Robbie Round Up

Robbie Round Up

By Emma Tynan

People always ask me how I became an actress and ended up in LA… Ronnie Round Up, that’s how…

He’d come in once a month, always on the 15th day. He would sit in the same booth away from the front door but not too close to the bathroom. He would sit for between eight and twelve hours. He would just talk on the phone all day long. He wore slim cords, a beaten-up leather blazer always with a crisp white shirt. Sometimes it would have creases in it like it had just been taken off of a card and out of the plastic, straight off of the shop shelf.

His name was Robbie and he’d been coming into the cafe for about three and half years. Robbie was middle aged and quite fit except for his belly, grey skin and salt pepper hair. His belly looked like he enjoyed quite a bit of time at the pub. He wore earrings in both ears and a big gold watch that he’d take off of his left wrist and fold neatly in front of him for the duration of the visit to the Café. I was never sure if it was to protect the face when writing and eating or if it was to time himself, his calls or his work.

Robbie was always quiet, didn’t like chit-chat and ordered the same items off of the menu every time he’d come in on the 15th day of each month. He’d arrive around 10am and order a pot of coffee and a full English breakfast. Around 2pm soup of the day and two dinner rolls, no butter with a Diet Coke. Then water until around 7pm when if he was stressed, he’d have two shots of whisky or if he wasn’t stressed a slice of apple pie and an Earl Grey tea, bag in. Then he would add hot water until his tea looked like piss and every ounce of flavour was gone from the bag. If it was a pie day, I’d get a smile and a good tip. If it was a whisky day, he’d hand me a shot and insist I drank it with him as it was bad luck to drink alone. The smile and tip or shot were the only times I saw a glimpse of Robbie, he had a weathered but genuine smile.

Over the three and a half years I would listen in on Robbie’s conversations. For the longest time I couldn’t figure out if he was a bookie, a heavy or an accountant. He’d just sit there and call person after person from this not so little Moleskin notebook that was leather bound and thick. From what I could see, each person he called had a page of their own with their full name, address, number and amounts. Each entry also included a list of “important” family members, age, phone numbers and address if different from the entries. Robbie was totally analog. He worked from a flip phone, with this notebook that had post-it’s sticking out of it with letters of the alphabet, a pencil and an eraser.

Each phone call he made went like this... “This is Robbie. You don’t know me, but I know you and it’s time to collect”. Then he’d read them off a meeting place from their name page. Sometimes he would just erase an amount and add a new amount. Occasionally he’d suggest meeting at the relative’s place or with the relative...

After a while I decided that Robbie was a debt collector for a bookie and probably the break your legs kind, even though he was quite gentle in tone and demeanour. I made a name for him, Robbie Round Up.

After my shift I’d always go home and discuss my day with my roommate Edward. We were both in acting classes at Italia Conti in Clapham. Having attended as adolescent, both not doing that great but still wanting to act, we took on further education and day jobs. Edward wanted to be a real thespian and take to the stage. I was your typical model, singer, dancer, with an emphasis on the actor portion... Naturally I did commercials when I could get them.

On the 15th of every month Edward would ask about Robbie Round Up, then he’d proceed to do improvisations in the character of Robbie. He had many, but my favourite was Robbie Round Up - The Hit Man. Edward who was actually quite posh would slip into this Vinnie Jones, playing Big Chris in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels sort of cockney character. He’d make the phone call at the cafe, show up to the meeting point and make the hit and then take the money, for some reason he’d always add in thick cockney “Asta la veesta babe” instead of “Hasta La Vista, Baby” like Arnie says it... Then he’d throw in a “Don’t expect me back darling” in his regular posh sloany pony sort of voice. Edward was quite believable and quite scary given he was 6’3” and built like a brick shit house, but the end would always have me buckled over laughing. Edward was also quite handsome in an Oliver Reed brutish sort of way. I’d always poke at him about only ever being able to get parts as villains. We called it the Ollie Reed curse. Edwards presence on stage was looming and his bright blue eyes were piercing... Seeing him slip into these improv’s about Robbie Round Up did make me laugh even though, Edward was such a lump back then.

