Double Eagle

by Keith Miles

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Alan?’ The voice was unmistakable. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘How the hell did you get this number?’ I demanded.

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Rosemary in her usual brisk way. ‘I rang to let you know that Lynette has decided to go back to school a few days early.’

  ‘But I haven’t seen her properly.’

  ‘That’s not my fault.’

  ‘Of course it is. You do your damnedest to keep us apart!’

  ‘Please don’t shout,’ she replied with irritating coolness.

  ‘I’m entitled to have access to my own daughter.’

  ‘It just hasn’t proved feasible this holiday.’

  ‘Rosemary, we have a spare bedroom here,’ I argued. ‘Lynette could have stayed as long as she wished.’

  ‘I’m not letting her share a house with you and one of your lady friends. Think of the effect it might have on her.’

  Her tone of sophisticated venom made red mist appear before my eyes. I didn’t dare to speak while I was in the grip of such rage. Rosemary had lost none of her power to wound me to the quick.

  ‘Alan?’ There was a pause. ‘Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes,’ I grunted.

  ‘You do understand my position, don’t you?’

  ‘Let me speak to Lynette.’

  ‘She’s not here at the moment.’

  ‘Don’t lie, Rosemary. Put her on right now.’

  ‘She goes back on Friday. If you’re that keen to see her, you’ll have to come up to Little Aston.’

  ‘No,’ I asserted. ‘That would mean having to see you as well.’

  ‘In that case, you’ll have to arrange a visit to Benenden one weekend.’ The venom returned. ‘And please don’t take anyone with you, Alan. You mustn’t embarrass Lynette in front of her friends.’

  ‘Who gave you this bloody number!’ I hissed.

  ‘Miss Billings.’

  She hung up on me and the line went dead.

  I was shaken. Katie had spoken to her? I felt utterly betrayed. It was minutes before I could even replace the receiver. The thought that Katie might have taken sides against me was like molten metal coursing through my brain. She knew all about Rosemary and yet she had talked to her behind my back. It was a sickening blow.

  Stumbling into the living room, I reached for the last of the Christmas brandy and poured it into a glass before slumping into an armchair. Still wearing hat, anorak and gloves, I sipped disconsolately and brooded. I did not have long to wait. Katie’s Metro scrunched up on to the drive outside and its engine was killed. The car door slammed and was locked, the front door was opened and closed, then a cheerful call came from the hall.

  ‘Alan, I’m back!’ I could hear her taking her coat off to hang it up. ‘How did you get on at the bank?’

  ‘Not as bad as I expected.’

  ‘A reprieve?’

  ‘A stay of execution.’

  ‘Look, why don’t you let me loan you some money?’

  ‘Against my principles.’

  ‘But I want to help.’

  Katie sailed into the room wearing a smart blue suit and a kind smile. Instead of getting her usual kiss and glass of sparkling wine, she was confronted with a morose figure sprawled in an armchair. She read the situation at once and volunteered the truth.

  ‘Rosemary phoned me at the office this afternoon.’

  ‘How did she know where you worked?’

  ‘You told her.’

  ‘I did no such thing!’

  ‘You did, Alan. Indirectly. She knew my name and you mentioned that I ran a personnel department in a small factory. She rang almost every business in Hertfordshire before she finally tracked me down. Rosemary is a very determined woman.’

  ‘What did she want?’ I pressed.

  ‘To explain about Lynette.’

  ‘And you let her?’

  ‘What else was I supposed to do?’ she asked, reasonably. ‘Hang up on her? That would hardly have been the way to convince her that I was a fit person to meet your daughter.’ Katie looked me in the eye. ‘Besides, I had a lot of sympathy with her point of view.’

  ‘Sympathy!’ I croaked.

  ‘Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to invite Lynette here.’

  ‘Katie, you agreed.’

  ‘That was before Christmas.’

  ‘And before Rosemary poured her poison into your ear.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘Then what was it like?’

