Green Fees--Tales of Barndem Country Club

by Brian Alford

  To the mystery and amazement of almost everyone, Alf continued to act as benefactor to Henry’s drinking habits, allotting no blame to the man who had almost certainly cost him the case. It was believed that Alf even paid Henrys’ fine though Alf steadfastly denied it and no-one dared ask Henry. Whether this magnanimity was relief that he was still a member of Barndem or simply the pleasant and understanding nature of the man, was difficult to judge. On thing was certain, Robert Argylls’ previous aversion to Henry had turned into something far stronger and never another word was exchanged between the two men ever again.

  For Justice Rate the pleasure of events was short lived. It was not long before yet another missile hurtled into his garden this time breaking a pane of glass in his greenhouse. He could not wait for his next chance to take revenge.

  5

  Saki and chips

  Having taken the brave, some said foolhardy decision, to admit the Japanese to Barndem the main committee were finally forced to recognise that it had not gone as smoothly as they had hoped. The acrimony bordered on hostility and though the Japanese remained immune from the pettiness it was only a matter of time before even their calm demeanour would be broken by the antithesis of the Barndem members. A perverse logic held that as the Japanese did not understand English they would also not understand the feelings of hostility. Unpleasantness was allowed because it would not be understood. But ill-feeling is a universal language, only its particular manifestation and strength vary.

  In a desperate attempt to bring greater harmony between the long standing Barndem members and the new Japanese members a social evening was arranged at which there would be a cultural exchange with a view to gaining better mutual understanding. It was decided that a sit down dinner would be organised at which the two groups would swap food and drink. The Japanese would be served steak and kidney pie and chips, while the British would be served Sushi. There would also be a reversal of drinks with the Japanese drinking Scotch and the Barndem members drinking Saki.

  To the naive committee members it seemed like a great way of breaking down the considerable barriers. Unfortunately this was not how the members viewed the idea and the response was poor to say the least. A poster advertising the event and inviting volunteers remained stubbornly devoid of names. So it fell on the ever willing and diplomatic Wingco to drum up support for the venture. Which is where Henry, Vic, Bill and Bob came into the reckoning. Wingco was sure that Henry could be bought with a drink and the other three would inevitably follow out of a sense of duty and naked curiosity. In fact he was relying on the latter since the prospect of Henry on his own at such a gathering was too terrifying to contemplate. Once these names had appeared on the poster he was rightly convinced that others would follow.

  So it was that Wingco approached the four men enjoying an after game tipple. “Afternoon chaps. Can I interest you in a drink?”

  As Henry quickly emptied his glass Bill placed a warning hand on Henry’s arm. “Look out Henry he must be after something.”

  “Bill, you do me a great disservice. I was simply trying to be sociable.”

  Vic looked sceptical. “You’ll pardon me for saying Wingco, but you do not socialise. You are always working at something. But we could not be so rude as to refuse your friendly gesture eh Henry?”

  “Course not.” Henry gestured to steward Colin who was about to utter something rude to his adversary until his eyes spotted Wingco standing with the group. Wingco made a gesture indicating that he was to pay for the drinks and satisfied, Colin proceeded. Fortunately his job was made so much easier by the fact that regulars always drank the same thing. An order could therefore be made and filled by a simple gesture unless of course it was from Henry. In this case it was always pertinent to ascertain how the drinks would be paid for first.

  Though Henry was permitted a slate there was a limit and the slate generally ran at or near that limit. In effect Henry had a permanent interest free loan outstanding to the club. The trouble with this situation is that Henry was only interested in where the next drink was coming from, he had no interest whatsoever in the past. He remained detached from the debt, as if it belonged to someone else. Until of course a day of reckoning came.

  Drinks arrived and were passed around by Wingco. Vic accepted with his usual good grace but remained suspicious of the gesture. “Now then Wingco are you going to tell us what you want or must we guess?”