Then on September 15th, 2019 I did something incredibly out of character for myself... I’d listened to Robbie all day and overheard he had a meeting on Clapham Common the following week, at exactly the same time I take my morning run on my day’s off. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, this man was so mysterious, I was dying to know what he actually did. After years of speculation from his single day of work at the cafe every month and after all of Edwards improv outbursts, I’d spent so much time thinking about this bloke... I realized I was a bit obsessed and just had to know after three and a half years just exactly what went on at these meetings. So, I jotted down, Clapham Common, 11am, Monday, September 23rd. Third bench from the gate on the south side of the dog park. I’d literally be doing my warm-up around there, so although the reason was out of character the spot was not unusual for me.

Monday rolled around and it was pissing it down with rain, I decided to wear black and fluorescent pink workout gear because it was so dull out, I paired this with my grey and fluorescent green camouflage waterproof running jacket, which was such a contrast to my regular diner uniform. Hopefully Robbie wouldn’t recognize me even he did see me. Edward didn’t understand why I was hell bent on running in such shitty weather when they were calling for thunder and lightning. I chose not to tell him and just flippantly yelled I’ll be fine and ran out of the door.

I arrived at the common right at 10.55am and lent against a tree to stretch out my hamstrings. There was a nervous looking man who looked about my age, early/mid-twenties. He was pacing, running his fingers through his freshly bleached hair. Talking on a mobile phone. Then right at 11am I glanced over to the third bench from the gate on the south side of the dog park, to see Robbie Round Up just sitting there as if he had materialized from the droplets of rain. I was literally a few feet away and had not seen him appear, neither did my bleached friend. Robbie was just observing him, he was sat on the bench with what looked like a neoprene laptop case. It was red and rain repelled off of it as it peaked out from under his arm. Bleach Head noticed Robbie and slipped his phone into his pocket, he walked over and stood not even two feet away from Robbie, he bent down and poked him in the tummy not saying a word. Robbie didn’t even flinch, he just placed the case on the bench and stood up, I’d never noticed how tall he was before, maybe about 5’8” at most with really square shoulders. Robbie looked quite tough and he returned the poke to Bleach Head right back in his stomach. I remember Bleach Head stumbled back quite a bit and now looked really pissed. No words that I could hear were exchanged but I am sure they were... Because Bleach Head then stepped forwards and I heard the words very distinctly “You’re finished”. There was a crack of thunder and Robbie dropped to the floor. Bleach Head ruffled through Robbie’s pockets and pulled out what looked like a wallet and envelope. Robbie slumped in a pile on the ground.

Perplexed I buried myself into the tree as the rain came down a bit harder. I remember it felt like an eternity but must have only been seconds. When I turned around Bleach Head was gone and only Robbie remained. I looked around and only Robbie and I were in the park, I ran over to him and rolled him over, he was breathing but bleeding from his stomach. He looked up and I said Robbie it’s me, Jess from the café, you’re bleeding. I’m calling 999.

I waited with Robbie as he bled out all over my clothes, the blood beading off of my jacket seeming to follow the shapes in the camouflage, dripping down and dulling the pink of the stripes in my leggings, as Robbie slipped in and out of consciousness.

The paramedics arrived first followed shortly by the police. They asked if I knew Robbie and what I saw. I explained I was walking by and saw him on the ground, recognized his face from the cafe and called 999. That was it, they didn’t even ask me down to the station, or offer me a ride home even though looking back on it I was in major shock. Robbie was taken away and I sat on the bench in disbelief, just staring out at the dog park. The rain was starting to really come down hard, I pulled up my hood and put my hands either side of me to push myself up off the bench. Under my left hand was the neoprene case covered in miniature pools of raindrops. I picked it up and floated home still in a dazed state of shock.

