CHAPTER TWO                            PEARLS AND PENNIES                         Part One


             Mr. Pinto was a small, old and gnarled talian.  His face and clothes aged him, but his dyed hair was still jet black.  "Three months you owe me, three months!"  The little man's angry eyes could not beat down the taller man's disdain.  Joe pushed past him, his only acknowledgement was a tired and patient "Soon O.K. ! Soon!" before he started down the stairway of rotten wood and broken banisters.  The landlord's bitter mouth sent a torrent of fiery abuse echoing after him down the stairwell.
              Outside the winter rained its cold drizzle and made the pavements slimy underneath Joe's worn soles.  He passed a cafe where behind the painted lettering on the glass front, people tucked into bacon, egg, sausage and fried bread, and others warmed their hands round steaming mugs of tea.  The small change Joe had he needed although his mouth was dry and his belly was empty and the fine rain fell through his clothes like liquid ice.  He shivered and walked on.
                The floor in Piccadilly underground was covered in wet footprints leading in all directions.  Tramps still slept propped up against walls, their ragged possessions in plastic bags clutched to their sides.  Joe went along the line of pay 'phones and found one with a dialling tone.  He dialled a number, the bleeps went, he pushed in a ten pence piece and the line went dead.  He tried the next 'phone.  This time his money hit home but already Joe knew that the day would be a bad one through to the end.  He could feel it like a fever running hot through his veins while his flesh stayed cold and clammy.  " Hello John!  Any action about?  Any little earners? "  Joe was dealt some vague explanation about very little going on and  nothing in his line.  There was an air of disinterest in the tired voice at the other end.  Joe thanked him anyway and hung up.  The rest of Joe's money was in bits and pieces.  A hot drinks stand was opening up so Joe begged a favour of the bear-like, hairy, dour faced proprietor.  It got him nowhere and he had to buy a cup of tea before the rest of his money was changed up to the grand total of one more ten pence piece.  Joe went back to the working 'phone.  He waited for a Barby Doll air hostess to finish her call.  He observed how each of her golden strands of hair were lacquered into their correct positions while he sipped at the tea that  took its flavouring from the cup, hot polystyrene with sugar in it.  Barby strutted away, her make -up smiling and her little hat and knotted neckerchief just so, like an upmarket girl guide.  Joe invested his entire fortune on his second phone call of the morning.  A child answered "Is your Daddy in ?  Can you get 'im for me ?"  The child went away and Joe could hear the neurotic screaming of a wife and the foul mouthed anger of a husband and the crashing of crockery on kitchen walls.  Joe listened and then his money ran out.