Buying Llamas Off the Internet

by Ian Edwards

Frankie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.’

  ‘OK,’ Alan acknowledged, accepting another of Frankie’s vague explanations on his supernatural powers as he continued to look out of the window.

  ‘When I served during the war,’ Frankie suddenly announced, ‘I could jump out of a plane at 30,000 feet in the dark, under enemy gun fire and land on a target the size of a postage stamp. I probably carried those skills with me when I died. After that, hitting a bus is a piece of cake.’

  Alan considered Frankie’s explanation, paused and said, ‘Parachute, or did your army buddies just have enough of you and threw you off the plane?’

  Frankie turned away and sulked.

  *

  James stood outside the Cloven Hoof, staring up at the poster nailed to the wall alongside the door.

  ‘Are you waiting for an adult to take you in?’ Alan asked, appearing at his side.

  ‘Have you seen this?’ James asked, pointing to the poster.

  ‘The Cloven Hoof presents singles night every Friday night at 8.00pm,’ Alan read aloud. He paused before the reading the bottom line, ‘Men and Women invited. Be there or be lonely.’

  ‘Men and Women are invited, then,’ James said. ‘That’s useful to know. I was wondering who the target crowd were.’

  ‘Can I come?’ Frankie asked.

  Alan made a show of looking at the poster closely. ‘Well, it doesn’t say that only the living are invited, so you should be OK. Are you looking for a little ghostly action? Is that why ghosts are always under sheets?’ he asked.

  James turned to Alan, ‘Frankie?’ he asked.

  Alan nodded.

  ‘Evening Frankie,’ James said.

  ‘Big man...’ Frankie replied, nodding, indifferent to the fact that James couldn’t hear or see him.

  Alan pulled open the door, ‘After you,’ he said, gesturing for James and Frankie to enter the Cloven Hoof. Alan followed James to the bar, after sending Frankie to save a table for them. This was a simple process which involved Frankie sitting at an empty table. If anyone approached looking to take the table for themselves, they were put off by a sharp drop in temperature, and moved elsewhere while complaining about the ‘bloody air conditioning.’

  ‘Why a singles night?’ James asked the Landlord, Gary as he got their drinks.

  ‘Changing times,’ Gary explained. ‘We have to draw people in. Get them away from cheap supermarket cans and reality TV. The name and reputation of the Cloven Hoof is sadly no longer enough for us to survive in a competitive industry.’

  Alan and James exchanged glances, unsure whether Gary was being serious. The reputation of the Cloven Hoof was one thing that should not be relied upon to attract visitors. In fact, the guide to the forgotten pubs of England had a brief entry on the Cloven Hoof which simply said; Best left forgotten.

  Alan turned and looked around the bar. As usual, it was half full. Several customers sat on their own at tables, hunched over half empty pint glasses while trying to complete crosswords or simply staring into space. His attention was drawn to a fruit machine which stood in the furthest corner from the bar, where a man appeared to be pushing sandwiches into the coin slot.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Alan asked.

  ‘That’s Martin. He’s feeding the fruit machine,’ Gary told him with just a brief glance across the room.

  ‘Oh right,’ Alan nodded, ‘fair enough.’

  ‘Does he win much?’ James grinned.

  ‘Just peanuts,' Alan suggested.

  Ignoring him, James continued with his questioning over the singles night.

  ‘But a singles night...I mean, look around,’ James gestured over his shoulder. ‘Everyone in here is single, desperate and alone. Singles night is just going to be like every other night in here.’

  ‘I’m having a disco, create a bit of atmosphere,’ Gary explained.

  ‘Gary,’ James said slowly, ‘there’s more atmosphere on the moon. Even with a disco, nothing’s going to change in here. That’s why we come here. We hate change.’

  ‘Can I put you and your lovely wife down for a couple tickets then?’

  James doubted that Gary really understood the meaning of singles night, paid for the drinks and went off to join Alan and Frankie.

  *

  ‘It’s getting worse. Every night she’s either drunk, moody or both.’

  Alan had been listening to James moaning about Amy for the previous twenty minutes. He had mentally zoned out several minutes earlier, nodding and saying ‘no way’ every time James paused for breath. Even Frankie had lost interest in what James had to say, and was looking around the room. Probably regretting that he had been resurrected, Alan thought to himself rather uncharitably.

