Tableland (12 page)

Was not too depressed by the error over my design, after all, Grappling's letter had been encouraging – that was the main thing.

Una called for Julie this evening and they went off to a yoga class while I practised some golf in the garden in readiness for Sunday's game. Kipps became very excited and Trev had to keep him under control. The ‘phone rang when I was just getting into my swing. It was Butt.

‘Will you stop that dog of yours making such a noise. My wife had to come back from bingo early with a bad headache and that barking is making it worse.' He slammed down the ‘phone in his usual polite way and I returned to the garden.

He could have easily called out of his window. What a waste of a telephone call.

While I had gone, Kipps had chewed the top of my golf club and the tape had all come unwound. I gave Trev a piece of my mind for not keeping the dog under control.

Julie came home at about 10 pm and said, ‘Yoga can open up a whole new way of life.'

Julie gave me a shock at breakfast this morning. While pouring out the tea, she said, ‘Don't forget, Bri may pop in and see us tomorrow. He said he was appearing at some show in Liverpool, didn't he?' Trev said, ‘Great' but I'm afraid I was less enthusiastic.

‘What he says and what he does are two different things,' I reminded her, ‘and I shouldn't rely on him being anywhere near Liverpool tomorrow.'

‘We should have bought some tickets for his concert,' Julie continued, ignoring my remarks.

‘Well, if you want to go and sit among a crowd of screaming teenagers and be deafened by electric guitars, you can,' I said, ‘but it's not my style.' And I went off to work before Julie could say any more on the subject.

Had a phone call from brother Dave this evening. It was interesting to hear all the Harpenden news.

‘We had a night out up West on Saturday – Marcia's birthday.' (I had forgotten.) ‘Yes, we dined at the Regent Palace and went on to a French film, La Nuit, you must see it if it ever reaches your neck of the woods. Why don't you and Julie pop down for a night or two and see a bit of civilisation – do a couple of shows? And speaking of shows – there's a great new play just opened at the Tivoli. A chap in our office saw it last night and can really recommend it. Yellow Pages it's called. Now don't forget there's always a bed here for you – Marcia would be only too pleased.'

‘Very tempting, Dave, and much appreciated but we're a bit tied up at work at the moment – you know how it is,' I said.

‘Only too well, only too well,' he replied.

‘Incidentally,' I continued, ‘did I tell you about our break-in?'

I gave a rough outline of the incident and Dave said, ‘What about the album?' That was his first thought. I don't know why, but I always have the impression that he resented the fact that I was left Dad's stamp album. He doesn't mind about the golf clubs but I have a definite feeling about the album. Why should he mind? After all, didn't he get the decanter labels, and the tie pin with the real pearl?

I reassured Dave that the album was intact and it was soon after that that Diane Butt came on the ‘phone and announced that she was expecting a call from her boyfriend and “could we make it snappy”.

Went to watch Everton at home to Manchester United this afternoon with Trev. We were relieved to get to our seats but unfortunately found ourselves in the middle of the opposing supporters.

‘Don't shout too loudly for Everton,' I told Trev.

‘Just play it cool you mean?' he said.

‘Yes, and I think we'd better put our supporters badges in our pockets for the moment,' I whispered.

All went well and in the interval the score was 0 – 0.

‘I'm hot – I'm going to get myself a choc-ice,' said Trev. ‘Do you want one, Dad?'

‘No thanks,' I replied as he pushed his way along the row. But, somehow, the more I thought of a choc-ice, the better the idea sounded and I suddenly felt as if I couldn't get through the rest of the game without one.

If I catch Trev's eye, I thought, I'll signal to him to get another one and I willed him to look back at me, which, in fact, he did, as he squeezed past a burly man on the end of the row. I duly stuck up two fingers and waved them at Trev.

Whereupon an amazing thing happened. The burly gent (who had also caught my eye) stood up – he was large too – and pushed his way towards me. His breath smelling heavily of beer and in a broad Scottish accent, he shouted for everyone to hear, ‘Were you addressing that gesture to me personally, sonny? Do you want to make something of it?'

