyer.

“Can you come and get me out of here before I go stir crazy?”

“Anything.”

“Yes. Anything and anywhere that has a small gym and a swimming pool so I can do all the physio that the doctors want me to.”

“I look forward to seeing you soon,” I said as I hung up the phone.

Three days later my escape plan was complete. My dear lawyer had rented a house with an indoor pool and fitness centre for me. The lease was just for three months. The Doctors estimated that it should be long enough for me to get mobile if I put my mind and back importantly, my heart into it. Just going through the motions would not cut it.

What I did then was up in the air. My enforced stay in bed had given me time to think about my life. If I hadn’t had the accident, I would more than likely be in prison waiting for trial. I’d had a close shave. Far closer than any I’d ever had before. This shook me to the core in more ways than I cared to imagine.

My lawyer, Tommy Cotton, bless his cotton socks, had engaged the services of a rehab nurse come physio, come housekeeper. She would look after my body and soul until I was ready to face the big bad world again. He was very coy about her. All he’d say was, ‘you are paying me a good wad of cash for my services. I would not want that to stop so just relax and wait and see’.

The house was located well off my regular patch. All he’d say was that it had been leased to a Premiership Footballer who had played for a club in the north of England and had been transferred to a club in Turkey in the January transfer window. The lease was up at the end of June. It was now late March. I had three months to get mobile again. It looked like I would be in for a lot of hard work.

The letting agent let us into the property. Thankfully, it had step-free access so my wheelchair was easily able to be pushed inside. I could get around a bit with the aid of crutches but I wasn’t that steady on them.

The Nurse who’d been engaged to look after me during my journey was looking anxiously at her watch.

“Do you need to be somewhere?”

“Yes. I have my shift starting in three hours. The M6 will be a car park all the way to Birmingham,” came her slightly anxious reply.

“My nurse is due here very soon,” I said hopefully.

"You can always take the A34. It is often better than the M6 at this time of day," I added, using my experience of roads that didn't have ANPR Cameras every few miles.

"I very much hope so," came her reply.

Nearly half an hour later, her replacement turned up.

“Well, hello!” she said in a cheery voice as she bounded into the house.

“Sorry for being a bit late, the road works on the M6 near Wigan delayed my journey down from Glasgow," she added with a broad Scottish accent.

My new nurse was about 5ft 6in tall with jet-black shoulder length hair tied back in a ponytail. She appeared to be a little older than me.

“And this is my patient then?” she said in that ‘nursey’ sort of voice.

I tried to smile at her.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Och, silly me, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Heather Watson.”

"Hello, Heather."

“Can I go now?” asked the other nurse.

"In a moment. We must do a proper handover. I'm sure you know the form,” commented Heather in a tone that told me that she meant business.

The other nurse’s shoulders visibly sagged.

Then Nurse Heather said to me,

“Stay right where you are while we get the handover done.”

With that, the two of them disappeared into what I assumed was the kitchen.

Their disappearance gave me a chance to look around the living room.

The house was decorated in a style that was definitely not to my taste. The hallway was full of what could only be described as 'tasteless tat'. A huge reproduction Louis X1V mirror dominated one wall. Two similarly styled chairs sat on either side of it. It all looked rather out of place with a beech floor. The more I looked at the place the worse it became. It appeared to be all fake style and no substance. Not my cup of tea in any shape or form. The word 'bling' kept popping into my mind as I looked around.

I’d just have to live with it until I could get mobile enough to pack it away.

The two women had been gone for almost ten minutes before they reappeared.

"It is all done, I'm now in charge," said Nurse Heather, in a very confident manner.

She showed the other nurse out the front door, and stood there watching her predecessor drive away.

“Now!” said Heather as she came back inside.

"Why don't I make you comfortable, and then I will put things away. Then, we can become acquainted before I get us something to eat. I'll bet you are fed up with Hospital food, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m very fed up with tasteless gunk. If anything, the rehab place I was at, had worse food than the hospital.”

She chuckled at my description of the food at the Rehab place.

“Good. I bought us a few supplies once I got to this part of the world. Once we get settled and a routine planned, I can do some proper shopping and get more of the things you like. Ok?”

“Yes. But…”

“What is it?”

“I need to use the toilet. I’m bursting.”

“Why didn’t you say so sooner,” came her effervescent reply.

The following day we got down to business. It didn’t take long for me to understand that Nurse Heather enjoyed torture. Nothing else could describe it. The pain was horrible yet there was always a smile on her face. Before the end of the first day, I was dreaming up ways to kill her in the most painful ways possible.

Then she redeemed herself by cooking up some truly excellent food.