  ‘And the other night she knocked out her personal trainer,’ James whined.

  That caught Alan’s attention. ‘She did what?’

  ‘She knocked out her personal trainer when she was sparring with him,’ James repeated.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ James said, as Alan started laughing. ‘It’s a nightmare living with her at the moment. And to be honest, I’m not sure what else I can do,’ James paused. ‘The singles night in here is becoming quite appealing.’

  Alan shrugged and finished off his beer, not quite sure what to say. He always thought James and Amy were a solid couple.

  Unperturbed by the silence, James pressed on. ‘What do you think’s going on? Has she said anything to you?’

  ‘Why do you think that Amy would confide in me?’ Alan replied. ‘Anyway I’d tell you if she said anything.’

  ‘What about Rosie? Has she spoken to her?’ James asked.

  ‘She doesn’t confide in me either.’

  ‘No, has Amy said anything to her?’

  ‘They met up for a drink a week or so ago, but Rosie never mentioned anything to me. She just said they had a laugh.’

  James stared at his glass deep in thought. ‘I know it sounds daft, but I did wonder if she’s having an affair,’ he admitted.

  ‘I agree,’ Alan said nodding.

  ‘I know, it’s ridiculous to think that Amy would have an affair. It’s not her style at all.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Alan said, ‘I mean I agree. I think she’s having an affair. That would explain her recent behaviour.’

  ‘What!’ James snapped. ‘You think she’s having an affair? How could you say that?’

  ‘Well, it wouldn’t surprise me. The moods, the drinking. They’re classic tell-tale signs,’ Alan helpfully pointed out.

  ‘Well done, son. That’s really going to stop him going on about her,’ Frankie groaned.

  ‘You weren’t supposed to agree with me,’ James said. ‘I gave you a get out clause. Tell me I’m being stupid, Amy’s not that type of girl. Anything to put my mind at rest.’

  ‘Sorry mate. I thought you wanted an honest view,’ Alan said apologetically.

  James stood up. ‘I’ll get another round in,’ he said and stomped off to the bar.

  ‘Nicely done,’ Frankie hissed at Alan. ’Tact and diplomacy clearly aren’t your strong points.’

  ‘I don’t get it. I was being honest. I thought that was what he wanted.’

  ‘It seems not only do you not understand women, you don’t get men either,’ Frankie sighed. ‘Listen, the big man needs help getting his marriage back on track. He doesn’t need to be pushed further into despair just because you think he wants your honest opinion.’

  ‘OK then, what do you suggest?’

  ‘Well, I think he needs to do something to make Amy happy. Treat her to a break, maybe a weekend away. See what takes her fancy. But he’s got to make an effort.’ Frankie paused as James re-joined them.

  ‘Go on then, son. Help him. He’s clearly looking for advice.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Alan said, glancing at Frankie for encouragement, as James placed a bottle of beer in front of him.

  ‘Oh yeah?’ James replied suspiciously.

  ‘What you ne
ed to do is make a gesture. Do something that Amy’s going to love, take her mind off whatever she’s got her mind on.’

  James stared back at his friend, deeply wary of the sudden interest and advice. ‘What do you suggest?’ he said after several more seconds.

  ‘Well, I thought you could surprise her. Do something’ Alan paused, struggling for the right words.

  ‘That rekindles your relationship,’ Frankie said helpfully.

  ‘…That rekindles your relationship,’ Alan repeated.

  James turned to the empty chair between them. ‘Any idea how I can do that… Frankie?’

  ‘Frankie’s a man of the world,’ Alan said, before adding, ‘actually, a man of many worlds. He’s going to have lots of good advice.’

  ‘OK’ James said, somewhat unconvincingly.

  ‘You need to think about how Amy’s been recently. I mean, is there anything she’s said, anything she has expressed an interest in, apart from alcohol that is. Is there one thing that has made her happy? Again apart from alcohol.’ Frankie said.

  Alan repeated Frankie’s words, leaving out the references to alcohol as he didn’t want to inflame an already sensitive issue.