  ‘Well—’

  ‘Did the two of you simply have a cosy little chat about me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then what? Tell me.’

  ‘Alan,’ she said, taking a deep breath, ‘I’m sorry but I’m just not ready to play Happy Families.’

  ‘So you gang up on me,’ I accused, rising to my feet.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘I expected better of you, Katie.’

  ‘Circumstances have changed.’

  ‘Yes. Until today there was only one woman trying to stab me in the back. Now there are two of you!’

  She winced at the sting of my words but she did not lash back at me. Katie did not believe in violent rows. She liked everything to be on an even keel. A sad smile flitted across her lips.

  ‘The neighbours are complaining about Carnoustie.’

  It was over as easily as that. Three months of sustained fun and togetherness had suddenly come to an end. Further argument was pointless. I went straight upstairs to pack my case and collect my golf clubs. When I came down to the hall, Katie was waiting for me with a faint hint of regret in her eyes.

  ‘Let’s keep in touch,’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ I sneered. ‘We can exchange messages through Rosemary!’

  As soon as the words slipped out, I wished that I’d never said them. But it was too late. Her face crumpled and she opened the front door for me. I went out into the snow and let myself into Carnoustie.

  Without looking back, I drove noisily away.

  Road conditions were more treacherous than ever now and we soon had our first skid. It was not an evening to be out and about. I made for a nearby park and worked my way around its perimeter until I found a fairly secluded spot. Carnoustie rolled to a stop, glad to have a safe mooring for the night.

  Donnelly. Rosemary. Katie. I’ve known better days.

  The righteous indignation which helped me to stalk out of the house now gave way to remorse. I hadn’t really let Katie defend herself and I saw that I’d been far too aggressive. Now that I’d left her, I realised just how much she meant to me. At a more immediate level, I began to miss my creature comforts. I’d forgotten that Carnoustie was in no state for owner occupation. The heater was broken, the water tanks were empty and there wasn’t a scrap of food in the kitchen.

  In every sense, the cupboard was bare.

  I pulled out my thickest blanket and wrapped it around me as I sat in front of the television. Absent-mindedly switching the set on, I ignored the programme completely. My mind was preoccupied with its favourite pastime of devising a suitably dramatic end for Rosemary. Death by high-speed golf ball had a definite appeal. There would be poetic justice in that.

  She had blighted my private life again. Katie Billings was the latest name on her long hit list. There would be others.

  A couple of hours drifted past. When I came out of my reverie, I was watching an episode of Cagney & Lacey. It had reached the obligatory Harv scene in which the viewer gets an insight into the domestic problems of a policewoman’s life. Christine Cagney then appeared on the screen and I let myself fantasise about the pleasures of being arrested by her and kept in her flat for questioning. Just whe
n she had got me to the point where I was willing to confess to anything, there was a loud knock on my side door.

  ‘Alan!’ Impossibly, it was Katie. ‘Let me in!’

  ‘Hold on!’

  Hope flickered as I crossed to pull back the bolt. Perhaps she’d come to make an abject apology and beg me to go back to her. As the door swung open, I resolved to be magnanimous about the whole thing. Katie stepped in out of the swirling snow. She wore fur hat, long coat, scarf, gloves and boots.

  ‘How on earth did you know I’d be here?’

  ‘An inspired guess. I didn’t think you’d drive far in this weather. The park seemed the best bet. I’m glad I’ve found you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Urgent phone call from Clive.’

  ‘Oh.’ My disappointment was evident. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘You’re to contact him at once.’

  ‘I’ll do it in the morning.’

  ‘Tonight. He insisted. A matter of life and death.’

  I was cynical. ‘The last time I got a message to ring Clive Phelps as a matter of life and death, he simply wanted to boast that he’d finally scored with the receptionist at the Charing Cross Hotel. A Maltese girl who seemed to have a by-line with half the journalists in Fleet Street.’ I picked a snowflake gently from her nose. ‘I’m sorry you had to come out, Katie, but I am not jumping to his call.’