We soon settled down into a pattern where she tortured me in the morning, gave me rabbit food for lunch followed by more torture in the pool followed by a session with weights and a massage. Then in the evening we would eat heartily and talk about all sorts of things until I fell asleep.

Despite my wanting to alternatively kill her (for the torture she was putting me through) and kiss her (for her cooking) progress was being made. I started to get more mobile and some strength returned to my legs.

The big difference with Heather over the physios at the hospital was that she concentrated on my whole body and not just the broken bits. This was the opposite of how the physios in the hospital and rehab centre worked so
I didn't blame them. Their job was to get people mobile enough to be discharged.

As a result of her attention if not masochism, I lost weight and got a lot fitter. My legs started to work without them complaining angrily.

We’d been at it for almost six weeks when we received some rather bad news.

I was in the pool doing yet another length using only my legs when I heard the front door bell ring.

“Heather, I think that is the front door.”

“Are you sure Laddie?”

Then it went again. This time she didn’t argue and disappeared to answer it.

I took the rare opportunity to have a breather while I waited for her to return and the inevitable haranguing, I’d get for slacking off.

Heather soon returned accompanied by someone I hadn't seen since the early days in the hospital.

"Hello, Inspector. Come to give me another grilling?"

“Not at all Tony,” he replied.

“Perhaps we might have a conversation with both of us on dry land?”

“Oh! Yes. Let me get out of here. That is if my slave mistress agrees?”

Heather went a little red in the face.

“In the circumstances, I think an early termination of our work today would be agreeable with me,” replied Heather slightly indignantly.

I smiled as I made my way toward the steps to exit the pool.

“Heather, perhaps you could put the kettle on?”

“Inspector? Tea perhaps?” I asked.

“Not for me. This is not a social call.”

Heather took her cue and disappeared while I exited the Pool.

I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my shoulders.

“Why don’t we sit down and you can give me the bad news?”

“You know?”

“Know what? I’m pretty cut off here. I haven’t watched much TV since my accident. You coming here can only be to give me some bad news. Am I right?”

“Three of your alleged compatriots have been granted bail. This is despite them making very public threats to come after you. They seem to think that you grassed them up.”

“And you did nothing to convince them otherwise?”

“I am afraid not until it was too late.”

“Then they must be looking to settle a few scores?”

“I think that you need to disappear.”

“Isn’t this out of the way enough? After all, only you and my lawyer know about it.”

“Ah, your lawyer. There is something you should know about him.”

“That he’s gone over to the dark side?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“He went over a few years ago. I have a few things on him that would not do to see the light of day. Until now, that has been enough to keep him on my side.”

“But if you were to disappear on a more long-term basis?"

I smiled at the inspector.

“Do you think that Tommy Cotton is my only legal representative?”

He didn’t reply but a wry smile crossed his face.

“Look Inspector, you know the score. You don't last in my sort of business for as long as I have without preparing for as many possible fates as possible. If someone bumps me off and I sincerely hope they don't for a long time yet, you boys in blue are going to have a lot of very nice evidence of all sorts of wrongdoing dropping on your laps. However, you should not count your chickens just yet. This accident and my subsequent injuries, have given me time to think. I’ve decided to stop living on the edge so to speak. The time I have spent here has allowed me to take stock and well, come to terms with my life in general.”

“What? You are going legit?”

I smiled.

“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear Inspector. I’m not just going legit, I’m giving up the wheeling and dealing for good. No more, cough, cough, buying and selling stuff off the back of a lorry so to speak.”

“What are you going to do?”

I grinned back at the Policeman.

“Now, now Inspector, do you honestly expect me to reveal all my plans before they are fully formed? But rest assured, they will be all very legal and above board. You can be sure of two things. One is that I won't be back anywhere on the West Midlands Police's patch. Two, I won't be doing any buying, selling or trading of any sort. I will be doing something that will be completely different.”

It was his turn to emit a small laugh.

“Now Tony, do you think I will fall for that one? I guess that you have no clue about what you are going to do next. But that's all right by me."

“Inspector, having a fractured pelvis is no joke. Having three metal plates put in mine and two more in both of my legs was more than enough to make me rethink my life from the ground up. Believe me, Inspector, the pain I suffered after the accident was… well not what I'd wish on my enemies and believe me, I've made a few over the years including I'd wager, a few of your colleagues."

“So, you are a reformed criminal then? Pull the other one, I’ve seen hundreds of people like you talk the talk about going straight but never do.”

I laughed.

“I guess that it is up to me to prove you wrong then?”

"Not if you know who has anything to do about it you won't even get the chance."