Once home, I went straight to the kitchen, as I glided past the living room, I was ripped out of my daze by Edward, his voice which is usually a baritone, squealed incredibly high pitched for a man of his size, Jess, Jesus Christ! What the actual fuck? Now in the kitchen and Edward standing right in front of me... He realized I am a mess. You’re covered in blood and gravel! Are you ok? Where are you bleeding from?

I ran my hands down the front and the sides of my body, then looked at Edward who could now see the blood was not mine and sat to the table. All I could get out was... Mint Tea. I moved the red neoprene case on the table to sit squarely in front of me and ran my fingers over it. Edward planted a tea down and asked me to unzip my jacket, which he then helped remove and took away. Seconds later he returned with a warm damp cloth and a blanket. He wrapped the blanket around me and asked me to wipe my face and hands, which I did still not speaking.

I ran my fingers over the case again which was now dry. Edward moved it away from me and pushed the tea over. Sip it he said. I did as I was told, the tea spilled a little as my hands shook bringing it from the table to my mouth. We sat in silence as I tried to steady myself and sip the tea. Once the tea was done, Edward just brought me another and then another. Still in silence. After a couple of hours of just sitting in silence Edward asked me if I was ready to talk. Feebly I let out a very quiet No and removed myself from the table and went to the bathroom. I went for a pee, took a long hot shower and then crawled into bed at around 5pm, hours had passed.

I woke up the next day around the same time I had passed out the night before, Edward had gone out and bought cans of soup and stuck them in the crock pot. This was his idea of making me comfort food. He told me he’d called the cafe and asked them to find someone to cover my shift because I was sick. I sat down and Edward brought me a bowl of soup, a slice a very poorly buttered bread and mint tea. Then he disappeared off into the living room and reappeared with a thick black leather-bound book, which he placed in front of me and then sat in the chair opposite me. Jess, this is Robbie Round Up’s collection book...

I shoved a piece of bread in my mouth and moved the dishes to the side, then pulled the book in front of me. I still knew nothing about this man, for all I knew could have died in hospital by now. I was hoping that when I opened this book, his story would come jumping off the page at me... But I knew what it was. It was pages of people, their loved ones and the amounts of money to be collected. Edward pulled the book from me. Jess, this book has a total seventy-two names in it, with a total of £8.3 million in debt. I’ve gone through the entire book and these are only owed amounts, nothing recorded as a paid off amount. I believe the debts are going down on some of these people because you can see where they’ve been erased and rewritten. Jess, what the hell happened yesterday?

I sipped my tea and played with my soup while I explained what I had overheard in the cafe on September 15th. The call, the meeting place and the sheer excitement that bubbled up inside of me. Edward confirmed the meeting as he had read it in the notebook, the person that had shot Robbie in the stomach was Rafał Oretsky. His father was the notorious Mob boss Michel Oretsky, who had just been caught fixing high profile boxing matches across Europe and the UK. Michel who up against charges was currently out on bail. It had been all over the news at the time.

Rafał was in debt £250K to whoever Robbie was collecting for, if not Robbie himself (to this day we still don’t know). We had determined that Rafał had had no intention of paying Robbie the debt hence the bullet... But we couldn’t figure out who Robbie was connected to. Based on the little info I had from listening into Robbie’s phone calls at the Cafe over the years, we started to google him, I remember going through the book of names googling those people and then looking them up on Facebook, Instagram and Linked in.

As we did this, we began to notice that most of these people were actually just regular Joes who were sporting fanatics and also hardcore gamblers. From the ones who had open social media profiles and how many times their debt amounts seemed to have been erased and rewritten in the notebook - we were able to determine that although we couldn’t find anything on Robbie (who was basically a ghost), we could find all kinds of information on some of these people, who their relatives were, where they worked, hung out, drank, went to school and went on holiday. After obsessively cyber stalking a handful of them, we started to make jokes about organizing collections. We’d figured that out of the Seventy-Two there were Twenty-Eight that had various open social media accounts and relatively normal looking lives. They worked regular jobs but had an appreciation of boxing, greyhounds and the ponies... These people collectively owed £3 Million out of the £8.3 Million. That was a nice and tidy sum. Our particular list of Twenty-Eight had meeting dates and spots all over London from October 1st to October 14th... Which was approximately two people a day for two weeks, give or take a couple of days of three or four and a day off.