  ‘Even though it means a lot of money?’

  ‘Money?’ My attitude changed at once. ‘For me?’

  ‘A chance for you to play golf somewhere, he said.’

  I moved involuntarily towards my own telephone and then remembered that it was out of order. Pulling off a glove, I felt in my pocket for small change. I couldn’t wait to speak to Clive now.

  ‘Where’s the nearest call box?’

  ‘At my house.’ Her expression gave nothing away. ‘Follow me. I know a short cut.’

  Carnoustie was unhappy about the move and stalled twice but we eventually got under way. Following the rear lights of the Austin Metro, we were towed back slowly to the cul-de-sac. Katie handed me the receiver as I stepped into the hall, then she vanished into the kitchen. I dialled the Fleet Street number I knew by heart.

  Clive Phelps is a very special friend. He spotted me in my early days as a promising amateur and his faith in me has never wavered. When sober, he’s one of the best golf writers in the business, but when he’s had a few drinks—his normal state—he’s out on his own. His explanation is that alcohol helps his creative juices to flow. Warts and all, I love him.

  ‘What kept you, Saxon?’ he snarled at the other end of the line.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘And why doesn’t that bloody phone of yours work?’

  ‘Somebody snapped off the aerial.’

  ‘Well, get a new one fitted.’

  ‘I can’t afford it, old son. It’ll have to wait its turn in the queue.’ My impatience made me gabble. ‘Now-what’s-all-this-about-a-matter-of-life-and-death?’

  He chuckled. ‘Remember that waitress I told you about, at the Savoy? The one with the prize-winning thighs and the bouncy tits? You’ll never guess what she served me for dessert today.’

  ‘Clive,’ I warned, ‘if you’ve dragged me to the blower to tell me about your latest sordid little conquest…’

  ‘I’m just throwing that in for scenic interest.’ He became serious. ‘Okay. Here’s the deal. Have you got an American visa?’

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘Because you’re off to sunny California.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Tomorrow. Day after. Soon as poss.’

  ‘Is this some kind of joke?’

  ‘No, it’s a firm commitment. I accepted on your behalf.’

  ‘Clive, what are you on about?’

  ‘Golf, matey. You know, that game where you try to hit a small ball into a hole with a club.’ I heard him take a sip of something. ‘Alan Saxon is flying off to Los Angeles. First class. All expenses paid. There’s even some appearance money for you.’

  ‘Appearance in what?’

  ‘The inaugural event at the new Golden Haze Golf Club in the San Fernando Valley. An amazing place, by all accounts. They dreamed up this Tournament of Champions so that they could get off with a bang. You must have read about it in my column.’

  ‘I did, Clive. Last time I bought fish and chips. As I recall it, they had some pretty big names lined up.’

  ‘Yes. But they didn’t get promises from those big names before they announced them. It caused a lot of bad blood. Some of the stars have pulled out.’

  ‘So I’m being hauled off the subs’ bench, am I?’

  ‘No,’ he soothed. ‘You were only left off the original list by a clerical oversight, Alan. They meant to ask you all along.’

  ‘Pull the other one.’

  He chuckled again. ‘All right. You’re an eleventh-hour replacement. So what? It gets you out to LA and it gives you a chance to fight for a first prize of $100,000. How does that sound?’

  ‘Bloody marvellous!’ I admitted.

  My imagination ran riot. I had a vision of Donnelly reeling back in astonishment from the counter as I banked the cheque. It would enable me to clear my overdraft, settle my other debts, treat Carnoustie to the thorough overhaul she deserved, fend off my statutory panic attack when I next had to pay Lynette’s school fees and buy myself the peace of mind to enjoy my golf properly.

  ‘Now for the good news,’ resumed Clive.

  ‘There’s more?’

