The cab door was still open.

“Can you push the door to?” Ken said.

The woman didn’t hear him. She was calling for help. Someone in scrubs came and helped lift the sick one up.

“Can you shut the door?” Ken said again.

The three of them headed through the hospital doors.

Ken sighed. He undid his seat belt and opened the driver’s door then slammed the rear door shut, being careful to avoid stepping in the woman’s vomit. That didn’t stop him noticing there was blood in it, though.

Ken screwed his face up as he climbed back into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the kerb.

There were certain locations in Cambridge where, unless you were pre-booked to be elsewhere, you hung around in the taxi rank. These places included the train station, the library, the city centre pub and club district (late shift only), and the hospital. It was a good opportunity to catch up with the other boys, and do it on company time.

Ken had no bookings for two hours so he navigated through the hospital’s confusing one-way parking zone until he reached the taxi rank. There were a couple of other cabs parked. Ken recognised Johnny’s from the little English flag tucked into the front bumper and Murdoch was standing at Johnny’s window, having a fag.

Johnny and Murdoch spotted Ken and waved.

There was a taxi cab from another company also in the rank. Ken didn’t know the driver, a balding man in glasses reading the ‘News of the World’.

“All right, our Ken?” said Johnny, putting on a fake, thick Scouse accent as Ken strolled over after parking.

“I very nearly had a puker,” Ken told them, accepting a fag from Murdoch and lighting it.

“Yeah, I had one of those last night.”

“I had one this morning,” said Murdoch. Murdoch wasn’t his real name, but he had a laugh like the guy out of the ‘The A-Team’.

“Murdoch was just telling me about his Tania, Ken,” said Johnny, shaking his head.

“Oh?” said Ken.

“Only gone and got herself fucking pregnant!” said Murdoch.

“Ah, no! She hasn’t?”

Murdoch sighed. “I tell you, you just think these kids are smarter than that these days. It was like being in some hysterical soap opera. I was waiting for the end titles to roll.”

Ken laughed. “Who’s the guilty one?”

“Don’t look at me,” said Johnny.

“Shut up, you,” said Murdoch. “She thinks it’s Jewy Joey.”

Ken raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Murdoch shrugged. “That’s what they call him. His name’s Joey and he’s this Jew-boy she met at college. He doesn’t wear a hat or have those curls, though.”

“You’re an anti-semenite.” Johnny laughed. “People like you get on the news.”

Ken snorted with laughter, almost dropping his cigarette. “It’s not anti-semenite. Jew-haters are anti-semites.”

Murdoch laughed politely.

“What’s an anti-semenite, then?” said Johnny.

“I don’t know. There’s no such thing.”

“Semen’s what comes out of your pecker,” said Murdoch. “So a semenite would be a cocksucker.”

“No, that’s a sodomite,” said Ken.

“So an anti-semenite is anti-poofters,” Johnny said.

Murdoch sniffed. “Okay, I guess I am one, then.”

They all laughed.

“So what’s Tania going to do about it, Murdoch?” Ken asked, tossing his half-smoked fag away.

“Get rid of it, if she’s got any sense,” said Murdoch.

“What about the culprit?” said Johnny. “If Tania was my girl I’d go and turn his outie into an innie.”

They all laughed again.

Murdoch smirked. “I think she’s making him sweat a bit first. Good idea, if you ask me.”

“Me too,” said Ken.

“Excuse me,” a voice called from the kerb.

They looked up. A man in his late sixties with a walking stick, hunched shoulders and sprouting eyebrows was holding up a hand, trying to get their attention.

“Are any of you free?” he asked.

Johnny grinned at Ken. “LIFO.”

Ken looked at Murdoch, who cocked his thumb.

“LIFO,” he echoed.

LIFO stood for Last In First Out.

Ken nodded at the man. “I’ll take you. It’s that one.”

“Have fun,” said Johnny.

The old man was nearer Ken’s cab but Ken was faster, so they got there at the same time. Ken nipped round and opened the door for the guy.

“Thank you,” the old man said.

Ken nodded, waited to close it and then climbed back into the driver’s seat. “Okay, where are we going?”

“Do you know where Eden Crescent is?”

“It’s off the Arterial Road, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes.”

Ken nodded and turned the ignition. Murdoch saluted rigidly as Ken drove past and Johnny waved from inside his cab. Ken smirked to himself.

The old man wasn’t very chatty but Eden Crescent wasn’t very far. Ken noticed him keep checking his watch.

They had to stop at traffic lights and Ken drummed his fingers on the wheel in sequence. As soon as the lights changed they were off, and it didn’t take long before Ken was pulling into the old man’s road, a short cul-de-sac.

“Where shall I stop?” Ken asked.

“Behind that blue car, if you can.”

Ken nodded and brought the car to a stop.

“How much do I owe you?”

“A grand total of £5.30, thanks.”

The old man checked a small leather wallet. “Do you have change for a ten pound note?”

Ken nodded. “Yep.”

The man slid it through the gap and Ken found his change.

NOTES:
The last in a series of taxi drivers, but the first time I thought I'd actually give them something to do besides ferrying characters around and overseeing transfer of the pound coin. There are some definite clues as to where I'm heading here. The old man tells Ken that Eden Crescent is off the Arterial Road, which is also the name of the road that Geoff the bus driver reports he has just left in the middle of the fourth chapter of this story. Coincidence?