Chasing Victory: A Romantic Comedy

by Beverley Watts

  ‘Keep your bollocking voice down Jimmy,’ the Admiral hissed, ‘And don’t be so ridiculous. We can’t be sure the bloke’s popped his clogs. He could just be in a deep sleep.

  ‘We’ll leave him here while we go and do the necessaries. By the time we get back, he’ll be wide awake and we’ll all be having a good laugh.’

  The Admiral ushered the other two quickly down the bus after deciding to leave Pickles where he was – it would take too much time now to take him out. He wasn’t worried - the Springer had the bladder of a rhinoceros and he was tucked nicely under the seat snoring.

  They hurried across the tarmac and a couple of minutes later arrived at the entrance to the service station. ‘Right,’ the Admiral ordered, taking charge, ‘Heads first, then scran.’

  ‘Ooh, there’s a KFC,’ Jimmy enthused smacking his lips, ‘Who’s for a Bargain Bucket?’

  The Admiral sighed. ‘Right Jimmy, you join the queue while we do what we need to do, then we’ll swap over.’

  When he came back five minutes later, the Admiral fully expected Jimmy to be near the front of the line, but to his consternation, the small man hadn’t moved. He was standing transfixed.

  ‘What the bloody hell’s wrong with you Jimmy?’ he grumbled when he got close enough for the small man to spot him, ‘You look like a lost fart in a haunted milk bottle.’

  Jimmy pointed towards the counter. ‘Isn’t that Tory’s friend Kit?’ With a sudden sinking feeling, the Admiral turned his head in the direction of Jimmy’s arm. ‘And what’s she doing with your Mabel…?’

  ~*~

  Florence sat in the hospital waiting room and determinedly read her magazine. She was alone, having insisted that Neil stay at home to look after Pepé.

  She felt strangely calm now the time had finally come, and the decision to have the cancerous lung removed had not been that difficult at the end of the day. She wasn’t ready to leave Kit yet, or Neil come to that.

  She smiled to herself as she admitted at long last, that her agent was the love of her life. If she came through the operation, she would make sure he knew it. He’d loved her for years, waiting patiently while she dithered over making a formal commitment, using Kit as an excuse not to move away from Dartmouth. But now it was time. Her beloved niece needed to spread her wings and Flo needed to let her go.

  There was only one more thing that had to be finished before she allowed Neil to take care of her as he’d wanted to for so long, and Florence was determined she would be well enough to see it done.

  ~*~

  ‘Bollocking bollocks.’ The Admiral’s expletive was heartfelt but fortunately not loud enough to carry. He grabbed Jimmy’s arm and waved frantically at Hugo who was coming towards them.

  Uncertainly the Scotsman waved back and the Admiral ground his teeth in frustration. ‘Get your arse over here Scotty,’ he hissed as loudly as he dared, and, sensing something wrong, Hugo quickened his pace. ‘What’s wrong Char…’ he started, only to be yanked behind a vending machine.

  Keeping one eye on the two women at the counter, the Admiral calculated the time it would take them to reach the entrance. They couldn’t afford to be spotted at this late stage, but they couldn’t hang around here for too long either, or they’d miss the coach – not to mention the fact that Pickles was still on it. Operation Leg Over had never been so precarious.

  ‘Right men,’ he whispered to the others, ‘I’ve got a plan. See that group of women coming towards us, we’re going to follow them, try and blend in.’

  ‘Why?’ the Scotsman asked in a heated whisper, ‘I thought we were getting some scran.’

  ‘If you ever want to have your night of delight with old Alice, you’ll get going now Scotty. I’ll fill you in later.’ Taking a deep breath, the Admiral looked at each of his oppos. ‘Don’t move until I give the signal.

  He popped his head round the vending machine as the first of the ladies passed them. ‘Now,’ he whispered urgently, and a couple of seconds later they were surrounded by the gaggle of women heading towards the entrance.

  ‘Bloody hell that was close,’ Jimmy breathed as they finally climbed back on the coach. ‘I thought they were going to spot us for sure.’

  ‘Did that woman give you her phone number Charlie,’ asked Hugo pulling himself up behind Jimmy.

  ‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous,’ the Admiral answered, tucking the piece of paper into his trouser pocket.

