The World in My Pocket

Kitson glanced at him. He liked Gypo. There was a kind, sympathetic streak in the fat man that made companionship with him worth having. Gypo wasn’t like Ed Bleck who was always boasting of his conquests with women, who was always ribbing people, picking on them and playing practical jokes. Ed was smart, and had plenty of nerve, but he wasn’t the man to go to if you were in trouble, whereas Gypo was. Gypo would lend you his last dollar with no questions asked, but you’d never get anything out of Bleck unless there was a string tied to it.

‘Where’s that, Gypo? Where’s your home town?’ Kitson asked, stretching out on his stomach and lifting his head so he had a clear view of the road.

‘Fiesole, near Florence in Italy,’ Gypo said, screwing up his small eyes and wrinkling his fat nose. ‘You been to Italy, kid?’

‘No.’

‘No country like it in the world,’ Gypo said with a heartfelt sigh. ‘I haven’t been there for twenty years. That’s too long. Know what I’m going to do when I get my share of this dough? I’m going out there. I’m going to take a first-class passage in the ship. I’m going to buy an Alfa Romeo as soon as I arrive, and then I’ll drive to Fiesole. That’s going to give my old ma a hell of a bang. I’m going to buy me a little villa on the hill that looks down on Florence. My old man died about ten years ago, but my ma will be there, waiting for me. I’ll get married and I’ll settle down and have a lot of kids. Money can fix anything. Like Frank said: we’ll have the world in our pockets. He’s right. That’s what I’ll have: the world in my pocket.’

Unless you get shot, Kitson thought. Unless the cops catch up with you before you get on that ship.

Gypo looked at him, rolling his head on his arm, grinning.

‘What are you going to do with your dough, kid? Thought about it yet? What are your plans?’

Listening to Gypo, Kitson thought, was like listening to a child talking.

‘I guess I’ll wait until I get it,’ he said. ‘It’s too early to make plans. Maybe we’ll never get it.’

Gypo pulled a face.

‘You know something, kid? Making plans is the nicest thing in anyone’s life. Maybe they don’t ever jell. Maybe something goes wrong and the plan goes pooh! But the fun is in making the plan. I like to look ahead and plan things. I’ve been doing it for years. Okay, I admit it: none of the plans I’ve made so far have jelled, but this one might. Two hundred thousand bucks! Think what you could do with all that money!’

Kitson shrugged his shoulders.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’ve thought about it, but we haven’t got it yet.’

‘I bet you’ll buy a big car,’ Gypo said, digging his fat fingers into the sandy soil and lifting a handful of it and letting it trickle through his fingers. ‘That right? I’ve never known another guy handle a car the way you do. You deserve a fast, big car, the way you drive, then you’ll find yourself a girl: a car and a girl, and maybe some sharp clothes.’ He shook his head, grinning. ‘What about this Ginny Gordon: some dish, huh? What did you think of her, kid? That shape, huh? I’ll tell you something: that’s the way the best Italian girls are built with that solid behind, the narrow waist and the water wings. I guess she’s a little young for me, otherwise I’d think about her, but she’s okay for you, kid. She and you would look right. You don’t have to worry about the way she acts. That’s just on the surface. When a woman has her build, she’s made for love. You could melt her down. All that hardness, those eyes of hers; it doesn’t mean a thing: it’s her heart you have to talk to.’

Kitson listened, feeling the hot sun burning down on the back of his neck. If anyone but Gypo had talked to him like this, he would have told them to shut up, but Gypo was different. Gypo said exactly what was in his mind, and thinking about what he had said, Kitson wondered about the girl. Maybe Gypo was right. Maybe she was made for love, but when he remembered the cold, impersonal sea-green eyes he doubted it.

‘Look, kid, you talk to me,’ Gypo said, his eyes closed and his moon-shaped face offered to the sun. ‘You tell me what’s in your mind. I’m interested in you. Maybe that strikes you as funny, but I mean it. Last night, after I had made up my mind to do this job, I thought about you. I knew you were like me. You didn’t want this job, did you? I didn’t either, then suddenly you said yes. Why did you do it, kid?’

Kitson wiped his face with the back of his hand. ‘Why did you, Gypo?’

‘There was something about that girl,’ Gypo said. ‘When she came into the room, looking the way she looked, and when she came out with her plan, I got a feeling of confidence. When Frank explained the job, I didn’t want anything to do with it. Then when that girl came in - I don’t know, somehow she made it seem possible. I suddenly realized what all that money could buy. I thought what a bang my ma would get to see me drive up in an Alfa Romeo and in a good suit - it sort of made all the things I’ve dreamed about jell.’