Clouds Below the Mountains

by Vivienne Dockerty

  ***

  “Well, Jean, are the drinks on you tonight?” asked Harry Wilkinson, tongue in cheek as of course they were All Inclusive.

  “No, I’m saving my winnings for tomorrow. I’m going to treat Doreen and Milly to afternoon tea on the sea front.”

  Jean was aglow, as she had won the full house on Bingo which had been the equivalent of thirty eight pounds in sterling. She decided that some of it was for sharing, some was for spending and if there was any left, she’d put it in her Post Office savings bank at home. After they had been to the cafe, she was intent on buying a pair of sparkly sandals that she had seen in one of the sea front shops.

  “Then I shall go to the bar and stand you a glass of champagne,” Harry said, his normally sad looking eyes twinkling with good humour. “ What about you two ladies, would you like to join Jean and I in a toast?”

  ***

  A strangely dressed man in his late fifties, climbed onto the stage and Mikey introduced him to the audience, as Ronnie. He was wearing a black morning suit jacket over a white T’ shirt, a pair of tight blue denim jeans, grubby white trainers and a curly white wig. Not shaving for a few days had resulted in a grey stubble on his face and chin, which added to his unkempt appearance. He carried a cardboard box under his arm that probably held his stage props.

  “You’ll be wondering what I’ve got in this box?” was his opening gambit, delivered in a Liverpudlian accent with a hint of Irish. “ Nothing,” he laughed, showing the empty box to the audience, which brought a smile to the faces of the children, who had been allowed to stay up and watch. He proceeded to place the box carefully onto the table that had been provided and continued with a warmup.

  “Is anyone here from the U.K?”, he asked, knowing full well that there were only British staying at the Valia. Everyone shouted “yes.”

  “Anyone from Manchester?” “ Yes”, a few of the audience shouted.

  “I had a mate who lived in Manchester and he loved a game of golf. One morning he was on the golf course playing with his local vicar, he came to a hole where he had a three foot putt and unfortunately he missed.

  “Bugger, I missed,” he said to the vicar.

  “If you say that bad word again, God will send a bolt of lightening upon you,” said the vicar, annoyed with my mate’s language.

  “Sorry, Vicar,” said my mate and carried on with the game. He got to the next hole and this time he had a two foot putt, once again he missed, was annoyed again and said “bugger, missed”.

  Suddenly the heavens opened and a bolt of lightening came down, but it missed my mate and killed the vicar.

  And a voice from the heavens said, “ bugger, missed.”

  “Ohhhhh,” groaned the audience, not very impressed with the comedian’s first joke.

  “Moving swiftly on. A bobby on the beat stood in the street watching the world go by. Suddenly a man leading a penguin by a piece of string came along.”

  Here the comedian did a shuffle aping the penguin.

  “Hey,” said the policeman, “ what are you doing with that penguin?”

  “I’m taking it for a walk,” the man answered.

  “Well, take it to the zoo,” said the policeman.

  “Aye, Sir, I will,” said the man and continued on his way with the penguin.

  Next morning the policeman stood in the same place watching the world go by and the man and the penguin came along the street again.

  “Hey,” said the policeman, “ I thought I told you yesterday to take that penguin to the zoo?”

  “I did take him to the zoo,” said the man “ and he enjoyed himself so much, that I’m taking him to the circus today.”

  That joke went down very well, even the adults thought it amusing.

  “Anybody from Jersey?”, asked the man, hoping his next joke would bring even more appreciation from the audience. Nobody said they were.

  “The kiddies will like this one,” said Ronnie. “ There was once a Mummy potato who had three potato daughters. One day she told them that they had to go out and find themselves a husband each, because they couldn’t laze around at home. “ Make sure you bring back quality potatoes as your husbands,” she said, “ I don’t want any poor ones brought back home.”

  The daughters went off and a few days later, one of them came back, very excited with her new husband.

  “Mum,” she said, “ this is my husband, he’s a Jersey Royal.”

  “Well done”, said the mother, “ I hope your sisters do as well as you have.”

  The next day the second daughter came back with her new husband.