  They hurried down to the back of the bus, relieved that they weren’t the last back. Seating themselves back down, Jimmy and Hugo fussed around with their bits and pieces, while the Admiral bent down to give the still snoring Pickles a quick stroke. Then, knowing they couldn’t put it off any longer, they all looked towards the occupant in the corner. Who hadn’t moved.

  ‘Bloody hell, he IS dead,’ Hugo said in awe.

  ‘Shhh, keep your voice down Scotty.’ The Admiral glanced furtively around to check if anyone had heard Hugo’s diagnosis. Luckily the seats nearest the back were still awaiting their occupants.

  ‘Hadn’t we better tell the driver?’

  ‘If we tell the driver, we’ll have to stop and wait here for someone to come and take him away. Who knows how long that will take? I vote we keep schtum until we get to Pompey. Let them sort it out at Nelson.’

  ‘We can’t do that,’ said Jimmy aghast.

  ‘Why not?’ the Admiral answered matter of factly. ‘It’s not like he’s got anywhere else to go.’

  ‘It dinna feel right Charlie, Jimmy’s right about that.’

  ‘Look at him,’ the Admiral argued, pointing towards the corpse, ‘He looks as happy as Larry. For all we know, making this trip might have been the most important thing in the world to him. How can we deny him one last opportunity to see the sacred home of the Royal Navy?’

  ‘Well he’s not likely to see much is he?’

  ‘He does look happy though.’

  ‘How can you say he looks happy? He’s got his eyes closed.’

  ‘But there’s a definite smile on his face.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we find out his name?’

  ‘Good thinking Jimmy, check his jacket pockets.’

  ‘Why can’t you check his pockets Sir?’

  ‘Don’t be so bloody squeamish. It’s not like you’ve never seen a dead body before.’

  ‘No, but I’ve never seen one on a bus.’

  The Admiral sighed and was just about to swap seats with Jimmy when the four men sharing the seats in front of them boarded the coach and wobbled precariously towards to the back.

  ‘Hold your positions,’ the Admiral whispered, ‘And stand at ease.’

  ‘We’re actually sitting Sir,’ Jimmy whispered back helpfully, earning him The Look.

  ‘Act casual men,’ Charles Shackleford continued, speaking from the side of his mouth, ‘And whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do not, draw attention to the corpse.’

  The three men immediately attempted to look busy, only stopping their slightly manic actions to smile nervously as the four men eventually made it to the back and sat down.

  Finally, much to their combined relief, the coach started to move, making its way slowly back towards the motorway. The Admiral turned to clap his companions on their back, murmuring, ‘That’s it men, we’ve done it, we’re home free. Pompey here we come…’

  ‘I say Tom, has the bus driver put some kind of heating on? I’m getting the most bloody uncomfortable warm damp air floating up my trouser leg from under the seat. Almost feels like I’m being licked…’

  ~*~

  The closer we get to Bloodstone Tower, the more nervous I’m becoming. Not that I’ve had an awful lot of time to brood after being relegated to the back once we picked up Noah – what with keeping the peace between Mabel and Emily, and watching over Isaac.

  I never realized that pensioners could be so argumentative. I mean, I know the Admiral can be a bit difficult (understatement of the year), but Mabel and Emily have been at it since Exeter. It’s d
ifficult to see how they can be such good friends – they don’t seem to have a positive thing to say to each other. I can’t help but wonder if Tory and I will be the same when we get into our dotage, then have to concede it’s very likely given the sheer number of things we argue about already…

  ‘How much longer have we got Noah?’ I ask after listening to why Mabel can’t eat baked beans for the fifth time.

  ‘About another hour,’ Noah responds grinning knowingly at me through his rear view mirror.

  ‘I don’t mind taking over for a while if you’re getting tired,’ I say sweetly through gritted teeth.

  ‘I’m fine Kit, don’t you worry. Relax and enjoy the ride.’ He finishes the last sentence with a wink and I want to punch him.

  Turning round in the front passenger seat, Tory smiles at me in sympathy. ‘Why don’t you try and sleep Kitty Kat, I’ll wake you up in plenty of time to make yourself respectable.’

  ‘Thanks, you’re a true friend,’ I mutter sarcastically.

