The Life and Loves of Gringo Greene

by David Carter

  She wondered too why he hadn’t made a move on her, every other man she had ever known would have done, but she was glad he hadn’t, for she didn’t want to spoil what they had. She’d be bound to refuse him, and after that, separate beds would have become the norm, and probably separate houses too. She liked sleeping with men; the smell of their bodies and the tone of their muscles, the feel of their skin next to hers, their arms around her, she always had, she couldn’t get enough of it, and Gringo was no different in that respect. Fact was, she felt safe in his house, in his bed, in his arms, and she would sleep with him every night, so long as he wanted her too, and for so long as he left her alone.

  Forty-Four

  He arrived at Princess Alexandra’s Hospital at ten minutes to four but was forced to faff around looking for a parking space. When he eventually found one he was disgusted to find he had to pay handsomely for the privilege. I’m giving my own blood! he wanted to scream through the hustling corridors. Surely you could have offered me free parking!

  It was a fair walk through that distinct hospital aroma to the correct department where a slim young man in a tight fitting uniform greeted him with a bored: ‘Blood?’

  Gringo nodded and the guy waved him to a row of seats, half occupied by nervous looking first timers. A couple of minutes later a bulldog of a nurse appeared, short and broad, wearing black trousers and a long blue jacket and a jowled face that belonged in Crufts.

  ‘Kevin Greene!’ she barked, glancing down at her clipboard.

  Gringo stood up and approached and tried a smile and said: ‘I have an appointment with Linda Drayton.’

  ‘You have an appointment to give blood,’ she corrected him snootily, ‘follow me,’ and with that she turned and marched away, Gringo struggling to keep up.

  She took him to a small room off the corridor where there were two couches, one on either side, both vacant.

  ‘Take off your jacket and lie on the bed.’

  ‘Is Linda about?’

  ‘Staff Nurse Drayton is on duty today.’

  ‘May I see her?’

  ‘No, you may not. Now, please lie on the bed and roll up your sleeve.’

  Gringo slipped off his shoes and jumped onto the bed, but was not yet finished.

  ‘Look, unless I see Nurse Drayton, I shall be leaving.’

  The health service creature looked down her nose at the dark wimp and snorted, ‘I see.’

  He wondered whether he should speak again, but before he could, she had turned about and retreated, leaving him alone to study the Give Blood posters that adorned the walls. Ten minutes passed as a non stop stream of people bustled to and fro along the corridor outside. Then Linda appeared, hurrying into the room with the body language of someone with a hundred things to do, a stony expression fixed on her neat face.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ she said, as if she had no idea who the heck Kevin Greene was. He tried his best smile and imagined it melted her heart, maybe a smidgeon.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said, ‘I might have guessed.’

  ‘You said you were going to look after me.’

  ‘And do you need looking after?’

  ‘Yes, I think I do.’

  ‘Nurse Caldicott could have fixed you up just as well as I.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  ‘Are you ready to proceed?’

  Gringo nodded, not really caring about the blood doning business, for he was checking out her charms. She seemed even more attractive in her natural surroundings than she had in his office.

  ‘Are you married?’ he asked.

  ‘Do I wear a ring?’

  ‘No, you don’t, but that might just be a hospital thing.’

  ‘Why do you want to know? Are you going to propose to me?’ she said, smirking, as she inspected and wiped his arm.

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘Men do, you know.’

  He could imagine that, especially here where they felt most vulnerable.

  ‘I’ll bet they do.’

  ‘Now just relax, Mister Greene.’

  ‘I suppose the doctors are always asking you out.’

  She paused for a second as if thinking carefully of her reply.

  ‘Sometimes,’ she said. ‘I try and avoid them.’

  ‘Are they so bad?’

  ‘Shits!’ she said, and in the way she said that he guessed one of them must have hurt her.

  ‘Will you have dinner with me?’

  ‘You will feel a slight sting.’

  ‘Come on, say yes. Have dinner with me.’

