Frank 'n' Stan's Bucket List #3 Isle 'Le Mans' TT: Featuring Guy Martin

by J. C. Williams

  “Oh. Would you mind awfully asking your husband to bring Tyler in?” Rebecca asked, now things were on a more even keel.

  “Already sorted. He’ll be here in about… ten minutes,” Susie replied, looking at the time displayed on her phone. “Now take this,” she continued, handing over her phone. “And phone my friends?” she asked, tapping the brochure the nurse had given her. “I’ll leave you alone and see if I can secure us a cuppa.”

  “Oh, and one more thing,” said Susie, popping her head back in for a moment. “If the police don’t take care of Robert? My friend Stella will,” she told Rebecca with a grin.

  “Okay…?” Rebecca answered, unsure what to make of Susie’s claim.

  With Susie now off, Rebecca stared at the brochure. It was irrational, she knew, but she was ashamed. She was embarrassed that she was phoning a homeless charity for help. The thought that she couldn’t look after her son burned through her, but she knew that wilful pride should hold no place in her decision-making at present.

  She dialled the number, and she grimaced when she caught sight of her swollen face reflected back to her from the screen of the phone.

  “Hello,” she whispered. “Is this Frank and Stan’s?”

  She listened for a moment, taking a quick glance around the ward to make sure nobody could hear her. Despite herself, she was still embarrassed about calling. “Sorry?” she continued. “I didn’t quite hear your name.”

  She cupped her spare hand over her mouth, so no one else could hear.

  “Yes, hello, Lee,” she said. “It’s nice to speak with you as well. My name is Rebecca, and I hope you can help me. I’ve been directed to you, and I’ve nowhere else to turn.”

  Chapter

  Five

  L ee, yes… hello, I can hear you, crystal clear!” announced Stan, with an incredulous expression like he was the first human discovering fire. “This is wonderful, Lee, it sounds just like you’re only in the next room! You wouldn’t believe that I’m in the Isle of Man and you’re in Liverpool.” After he’d finished marvelling at the excellent reception, he asked, “How’s your and Stella’s new flat?”

  “Great, thank you, Stan,” replied Lee. “Look, can you see me?”

  “See you? No, of course not,” came Stan’s reply, uncertain as to what Lee was on about. “How do you mean, see you?”

  “Ah. Stan, you do realise that with this new technology you can not only talk to me, but also see me as well?”

  Stan laughed. “Lee, I’m not that stupid,” he said.

  “No, Stan. I’m serious,” Lee assured him. “This is a video call. I can both hear and see you. Well, I can see something, but I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking at.”

  Stan’s eyes panned slowly across the living room, scrutinising the area, looking for a hidden spy camera.

  “I can’t see you, Lee?”

  Lee took a breath, but not so deep as to give the impression of frustration. “Stan, is Frank there? He’s an old hand at this.”

  “He’s in the bath.”

  “Right-ho,” replied Lee, with an enthusiastic emphasis at the end. “What can you see on the screen?” he asked.

  Stan looked at his right toe, wondering what that had to do with anything. He was about to ask but then thought better of it. He didn’t want to appear a complete muppet, of course. “On the screen?” he said instead, repeating back Lee’s words.

  “Yes, on the screen,” answered Lee as gently as he could muster.

  “Well, at the moment I think it’s… yes, it looks like Top Gear,” Stan told him. “Yes, definitely Top Gear. And it must be an older one because Jeremy Clarkson is still in it. He mustn’t have punched that producer chap at this point. Awful business, that. And it’s too bad, as well, because the new Top Gear just isn’t—”

  “Top Gear?” interrupted Lee. “What do you mean, Top Gear?”

  Stan paused for a moment. “I mean Top Gear. You asked what was on the screen. That’s what’s on the screen, Lee,” said Stan, not understanding what Lee was not understanding. “You asked me what’s on the screen,” Stan reiterated.

  Lee went quiet. If Stan could see him, he would have found Lee to be presently chewing his own fist. Fortunately — for the sake of Lee’s continued employment, perhaps — Stan could not see him.

  “Stan,” Lee asked, once he’d composed himself. “Stan, when I said the screen, are you by chance looking at the television?”

