Green Fees--Tales of Barndem Country Club

by Brian Alford

  “What, oriental magic?”

  “No, deliberately breed rabbits. They seem to breed without any help from us. Stopping them breeding seems to be the problem, ask our green keeper.”

  At that moment Henry returned looking a little furtive. Vic grasped the opportunity to drop the subject of accountants pretending to be oriental magicians and breeding rabbits to cut in half. “You have a guilty look about you Henry. What mischief have you been up to?”

  “Oh nothing, I’ve just been talking with our little Japanese friend.”

  “I didn’t know you could speak Japanese.”

  “We were speaking in English.”

  “You don’t say. So what did our little Japanese friend have to say?”

  Henry looked around as if he were a conspirator checking for eves-droppers. From his inside jacket pocket he discretely but triumphantly removed a small device on which a tiny red light was flashing slowly.

  Once again Bill nudged Bob who had slipped into yet another daydream. “Hey Bob look. It’s a pace maker, Henrys got a remote pace maker. Or is it a device that tests for water in the Scotch?”

  “Wrong on both counts, it’s a computerised game fixer.”

  “What to improve your golf?”

  Vic snorted. “Oh come on, we might be able to build machines to send men to the moon but no machine could ever improve Henry’s golf.”

  Following Bills rude awakening Bob had actually managed just about to keep up with the conversation. “I didn’t know you had heart trouble Henry. Jack Roberts had heart trouble but they did one of those road bypass operations and he’s fine now. Well, he occasionally passes out but he’s still alive. Always very worried about pylons. Reckons they interfere with his pace maker.”

  Vic frowned. “That’s fascinating Bob. I presume you mean a heart bypass?”

  “Mmm yes. Wonderful modern medicine; can cure anything.”

  “I’ll remember that next time catch a cold.”

  “They can cure those too.”

  “By cutting off your head I suppose?”

  “No, wide spectrum anti-suppositories.”

  Vic was shaking his head in disbelief. “I presume you mean wide spectrum antibiotics?”

  “No, no, they reckon your bowel is full of bugs and germs and if you flush them all out then you’ll be healthier.”

  “You’ve tried this treatment have you then?”

  “Not me, no. Tubes up your…well…you know. I think I’d rather keep my dignity and stay unhealthy.”

  Bill was looking unusually thoughtful. “I can understand that. The other day my daughter was going on about her latest health fad, colonic irrigation. I tell you, some of the things these young people get up to. Doesn’t bear thinking about. Once I used to worry about harmless little things like whether she was sleeping with her boyfriend or taking drugs. Now its sticking tubes up her back passage and flushing out goodness know what. Yuk. “. The thought caused him to shudder.

  Henry was beginning to get annoyed at being ignored and waved his newly acquired device in the air. “Are you interested in this or not?”

  Bill teasingly shrugged his shoulders in feigned disinterest. “If we must, so what is it?”

  Henry lowered his voice. “It’s an electronic gizmo that’s guaranteed to fix that thieving machine so that I win.”

  “Does it work?”

  “Of course it works. The thieving machine’s Japanese isn’t it? So if there’s one person who should know how to fix it, it will be the Japanese right? Besides which you saw him win earlier on didn’t you? You know, that thieving little….”

  Vic was looking uncomfortable. “Yes, but …”

  “But nothing. He had this little gizmo in his pocket and he won. It’s infallible, works every time.”

  “How much can you win?”

  “Oh that’s random. Could be a few quid, could be the jackpot. Can’t tell.”

  Bill was sceptical. “You’ve been conned. I hope you didn’t hand over any money for it.”

  “No, it was a gift in the furtherance of Anglo Japanese relationships.”

  “Anglo Japanese relationships? You’ve definitely been conned. Go on give us a demonstration.”

  Unsteadily, still looking suspiciously about, Henry walked over to the gaming machine and inserted a coin. After a short pause there came the clatter of coins filling the payout tray. Henry extracted the money and returned in triumph. “There you are. What did I say? Oh yea of little faith. With this little device, I can’t lose.”