  ‘That reminds me Kit, I was reading about this new treatment in the newspaper, I think it’s called Wrinklesmooth, or is it Smoothwrinkle? Anyway, it’s supposed to do wonders for your fine lines. I’ve kept the article for you.’ I look over at Mabel’s face on the slight off chance she’s being sarcastic, but all I see is an earnest desire to help.

  Before I get chance to respond, Emily interrupts irritably, ‘Why do you always have to take up so much room Mabel. You keep elbowing me in the ribs.’

  ‘It’s not me, it’s Kit,’ Mabel protests, ‘She’s the one taking up the space. Since she got into the back, there’s not been room to swing a cat.’ She turns to me. ‘Have you thought about going on a diet dear? I heard that the one you have to do in Cambridge is very good. Mind you, that’s if you’ve got the time to go to Cambridge of course.’

  ‘Are you barking Mabel? Why would they have to go to Cambridge to do a diet?’

  ‘I’ve no idea Emily, I think they have a different way of eating in Cambridge. Perhaps it helps with the bowels.’ The last two words are a loud whisper directly in Emily’s ear.

  ‘ENOUGH,’ I shout. The two of them look at me blankly and Isaac starts crying…

  I’d forgotten just how magnificent the Scottish Highlands are. After making one last stop to give little Isaac a break (and me I think), we’re finally approaching Loch Long. Craggy mountains tower above us in every direction, clothed in stately green and purple, and occasionally dappled sunlight as the clouds part briefly. Then the road twists and suddenly the loch appears in all its mysterious beauty. A light mist hovers over the surface creating an otherworldly eerie feeling, almost as though we’ve stepped back in time. Even Mabel and Emily are silent as the car speeds like a ghost towards Bloodstone Tower.

  Ten minutes later, Noah’s turning the car into an almost hidden driveway and Dotty suddenly sits up on Tory’s knee. The last time we were here we were on the run, and only stayed for a couple of days, but the little dog clearly remembers.

  As the car comes to a halt outside the Tower, I’m struck anew by just how dilapidated the building is. The thought of trying to renovate such a mausoleum fills me with trepidation.

  Apprehensively I wait in the back next to Isaac while the two matrons clamber out of the car, arguing about who should use the toilet first. Dotty of course has no such issue and is busy christening every patch of grass she can sniff out. As Tory comes round the back to lift her son out of his car seat, I have no more excuses to linger, so taking a deep breath, I climb out into the early evening gloom and stretch my cramped muscles.

  ‘Ah, guid eenin, hou’s aw wi ye.’

  I feel myself relaxing slightly as I hear the lilting tones of Aileen, the resident housekeeper, come cook, come… well, pretty much everything at Bloodstone Tower. She’s wiping her hands on her apron as she makes her way along an uneven path that leads from the kitchen round the back. I feel my mouth water as I recall her amazing baking skills.

  Dotty obviously remembers too and wastes no time in dashing towards the plump woman in a flurry of barking and wagging tail. Laughing, Aileen bends down to fuss the little dog, then straightens up to include us all in a wide smile. ‘Walcome tae Bloodstone, it’s been donkies since a last saw ye.

  ‘Noo whaur’s that wee bairn.’ Tory walks forward with a smile of her own, always happy to show off her son. Aileen puts out her hand and gently strokes the little boy’s hair. ‘Och ma sweet wean, he’s a bonny lad and nae mistake,’ she breathes, ‘And Hou’s aw wi ye and that braw man o yours?’

  I watch, happy to stay in the background as Noah strolls up to his wife and leans down to give Aileen a kiss, causing the elderly woman to go the colour of a tomato. ‘Aw, gaun yersel,’ she splutters waving her apron at him.

  Then suddenly my heart begins thumping erratically as Jason comes round the corner accompanied by a small woman with flaming red hair. ‘Could this be the proverbial ‘bit on the side?’ I wonder, feeling a sharp pang of jealousy.

  Awkwardly, wondering what the hell’s wrong with me, I hang back slightly, watching as Jason, in complete contrast to our visit last year, welcomes his visitors with warmth and enthusiasm. Smiling he introduces the woman next to him as Nicole -apparently she’s Aileen’s niece from London – and then returns the favour.

  ‘Come in, come in.’ Aileen draws everyone towards the kitchen and after a couple of moments, there’s only me and Jason left. I look down at the floor and scuff my trainer in the dirt like a five year old.

