Love's Cold Burn

by Harry, Jessica

  Another three hours later, Colin set six places at the table and Hugh unscrewed the cap on a very cheap bottle of Bulgarian wine. They were litre bottles and there were four between them. Tom and Brian put the finishing touches to the Christmas tree. It wasn’t a Norway spruce. It was a Leylandii conifer in a plastic pot, which Colin and Hugh had stolen from outside the front door of a bungalow on the way back from their previous week’s drunken night on the town. All their decorations were scraps picked up from other parts of campus and town. The tree lights were all amber, taken from road-works near the shopping centre. The overall effect was like a collage, but surprisingly homely.

  Ian brought in his tape player and put on a tape he had put together featuring Adam And The Ants along with the Stray Cats and Blondie. An unusual collection but a change from his usual Tom Jones and Bonnie Tyler stuff.

  ‘I think the chicken’s ready,’ announced Brian.

  As they served up, Roger Evans came in to prepare his tea.

  ‘Still time to change your mind Crypt,’ Hugh kindly offered.

  No reaction.

  They all sat down to pull their discount crackers. They wore paper hats and complained about the cheap pressed plastic toys. Brian’s cracker contained a set of false red lips. Andrew’s had a simple magic trick which they couldn’t work out and Colin’s had a plastic strip which told you what mood you were in depending on how much it twisted when you touched it.

  The food was awful. The chicken hadn’t defrosted fully so the middle wasn’t cooked even though the outside was brown and crispy. The potatoes had almost turned to mash before they were put in the roasting dish after being boiled too long, the ‘real’ gravy that Colin had made was extremely oily and the plastic bag containing the giblets had not been removed from the chicken before it went into the cooker. It had been frozen solid and the boys were unaware that it existed, so even if the bird had been defrosted, they wouldn’t have taken out the giblet bag.

  The wine, which seemed a bargain while they were in the supermarket had a nasty kick which hit you just after swallowing, but it was strong and went down fast, which was good because the more wine they drank, the better the food tasted.

  ‘You make any money yesterday?’ Brian asked Colin. Hugh and Colin had been into town the day before proudly boasting that they would come home with much more money than they went out with, although Brian suspected that if the new money-making scheme had been a success, they would have been told by now.

  ‘We broke even,’ replied Colin defensively, without looking up.

  ‘What was the plan,’ Tom asked.

  They had failed to make the intended killing, so Colin saw no reason why he shouldn’t tell them what they had been doing. It was a very high risk scheme. At one point they had been £100 down and were very relieved to end the day where they started. ‘We were in the bookies.’

  ‘Gambling?’ laughed Brian. ‘I thought it was supposed to be a clever idea.’

  ‘Let him finish.’ Hugh defended his friend.

  ‘We set a target of ten pounds. Then we bet enough money on the favourite in the first race to hit the target. If it had won, we would have left the betting shop.’

  ‘Did it win?’ Brian.

  ‘No.’ Colin didn’t like his ideas being rubbished. ‘It didn’t have to though for our scheme to still work. On the next race we bet, again on the favourite, enough money to cover our losses and still hit the ten pound target.’

  ‘Did that win?’ Brian couldn’t help laughing as Colin squirmed.

  ‘No, but.’

  Tom was also laughing.

  ‘Let him finish,’ Hugh repeated. He could see Colin was getting wound up.

  ‘No, but again, it didn’t have to for the scheme to work. We just kept betting on favourites with enough money to cover the accumulating losses and still hit the target.’

  ‘How many bets?’ Brian asked.

  ‘A few,’ said Hugh.

  ‘How many?’ Brian.

  ‘Six,’ Colin admitted quietly.

  Tom , Brian, Ian and Andrew couldn’t help laughing. Even Hugh had to smile. He always went along with Colin’s scams, but Colin was the ‘brains’.

  ‘So how come you only broke even?’ Brian wondered how they finally got a win but didn’t hit the target.

  ‘We lost so much that we could only bet enough to cover the losses. We were over a hundred quid down.’ Hugh filled in the details Colin had missed.