  “Well yes,” replied Stan. “What else would I be looking at except the telly? You’re not making an awful lot of sense, Lee…”

  “Jaysus,” Lee whispered under his breath. “Stan, when I asked what was on the screen, I didn’t mean the television screen. I meant the screen on the iPad, mate. Will you tell me what you can see on the viewscreen, please, just now?”

  “Very funny!” replied Stan.

  “I’m sorry?” Lee came back, somewhat nonplussed.

  “How can I look at the screen? You’re having me on, right?”

  “What? No,” said Lee, his natural Irish charm beginning to crack under the strain. “No, I’m not having you on, Stan, I promise. Just look at the screen, if you don’t mind?”

  “How am I supposed to talk to you if I’m looking at the screen?”

  Lee went quiet again, and then asked, after a moment’s respite, “Stan. I don’t suppose Frank is out of the bath?”

  “No. No? No. Why are you—?”

  “Staaan,” Lee interrupted, drawing out his words as one might, for instance, when addressing a cornered, frightened dog who you’re attempting to convince not to attack and to instead be a very-good-boy. “Staaan, wheeere are you hooolding the iiiPaaad?”

  “Oh dear. Lee. Have you been drinking, Lee?”

  “No, Stan. Stan, are you holding the iPad to your ear, like a phone?”

  Stan laughed again. “Is this a trick question? No. No, now I know you’re taking the piss, right? Right. Because of course I am. Of course I’m holding it to my ear. Otherwise, how else I am meant to hear you??”

  “Jayzus, Mary, and Joseph…”

  “What’s that? I can’t quite make you out now, Lee. You’re mumbling. Are you… are you praying? Are you… I mean I didn’t know you were religious…?”

  “Only a bit. And only at certain times. Nevermind. So. Stan. I can see you’ve never used one of these devices before. Okay. So, Stan, with the iPad — and voice calling — it’s not like a traditional phone, yeah? You don’t need to hold it to your ear. You hold it in front of you. Like you’re reading a book. Now. Try that, then.”

  There was a lull. And then…

  “OKAY!” shouted Stan. “RIGHT! I THINK I’VE GOT THIS NOW! CAN YOU STILL HEAR ME, LEE? LEE, CAN YOU STILL HEAR ME??”

  “Stan. You don’t need to shout. They’re very good at picking sound up. Even from a… very slight distance. “

  “OKAY, LEE!”

  “Ah, now I can see a bit more. I think I’m looking at your carpet.”

  “Bloody clever these things, aren’t they!” Stan announced, gobsmacked, yet fortunately at normal volume now he’d finally gotten used to the new-fangled device.

  “Yes. Remarkable, Stan. Okay, Stan—”

  “What will they think of next??”

  “Quite a lot, I expect. Anyway. Stan. At the minute, you’re focussed on your carpet. What can you see on the screen?”

  “That’s amazing?” answered Stan.

  “What is?”

  “I can see my carpet in a little box, and you. There you are. Such a handsome chap! Can you see me waving, Lee?”

  “No, Stan. Unfortunately not,” Lee replied, though a careful examination of his tone might have revealed that he, in fact, felt fortunate for this small favour, as he pictured in his mind’s eye Stan waving giddily at him like a young schoolgirl.

  “That little box you can see,” Lee went on, with the patience of a saint. “The one that isn’t me. That’s what your camera is focusing on, and what I can see. And right no
w all I see is carpet. You need to turn it round.”

  “Right-toe, Lee!” complied Stan happily. “I’m on the case! I’m on the case, like… like…”

  But Stan was too distracted by the task at hand to relate to Lee what fictional detective he may have had in mind. Stan turned the iPad over so that he was now looking at the shiny silver rear surface, as instructed. “How’s that?” he asked.

  Lee cleared his throat. “Yes, there you are, but yer wobbling a bit. Can you see me?”

  “How can I see you?” laughed Stan. “You told me to turn the iPad around, silly.”

  “What?” growled Lee. It could have been the lilt of his Irish brogue. But then again it could well have been a growl. “Have you turned the entire iPad around?” asked Lee, already suspecting the answer.

  “Yes! You bloody told me to!”

  “Jayzus wept…”

  “Lee, are you praying again? Is this not a good time to talk? Should I call back later…?”