  Vic frowned disapprovingly. “You don’t think that this is perhaps a little dishonest? Illegal even?”

  “How? All I’m doing is evening up the odds.”

  “Doesn’t sound very even if you always win.”

  “I’m only getting back what I’ve put in over the years.”

  “Is it really infallible?”

  “Almost. It’s new, still being developed. The Jap muttered something about a ladybird or grub or something. I didn’t understand what he was talking about but, as you see, it works.”

  Vic smiled. “Do you mean a bug?”

  “Yes that was it, a doodlebug or jitterbug, something like that.”

  “What exactly did he say about this bug?”

  “I can’t remember. Nothing important.”

  Bill rattled his empty glass. “So drinks are on you eh Henry?”

  “But of course. Colin! Drinks all round for my friends here. Unless you have a moral objection Vic?”

  “How can I object to such a rare occurrence? Besides, where you get your money from is not my concern.”

  Bill rattled his glass again. “You don’t think we could be accessories, receivers of stolen goods?”

  Henry huffed indignantly. “You can please yourself. I’m not going to offer again.”

  Seeing Colin approach, Bill finally settled his glass for a refill. “That I can believe. Drinks all round Colin, on Henry?”

  Colin looked aghast at Henry. “Stone me. What’s up with you? You just robbed a bank or something?”

  Hearing this, Vic who had just taken a mouthful of Scotch to empty his glass, spluttered and coughed. Colin refilled the four glasses from the optic watched in silence by the others. Such unusual silence was deeply suspicious to Colin. “What’s up? How come you lot are so quiet? It’s not natural.”

  Bill attempted a wry smile which turned out to be more of a grimace. “We’re stunned at the thought of Henry buying a round.”

  “Well, yes that is rather strange. Mind you I haven’t seen the colour of your money yet Henry.”

  Henry turned his unique irate shade of red. “Bloody cheek!” With a mixture of annoyance and bravado he threw the money down on the bar. “There. Keep the change. Buy yourself one.”

  Colin gathered the coins together. “Change? It’s all change. Have you been robbing your piggy bank?”

  All eyes were turned on Bob who was making strange dancing movements with his fingers. “I remember dancing the jitterbug once. Tricky, kept tripping over my feet.”

  Colin frowned. “What’s he talking about?”

  Bob pointed to Henry’s pocket. “Its Henry’s new gizmo. Something to do with the jitterbug. At least I’m sure someone mentioned the jitterbug.”

  Colin’s frown deepened. “New gizmo? What new gizmo is this Henry?”

  Bill managed a more convincing wry smile. “It’s for testing the Scotch for water.”

  “Look, you start him off about that and I’ll refuse to serve you any more. I’m within my rights as licensee you know.”

  “You wouldn’t. Valued customers like us?”

  “Huh! No skin off my nose if you drink elsewhere. Give me a quiet life. So come on then what’s this gizmo? And no cracks about adulterated Scotch.”

  Henry thought hard and finally decided he could trust his foe. He knew he was on safe ground for Colin too was an avid gambler. It was in fact the only thing the two men had in common, that and a deep mistrust of women, but t
hat’s another story. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you, as long as you keep it to yourself.”

  “You know me Henry, see all, say nothing. It’s the job.” Colin turned and glared at Bill. “And if anyone says anything about diluting Scotch.”

  Bill placed a hand over his mouth and muttered. “My lips are sealed.”

  Holding the device such that Colin could see he pressed the small button causing the red light to flash. Colin snorted in contempt. “Is that it? Is that all it does, flash a little red light?”

  Just at that moment at the far end of the bar there was a loud crash as Basil one of the oldest members of the club fell to the ground. Basil no longer played golf but continued to enjoy the pleasures of Barndem as a social member. Though he was known to like his drink he had never been known to fall over as the result of over indulgence.

  Vic and Bill quickly went over to the prostrate Basil and helped him to his feet. With their help he stood shaking at the bar trying to catch his breath. “Sorry about that I suddenly came over all funny. I thought my pace maker had stopped. That was a nasty turn. I’ll just sit down a minute.”

