‘I’m meeting a new supplier this afternoon but should be done in time,’ Norman replied.
‘Doesn’t matter. I can do it.’
‘I’m sure I’ll be done. And I’d like to catch the end of training and watch them play.’
‘Okay.’
‘I’ll give you a buzz if I’m running late.’
Norman remembered every word. It was the last conversation he had had with Janet. The new supplier had been held up and Norman called Janet to ask her to collect the boys.
Now seven years had passed and Norman was still collecting his thoughts and considering his future. The pain of losing Janet was as strong as ever, almost as if no time had passed. He couldn’t look at another woman and his social life, beyond business networking, was non-existent. He had not seen his boys grow up. He was one of the richest men in Southside now but it was utterly meaningless without Janet.
Yet he had the gift of two wonderful sons. He could not understand how he had let the time slip by. They would be young men now and he knew they would no longer be away at boarding school, but back in Southside at the university. It was time to put things right. But seven years of collecting his thoughts had not been long enough to find any answers.
He did not know what to say or what he could or should do. Taking a back seat at work was his first move. He could then walk up to the university as often as he liked to meet the boys. What happened after the first meeting would depend on how things went.
Chapter 5
Beer
Same day, October 4, 1983: ‘Another?’
‘Yes please Tom,’ Andrew replied with false enthusiasm, despite still having most of his first pint of lager. It was not only his first of the night, but the first of his life. He had been persuaded by Brian to drink lager, but was struggling. He hated the taste. There were benefits though, the glass gave him a reason to pull one of his hands out of his pockets. He never knew what to do with his hands. He felt most comfortable when they were in his pockets, otherwise he felt awkward, and Brian had noticed his nervous demeanour.
Andrew’s obvious discomfort was amusing for Brian. Like his brother, Brian was warming to Andrew seeing him as a harmless distraction, somebody he could have a bit of fun with, in much the same way as an attentive pet dog.
Tom, on the other hand, had been careful to put Andrew at ease, bringing him into the conversation. He had listened with interest to Andrew’s stories of fishing in the canal and when Brian started asking Andrew what treatment he used to control his acne, Tom tried to switch the conversation to something which Brian may find uncomfortable.
‘What did the doctor say about your scrotum Brian?’
It was successful in saving Andrew’s blushes but had no impact on Brian. He cared little about who knew of his defective testicle, although getting it out for the doctor had been a trying ordeal.
‘Well, you know what doctors are like. Unless you tell them you’re dying, they say it will clear up on its own after a few days. So I said I was in great pain, losing sleep and sick with worry. Then I told him about my bollock.’
Brian then faced Andrew to fill in what Tom already knew about the wiggly growth on his left testicle, before continuing. ‘He told me to strip off below the waste and lie down behind the curtain.’
The three teenagers were sat at a table in the Red Lion, which Tom had expected to be full of students. The trendy exterior was not matched by a similar interior. Inside the Red Lion, there had been no new décor for decades. The landlord had upgraded the outside to pull in the youngsters and kept his prices as low as he could. As long as he had the edge on prices over the other town centre pubs, he knew he would keep the student trade.
The ceiling had been painted white many years ago, but was now covered with a thick yellow film of nicotine. The green tartan carpet was a sticky grey in the places which had seen the most traffic, including the route to the toilet and around the pool table. There were a few pictures on the walls, mostly featuring cartoon beagles playing pub games, darts, snooker and dominoes.
‘He then pulled the curtain back and asked me to stand up. Don’t know why he asked me to lie down really ‘cos I was already standing up. He took my ball bag in his sweaty old-man hand and prodded around.’ Brian winced with discomfort just telling the tale. Tom’s anguished expression showed he was sharing his brother’s suffering, while Andrew found it hard to concentrate on what they were saying as the room had started to spin around his head.