  “You don’t need to turn the whole iPad around, Stan,” Lee told him, as calmly as his tattered nerves would allow. “Just turn the camera around,” Lee advised him. “Right, mate, just go back to where you were a moment ago, you know, when we started…”

  “Okay,” replied Stan simply.

  Lee released a melodic whistle while he waited for Stan to sort things out on his end, like he was the hold music at a call centre. “You did it?” he asked, after a few moments.

  “Yes,” replied Stan.

  “Wait. Have you put the iPad back to your ear?”

  “Yes.”

  Lee released a muffled groan. It was muffled because his fist was in his mouth once again. “Stan. I didn’t need you to go back to that stage, not all the way back to that stage, mate. Okay, so… right, remember I said about not needing to hold them to your ear, like a traditional phone…?”

  “Ah, yes. How’s that?” asked Stan, holding the iPad out, finally, like a book, once again.

  “Perfect. Well, not perfect as I can see the carpet again. The problem is that there are two cameras, see? And you’ve currently got the wrong one… No, no, Stan, don’t turn the iPad over again…”

  “Ah, okay.”

  “Stan, all you need to do is keep the iPad in the exact same position. Don’t turn it over or put it back to your ear. Okay? Are you with me?”

  “I’m with you,” Stan replied, like someone on the wrong end of a hostage negotiation. “Okay so now what?”

  “There are two cameras,” Lee instructed. “One looking forward, yeah? — to the carpet — and one pointing back towards you, Stan. Presently, you’ve engaged the camera that’s looking at the carpet. All you need to do is change the camera. There should be a button on the screen you need to press, and you need to change the camera with that. Once you’ve done that, instead of looking forwards, it’ll look back — one-hundred-eighty degrees — so I can see yer pure white chompers and sultry golden suntan.”

  “I’m pressing a button, Lee.”

  Lee watched on incredulously as the image on his screen slowly rotated… but with no image of Stan becoming visible.

  “Stan, what exactly are you doing now?”

  “I’m turning round a hundred-and-eighty degrees.”

  “Yes. Of course you are, so it is,” remarked Lee, unsurprised, at this point, as the image he could see moved from the carpet, past what looked like the base of the couch, and then over to looking out onto the patio doors, where the image came to an abrupt, shaky halt.

  “I’ve spun around on my seat,” proclaimed Stan happily. “I was looking towards the television, but I’m now looking towards the back of the room, towards the wall.”

  “Stan, I meant the camera needed to change position. Not you,” Lee explained. “Stan, I think it’s probably best if I call you back in five minutes when Frank is out of the bath…?” suggested Lee. “And before I launch my electronics into the food blender?”

  “What? I didn’t catch that last bit, Lee. What am I supposed to watch…?”

  But just then…

  “Is that you, Lee?” boomed the familiar and oh-so-very-welcome voice of Frank from the background.

  “Frank, thank god. Frank, can you help out Stan with the camera as I’m currently looking... Ah, there we go. Thank you, Frank. Stan… bless him… but Stan was driving me to distraction, and I was certain I’d lose my—”

  “It is wonderful, this modern technology!” interjected Stan, waving like a blithering idiot.

  “—mind,” finished Lee.

  “I’m just out of the bath,” announced Frank, pulling up a seat next to Stan and adjusting the camera like an old pro.

  “Yes. That would explain why yer naked torso is now filling up my screen, Frank. Please tell me you’re wearing a towel down below,” implored Lee.

  “You’re safe, Lee,” Frank assured him with a chuckle. “Anyway, where’s Stella? Where’s your better half?” Frank went on. “Oh, hang on, there she is,” he added. “And better three-quarters, I should say, given the relative dimensions of you pair.”

  Frank and Stan would have covered their eyes but, alas, it was far too late for that. Far, far too late.

  “You’re a laugh a minute, as usual, Frank,” Stella piped up from behind Lee, rummaging for a fag from god-knows-where, since…

  “I’m guessing she’s just out of the bath as well? Only she didn’t receive the memo about the towel, like me?” Frank enquired rhetorically.

  “Hell’s bells!” shouted Lee, spinning round, fairly lively, mortified, and dropping his tablet in the process. “Stella, I’m on FaceTime, and the lads have just seen you… au naturel.”

  Stan looked at Frank with a very pained expression, and the two listened and waited patiently.