I knew that he was right.

“Thank you for coming to let me know what has happened. Have a safe journey back to Brum.”

I walked him to the front door. As I opened it, he took hold of my arm and said,

“There was one more thing. Your home was been done over. Done over big time.”

“So, what? There was nothing of real value to me there."

“What about those pictures on the wall? Someone took a blade to them big time.”

"Oh, those? They were copies. Not the real thing. I had them copied by a guy in Bristol. His day job is making sets for that film company down there that do those Wallace and Grommit films.”

The Inspector looked at me strangely.

“They were strictly for show. To impress the ladies.”

I let out a sigh.

“Not that it worked though.”

The Inspector said his goodbyes and drove away.

Once the front door was closed, I looked for something to hit. The fake mirrors and ghastly furniture were very close and even more tempting but I didn’t. I’d lied to the Inspector, but that was not exactly new, but the pictures that had been destroyed were only too real and worth around £5000 each. Oh well, there was nothing else that I needed from the place. I made a note to get my lawyer to clear the place and put it on the market. At least the sale of the place should give me a little profit.

I was brought back to earth by Heather.

“You look like you’d like to ‘nut’ someone.”

“I would. Did you hear all that?”

She nodded.

“Can I do anything?”

“Got a punch bag in your pocket?"

We both laughed.

“Come into the kitchen and have a cuppa. We can talk things through.”

“Why? You aren’t involved.”

“I’m here so I’m involved by implication. Besides, I’d like to find out if you meant what you said about changing tack and going straight.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Heather saw my hesitation and said,
“Come on, I don’t bite you know. Unless that is you support Rangers? You don’t do you?”

As I hadn’t a clue what she meant; I followed her into the kitchen.
“Now you be seated while I make the tea.”

I almost said ‘yes miss’ but instead, I went and sat on one of the stools.

Heather didn’t take long to produce the promised tea. As she put the steaming mug down in front of me, she asked,
“Now tell me all about it. Think of it as part of your rehab. Rehab of your mind. So, come on tell Auntie Heather all about it.”

As she said it, she gave a little snigger.
“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing really. I was watching TV last night in my bedroom. I saw a rerun of the final episode of the US series CSI. A woman named Heather had a significant part in it. She was a therapist and former Madam.”

That meant nothing to me because I hardly ever watched TV. If WBA were on ‘Match of the Day’ and hadn’t lost, I’d watch but very little else.

I drank some of the tea and began my story.

“I first got into wheeling and dealing when I was about thirteen. I didn't mean to but the temptation of making some easy money… Well, you can guess the rest. Import, Export, factory clearances, just about anything to avoid having a proper job and turn a profit. Don’t get me wrong, I made a lot of money and only a small part of it was declared to the HMRC but in the big order of crooks, I was small fry.”

I took some more tea before carrying on.

“There was no reason to give it up while I was making a profit. I became addicted to the thrill of getting one over on big business. In the end, I was importing over 100 container loads of products from the far east every year. That was all legal and declared, but that wasn't enough. I was always looking out for what prospectors call the ‘Mother Lode’. When I had the opportunity to move a container load of clearly stolen Scotch Whisky, I could not say no. The others as in those who got nicked and did the actual robbery were supposed to meet me and hand over the scotch. When I didn't show because I was in the hospital and the plod turned up to nab them, they thought I'd turned them in. I hadn't naturally and the police were not going to let on that they had a mole in the gang. What made it worse was that the Whisky turned out to be guns and ammunition.”

“Hold on a moment. You know that how?”

“Something that the Inspector let slip when he interviewed me in the Hospital. It does not matter now. All that matters is that there are some of the gang are out on bail. If I know them, they will be looking for me, and when they find me, they will make my accident seem like a prick on the finger. Those people don’t take prisoners, and anyone who crosses them does not live long.”

“Why did you get involved with them? If you know that they are that bad?”

“Money. They knew I had or rather one of my business associates had this strange ability to make a 40ft container of hooch disappear without a trace so that the long arm of the law can't find it. They offered me a decent cut so I went along with it. At first, it was all hooch and we all made money but this last operation was in hindsight very different. The principals were far more guarded about when and where the drop was to happen. I only found out where it was half an hour before my accident."
I sighed.

“That is as they say history now.”

“Who was this mob that you were tied up with?”

“Jonjo Mackay and his crew.”

Heather went white in the face.

“I gather from your reaction, that you know of him then?”

“Anyone coming from the East End of Glasgow knows Jonjo. Let’s just say that our paths have crossed in the past, more times than I'd like to admit to anyone but my priest in the confessional.”