  James sat back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling deep in thought. ‘Not really,’ he admitted. ‘She’s mainly moaned a lot. About me. About work. About my bagpipes…’

  ‘I’m sorry. Your what?’ Alan frowned.

  ‘My bagpipes. I give bagpipe lessons now.’

  ‘Bloody hell. It’s no wonder she’s turned to drink. I’m amazed she hasn’t stuck knitting needles in her ears,’ Alan grinned.

  ‘It’s all making sense now,’ Frankie said.

  ‘Look mate,’ Alan said, ‘if she’s having an affair, and I’m not saying she is, but if she is, you need to do better than the other guy. You need to be kinder, more loving, more considerate, and more affectionate.’

  ‘And better at the bagpipes,’ Frankie grinned.

  ‘I just don’t know what to do…’ James whined again.

  ‘Is there anything? Anything at all,’ Alan asked.

  ‘She’s hardly smiled at all recently,’ James paused, adding, ‘I suppose she quite liked the zoo.’

  ‘The zoo?’ Alan asked.

  ‘Yeah. She took her class to the zoo. She said it was OK. I think she got in to a bit of trouble, but she really liked the llamas. She thought they were really cute.’

  ‘That’s it,’ Alan exclaimed in triumph, ‘get her a llama.’

  ‘A what?’ James and Frankie said simultaneously.

  ‘A llama. You can get her a llama,’ Alan said, pleased with his eureka moment.

  ‘A llama…’ James repeated.

  ‘For heaven’s sake,’ Frankie cried out, ‘Take the girl to Paris for the weekend. Romance her. The last thing she needs is a bloody…’

  Ignoring Frankie, Alan said, ‘You’ve got no pets have you? A llama can be your family pet. It’s brilliant.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ James said hesitantly. ‘Anyway, where would I get a llama from? They’re not bats. You just can’t steal one from the zoo and hope no one notices.’

  ‘A weekend in Paris, man,’ Frankie blurted out, ‘A bloody weekend in Paris.’

  Continuing to ignore him, Alan said, ‘Haven’t you been listening to my routine? You can get them off of the internet.’

  ‘Amazon?’ James asked.

  ‘No, I think they come from Peru.’

  ‘I’m still not sure,’ James said, sharing his considerable doubts.

  ‘Think about it. A cold winter’s evening. You and Amy snuggled up on the sofa watching TV, the llama curled up in his basket at your feet.’

  ‘What are we watching?’ James asked.

  ‘What…why?’

  ‘Amy’s not going to sit through a documentary called ‘The fifty greatest gangster killings’ so it makes no difference if there’s a llama in the room or not.’ James explained, as if he was unearthing the only flaw in his friend’s advice.

  ‘Maybe if you weren’t watching documentaries about gangster killings and playing the bag pipes in the first place, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation,’ Alan told him.

  Frankie put his head in his hands and groaned. ‘Oh just get the bloody llama then.’

  ‘Even Frankie thinks it’s a brilliant idea,’ Alan lied.

  James downed the rest of his drink and said, ‘You know, I don’t think it’s such a bad idea after all. It’ll be a real addition to the family, and Amy did say she liked them. After this she’ll know that I listen to everything she says. Thanks guys,’ he sat back, pleased with himself.

  ‘No problem mate. I’m just glad I could help,’ Alan said, and leaned back in his chair looking smug.

  ‘Oh for f…’ Frankie began to say before he disappeared.

  Oblivious to Frankie’s departure, James asked, ‘so when should we order it?’

  ‘Come over to mine on Saturday afternoon. We’ll sort it out then.’

  James nodded. ‘Do me a favour mate. Don’t tell anyone about me and Amy. I don’t want anyone else knowing our business.’

  Alan shrugged. ‘Whatever.’

  ‘James!’

  Alan and James looked up, Albie, one of the bar staff, was standing over them.

  ‘Gary said he’s sorry to hear about you and Amy, and are you sure you wouldn’t like a ticket for the singles night?’

  ‘I’ll give it some thought,’ James said through gritted teeth.

  ‘OK. I’ll let him know,’ Albie said and returned to the bar.

  Alan fixed James with a stare. ‘I thought you said it was a secret.’

  ‘I might have mentioned it in passing,’ James conceded.