  “It won’t be the first time,” replied Stella. “Nor will it be the last. I’ve said it before, couple of dirty old gets, them two. Anyways, I thought you were phoning them?”

  “To be fair, so did Stan,” Lee told her. “He’s about as useful as a bloody chocolate teapot!”

  “That’s our Stan,” agreed Stella, placing fag-to-mouth and lighting up.

  Stan leaned closer to his tablet, looking at a blank screen. “I can hear you, Lee,” he said. “The reception is crystal-clear, if you didn’t know,” he added, leaning in ever closer still, so that his nose was practically touching the device, despite this being not-at-all necessary as the reception was, after all, crystal-clear.

  Then, as if by some sort of dark alchemy, like the answer in a magic 8-ball moving into view from the murky depths, Lee’s face suddenly appeared once more, in full view, causing Stan to snap back with a jerk.

  “So,” continued Lee, scarlet-faced. He looked over his shoulder, and then moved closer to the screen. “Is she out of camera angle now?” he whispered.

  “Sure is,” replied Frank, gratefully. “Yes,” Stan agreed.

  “So,” Lee said again. “There’s a reason I wanted to video call you lot tonight, and it’s not because I wanted to take a gander at yer darlin’ mugs. Or, Frank, yer mostly-unattired body. No offence.”

  “None taken,” Frank answered him jovially.

  Like a rabbit from a hat, Lee whipped out a folded letter and, with precision, snapped his arm smartly to open it up with a sudden jerk. Then, he seductively teased it in front of the camera, building the tension. “I have here,” he said slowly, not wishing to give the mystery away so quickly. “I have here… something that’s going to make your…”

  There was a pause.

  “Yes?” asked Frank, on tenterhooks. “Well get on with it, man,” he told Lee.

  Lee paused further, with a far-off expression in his face. Then, not to Frank, he said…

  “Babe, I’m still on the phone! Yes, on the… Why would I know where your lighter is, I don’t smoke, luv… Hang on, didn’t you just light a cigarette…? If you didn’t have your lighter then, how did you manage to…?”

  Lee went to speak to Frank and Stan once more, but it w
as clear his attention, at least for the moment, was elsewhere.

  Frank and Stan looked down on their iPad as Lee’s head bobbed in and out of camera shot. “Sorry, guys,” he offered, returning momentarily, and then, back to Stella, “Stella, you cannot light your fag on the cooker. Remember, we’ve got an electric hob, not gas. You’d be there all day, darlin’. I’m sure you’ve got a spare lighter in your bedside drawer. I put one there in case you woke up in the night and wanted a ciggie. That’s how thoughtful I am… Yes. Thoughtful… Thoughtful, I said. Yes…”

  Lee looked back to the camera, just in time to see Stella, there on the viewscreen, still naked as a jaybird and captured in all her glory ambling from the kitchen to the bathroom in the background, a vague, dark figure swinging its arms, looking very much like the Sasquatch caught on the infamous Patterson–Gimlin film of 1967.

  “Babe!” shouted Lee. “Babe, they’ve just seen you starkers again!”

  “What did I tell you about them two?” replied Stella, completely undisturbed. “They can’t get enough once they’ve started, cheeky devils. Anyways, enough about them two bellend boys,” she shouted, from the other room now. “I’m in the bedroom table, but I cannot find the lighter! Which drawer is it in??”

  Lee moved his head back from the camera, craning his neck away, in Stella’s general direction. “Babe, it’s in the second drawer down! It’s next to Brad Pitt!” he shouted back.

  Frank and Stan were, again, looking at a shaky screen, listening, but any dialogue at this point was barely audible…

  “Right. I’m back. Sorry about that,” returned Lee, coming into view after a tick, but…

  “Lee!” growled Stella, now a floating head by the doorframe behind Lee.

  “What now, Babe?”

  Frank and Stan could just about make out Stella’s permed head, fag hanging, as per usual, off her bottom lip. “Like what you see! I’m sure you do! Cheeky devils!” shouted Stella, pointing towards the screen, before turning her attention back towards Lee. “There’s no lighter in my drawer next to Brad Pitt!” she said to Lee.

  “Are you sure?” Lee called back. “I put it there earlier! Next to the purple one?”