Then she said after looking me straight in the eyes,

“Are you really, really sure about going straight?"

“I am very sure about that. It has been just about the only thing that has driven me to get this far with my rehab.”

Heather sat watching me for almost a minute before she said anything.
“Do you mean what you said about going straight? Be honest with me?"

She’d already asked me that but I played along with her.

“I do. Time to settle down, get a proper job and be a decent member of society for once.”

Then Heather surprised me by saying,

“Then we had better do something about not letting those keen on doing you harm find us hadn’t we?”

“We? They are after me not you.”

“Really? If this was Glasgow and I’d been shacked up with you for the past six weeks, and if a bunch of nasties found me with you, I’d be a corpse floating down the Clyde on the next outgoing tide. I am a loose end that needs clearing away. They wouldn't want to take a chance that you'd told me everything. You have, so I'm in danger too."

I looked at Heather for a few seconds before realising that I’d been hoodwinked.

“You deliberately got me to talk, didn’t you?”

“What if I did? I’ve taken a bit of a liking to you. Besides, I’ve been paid in advance for my work here, and I think that your rehab is about done so I’d like to help you evade your former associates. That is if you will have me?"

“I… But… Don’t you have some footballer who needs your services?”

“The season is just about over and to use a rather well-worn quote, ‘I don’t give a dam if I never see an ACL ever again’.”

“ACL?”

“It stands for the Anterior Cruciate Ligament. It is located in the knee and one which a lot of footballers seem to suffer from these days.”

She looked at me hopefully.

“Look, I know that you can say no but I think that the two of us work well together.”

“I don’t know.”

“You are a bit of a loner. You have more or less admitted that. I am as well but I feel good with you. I’ve never felt that with anyone before. When I arrived, I thought that I was helping a petty criminal get well again, but there is a lot more to you than just your wheeling and dealing. You have a decent brain unlike so many of my clients who can only think about football, and how to wangle a transfer to Real Madrid or Barcelona which would allow them to make as much money as possible in as short a time as possible. When they are not fit to play, they are on a much-reduced income so they get me to work them very hard and most of the time I’d hardly get any thanks from them when my job was done. I was just the hired help. You are not like them as evidenced by our talks in the evening.”

I didn’t say anything so she carried on…

“When was the last time you had sex? As far as I know, no ‘other half’ came to visit you in hospital and you have not been making lovey-dovey calls to anyone while we have been here. Then there is the fact that you while taking an interest in me, haven’t tried it on with me the entire time I’ve been here.”

I started to feel naked. Nurse Heather was peeling away my protective layers one by one. For someone from the east end of Glasgow, she was very astute. So much for preconceptions…

“What about you?” I responded trying to change the subject away from me.

“When did you last get laid?” I asked returning the question to her.

“That’s not the point,” she argued.

“Oh, but it is. You asked me so it is only fair that I can ask you. So, what about it eh?”

“I was fourteen. He was twenty and nine months later…”

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I should not have asked.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“How is your bairn?” I replied trying to use a Scottish word.

Heather looked sad. I saw her eyes well up.

“I’m so sorry. Me and my big mouth.”

I reached over and took her hand. She made a small movement to pull it away but she stopped and relaxed.
“Hamish died of Meningitis just before his first birthday. I just thought it was the sniffles. If only… Anyway, it was that that inspired me to become a nurse” she replied with a big sigh.

“I’m so sorry.”

“That’s all right. It was a long time ago.”

“But why aren’t you working in a hospital saving lives and all that?”

“I was but I had one too many arguments with the management about their waste of money. Now, I'm my own boss and better paid to boot. I’m still helping people though.”

I thought for a moment.

“I see and I’m such a basket case that I need a lot more help?”

Heather smiled back at me before saying,

“Well, Nurse Heather seems to think so.”

I laughed.
“But does Nurse Heather have a plan for us to escape?”

She giggled.
“I take it that I’m not going to like it then?”

“That remains to be seen. In the meantime, we need to prepare to leave don’t you think?”

“When?”

Heather looked at the clock on the wall.
“Well, what do we need to do to this place? You know before we exit stage left?”

I looked around before saying,
“Clean up, pack our things and get the agent in to inspect the place so that I can get the deposit back.”

“The day after tomorrow then?”

After a brief thought, she added,
“Only if you pitch in. I need to go out for a few hours tomorrow.”

“Shopping?”

“More like escape preparation.”

“You like playing games with me, don't you? You have been doing it all the time we have been here haven’t you?”
“I find it brightens the day up. Stops things getting boring.”

“Hmmmppphh.”

[to be continued]