  ‘Hi,’ Jason murmurs softly. I look up and my heart slams against my ribs at the raw desire in his face. He reaches out slowly and strokes my cheek, then his hand slides round to the back of my head and he draws me towards him, his eyes never leaving mine. Finally our lips touch and his kiss is soft and searching, in complete contrast to the hunger in his eyes. Helplessly I reach up to pull him to me and his mouth slants across mine, deepening the kiss.

  It feels like I’m coming home, and it scares the crap out of me.

  Chapter Twelve

  This is the third bloody stop and our ship mate hasn’t moved a muscle. Surely somebody’s got to notice soon.’

  ‘I don’t think this lot would notice if you stuck a bloody grenade underneath ‘em.’ The Admiral shook his head. ‘And to think these sorry excuses were once supposedly our finest naval officers. Makes a body think. It’s a good job the RN had the likes of me to steer ‘em in the right direction.’

  He was totally oblivious to Hugo and Jimmy’s incredulous glances at each other as he watched the occupants of the coach totter across the car park. Sighing, he looked down at his watch. By his reckoning they should arrive at Nelson just in time for Scotty to have a quick spruce up before his rendezvous with Alice. Once they’d delivered the Scotsman to HMS Nelson, the Admiral’s job would be done until the next morning. Then all he had to do was get his charge back up to Bloodstone Tower none the worse for wear, which should be a piece of cake providing old Scotty didn’t over exert himself in the meantime of course. When he’d finished congratulating himself on a brilliantly executed plan, he glanced over at their silent companion. He hoped the coach driver would notice him before he parked up to let the cleaners in.

  ‘We’ve got another slight problem, Charlie,’ Hugo interrupted the Admiral’s smug contemplation with an embarrassed cough.

  The Admiral turned to him and frowned. ‘What kind o’ problem?’

  ‘The thing is…. what ah mean is …..’

  ‘Spit it out Scotty’ the Admiral interrupted irritably, ‘You’re acting like a bloody fart in a trance.’

  Visibly gathering himself together, Hugo took a deep breath, ‘The thing is,’ he finished in a rush, ‘Ah dinna have any smalls.’

  The Admiral stared at him for a second thinking how often pride comes before a fall. How he could have made such a small but epic mistake? It wasn’t like he could lend Hugo any of his own underpants. He was down to turning his underwear inside out after all, and old Scotty was supp
osed to be tarting himself up for an assignation.

  All this bloody way and the whole thing could go tits up on account of no clean underwear.

  ‘Right.’ The Admiral took charge and turned to Jimmy. ‘Go with Scotty and sort him out a pair of clean undies. He’ll need socks too. No woman likes to wake up beside a man wearing sweaty socks.’ The Admiral was completely oblivious to the fact that most women don’t like to wake up next to a man wearing socks at all…

  ‘I’ll keep an eye on the coach driver and I won’t let the bus leave without you.’ He eyed each of them with narrowed eyes. ‘This could make or break Operation Leg Over, so don’t get it wrong men. You have fifteen minutes.

  The Admiral sighed as he watched his two oppos scurry towards the services. This was a shot across the bow and no mistake. He’d forgotten just how easily a plan can fall apart when no attention is paid to the little things. He glanced over at his silent companion and wondered if he should give him a book…

  Ten minutes later the Admiral was not ashamed to admit he was becoming slightly alarmed as he. watched the coach driver through the window trying to round up his elderly charges. Nearly everyone was back on the bus, but there was no sign of Scotty and Jimmy. He was just wondering if a repeat performance of his famous faint at Greenwich would be called for, when he saw them hurrying across the car park. They climbed on board, just as the driver returned to the coach looking, the Admiral thought, a trifle frazzled.

  ‘Is everybody back on the bus?’ the driver yelled. Unfortunately nobody appeared to be taking a blind bit of notice. He tried again. ‘Is there anybody still in the toilet?’ When he still had no response, he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. A couple of minutes later they were on the road again.

  As the coach swung back onto the motorway, both Jimmy and Hugo looked a bit worse for wear. The Admiral privately wondered if old Scotty would be able to do the deed after all the exercise he’d had. Still, as long he’d managed to pick a pair of clean drawers and socks, the option was still open to him.