‘He then asked if it hurt. It was uncomfortable but not painful. I wasn’t going to be fobbed off though, so I said it did and threw in a few oohs and aahs to convince him I needed treatment. Then his scrawny assistant had a go and he was very clumsy. I didn’t have to fake the pain for him.’
‘And?’
‘Well, straight off he said he knew what it was and I ought to see a consultant at the hospital. He said I may need a small operation to put things right, but it was nothing to worry about.’
‘That doesn’t sound too bad?’
‘But it went downhill from there. He then said, ”just to be thorough, I’ll check your prostate gland.” He put me back on the couch, pushed me on my side with my back to him and put one leg across the other so my knees were on the couch, slightly bent. The whole ordeal was slightly bent. I couldn’t see what they were doing but I heard him pulling on some surgical gloves and squelching around in a pot of lubricant.’
Brian took a gulp of his beer.
‘Then up it went.’
‘His finger?’
‘His finger. Up my bum.
Tom pursed his lips and crossed his legs.
Brian finished his beer.
‘He then started prodding forward and said, “does that hurt?” Does that hurt?’ Brian repeated in a more animated tone, an octave higher than the previous sentence.
‘I resisted the temptation to say what I was thinking and just whimpered a little saying it hurt a bit. He then asked if I would mind the trainee taking a look. “It would be invaluable to his studies.” Can you believe that?’
‘Did you let him?’
‘No I bloody didn’t!’
Tom finished his beer. ‘Shall we try the pub outside the football ground?’
Brian nodded.
‘Andrew. How about you? Wanderers’ Rest?’
‘I haven’t finished this one yet.’ Andrew had half a pint left and hadn’t touched it for a while, but the spinning had stopped.
Brian grabbed Andrew’s glass and drank the lot in about five seconds. ‘You ready now Leopard?’
‘Yes. Sorry. Ready when you are.’
Tom didn’t mind his brother drinking the beer. He could see the alcohol was having an effect on Andrew, but in some respects for the good. The soft echo at the end of his sentences had gone.
The three boys walked 400 yards through steady rain to the Wanderers’ Rest, Brian at all times trying to avoid the puddles. He had a hole in one of his Dr Marten shoes. This pub was even more dowdy than the previous one. It was one large room with a high ceiling and there was a narrow shelf running around at picture rail height. Every inch of this shelf was filled with models of lions, mostly porcelain, some soft toys and some wooden sculptures. The owners of the pub liked lions. There were pictures on the walls, also featuring lions with brass wall lights above each one.
The boys had been expecting football fans to be the main customers but it was mostly smartly dressed women aged between 50 and 80. The barman told them it was an unofficial meeting of Southside West Women’s Institute. They were plotting the replacement of the current president.
Brian lined up three more pints of lager.
Tom returned to Brian’s illness. ‘So what did the doctor say was wrong?’
‘Something called varicocele. Kind of like varicose veins of the scrotum.’
Andrew had not been contributing much to the conversation and thought he ought to say something. ‘Oh dear Brian.’
‘Oh dear indeed,’ replied B
rian. ‘Too much blood near your balls apparently cuts your sperm count. I should be shagging left, right and centre while I’m still firing blanks.’
Tom smiled appreciatively while Andrew hoped neither of them would ask him about shagging.
‘Have you got a girlfriend Leopard?’ Brian asked.
Much to Andrew’s relief, before he answered, a very hairy and wet dog settled down next to the boys. Brian was not happy. Cleanliness was very important to him and he looked with disgust towards the owner who Brian felt should have the dog tethered at his feet or, better still, at home. The dog then stood up and shook itself vigorously sending a fine spray all over the boys. Brian reached quickly for his glass to cover his beer and prevent any of the spray getting in his glass.
‘Not happy. Let’s move tables.’
‘Fine. It’s your birthday.’ Tom wasn’t bothered by the dog, but didn’t mind moving to keep his brother happy. Andrew’s head was spinning again and he wasn’t sure which table he was sitting at.