  Colin was not used to being laughed at. His ego was hurt and, with half a litre of strong Bulgarian wine inside him, he lashed out at the weakest target.

  ‘What you laughing at Leopard?’ Colin shouted.

  Andrew had been sharing the joke and laughed along, a little, but was the least deserving of Colin’s rage. Andrew had also got through about half a litre of wine, and, unlike beer, it had not left the room spinning around his head, although it had had another effect on Andrew. The echo had gone, same as the beer effect, but with the wine, he was a little braver and surprisingly angry. He didn’t think it was fair that Colin had singled him out.

  ‘It is a bit funny Colin, but we all laughed. Not just me.’ Andrew defended himself.

  The music finished and Hugh replaced it with a Stranglers tape, which he played at full volume. He didn’t want the argument stopping him hearing his favourite tunes.

  They shouted over Rattus Norvegicus. Goodbye Toulouse played as Colin squared up to Andrew. He needed to save face and Andrew’s uncharacteristically confident reply was not what he had expected, so he raised the stakes. ‘Nobody laughs at me Leopard. Especially someone who can’t ask a girl her name after two months trying.’

  The two boys were now face to face, stood up, and Colin had edged inside Andrew’s personal space.

  Andrew had no comeback this time, so Colin pressed home his advantage, feeling that the normal hierarchy was about to be restored. ‘You’re too late anyway. Karen is my chick now.’

  Andrew stopped backing off, his unusual bravery was turning to more anger.

  Colin knew how Andrew felt about Pink Socks and had only gone up to meet her to upset him.

  Andrew knew Colin had passed Pink Socks on the way into town and they didn’t talk to each other. It didn’t add up. ‘That can’t be true. You never spoke to her today.’

  ‘We exchanged greetings. I nodded. She smiled.’

  ‘But you didn’t speak. You’re making it all up.’ Andrew was not only very angry, he felt cheated and was close to tears, but held them back. ‘She doesn’t like you.’

  Colin could see Andrew was holding back the tears and went for the kill. ‘We don’t need to talk. She said nothing the other day in her room when I was shagging her.’

  Colin expected Andrew to run off to his bedroom or sob quietly in the corner.

  Andrew wanted to run off to his bedroom or sob quietly in the corner, but the half litre of Bulgarian wine was steering him in a different direction. He reached up with both hands and grabbed Colin. His fists clenched and twisted the lapels of Colin’s shirt. Andrew pushed him ferociously back and kept pushing until Colin fell back on the Christmas tree.

  ‘You turd Colin,’ Andrew shouted over The Stranglers. It was the worse word he could think of.

  Colin was on his back with his arms and legs flapping in the air like an upturned beetle. None of the others had intervened in the argument. For Brian and Hugh, it was the best entertainment they had had all term, Ian didn’t think it was his place to join in and Tom was delighted to see Andrew standing up for himself.

  Before Colin could struggle back to his feet and before Hugh could turn the music back down to its normal level, there was a loud thump at the door. ‘Turn that music down,’ a very cultured voice boomed. ‘Some of us are trying to study.’ They then heard heavy footsteps stamping down the corridor.

  Tom flicked the music off and pulled the door open just in time to see the door to room number one slammed shut. The boys, now in silence, crept along the corridor to room
one, which had light spilling out from the crack at floor level. It was the first contact any of them had enjoyed with the occupant of room one, but none of them was brave enough to knock on the door and wish The Invisible Man a merry Christmas.

  Chapter 17

  Christmas with the Leopards

  Twelve days later, December 25, 1983: ‘I think I’m ready for a whisky,’ Frank Leopard announced to his guests. ‘Would you like to join me?’

  ‘Thank-you. Yes,’ Tom replied.

  Brian also accepted. Maureen Leopard was in the kitchen cooking so Andrew jumped up to get the drinks.

  The three boys sat around the sitting room as Andrew’s father told them the secrets of his success and how he had progressed up the corporate ladder despite a ‘number of clowns’ who had foolishly tried to stand in his way. He told them he expected Andrew to follow his father’s excellent example but doubted that he had the necessary backbone yet.