  “Mum,” she cried, “ haven’t I done well for myself, my husband is a King Edward?”

  The Mummy potato was very happy, because her two daughters had done so well.

  Next day the last daughter came in, very excited and smiling happily.

  “Mum,” she said, “ I’ve done really well, I’ve married Des Lynam!”

  The mother looked at her daughter in horror and said, “ but darling, he’s a common tater.”

  The grownups thought that joke was funny and there was a ripple of applause, Ronnie laboured on.

  “As you can tell I’m from Liverpool, anyone else from Liver bird city?” Only Mikey said he was.

  “I’m from a musical family meself, although I was a bus conductor before I decided to become a comedian. Anyway, as well as being musical a lot of my ancestors were sea going people. In fact my grandfather played the piano on the Titanic and he seemed to go down very well.”

  Another groan from the audience decided Ronnie to move swiftly on again. One more joke and he’d cut to the empty box.

  “I said before that I used to be a bus conductor. One day I was standing on the platform of my bus and it stopped for a lady, who had put her hand out.

  “Is this bus going to Speke?,” she asked, getting ready to board the bus with her shopping bags.

  “I said to her, “ well I’ve been on it since seven o’ clock this morning and it hasn’t spoken yet!”

  “Now back to the box. It’s an empty box, isn’t it audience?”

  ***

  “Oh, this is so boring,” groaned Anna to Lucy, who was sitting next to her at the table where Jenni and Tina also sat. “ I don’t understand what the man is saying half of the time.”

  “It’s just silly humour,” Lucy replied. “ Directed at an audience, that by now should be feeling quite merry and so are not expecting too much from him.”

  “Well, I don’t understand your English sense of humour,” she complained. “ What is funny about a lot of potatoes and they wouldn’t have a mother anyway?”

  “Let’s have another drink,” said Lucy. “ After a couple more bacardi and cokes, you’ll think he’s hilarious.”

  ***

  “I think I’ll come up to bed as well,” said Sonya, as Greg stood up after ten minutes of listening to the comedian’s act, with a sleeping Evan in his arms and a glazed look in his eyes.

  “I feel really tired, I think the heat got to me today.”

  “I suppose having to sit here full of tension, because of her over there, hasn’t helped either,” said Kate, wishing that Sonya had let her go over to Cheryl and give her a piece of her mind. “ It’s a shame we’re having to go, because I fancied a boogie after this fellow’s finished.”

  She said it rather peevishly, having spent most of the day just lounging about and wanted to work off some of her energy, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be expending her energy in bed with Greg.

  “Sorry, Mum, perhaps tomorrow night, when there’s that band that was on last Wednesday night. I saw one of the Animacion team putting up a poster advertising them before.”

  Kate got up reluctantly and followed Greg. She’d brought some Nytol tablets in her cosmetic bag, just in case of insomnia. Now she had reason to take them, even if she had been drinking alcohol.

  “Sonya, could I have a word?” asked Mikey, rushing up to their table as she gathered u
p her handbag and cardigan.

  “Oh, Mikey, is this about Tuesday, because I’m not sure I want to do it now?”

  She glanced over at Cheryl anxiously, who was also looking to be collecting kids and possessions with a view to returning to the bedrooms, and hoped that they wouldn’t meet by the lift because of Mikey detaining her.

  “Just coming, Mum,” she shouted, as Kate suddenly stopped in her tracks when she saw that Sonya wasn’t following her.

  “Perhaps you would like to walk me to our floor, Mikey and we could talk along the way?”

  Wouldn’t you know it, she thought, as Mikey put his hand under her arm to guide her through the chairs and tables to the door, there’s that ruddy Juan scowling at me from behind the bar. She turned to Mikey and smiled at him in gratitude, hoping that Juan would think that there was more to the young man’s presence than met the eye.

  ***

  “So, there was this bar tender who had a reputation for being able to squeeze every last drop out of a lemon,” said Ronnie, having given up on the empty box once he had pulled out the stuffed ferret, the bouquet of plastic flowers and the deck of cards.