Brian settled into the new seat and took off his left shoe to dry his sock. He was going to have to clean all his clothes thanks to the wet dog, which was particularly annoying in the case of his new shirt as his brother had only given it to him three hours previously.
‘On the subject of shagging, I met an attractive young lady in the doctor’s waiting room today.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I was trying to read a magazine, but she kept talking to me.’
‘Get anywhere?’
‘Oh yeah. Nothing definite, but she said, “see you around some time.”’
‘Sounds promising,’ Tom had to admit.
‘Students Union for last orders,’ Brian suggested.
‘Sounds good. How about you Andrew?’ Andrew still had half his beer left. Tom reached for it this time and drank it in about five seconds. ‘Let’s go.’
Andrew struggled to his feet and followed the brothers.
As they passed the ladies from the women’s institute and approached the exit, Brian whispered to them both, ‘here, watch this.’
The exit was a heavy door with clear glass panels. Tom and Andrew went out first followed by Brian, who stopped with his back to the closed door and kicked it loudly. The ladies of the women’s institute turned as one to see Brian drop his pants and press his buttocks against the glass.
They didn’t wait to see the reaction and splashed down the dark street laughing, dim orange street light dancing with shafts of rain in the gutters. They chased over the railway bridge and fell through the doors of the Students’ Union building and headed for the bar.
They chose seats by the wall so the boys could sit in a row side by side. They could see the whole bar and, more importantly, all the women. It was Freshers’ Week and all the new students had a list of welcome meetings, parties and special get-togethers. Tonight was the Freshers’ Disco and the boys were pleased to see so many girls, although there were disappointingly more boys.
Most of the courses available at Southside University were science based rather than the arts and this meant there was a ratio of about three male students to every female student. In social circles, this gave the women a greater sense of worth than they enjoyed in the wider world. The result was a clumping effect. Where one girl stood, a gathering of boys formed a circle around her. None of the boys spoke much to each other, but competed for the attention of the girl. The number of girls was so far short of the number of boys that some who would normally find it difficult gaining the attention of boys, could be seen with their own circle of attentive suitors.
The three Dickens Court boys watched and waited. Tom and Brian were both good footballers and picked out a large poster inviting players to sign on at the Freshers’ Bazaar. The posters for all the clubs and societies covered all the walls in much the same way as they did in the boys’ own kitchen. A good time was promised as various groups urged the new students to ‘come along and sign up’. The boys later discovered why the clubs tried so hard to attract the new students. Their share of union funding depended on the number of their members.
‘Chips anyone?’ Tom asked.
‘No thanks,’ Brian preferred to spend his money on beer.
‘No thanks.’ Andrew was struggling to keep his tea down.
Tom joined the queue for chips at the canteen around the back of the snooker tables. There were more club posters on the wall to catch students as they waited in the line. A short red-haired girl, dyed red, not ginger, reached in front of Tom.
‘Excuse me. Could I just reach that poster,’ she asked with a soft voice and a warm smile.
‘I’m sorry,’ Tom stepped aside.
Some club posters had the contact details of the secretary repeated along the bottom so you could tear off the number. The pretty red-haired girl wanted the contact details for the Greenpeace Society. She wore bright-coloured loose fitting clothes, espadrille cotton shoes with no socks and a distinctive Greenpeace enamel badge, which featured a white dove.
‘I’ve got a Greenpeace badge just like that.’
‘Got this one at Glastonbury this year,’ she replied with enthusiasm and warmth.
‘Aah. I was there. That’s where I got mine. Which bands did you see?’
‘Yes please.’ The woman serving food asked Tom loudly. He was distracted and almost forgot how hungry he was.
Tom bought his chips and shared them with his new friend.
The conversation flowed easily and when she asked Tom back for a coffee in Bronte Court, he quickly filled in Brian and Andrew and left them together.
Andrew was not only struggling to keep his tea down, but the room would not keep still and now his new friend was gone leaving him alone with Brian, who made Andrew very nervous.