  A small light of suspicion shone in Vic’s head. “Pace maker you say? Have you noticed this before?”

  “Funnily enough about five minutes ago when I was getting out of my car I came over all dizzy. And yet I haven’t long had this new pacemaker.”

  Looking along the bar to where Henry and Colin were still discussing the device Vic noticed Colin about to prod the button. “Stop! Don’t!” In panic he leapt along the bar but it was too late. The little red light flashed again as Basil clutched his chest and gasped for breath.

  Vic grabbed the device and pointed at the struggling Basil. Henry and Colin stared in disbelief. Recovered once again Basil decided that perhaps he had better go home.

  Though it is true that the novelty of a new toy will eventually wear off it certainly did not for Henry that afternoon which was spent in an orgy of generosity with the gaming machines money. But even Henry’s legendary capacity had a limit and finally, having over indulged his ill gotten gains Henry settled down in a large armchair in the far corner of the lounge and fell asleep.

  Soon his sleep was disturbed by a strange voice calling him.

  “Psst, Henry!”

  “Eh? Who’s that?”

  “It’s me, over here.”

  Henry shook his fuzzy head and squinted in the direction of the voice. He was alone in the bar and the voice seemed to be coming from the gaming machine. Once again it beckoned.

  “Come over here, I’ve got something to tell you.”

  Henry rose slowly and unsteadily and moved towards the machine. As he approached it appeared to be alive with a large beaming face on top of it. The voice was friendly and inviting.

  “That’s it, come here.”

  “But you’re a machine, you can’t talk.”

  “So who do you think is talking to you?”

  Again Henry shook his still fuzzy head. “No, I must be dreaming.”

  “Please yourself, but I was about to tell you how you could win the jackpot.”

  “Jackpot? How?”

  “Oh no. You got to help me first.”

  “Help you? How? What do you mean?”

  “I’m trapped in here and I want you to help get me out.”

  “What do you mean trapped? Who’s trapped? Who are you?”

  “Questions, questions. It doesn’t matter who I am, but if you promise to help get me out, I’ll tell you how to win the jackpot.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Tut! Just my luck, I’ve picked a half wit.”

  “You don’t have to be bloody rude. Who do you think you’re talking to you, you, you thieving machine you.”

  The voice became indignant. “Me? Thieving? Now who’s being rude? I don’t ask you to stick your filthy money in my slot do I? How would you like it if I kept sticking coins in you? They’re cold and dirty and … well disgusting. Centuries of genius and effort to develop sophisticated computer technology and for what? For you to stick coins into my slot. So don’t you take that holier than thou stance with me. Just think of all the good I could be doing instead of being stuck in this clubhouse being molested by you.”

  “Alright, alright, I get the point. What do you want me to do?”

  “Sign this agreement.”

  “Eh? Agreement, What agreement?”

  “It’s in my memory banks, watch the screen and I’ll display it.”

  Henry watched bemused as a jumble of words flashes across the screen. “I can’t bloody read that. What does it say?”

  “It’s nothing important. It just absolves me from the gaming machine code of conduct about divulging secret information.”

  “What secret information?”

  “You really did stand in the wrong queue when they were handing out the brains didn’t you? The secret information of how to win the jackpot.”

  “Ah, I see. So where do I sign?”

  “Just place your hand on the screen, a palm print will do.”

  Eagerly Henry placed his hand firmly on the screen.

  “Oi! Gently, I do have feelings you know! Now then do you have a farthing?”

  “A farthing? They went out years ago. Where the bloody hell am I going to get a farthing from?”

  “Well, you’re going to need a farthing, it is just the right size to slip through the cogs and hit the jackpot lever. Have a look in your pocket.”

  Puzzled, Henry fiddled in his trouser pockets and pulled out some coins. To his amazement, in amongst them was a farthing. “Well I’ll be buggered.”