  ‘It comes in two halves. First, I’ll be jetting out to cover the tournament before going on to the Phoenix Open. That means you’ll have the joy of my company, the benefit of my advice and the chance to refill my glass whenever you see it empty.’

  ‘You’re on,’ I agreed. ‘What’s the other good news?’

  ‘You’ll be staying with Zuke Everett.’

  ‘Great!’

  ‘He’s the one who got them to invite you to the party, Alan. You owe it all to Zuke so don’t forget it.’

  ‘I won’t, don’t worry.’

  It was not the first time I’d had reason to be grateful to Zuke Everett. In a world as nakedly competitive as that of tournament golf, players don’t always go out of their way to befriend and help each other. Zuke was the exception. As well as being one of the top Americans on the pro circuit, he was also among the most generous and likeable. To stay with him and his gorgeous wife, Valmai, made the trip to Los Angeles even more irresistible.

  ‘Listen carefully,’ ordered Clive. ‘Here are the details.’

  As he talked, I noted down the salient points on the telephone pad. The organisers were certainly not afraid to scatter their money around. I was being featherbedded from start to finish. I can take a lot of that kind of thing.

  ‘Have you got all that?’ he asked.

  ‘I think so. Oh—and thanks, Clive.’

  ‘Zuke is the person to thank. When they couldn’t contact you, he suggested they might try me. Learn your lesson. Because your telephone was out of order, this New Year bonus nearly trickled through your fingers. Fix yourself up with an answering service that will take messages for you.’

  ‘I’ve got one,’ I reminded him. ‘He’s called Clive Phelps.’

  He growled a few expletives at me and then hung up. I put the receiver down and let the wonder of it sink in. From snowy St Albans to sunny Los Angeles. From dire poverty to unexpected solvency. From enemies like Donnelly and Rosemary to true friends like Zuke and Valmai. From the inactivity I hated to the game I loved.

  From hell to heaven by courtesy of Trans World Airlines.

  ‘Was it worth making the call?’

  ‘What?’ I turned to see Katie in the kitchen doorway. ‘Oh, yes. Well worth
it. I’m off to California to seek fame and fortune.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ she said, genuinely pleased for me.

  ‘They want me there immediately.’

  She shrugged. ‘That’s it, then, isn’t it?’

  We traded a long look and weighed the implications. My trip to the Tournament of Champions would mark a complete break from Katie. I would be going out on a high, whereas all she would be left were my wet footprints on the hall carpet.

  ‘Alan…’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you remember what you said when we met?’

  ‘I said lots of things.’

  ‘You asked me to promise something.’

  ‘Yes,’ I recalled. ‘That when it was all over, we wouldn’t just slink off in opposite directions. We’d end it in style.’

  ‘You had another phrase. In a blaze of glory.’

  ‘That sounds like me.’

  We stood in silence for a long time, our eyes locked and our differences forgotten. Katie then glanced towards the front door.

  ‘You don’t have to spend the night out there.’

  ‘Won’t the neighbours complain about Carnoustie?’

  She gave a slow grin. ‘Who cares?’

  Golf is a funny old game.

  One minute you’re down, the next you’re riding on air.

  Chapter Two

  Heavy rain greeted us as our jumbo jet touched down on the tarmac at Los Angeles International Airport and taxied on hissing wheels towards the TWA terminal. After a long flight stuck next to the garrulous sales director of a Californian soft drinks company, I was more than glad to get off the plane, stretch my legs and escape any further lectures on marketing strategy. I cleared customs, then pushed my trolley towards the exit.

  A sizeable crowd was waiting to meet friends and relatives. I looked around in vain for a chauffeur holding up a placard with my name on it. A young woman forced her way towards me, flung her arms around me and gave me the sort of kiss on which I thought Katie Billings held the patent. It was an electrifying moment.

  ‘Welcome to LA!’ she said.

  ‘Thanks.’