Puma Shirt stood at the bar. Brian pointed her out to Andrew. He had a few beers inside him and had started to believe his own version of how he met the girl. Whilst waiting to order more drinks, and without thinking, as usual, he reached down and squeezed her bottom. It was a mistake. She turned sharply and pushed him to the floor.
She snarled at him through clenched teeth and her eyes narrowed. ‘I told you to piss off this morning. What’s your problem?’
Brian looked up at Andrew. ‘See? She loves me.’
It was all too much for Andrew and he reached for his mouth as it filled with vomit, but the pressure was too great and he couldn’t hold it. In much the same way as a finger held over the end of a garden hose, Andrew sprayed everyone within ten feet with an unpleasant mixture of partly digested fish-fingers and chips, which Tom had cooked for him, and the best part of three pints of lager.
Chapter 6
Second year students
The next day: ‘I enjoyed our night out.’ Short pause. ‘I did.’ Andrew was first in the kitchen for lunch followed by Tom, who noticed straight away that the soft echo had returned now the alcohol effects had worn off.
‘How did you get on with Brian?’
‘Haven’t you seen him?
‘No.’
Andrew was embarrassed about being sick in the union bar and even more embarrassed about being sick twice on the way home and a fourth time in his bed. If these disappointing feelings about himself had not been so all-consuming, he would have had the wit to turn the conversation around and ask Tom how he got on with the red-haired girl.
‘Brian was pushed to the floor by a girl and I was sick over them both … I was,’ Andrew said coyly, looking away from Tom in shame as he finished his sentence.
Before Tom could respond, the door burst open and Brian marched in with a copy of The Sun under his arm. ‘Tom. Big man. Womaniser. How did you get on with Greenpeace Badge?’ Brian wasted no time getting to the point.
‘Good thanks.’
‘Intimate?
‘Yes. Intimate.’
‘How intimate?’
‘Just about as intimate as it gets.’
‘You stallion.’ Brian patted Tom on the back, but now with mixed feelings. He was pl
eased for his brother, but slightly jealous that Tom had lost his virginity before him, and on the first night at college, while he had been pushed to the floor by the only girl he had met.
‘So. You seeing her again?
‘Probably, but only as friends I expect. She has a boyfriend back home but they have an “understanding”, although the degree of understanding seemed much less when we both woke up sober.’
‘Fair enough. You got off lightly then.’ Brian was reminded of another joke and turned to Andrew, who had been listening with huge admiration for Tom. ‘What’s the difference between a woman and a toilet?’
Andrew didn’t know, but this time was aware that he had been asked a joke and waited for the punchline.
‘A toilet doesn’t follow you around when you’ve finished using it.’ Andrew smiled politely.
The door flew open again and in marched Hugh Grundy from room number eight. He had an assured swagger, partly because he was a second year and partly because he was six feet two with rippling muscles, but while he had muscle to spare, he was lacking in charm.
Andrew turned almost as if in slow motion and his jaw dropped. Fortunately his plate of beans didn’t. This was the aggressive student who scowled at him the day before and stood on his bag. He looked even more fierce in the confined space of the shared kitchen. He had a tattoo of a lizard above his left ear, clearly visible as he shaved his head every week. His eyes were unusually far apart, which added to the angry look, as did his thick black eyebrows which sloped inwards. He wore black jeans, blood red Dr Marten boots and a black leather jacket similar to Tom’s. Despite his predatory looks and lack of charm, he was extremely sharp witted and coasted through his sociology degree.
Following Hugh into the kitchen was Colin Dean from room three, another second year student. He threw his books on the coffee table and slouched in one of the easy chairs. He wore a T-shirt with a pointing finger on it and the slogan ‘I’m with stupid’. He had an arrogant sneer, his jeans were ripped at the knees, old age, not fashion, and his wispy blonde hair fell around his sloping shoulders.
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