  “Well, its about this social evening…”

  Bill laughed. “What this cultural thing with the Japanese? Who’s bloody daft idea was that?”

  “Well, I must confess to having more than just a passing interest in the idea. Well, no it was mainly my idea. But the committee are all in favour of it.”

  “But you don’t like them either.”

  “That’s not true. Come on now Wingco you can tell us. You don’t like them do you?”

  “Its not a question of liking its more a question of living with reality. We really must make more of an effort to integrate and welcome them. Like it or not we do need the money.”

  Vic raised the index finger of his right hand in what was for him and unusually excited gesture. “Aha! So that’s the rub. We have to compromise ourselves for money.”

  Wingco was getting desperate. “It is free you know. The meal I mean.”

  Henry pricked up his ears. “Free? What about the booze?”

  Wingco pondered a while. Being blackmailed by Henry was not a pleasant experience but things were desperate. “Well, I think we can come to some arrangement about that. If you put your names down, I’ll ensure that you are well provided for.”

  Henry was convinced. “Sounds good to me. What’s the objection then chaps?”

  Vic and Bill looked at each other and simultaneously raised their eyes to the ceiling. Some things in life had an inevitability. This was one of them. The die was cast, Henry could smell free booze. There was little point even thinking about trying to argue.

  “That’s it Bill, Henry’s magic words: free booze.”

  Wingco felt strangely relieved but still a little uncertain as he looked at the day-dreaming Bob. “I take it that you’ll all be coming then?”

  Bob suddenly decided to come out of the half trance in which he had been dozing. “But we’ve got to drink Saki. Its made out of rice you know.”

  Henry waved a dismissive hand. “They can make it out of anything they like as long as its free Bob. Anyway I agree with Wingco.”

  Vic again looked sceptical. “You do? Agree with him about what in particular?”

  “We should be more friendly towards the Japanese. After all they are members you know.”

  The sceptical look had spread to Bill. “That’s not what you said the other day when one of them was sitting on your stool.”

  Bob strained for a few seconds to remember. “Oh yes, you called him a little….”

  Vic intervened. “Yes, thank-you Bob, we remember. It was fortunate his command of English was shaky.”

  Henry waved a dismissive hand. “A small misunder­standing. It all came out right in the end.”

  “Yes when he bought you a drink. You’ve no scruples have you? Insult a man and then scrounge a drink off him.”

  “It was only a small……”

  Wingco winced. “I do wish you would not keep using words like small and little Henry. It is a rather sensitive issue and a little, I mean a modicum of diplomacy and tact would be appreciated.”

  Bill was incredulous. “Come on Wingco, men on the moon yes, tact and diplomacy from Henry, impossible.”

  “Well, please try. In fact I make it a condition of supplying the drink Henry. I want you to promise me that you will be sociable.”

  Henry grunted in reply and Bill slapped him on the back. “Sort of tipple for tact you could say Henry.”

  “Don’t worry Wingco, I’ll be the soul of discretion.”

  “I’ll settle for you just being friendly Henry.”

  “Done. How about a drink to se
al the bargain?”

  “Thanks Henry I’ll have the same again.”

  Henry’s face dropped almost audibly causing a great deal of amusement to Bill. “I don’t think that’s quite what he had in mind Wingco. I think the general idea was for you to buy him a drink to seal the bargain. Eh Henry?”

  Wingco shook his head in resigned disbelief. “Oh, alI right. Colin, if you would be so kind. But not for me. I’ll see you gentlemen later. And don’t forget to put your names down. It might encourage a few more.”

  With a confused sense of relief and foreboding Wingco departed. It was at times like these that he wondered whether the job was worthwhile, especially as it was honorary. He longed to be a simple member and perhaps give someone else a hard time instead.