Quick as a flash, I thought of a witty retort and shouted back, ‘No, but I'll hold your jacket for you, if you do.'

This was very unlike me, and for a moment I was afraid I'd gone too far, but, to my relief, everyone around laughed, which broke the tension and he shrank back to his seat quietly and was no more bother.

Trev and I enjoyed our choc-ices and tried not to cheer too loudly when Everton scored the winning goal.

Hurrah! Bri has not been in touch with us, as I had prophesied and he is unlikely to do so now, it being 11 o'clock at the time of writing.

Of course, I spoke too soon. In the early hours of the morning, when the whole of Springcroft Meadow, even the Butts, must have been fast asleep, we were woken up by the most dreadful noise: honking of car horn, car doors being slammed, loud voices and then, unbelievably, our own door chimes being rung in a way they had never been rung before.

‘Whatever is it?' Julie shrieked, sitting up in bed with fright.

‘I'll go down and find out,' I said grimly, not even stopping to put on my dressing gown.

I flung open our front door and there, standing on the threshold with three or four others, was Bri.

‘We had a job finding you,' he said, grinning cheerfully, ‘Anyway, here we are now. Come on in, lads.'

Julie, hearing her brother's voice, came down in her housecoat.

‘Whatever are you doing here at this hour?' she asked but Brian waving a hand at his friends, just said, ‘Meet the rest of The Dregs. We're parched and famished too – where's the booze?'

The telephone rang at that minute and I went to answer it. It was, of course, the Butts demanding to know the cause of all the uproar.

Meanwhile, Julie was dispensing hospitality in the kitchen.

‘We've got lemonade, cocoa, tea, coffee, two tins of pale ale – oh, and some beetroot wine.'

‘Let's try some of your beetroot wine then,' said someone. ‘Let's live dangerously.' And they all laughed.

In the glaring strip lights of the kitchen, I got a better look at them and they were not a pretty sight, although I expect they would have disagreed with me.

Couldn't swear to it, but am sure that one – Spade they called him – had dyed his hair. Surely that golden colour couldn't be natural. He had plucked his eyebrows too – I'm sure of it – and was that stuff on his eyelids mascara or am I slandering him?

‘How about some baked beans on toast?' said Julie.

‘Fine,' said Bri. ‘I'll have a fried egg on mine.'

‘So how did you get on in Liverpool?' I asked with what I hoped was a cool edge to my tone.

‘It was the greatest. The chicks were really wild about us,' said Spade, lounging on our draining board.

‘Yeah – Top of the Pop's before the year's out.'

You'll be lucky, I thought to myself.

I don't know if it was the bright lighting in our kitchen but one of The Dregs kept his sunglasses on while helping Julie to dish up. It struck me as strange to see him tucking into baked beans in our kitchen – his black fuzzy hair standing on end against our tiled wallpaper, with one earring glinting.

Trev, either hearing the noise or smelling the food, came down and regarded the scene with amazement.

‘We've got a great new number – trying it out in Birmingham next week. Larry wants us to cut a disc when we get to London. Do you want to hear it? We've got our instruments in the car.'

Trev of course said yes but I put my foot down. There had been quite enough disturbance in Springcroft Meadow for one night, thank you very much.

‘Another time, perhaps.'

They wolfed their food and washed it down with the remains of the wine, the pale ale and all the lemonade, then Julie said, ‘Are you staying the night?' I gave her a look.

‘Next time, doll, I promise,' Bri said. ‘We're due in Wolverhampton tomorrow morning. Ta for the nosh.' And with that and more honking of car horn, they were gone, leaving behind a pile of dirty dishes, the kitchen full of cigarette smoke and two blue sequins in the sink.

A very frugal Sunday breakfast this morning due to complete lack of beans and eggs. Would have overslept had it not been for my foresight in setting the alarm clock for 8 o'clock. Julie muttered angrily as she turned over in bed and tried to go back to sleep.

Was just assembling my golfing gear when the ‘phone rang. It was Steve. ‘Sorry, old squire, but the game's off.'

‘How do you mean?' I asked.

‘Something's come up.'