  “His reputation grew and many people tried their hand at being able to do the same. He became so confident that no one else could squeeze every last bit of lemon juice, that he offered fifty pounds to anyone who could. One evening, a puny little man came in and said he would like to take up the bar tender’s challenge. The bar tender laughed and said “you need strong hands and muscles in your arms, to squeeze a lemon dry.”

  A crowd gathered, as the little man gripped the lemon in his right hand and squeezed and squeezed, until every last drop was taken from the lemon and surprisingly a few drops more. “ Well,” said the bar tender, astonished as he handed over the fifty pounds to the little victor.

  “How on earth did you manage that?”

  “I work for the Inland Revenue,” the little man said “ and I’m used to squeezing people dry.”

  ***

  “Well, thank goodness he finished on a high,” said Mavis, as the comedian was applauded and cheered on his way and the couple got ready to leave the Sunlight Bar. “Aye, he wasn’t that funny. I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting older, but things don’t tickle me like they used to do,” Fred replied, making sure he’d finished every last drop of his beer.

  “The best comedians I ever heard was when I used to stay with an old aunt on the Wirral, when I was a nipper. She used to take me to the Argylle Theatre in Birkenhead. I remember seeing an Irish fella called Jack Daly and do yer know I still remember one of his jokes.”

  “Tell me then.”

  “There was this Irish docker who fell into the River Mersey. There he was bellowing for help and no one around to get him out, so he shouted “ if someone doesn’t help me soon, I’ll have to let go of this anvil!” Then there was Norman Evans and Wilson, Keppel and Betty. Do yer remember they used to do the “Sand dance” and Norman Evans did “ Over the Garden Wall?” No comedian can match them nowadays, expect maybe Morcambe and Wise and Les Dawson.”

  “Eeeh, where have all the years gone, Fred? Come on, let’s get gone or else we’ll be hearing that discoteque music blaring.”

  ***

  “Right,” I think we’ll get off to bed now,” said Ray to his daughter and wife, after the comedian had left the stage. “Wasn’t much cop was he, I’ve heard better jokes around the brew table?”

  “Oh, Dad, do we have to go now?,” Joanne whined. “ Andy and Kevin are staying up for the disco and I told them you’d let me stay up as well.”

  “How old are these lads, Joanne?”, asked Ray. “ Sixteen, seventeen? You’re fourteen years old and do you think with your track record, I’m going to let you loose with the pair of them?”

  “But she did come back at nine- o’- clock when you asked her to,” said Tricia, who was always a pushover as far as her daughter was concerned.

  “Yes, only because I kept popping into the games room to make sure she was still there. You’ll come up with us now, lady and you back me up Tricia, or there’s going to be a row between us. If you hadn’t been so lax with her in the first place……”

  “O.K, I’m coming,” said Joanne with a scowl on her face.

  ***

  “I think it’s time we were off,” said Doreen, noticing that Jean kept nodding, with all the alcohol they had consumed that night.

  “Well, thanks for your company,” said Harry, jumping to his feet politely. “ May I walk part of the way with you all?”

  “If you want to Harry. Which floor is your bedroom on?” asked Doreen, thinking it would be rather nice to have a gentleman escort them.

  “The third floor. Unfortunately my room is rather small with it being just for one person or I would ask you all back for a nightcap.”

  “I think we’ve had enough for one night,” said Jean giggling, still euphoric after the champagne and her Bingo win.

  “Perhaps we could do something together tomorrow,” said Harry, remembering that Jean was going to treat her sister and cousin to afternoon tea. “ It seems a shame that you’re all going home on Tuesday, when I feel I’ve only just got to know you, as it were.”

  “Oh, come with us to the cafe in the afternoon, Harry,” Jean broke in, thinking it would be very pleasant to have him join them. “ I’ll treat you to a chocolate eclair and a coffee if you want.”

  “That’s jolly decent of you, Jean, thank you, I appreciate your invitation. What say I meet you all in the foyer around half past two?”

  ***

  Lucy sat at the table sipping the last of her vodka and tonic, watching Jenni and the two children’s rep’s dancing around to the disco music. She was feeling really tired, but couldn’t summon up the energy to walk across the courtyard to her apartment. When her mobile suddenly rang in her handbag, unusually for her, she ignored it. Work was finished for the day.