  He didn’t say anything else; and she didn’t answer, and when he next glanced into her light blue eyes, he could see she was grinning as she saw the shock on his face as the needle went in.

  You will feel a slight sting.

  Yeah, right.

  He’d been stunned to silence. Serve him right.

  ‘Just relax Mister Greene, it won’t take long. I’ll be back soon.’

  Don’t leave me, he wanted to cry out, yet even Gringo realised that sounded too wimpish.

  ‘Fine,’ he said, closing his eyes, acting the brave heart and pondering on what the hell he was doing there.

  When it was all done she returned, still with that cat-got-the-cream look on her face, as she unplugged him.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I think the least I deserve after going through that torture is a dinner date.’

  She glanced down at him, still prone on the bed. He was vaguely handsome in an angular kind of way, dark and brooding. Some women might find him attractive, she mused, and after her bitter break up with Steven some weeks before, that hard bastard in Casualty, she had been on the look out for someone new. This guy was presentable enough, a little on the dark side for her taste, but she could live with that, and her parents would adore him for sure, so maybe, just maybe, there might be some mileage in the man.

  ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Mister Greene.’

  ‘Please, call me Gringo.’

  ‘All right, Gringo, this is the deal. You come back next month, and I might look more kindly on your proposal.’

  ‘You might be married and with child by then.’

  She laughed aloud, though whether at the unlikelihood of it, or because it might actually happen that way, he wasn’t sure.

  ‘That’s a chance you will have to take. Now be a good boy and put on your shoes.’

  Be a good boy, he’d give her Be a good a boy if the chance ever arose, and no mistake. She ought to be more careful.

  ‘Well?’ she said. ‘Do we book you in again, or not?’

  He nodded grumpily. The things one does for a dinner date.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t quite hear that.’

  ‘Yes! Staff… Nurse… Drayton.’

  Her face softened a tad, as did her voice. ‘Good man, Mister Greene, good man,’ and at that moment she spotted the Rottweiler hurtling past the door.

  ‘Nurse Caldicott! Another season ticket holder signed up. Give him an appointment for next month.’

  The health service creature moseyed into the room and looked down her nose at the troublesome man.

  ‘Goodbye,’ said Linda, and with that she left the room.

  The following morning Gringo had a stiff arm, but it would all be worth it if and when he landed a dinner date with the nurse. He’d been thinking a fair bit about her, and that must mean something.

  He began humming to himself as he drove to work for he was in a particularly good mood. Today he would be seeing the delectable Ms J Cairncross again, and ever the optimist, he imagined she would not be able to resist his charm, which oddly, was always close to its best on a Friday.

  That afternoon he pulled into the VAT palace car park, hustled through security, and was shown upstairs.

  Everything was as before. The blonde honey came and greeted him with a warm smile. ‘Hello Mister Greene, nice to see you again.’

  ‘Hello Diane, how are you? How’s that boyfriend of yours?’

 
She was impressed he’d remembered her name, but for some reason fellas often did that. ‘I’m really well, and you’ll never guess what, we are getting married, honeymoon in Barbados and everyfink.’

  ‘Which one is he, your husband to be?’

  ‘The black fella, you must know him, he’s always in the papers and on the telly.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ said Gringo, ‘always in the papers, sure I do,’ when in truth he didn’t have a clue. If he remembered he might ask Paul. ‘So you’re going to be a WAG, eh? And are you looking forward to it?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ she grinned. ‘I can’t wait. I won’t have to work anymore. Be in the papers and everyfink. He wants me to be a lady of leisure.’

  I’ll bet he does, thought Gringo.

  ‘Good for you, Diane,’ he said, and he thought of asking her how old the foo-buller was, as she called him, but didn’t have the time because by then they were outside Ms Cairncross’s office. Diane tapped on the door and opened it and beckoned him inside, before leaving with a smile and a gentle, ‘By-eee, Mister Greene.’

  Gringo smiled back and left it on his face, adjusting it ever so slightly, especially for Julie.