‘No matter,' I replied as cheerily as I could.

‘How about next Sunday, are you on?'

‘Will do.'

It was no good going back to bed again as I was too awake by now so I spent an hour on the car and wondered what it was that had “come up” that had put a stop to the golf. Was a bit worried that all the noise during the night, due to Bri's visit, might have angered him. Anyway, he had suggested a game next week, so he can't have felt too badly about it. Still, the whole episode has left me feeling rather uneasy.

Took Trev for a swim to the Pleasure-drome after lunch. It was our first visit there and we were impressed by the lavish decor of the place. Not only is there a heated swimming pool, but a restaurant, an ice-rink, badminton and squash courts and a theatre – all under one roof and with an underground car park thrown in.

Alan Uppe, who had told me all about the Pleasure-drome, had said surprisingly, ‘The whole place loses more than l0p for every visitor.'

‘Well,' I had quipped, ‘if Trev and I don't go on Sunday, perhaps they'll pay us 20p, or a bargain offer of 15p.'

Used up half today's space in this diary writing down the events of yesterday so it is lucky that nothing of great interest happened today. Sunny weather. We had a parcel in the post this morning from Julie's mum, holidaying in Scotland. It was a kilted piper in a bottle. It arrived intact and looks well on the TV set.

Julie had been asked to help at a Good as New sale in Weston town hall this morning. It was run by the Inner Circle to raise money for the local hospital.

‘You should have seen all the stuff there,' she said. ‘I was on a stall with Janice Dudgeon – she's asked me for a game of tennis at the Cock and Bull.'

‘It looks as if you've brought half the stall home,' I replied. When I returned from work she was sitting surrounded by a pile of what looked like old rubbish – a moth-eaten rug, a teapot, an umbrella, a pile of paperback books, a deckchair which needs re-canvassing, a filthy electric kettle and old items of clothing.

‘All of these for only £3,' she announced proudly, ‘and just look at these.' From behind her back she produced a pair of studded golf shoes, in very good condition. ‘I think they may be one size too large but they were so reasonable I couldn't resist.'

I quickly tried them on and they were indeed a size too large. However, as Julie rightly says, I can pad the toes with newspaper.

Was practising walking up and down the sitting room carpet in the golf shoes with my toes wrapped in newspaper this evening when there was a loud knock at the door. Nearly slipped going to open it and just saved myself by grabbing the door handle. The door opened violently to reveal Alan Uppe, who looked startled by my sudden appearance.

‘Sorry to have to knock but there seems to be something the matter with your chimes,' he said. I tried them for myself and, sure enough, he was right. Bri must have done this with his abuse of them the other night.

‘Come along in – just wearing in my new golf shoes.'

‘They look a bit like the ones I gave to Sue to take to the jumble sale. She bought them there last year but they were too small for me,' said A1an.

‘Afraid I can't offer you a beer. My brother-in-law arrived unexpectedly the other evening and we finished it,' I tried to pass off Bri's visit as a respectable, everyday occurrence.

‘Say no more,' said Alan.

It was obvious that he'd heard all about the episode – it must be all over the estate.

‘I really came to see what you thought of the Pleasure-drome,' he went on.

‘We were most impressed,' I said – glad to change the subject. ‘We had a drink after our swim and watched the ice skating.'

‘They put on very high-class plays in the theatre – first-class productions. It's a wonderful thing to have such a cultural centre so near and it's a pity not to take advantage of it,' Alan continued. ‘As a matter of fact, Sue and I were wondering if you and Julie would care to join us on 18th of June to see School for Scandal. The Spicers are keen to come too. I can pick up the tickets when I go to badminton.'

‘That should be a lot of fun, Alan,' I said, although privately I was not so sure. Still, the play sounded light enough.

‘Julie is over at Una's at the moment practising yoga so I can only speak for myself. I'll give you a ring when she comes in to confirm it, shall I?'

‘Right you are. Mind you don't fall over in those golf shoes,' he said on the way to the front door. And talking of golf – if you're playing with Steve, watch out, he looked to be in cracking form last Sunday morning.'