  It had been the original plan of the committee to mix the diners much as the two families are mixed at a wedding supper. After careful consideration it was decided that perhaps that would not be such a good idea. It would have laid them open to all kinds of arguments. They settled for the not inconsiderable achievement in getting the members to sit down to dine at all. Unfortunately this vacillation meant that no plan was devised and on the night a chaotic free-for-all ensued when the time came to sit down for the meal. After a long and undignified tussle the various tables were filled with either exclusively either Japanese or British with only one table being mixed. As luck would have it and to the horror of the watching Wingco, this was the table occupied by Vic, Bob, Bill and Henry.

  Despite this inauspicious start the meal finally got under way with a reluctant and miserable Henry viewing with envy the steak and kidney pie being consumed by the Japanese. Whereas his fare was typical Japanese food. Raw fish and strange vegetables did not seem food fit for a real man, certainly not a red blooded Englishman.

  “How can they eat this stuff all the time? No wonder they’re so small.”

  Bill placed an admonishing finger on his lip. “Shh, they are not small they are altitudinally challenged.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Well you’re always short of money so you are fiscally challenged. They are short of height so they are altitudinally challenged.”

  “I don’t know about that but I’m definitely challenged for something decent to eat.”

  Though the strange food was annoying enough, what really irked Henry was the Japanese sitting opposite who grinned at him constantly throughout the meal. Much as it irritated him the Japanese face was like a magnet and Henry found himself being constantly drawn to see whether the grin was still there. It seemed the more he looked the wider the grin became and eventually began to be accompanied by a nodding head. Finally and none too discretely Henry leant to his left where Bill was chasing something suspiciously round his plate. “What’s he grinning at?”

  “What’s who grinning at?”

  Henry nodded in the direction of the perpetrator. “Him, that bloody Cheshire cat.”

  “Perhaps he fancies you. Perhaps that pie has given him the taste for English beef and they don’t come beefier than you Henry.”

  “What? They don’t eat people do they?”

  “You said yourself they eat anything.” Bill had a final stab at the suspicious item on his plate which shot across the table and landed on the lap of the grinning Japanese. Picking the item up from his lap the man stood and leaning over the table placed it carefully and politely back onto Bill’s plate.

  Henry prodded Bill’s arm. “There you go, even they don’t want to eat this stuff.”

  “Oh come one, he was just being friendly. Here have another drink and calm down. I’ll treat you to pie and chips later if you’re still hungry.”

  Vic smiled as Henry finished yet another glass of Saki. “What do you think Henry?”

  “Not bad, but I prefer Scotch.” Henry drained his glass and reached for a refill. “What did you say this was made from Bob?”

  “Rice.”

  Startled Henry nearly dropped the delicate and colour­ful Saki bottle. “Rice? You mean as in rice pudding?”

  “U-huh.”

  Carefully Henry replaced the bottle on the table and looked at it with great suspicion. “Rice, what a thing to make drink out of, yuk!”

  “Its no worse than Scotch. Not when you think about it.”

  Henry glared in amazement at Bob. “What? How can you compare Saki and Scotch?”

  “Have you ever stopped to think about how Scotch is made? I mean where do they get the water from for example? It does not come from the tap. The best water comes from natural springs and streams in the hills.”

  “So?”

  “Well they do have a lot of sheep and other animals roaming around the hills and you know what they do…”

  “OK, OK, enough.”

  The conversation was amusing Bill. “Imagine that Henry. How many sheep do you think the Scotch has passed through before you drink it?”

  “Bugger off!”

  Bob laid a reassuring hand on Henrys’ shoulder. “But you don’t have to worry Henry. When they are making it the brew is well boiled for several days and anyway alcohol kills off almost everything. Scotch is quite sterile.”

  Bill was still enjoying Henrys’ discomfort. “All the same what about that thing sheep have, er,…..”

  Bob was quick to show his knowledge. “Liver fluke. Yes, and what about that other brain thing, scrappy or something, you know the sheep equivalent of mad cow disease.”

  Bill knowingly touched the side of his nose. “Ah, mad cow disease, that explains a lot about Henrys’ behaviour.”