None of these people had ever met Robbie... I remembered him saying “you don’t know me, but I know you...” I started to think that maybe Robbie wasn’t a middle-aged beer bellied man, who had a gentle and quiet demeanour. Just maybe Robbie was a 6’3” brutish cockney. Maybe in Fourteen days Edward could collect a cool £3 million.

So, we hashed out a plan... We would go to the Twenty-Eight meetings with the easier targets out of the notebook. Robbie had been fantastic at planning and had routed meeting points to ensure the path of least resistance, meaning he could clear many people in one day. It was settled Edward would be Robbie, I’d rent a car and be the driver. We’d also get second-hand bullet proof vests from the army surplus shop in Camden market, just in case. The split would be 50/50.

***

A month later on October 15th, 2019 I was handing in my notice at the Cafe. Jess? Is that you? Robbie you’re alive, my voice cracked as I said it. He said I seem surprised, I felt bad that I didn’t look into whether or not he had discharged, I didn’t even look in the obituaries for his photo. I was surprised, he had lost a lot of blood that day. Robbie asked me to sit down with him in the booth, he wanted to know exactly what I had seen that day. I told him how I was stretching by the tree and saw what Bleach Head did to him. He asked why I didn’t tell the police what I really saw... I responded that I didn’t think they really needed to know. Robbie thanked me and asked if by any chance a Red Neoprene case had been removed from the scene. I remember feeling a rush of colour to my cheeks and my eyes darting around, my heart pounding in my chest, I am sure my eyes grew big as I admitted, that yes there was, it is in my home as we speak. I asked Robbie to wait for me in the Café, that I lived 5 minutes away and that if he gave me fifteen minute’s I’d bring it to him. To my surprise he agreed.

I ran all the way home and told Edward, very calmly he said to just give him the notebook and don’t say anything, after all we are packed and leaving in 5 hours to London Heathrow. Edward said to just say that I was keeping it safe in case he ever came back to the Cafe. Edward came back with me but waited outside and watched as I shuffled into the booth opposite Robbie and slid the case across to him. He asked me if I knew what is in it. I nodded yes. He asked me why I’m handing in my notice, I told him I was going to LA to be an actress. He asked me how I’m affording moving to LA to become an actress on cafe wages... To which I sat up very straight, put both hands on the table and lent in towards him a bit, I looked him directly in the eyes and responded, look Robbie, you might find your book a bit light. Twenty-Eight people and £3 Million light. I have rubbed out and replaced the new sum of people who owe more. How did you do it? He asked, to which I responded I am an actress. Robbie let out a stifled laugh and shook his head, you’re an observant little bugger aren’t you. Then he was silent for a few minutes running his fingers over the Red Neoprene case the same way I had in our kitchen after the shooting...

Robbie finally looked up and just stared at me, I noticed his eyes were grey and had a sort of sparkle to them even though his face was grey and weary. He then thanked me for saving his life and for keeping my mouth shut about what I’d seen on the September 15th, only one month earlier. Robbie then said something I did not expect but was incredibly grateful to hear. “Jess you found my notebook, it is my livelihood, you respected my privacy, that is priceless. I’ve decided I’m going to consider this as the cost of doing business. The £3 million is the finder’s fee for my lost notebook. I would ask you how you did it, but I don’t want to know. Robbie then stood up and signalled for me to do the same, he leant over and shook my hand. Now fuck off before I change my mind... Go get ‘em kiddo!

And that was that… Edward and I moved to LA. I am still here, Eddy moved to New York to pursue theatre.