  ‘I’m hoping university will toughen the boy up.’ He talked about Andrew as if he were in another room. ‘Easily distracted. Needs to focus on the job in hand. Where’s that whisky? Like I said. Easily distracted. You distilling it yourself boy. Look lively, your friends will die of thirst. Eh boys?’ He winked at Tom and Brian.

  Brian nodded in agreement to be polite.

  Tom looked away. He didn’t want to collude with Frank in deriding Andrew.

  ‘Thanks Andrew.’ Tom took the whisky.

  ‘Thanks.’ Brian took his glass.

  Andrew passed Frank a glass of whisky and water. Frank continued to look past Andrew at his guests without breaking from his conversation and waved his finger towards the coffee table so Andrew knew where to place the glass, but didn’t thank him, or look at him.

  ‘And I said to him, “if my handshake isn’t enough re-assurance, we have no deal.” He soon backed down and the rest is history.” Frank waited for Tom and Brian’s smiles of approval before taking a sip of his drink.

  He recoiled in disgust as he took the first mouthful. ‘Andrew you idiot. You’ve just murdered a glass of my finest Scotch malt. You’ve put warm water in it. How many times have I told you? Run the tap for a while until the water is cold.’

  Andrew jumped up and took the glass. ‘Sorry. Shall I get some cold water … shall I?’

  ‘Well. The water won’t get itself will it?’

  It was another of those difficult questions and this time Andrew took it as rhetorical and went for some cold water.

  ‘I’m sorry. Don’t know what’s the matter with him. Is he like this at college?’ Frank addressed both boys.

  It was an awkward question, certainly for Tom, as he thought answering the question was in some way agreeing with Frank that Andrew was at fault for putting warm tap water in his father’s whisky. Tom thought Andrew had done nothing wrong at all and, in fact, it was Frank at fault, but it would be impolite to say so. Such subtleties were lost on Brian who fell back on humour as an easy way of tackling difficult questions.

  ‘He’s just like this at college Mr Leopard,’ Brian replied. ‘He put warm water in my beer the other day.’

  Andrew returned with cold water in a plastic measuring jug.

  ‘You fool. We have a silver jug for the water. What kind of a house will our guests think I provide for you bringing water in a plastic jug. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing properly.’

  Andrew hurried off again.

  ‘He’s his mother’s son. No doubt about that. I’ve given him everything he’s ever needed, the chance to make something of himself. And how does he thank me? He embarrasses me in front of guests.’

  Andrew couldn’t find the jug and returned. ‘Do you know where the jug is … do you?’

  ‘A place for everything and everything in its place. It’s in its place boy.’

  That was no help. Andrew had tried ‘its place’ and it wasn’t there. He knew asking for further help would trigger an angry response so he asked his mother.

  ‘Have you tried the spare bedroom Andrew? He had a whisky last night when he was working on his train set.’ Maureen Leopard suggested.

  Andrew ran upstairs, not wishing to keep his father waiting too long. The jug was on the table, next to a model of the Flying Scotsman. He returned with the cold water and again, Frank wagged his finger in the direction of the coffee table, while not breaking from his conversation to thank his son or look at him.

  ‘He won’t make that mistake again.’ Frank finished another story. ‘Have you offered your mother any help Andrew?’

  ‘No,’ Andrew said apologetically.

  ‘She’s been cooking your meals for 18 years and you can’t even help her on Christmas day. Look sharp and get in the kitchen.’

  Andrew hurried off.

  ‘That’s the trouble with some people these days,’ Frank went on. ‘Everybody wants something for nothing.’ He sat back and took another sip of his whisky.

  Maureen had been up early preparing food, wrapping presents and tidying the house. She was proud of her home, a fairly standard three-bedroom suburban semi-detached house in a quiet cul-de-sac, but with a few distinct features she had worked at. The curtains were all home-made and matched the carpets, as did the furniture. Colour co-ordination was important to her and it didn’t stop at the front door. She spent hours in the garden manicuring the lawns and hedges. She weeded the borders regularly and planted a wide variety of bedding plants, also in colours chosen to compliment those which featured prominently inside the house.