  “Just bugger off, all of you.” By now Henry had raised his voice sufficiently to attract everyone’s attention and looking up, Henry found himself confronted by four puzzled Japanese faces sitting opposite.

  Vic attempted to defuse the agitated Henry and once again filled his glass with Saki. “Here have another Saki at least you know this has had nothing untoward done to it.” Vic cast a menacing look at Bob who unfortunately mistook this as a signal to continue.

  “Oh no. Just think about those rice paddy fields and the workers. I mean they all walk around in them sometimes up to their wastes. They work in them all day you know. They don’t have a break, they have to do everything in the fields.”

  Henry spluttered and spat his Saki over the table in front of him and stood up quickly. “I think I need to answer a call of nature.” With that he disappeared rapidly.

  Vic glared even more threateningly at Bob. “Are you trying to provoke him? We had enough trouble persuading him to come along to this social without you trying to antagonise him.”

  Bob looked hurt. “Sorry. But I…”

  Seeing the pained look Vic instantly regretted his words. “Its alright Bob. I’m sorry, I’m not really blaming you. Its just that I can’t stand living on a tinder box like this.” Vic nodded at the four Japanese opposite. “We’ve got to do something to get Henry talking to these guys here.”

  Bill nodded in agreement and thought deeply. Inspiration struck almost immediately and grabbing the bottle of Saki he sprang to his feet. As he offered each of the four Japanese a drink he pointed at the vacant chair where Henry had been sitting. “From our friend Henry.”

  The grinning Japanese who had been the source of annoyance to Henry nodded once again and beamed in reply, “Ah, Henly, good.”

  Just as Bill was returning to his seat Henry returned looking flustered. Sour faced and looking somewhat queezy he sat down again and surveyed the faces opposite. Again the grinning, nodding head was looking at him, only this time the man was brandishing a bottle of Scotch. This was too much for Henry and he fumed at the man. “Are you taking the bloody pee?”

  Vic grabbed Henry’s arm in an attempt to restrain him. “I think he’s offering you a drink Henry.”

  It was a miracle transformation. Within the blink of an eye Henry had became calm and the semblance of a smile appeared on his red face. “Oh well, why didn’t he say instead of just nodding like one of those damned
dogs in the back of a car?” Calling on the resort of any Englishman faced with having to communicate with a foreigner Henry began to gesture. He tried a thumbs-up sign and waved his hand around. Horrified Vic grabbed his hand and pushed it down to the table.

  “What the hell did you do that for?”

  “I’ve told you before about gesturing like that. It could mean something rude or insulting to them. Just pass your glass over and nod enthusiastically. You know, like one of those damned dogs in the back of a car.”

  With a shrug of his shoulders Henry handed his glass to the Japanese who proceeded to fill it to the brim. Henry’s face erupted into a broad grin, a sight rarely seen at Barndem. So rare was the sight that Bill was unsure as to whether it was a look of pleasure or whether Henry was in pain. As the Scotch rapidly disappeared down Henry’s throat it became apparent that the strange sight had in fact been the rarely spotted Munroe grin of pleasure, last seen when Colin had fallen down the cellar steps two years earlier. In the half light of the dining room the grin would have frightened any sober person but fortunately such a person was not to be found at that moment since the drink had flowed copiously all evening.

  With a loud sigh of satisfaction Henry thumped the empty glass onto the table. “Thank you my little friend. You’re a gentlemen, despite what anyone says about…”

  Vic interrupted loudly. “Henry! Remember your promise to Wingco.”

  “Wingco? Huh, stuff him! I’ve got a new friend now.” Henry placed a friendly arm roughly around the Japanese who waved the bottle once more. “Again Henly?”

  Henry pulled a face and looked quizzically at Bill. “What did he call me?”

  “Henly, I think.”

  Henry banged his fist on the table in front of him. “What the hell, he can call me whatever he likes. He’s my friend.”