  ‘Another one?’ Alan offered, gesturing at the empty bottle in front of him, and without waiting for answer he got up and headed off to the bar.

  *

  ‘I’ll tell you what will cheer Amy up,’ Alan said, an hour and a few more drinks later.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Well,’ Alan took another mouthful, ‘Jayne was telling Rosie that the police are investigating Oneway’s death as a murder.’

  James stared back, glassy eyed. ‘Who?’

  ‘That property developer. The one Amy hated. Fell off his balcony, or so they thought. Now they’re not so sure.’ Alan told him.

  ‘Oh, him. She’s been so pissed since then, she probably wouldn’t even remember who he is,’ James mused.

  ‘Was,’ Alan corrected him.

  ‘Sorry,’ James said.

  ‘Don’t apologise. Like I care. He’s dead now anyway,’ Alan pointed out.

  James laughed, ‘Yeah…shame.’

  ‘The police are apparently looking for the Bat Woman,’ Alan sniggered.

  For what seemed like the hundredth time that evening James stared at Alan with a blank look on his face.

  ‘Seriously mate, Jayne says that they have called the prime suspect the Bat Woman.’

  ‘For real?’ James asked.

  ‘That’s what Rosie said. There must be a piece of evidence they found. I don’t imagine they are really looking for a woman in a lycra body suit.’

  ‘Well I certainly am,’ James sighed.

  Any further conversation was interrupted by a hand on James’ shoulder. He looked up and saw Albie again standing beside him.

  ‘What’s up Albie?’ James asked.

  ‘We’ve all been talking,’ Albie gestured towards the bar where Gary and a bar maid stood waving at them, ‘and Gary says that if Amy kicks you out, there’s a room here you’re welcome to.’

  James avoided Alan’s glare and said, ‘Thanks mate. If it comes to it I’ll let you know.’

  Albie patted James’ shoulder and wandered off. Alan opened his mouth to say something but stopped when he saw Albie return.

  ‘One thing though…don’t bring your bloody guitar.’

  *

  James stepped into the living room. The television was on, a late night political c
hat show was playing to a sleeping Amy, slumped on the sofa, an empty wine glass on the floor at her feet. Silently he picked up the glass and placed it on the coffee table. Reaching for the remote, he turned the television off. Amy stirred and made a strange snoring sound. When she didn’t wake up, James took a throw from a chair and tucked it up under her chin. Continuing his stealthy procession through the living room, he switched the light off and crept out of the living room and put his right foot on the bagpipes.

  *

  James placed a mug of coffee on the table in front of his bleary eyed wife. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said for the third time. ‘I didn’t see them there. I was too busy creeping around trying not to wake you.’

  ‘I wasn’t asleep,’ Amy replied.

  ‘Yes you were. You were snoring and dribbling.’

  ‘I don’t snore and I certainly don’t dribble,’ Amy insisted.

  James took a sip of his coffee. ‘If you say so,’ he said.

  ‘So did you have a good time tonight?’

  ‘Excellent, ta.’ James paused for a moment before continuing, ‘Alan was telling me that Jayne was telling Rosie that the police are treating Oneway’s death as murder.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Amy said, not quite sure that she had heard correctly.

  ‘You remember the property developer who wanted to pull the theatre down?’

  ‘Yes I remember that. Him,’ she snapped. ‘I’m just surprised that it’s a murder investigation now.’

  ‘Well,’ James said, ‘According to Jayne and Rosie and Alan the police have got a suspect. They’ve even got a name.’

  Amy gulped. Her mouth had gone very dry and she was pretty sure that it wasn’t connected to the wine that she had drunk earlier.

  ‘What name?’ she asked, terrified of the answer.

  ‘Apparently the police are looking for a woman they are calling the Bat Woman.’

  Amy suddenly felt sick.

  ‘Are you alright?’ James asked. ‘You’ve gone very grey.’

  ‘I’m feeling a bit ropey, that’s all,’ she said. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘There’s a singles night at the Cloven Hoof,’ James added, helpfully.

  ‘No. I mean anything else about the investigation?’

  ‘Not that he mentioned.’

  ‘I’m going to bed now,’ Amy said as she forced herself onto unsteady feet and tottered past James and out of the room.