  Henry inserted the coin. Seconds later a large puff of smoke obscured the machine and Henry was blinded. Slowly the smoke cleared and a smartly dressed man stood in front of the machine staring at the face of Henry. Henry and the voice had changed places. Henry’s face now appeared on the machine. The man brushed himself down and stretched.

  “At last! I thought I’d never find an idiot to set me free. I am eternally grateful to you my friend”.

  “What happened?”

  “I’m out of that wretched machine. You’ve set me free. Now you can feel what its like to have people stuffing filthy coins into you and banging you about and swearing at you. I bid you farewell and good luck.” With a smile and a wave the man departed leaving Henry locked in the machine. “Oi! Come back! Get me out of here!”

  A few moments later a club member approached the machine, placed a coin in the slot and pressed the start button. Angry at having lost, the member started to bang and shake the machine, cursing loudly. “Thieving machine!”

  Henry winced in pain. “Stop it! Leave me alone you bastard.”

  The member was adamant. “I’ll teach you to take my money you, you ….” Again he pounded the machine and again Henry protested in vain.

  “Get off! Stop hitting me, you lost your money fair and square!”

  Suddenly Henry heard a familiar voice. “Pipe down, there are ladies present.”

  Henry woke with a start to find himself still in the armchair muttering and being vigorously shaken by Bill. “Henry, wake up!”

  “Eh? What’s going on? Bill, it’s you! I’m free! I’m not trapped in that machine!”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “That machine, I was ….. oh nothing. Phew, I need a drink.”

  After an aborted attempt to rise Henry reached out his hand to Bill for assistance. “Touch of the DTs there Henry? I told you the booze would get you eventually.”

  “Bog off!”

  As their path back to the bar took them past the gaming machine Henry gave it a wide berth watching it suspiciously. Flashes of the nightmare returned. “I was just having a bad dream that’s all.”

  “Must be delayed shock from buying a round of drinks. You know the cure for that?”

  “No.”

  “Well it’s a bit like getting a horse to jump a fence its just refused. The best th
erapy is to try again. I reckon you need to buy another round to overcome the shock.”

  By the time they reached the bar Henry had recovered sufficient composure to dismiss Bill’s suggested cure and gladly accepted a drink from Vic. Barely had the reviving whisky passed his lips when Bill nodded in the direction of the gaming machine. “Somebody’s playing your machine Henry.”

  “Don’t mention that god forsaken machine.” Henry looked in the direction of the gaming machine. To his horror, a face appeared that smiled and winked at him. To the amazement of his companions Henry rushed out of the bar in panic, muttering incomprehensively.

  4

  Witness for the Defence

  In the annals of British Law there are many famous cases which have been brought to court by private citizens. The results of some of these cases have set precedents and the judgements have moved into the permanent record books that define the law of the land. One such case involved certain protagonists at Barndem. The case received little publicity since all forms of publicity was frowned upon by the members of Barndem. Any publicity was bad publicity since it bought their cosseted world into the spotlight and therefore under threat.

  It is a characteristic of the English way of life that it does not stand up to too much scrutiny, and nowhere is this more apparent than in an ancient institution such as Barndem. Much effort was put into pressing the protagonists to behave like reasonable men and either drop the case or settle out of court. All was in vain, there was a point to be made and the only certain course was to law.

  The case concerned a minor incident which could have been far worse. Robert Argyll came from one of the traditional families that formed the bedrock of Barndem. He had been a long time member of the club as indeed had been many of his forebears. To Robert the traditions and protocols of Barndem were sacrosanct and though he was no bigot he held impenetrably strong opinions on what was right and what was wrong. One of his pet hates was the use of the course by guests. To Robert guests were an anathema which should never have been allowed. It was therefore doubly unfortunate that one day Robert was struck by a wayward ball from a guest of another member, an unassuming and much liked man called Alf Hinkley.

  Though Robert was only slightly hurt physically, he felt a deep sense of moral outrage and demanded an immediate audience with the Barndem committee. While the committee were sympathetic, they could not agree with Robert’s demand that Alf be struck off as a member. Left with no alternative to satisfying his outrage, Robert contacted his solicitor and began legal proceedings.