  He glanced down at the desk.

  A man stared back. The smile vanished. The guy was fortyish, crumpled grey suit, fat and bald, and was sweating as if he had raced straight from the swish squash courts that graced the basement.

  ‘Ah, Mister Greene, I presume, please take a seat.’

  Gringo’s heart fell as he slumped into the chair.

  ‘Where is Ms Cairncross?’

  ‘Julie? Ah, promoted I’m afraid, gone off to northern climes, taken over the position of Head of VAT, Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Signed a five year contract, so I believe, very highly thought of, she is, we won’t be seeing her around here for a very long time, pity really, smart girl, surprisingly pretty too, if you took the time to look, didn’t make the best of herself really, I thought, though she never seemed to take much of a shine to me.’

  Can’t say as I am surprised, thought Gringo, but already the guy was talking again.

  ‘No matter, I have her full report before me on your little difficulty. I’m sure she’ll have left nothing out, no stone unturned, so to speak. She’s a very thorough person, Ms Cairncross, always conducts her enquiries in the most diligent way, nothing’s too much trouble for her, my name’s Willetts by the way, I shall be looking after you from now on.’

  Great, thought Gringo, just what I needed.

  ‘Now, how shall we play this? Would you like to read, or be read to?’ he said, glancing down and picking up the report in his hands.

  Gringo thought that rather odd, that he should have a choice in the matter. He had imagined they, or rather she, would have just told him the results of their pontificating; indeed he imagined that she would have let him down rather lightly, especially if the news turned out bad.

  ‘I’ll read,’ said Gringo decisively, suddenly imagining he might detect meanings between the lines that the sweating idiot Willetts would never see.

  ‘Fine,’ the guy said, turning the report round and sliding it across the desk.

  Gringo picked it up and began reading. It was huge, pages and pages of tiny narrow type, no doubt a cost cutting measure to save paper, quite beyond anything he had been expecting. To make matters worse, Willetts began humming like a tramp at a bus stop. Gringo gave him his moustached look over the top of the report and the bloke caught his disapproval and ceased, and began tapping on his computer.

  Gringo ploughed on through the guff and gobbledegook. He was tempted to jump to the back page and read the last paragraph or two, but resisted that idea, just in case he might miss something of importance. Fact was, there wasn’t much of any consequence until the final page. He slowed his reading speed and concentrated on the meanings, both the obvious, and the hoped for between the lines.

  While I am certain that Mister Greene has been open and helpful throughout my enquiries, it is quite clear the company, namely Dryden Engineering, seriously neglected their duties when it came to VAT accounting.

  Accordingly I levy a mandatory £5,000 fine and a severe censure as to their future conduct, and an additional warning that officers of the Company could be held personally liable should there ever be a reoccurrence.

  In this case, Mr Kevin Greene was not found personally liable for any transgressions; on the contrary, I felt he was put forward as a rather naïve figurehead by persons unknown who should have taken the responsibility upon themselves.

  The monetary fine didn’t interest Gringo one bit, he wouldn’t be paying it, instead the words rather naïve figurehead rotored around his brain. If anyone is naïve, darling, it isn’t me, and with that thought his mind flashed back to that night in her tiddly townhouse. He could see her in his mind’s eye lying naked on the bed before him.

  He thought she looked like a doll, white, fragile, her perfect skin reminding him of the smooth China cups in her office, as if any pressure might break her, might destroy her. In moments such as these it is weird the crazy thoughts that occasionally enter the mind… she came across as one kind young woman, more than that, she was extremely feminine. That wasn’t quite accurate. She wasn’t extremely feminine at all; she was the ultimate in femininity.

  What would Willetts have given to witness such a sight? Gringo was conscious that just thinking about her could make him excited. He glanced across at sweaty-poos who was still in another world, typing away. Just as well there was a hefty desk between them, and a decent modesty panel. Beyond Willetts’ shoulder sat the same china cups as a reminder of the beautiful woman who had formerly occupied that chair.