  “Anymore drinks here, Lucy?” asked Juan, coming up behind her very quietly.

  “Oh Juan,” she said, jumping a bit in surprise at his sudden appearance. “ Nothing for me, thanks, I’m off to bed when this one’s finished. Jenni, Anna, Tina, do you want Juan to get you more drinks?”

  The girls shouted their orders, then Lucy decided to see who had been trying to contact her. Her voice mail said nothing, so she put her mobile down on the table. It rang again, damn and blast it. She pressed the green button, “ Lucy speaking,” she said.

  “Hello, Lucy, I hope you don’t mind me ringing you so late, but I’ve been trying to summon up the courage to ring you since yesterday.”

  “Go on,” Lucy said, intrigued as it was a man’s voice, “ who am I speaking to?”

  “Well, you don’t know me, I got your number from one of the travel rep’s at the airport. My name is

  Adam Bradshaw and I’m a on the check-in desk for Fortuna Villas at the airport. I keep seeing you passing by when you’re on airport duty and something inside me keeps nagging for an introduction to you. You look a real nice person, so I thought I’d grasp the nettle, as it were and ask if we could meet up sometime?”

  “Hardly an apt expression, grasping the nettle, if you want a meeting with a nice person,” Lucy said dryly.

  “Sorry?” said Adam, sounding rather nervous.

  “I said……, oh it doesn’t matter. Well, I’m intrigued and of course rather flattered that you got in touch with me. Perhaps I’ll see you on Tuesday when I’m on airport duty again?”

  “Oh, oh I’ll look forward to that. I don’t suppose we could meet somewhere tomorrow, could we? Only it’s my day off and that’s why partially, I thought I would ring you so late? My digs are in Los Cristianos, but I could catch a bus to meet you anywhere you like.”

  “Sorry, Adam, it’s my day off as well, but I’ve things to do tomorrow. Let’s leave it until Tuesday when I come to the airport. We can have a look at each other and see if we suit.”

  “O.K, then,” he said sounding a bit dispirited, “but if
you change your mind about tomorrow will you give me a call? Here’s my mobile number.”

  Well, thought Lucy, after Adam had rung off, that was a bolt out of the blue. An admirer, her granny would have called him. She wondered which of the travel rep’s she had to thank or moan at, for putting him in touch with her?

  ***

  “Jenni,” said Miguel, as he walked beside her along the corridor to her bedroom. “ I don’t want to lose you from my life. Do you feel the same way about losing me?”

  “Yes, Miguel,” she said and came to a stop, as his question needed a serious answer. “ I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve had together and I know that I’ll miss you terribly when I get back home to the U.K.”

  Miguel put his hands on her shoulders, then put a finger under her chin so that they could stare into each others eyes. “ I want to tell you about my plan. It came to me suddenly in the night as I lay in bed dreaming about you.”

  “Oh, Miguel,” she breathed, “ you are so romantic.”

  “When you get home, I want you to telephone all the large hotels in Manchester and ask do they need an experienced silver service waiter and barman, then you will let me know where to come?

  Jenni, we can be together forever, we’ll never have to be parted again.”

  Chapter Thirteen.

  “Go away, I’m asleep,” cried Lucy, as an insistent knocking came into her fuddled senses the next morning. She opened one eye and peered at the small alarm clock she kept on the bedside table. It was ten past nine. Who on earth could be trying to get her out of bed, on the one day off she had to herself? She put her pillow over her head, but then there came a tapping on her window.

  “For heavens sake!” She crawled out of bed and opened the curtain slightly, conscious that she only had her panties on, as her nightie was in in the laundry bag ready to be washed.

  “Jenni!, she exclaimed, unsure whether to wave the girl away and tell her to come back later, or get up and let her in, as the girl was looking a bit frantic.

  “Wait a minute, I’ll put something on,” she said, wide awake now with an adrenaline rush and throwing on a crumpled yellow T’ shirt, that she grabbed as she passed by her washing, she stumbled on weary legs to the door.