  Her Christmas dinner preparations were complete in time for the Queen’s message. She went through to the sitting room. ‘Dinner will be ready after the Queen’s speech.’ She flicked on the television and sat down next to Andrew.

  Frank stood up for the National Anthem joined closely by Maureen. Brian and Tom wondered if they were getting up for the food but waited. Andrew stayed seated following the lead of his friends but an angry look from his father soon had him on his feet. As the anthem began, Tom and Brian realised why they were standing and immediately joined them based on the premiss ‘when in Rome’. The Queen spoke of technology bringing the world closer together but emphasised the point that we must communicate with greater depth. ‘Let us all resolve to communicate as friends in tolerance and understanding.’

  Tom thought to himself that Frank wasn’t communicating with tolerance and understanding towards his son. In fact he had seen people treat their pets with greater respect than Frank had shown for Andrew, but he said nothing. He was a guest and it would be very rude to question the host’s conduct.

  With the speech finished, Maureen invited her family and guests through to the dining room, which was actually the same room but at the far end through an arch. It had previously been two separate rooms but the Leopards, along with many other families, had followed the fashion for knocking through to create ‘a more fluent living space’.

  After stopping to say grace, again the boys adopted the ‘when in Rome’ policy, they all tucked in to heavily piled plates as Bing Crosby crooned in the background. With healthy appetites taking over from healthy conversation, the dominant sound was of clinking cutlery on China, but Frank broke the peace when he turned to Andrew. ‘I must say boy, your acne seems to have improved a great deal.’

  Tom was aghast at Frank’s thoughtless choice of subject, Maureen felt a twang of sympathy while Brian had to hide a smile. But Andrew felt huge embarrassment and half choked on a sprout before replying with a now very crimson face. ‘Thank-you father, but I’m nearly out of tablets.’ He took tablets to help restore the balance of hormones, which his doctor thought a probable cause for the spots. ‘Perhaps you could pick some up for me when you get your flatulence tablets.’

  Excellent reply thought Tom, while Brian could no longer hide his smile. Maureen could not believe Andrew’s rudeness, while Andrew realised, only after speaking, how unkind his answer must have sounded in front of guests.

  ‘Oh I’m so sorry.’ He quickly tried to repair the damage. �
��I haven’t told them about your wind. I promise.’

  As Brian’s smile turned to stifled laughter, Andrew realised he was making matters worse.

  Frank was outraged. ‘I think you’ve said enough boy. If that’s the way you treat your nearest and dearest, I’m surprised your new friends want to spend Christmas with you.’

  Andrew looked down at his food and nothing more was said until Bing Crosby finished. The silence was awkward, but again it was Frank who brought it to an end. ‘The record isn’t going to turn itself over is it Andrew?’

  ‘No it’s not father.’

  ‘Less of your cheek boy and look sharp.’

  Andrew went through the arch to the sitting room and turned over the vinyl on the record player.

  After Christmas pudding, Maureen poured brandy for Frank, Tom and Brian. She didn’t think to offer Andrew one. He had never had one in the past and, even though he was the same age as his guests, it never crossed her mind to ask him.

  Andrew wondered why he was never offered brandy, but he hated the stuff anyway so didn’t wonder for long. He had been given wine, along with the guests, but a much nicer vintage than the Bulgarian plonk they had enjoyed at college. Again, for Andrew, the room was not spinning but he felt a shade braver, which was about to land him with a problem.

  The brandy and wine left Frank in reflective mood. He had three boys in their late teens at his dinner table. He thought back to his days as a teenager. He had not been to college. He left school after O-levels and did his national service. Very different to university, but some things probably never changed. ‘So boys. Had any luck with the ladies at college?’

  Brian replied first. ‘Oh yes Mr Leopard. I have a girlfriend called Lisa. She works for an insurance company in Southside.’

  ‘Good lad. Been together long?’

  ‘Couple of months. Taking it steady. You know.’

  Tom was not as good a liar as Brian, so he stuck to the truth when Frank turned to him and raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh nobody for me Mr Leopard. I’m concentrating on my studies and playing football.’