  Gringo cursed aloud.

  Willetts looked up and grimaced over theatrically.

  ‘Yep, not so good is it?’

  ‘What?’ said Gringo, not giving a banking toss about the idiotic report, as his mind returned to the here and now.

  ‘The ultimate result, not so good, I said, but at least you personally are in the clear, old man.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Gringo, tossing the report back across the desk.

  ‘No, no, that’s your copy, old man, take it back to the office, discuss it with your fellow directors. You really must put measures in place to prevent a reoccurrence. We don’t want to see you here again.’

  The oaf hadn’t even noticed that Kevin Greene did not appear on the board of directors, printed on every copy of the letterhead that dozed away in that huge report that sat before them.

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘Yes, I think so, that’s everything for now, you are free to go, old man,’ and then he added, and they were the first remotely hostile words he had used: ‘You have fourteen days to pay, the fine and the refund. It wouldn’t go down well if you missed the deadline.’

  Gringo nodded and stood up and packed the report away in his bag.

  ‘Cheerio,’ said Willetts, as if he were a vicar arranging a marriage.

  ‘Goodbye, old man,’ said Gringo, as he left the room.

  Diane was there, as if she had been waiting for him.

  ‘Everyfink all right?’

  ‘Everything’s fine, Diane, couldn’t be better really, pity about Ms Cairncross though.’

  ‘Oh it is,’ she said, as she escorted him through the building. ‘If she had stayed I might have stayed too, but I’m not working for old sweaty bollocks in there.’

  Gringo laughed aloud. He wondered if she knew that from personal experience, but of course she did not.

  ‘Have a good marriage,’ he said to her at the door.

  ‘Oh I intend to, Mister Greene, I intend to.’

  The blonde awarded him one last practiced smile, a smile that Gringo just about returned, though in truth he was still thinking of a naked Ms Cairncross, and then he was back out on the damp tarmac, and wandering back toward the car.

  He never saw Diane the beautiful again, other than in the newspapers and gossip columns. It didn’t last of course, the marriage, three years and two
children later, and it was all over. God knows what became of her, or of the kids.

  Forty-Five

  On Friday evening Gringo guided the car from the close and pointed it toward Shrewsbury. What had made Glen change her mind about accompanying him he never discovered, nor ever asked, for he was too elated to have her sitting alongside him, as they headed toward the motorway network.

  He’d read somewhere that Shrewsbury was the biggest town or city in Britain that wasn’t connected to the motorway system, but that was for later, because there was plenty of motorway between his house and Shropshire, and he had every intention of enjoying the trip.

  She had done him proud, slipping into that classy black suit. He’d been out with dozens of beautiful women, but none of them, not one, not even Melanie Harris herself, and certainly not Maria, could hold a candle to Glenda Martin when it came to unspoilt beauty, leastways that was what Gringo thought, sitting in the car beside her.

  As ever she talked and talked, as did he, with smiles on their faces, and happiness in the car. She repeated two American jokes that Harry had told her, and then asked him to explain them. One of them he could and did, while the other remained a total mystery to them both.

  ‘American humour, eh?’ he said.

  Glen giggled and shook her head.

  It wouldn’t have made a ha’peth of difference if the journey had been ten times further in miles, or ten times longer in time, neither of them would have run out of conversation, nor would they become bored in each other’s company, and shortly afterwards, or so it seemed, they were pulling up outside the Greene’s country cottage.

  ‘Is that the time?’ she said, glancing at the dash, genuinely bemused as to where the hours had gone.

  ‘You’re a fine travelling companion,’ he said without thinking, and they paused and looked at one another and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her, and for once she would have let him do so, but the cottage front door burst open and light flooded out, as did the happy cat, and they both looked up to see the delighted old couple smiling and grinning from the doorstep, as the warmth and contented ambience of a happy home shimmered behind them. Gringo grabbed the two overnight bags from the boot and followed her up the path.