by Mark Timlin
‘What’s her name?’
‘Sheila.’
‘What does she do?’
‘She’s a legal secretary.’
‘Useful in your line of work.’
‘He’s a pretty dodgy brief.’
‘I wouldn’t expect anything else.’
‘Thank you so much.’
‘Just kidding. Why don’t we make up a foursome?’
‘What a good idea,’ I said. But it wasn’t, and it wasn’t any of our faults.
‘Does he eat normal food, your Jerry?’ I asked.
‘Course he does. And he walks upright and his hands hardly drag on the floor at all.’
‘You know what I mean. He’s not a veggie or anything.’
‘I know what you mean, Dad. And no he’s not a veggie, or an eco-warrior or anything like that. He’s just a normal bloke. And he wants to see south London,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘Because I’ve told him so much about it.’
‘Hasn’t he ever been? You don’t need a passport you know, whatever people say.’
‘As a matter of fact I don’t think he has. Just passed through. You know what people from north London are like.’
I certainly did. ‘I certainly do,’ I said.
‘So can we? Visit the flesh pots of West Norwood I mean?’
‘I suppose.’
‘And you’ll bring Sheila.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Right. Saturday night.’
‘Whatever you say.’
‘Great. I’d better go. Love you, Dad.’
‘Love you, darling.’
And we both hung up.
11
I told Sheila about the call the next day. ‘You don’t mind do you?’ I asked.
‘Mind what?’
‘Coming along. Making up a foursome, as Judith so neatly put it.’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘If you don’t.’
‘Not in the least,’ I said. ‘I’d like you two to meet.’
‘Get her approval.’
‘I think it’s a bit late for all that, don’t you?’
‘If you say so.’
‘And besides, I think she’s just relieved I’ve got someone. That I don’t just sit at home at night dribbling my chocolate biscuits and Ovaltine down my pyjama jacket.’
‘Poor old you.’
‘And it’s her first proper boyfriend. It might be better to have someone else there.’
‘As a referee?’
‘If you like.’
‘To stop you tearing his throat out.’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘It wouldn’t be more obvious if you were armed with a trident and a net.’
‘Blimey. It’s not that I’m jealous…’
‘Not much.’
‘She’s all I’ve got left,’ I said. ‘Of a family,’ I added.
‘I’m glad you said that.’
‘And she’s so young.’
‘Old enough to get married.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘Nick. From what you’ve told me she’s a sensible girl.’
‘With no mother.’
‘That’s hardly your fault.’
‘Some people wouldn’t see it that way.’
‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself.’
‘OK.’
And we left it at that.
12
Of course the evening was a disaster like I said, but it wasn’t my fault for once. Unless the choice of venue had anything to do with it, which was my choice. Sheila and I had discovered a little Thai restaurant just off Streatham High Road. It didn’t look like much from the outside, more like a greasy spoon than anything else, but it was licensed and the food was great. It was run by a mom and pop team assisted by an apparently inexhaustible supply of young sons and daughters, nephews and nieces. It was tiny, the tables were formica topped and the cutlery didn’t match. In a way I suppose I was showing off to Jerry with a ‘J’, Highgate’s finest. ‘You want to slum it down south London way,’ I suppose I was saying, ‘then walk this way.’
And strangely enough, in a way it mirrored all that was to happen later that summer although at the time I had no way of knowing.
First of all the weather. It was pouring with rain that Saturday. It had poured all day and the forecast on the TV said that there was no sign of it stopping before morning.
Sheila came to my place and Judith and Jerry were going to pick us up in his car. According to the follow up call I’d had from my daughter he didn’t drink much. In a way that was reassuring, but in another it wasn’t. Humphrey Bogart said he never trusted a man who didn’t drink and smoke. But then the kid was only nineteen so there was plenty of time, and besides, things were different when Humphrey was around.
Then they were late and I had visions of a pile up on the Walworth Road, but Judith called on his mobile. The Escort had water in its carbs and they’d had to call the AA. Judith was all flustered when they arrived and showed it, and he was too, but tried to stay cool. I tried to stay cool too as we exchanged introductions. In fact he was quite a personable young man wearing chinos, a rugby shirt and leather jacket. Hair long, but not noticeably so, and a firm handshake. Judith looked beautiful in a plain grey dress and Sheila had chosen basic black with just a little make-up and she looked beautiful too. Me. I was in faded jeans, a blue button down Oxford cotton shirt and my only jacket: a grey Boss single breasted with side vents. I felt like a lecturer at a provincial polytechnic. All I needed was black horn rims and I’d’ve been perfect for the Michael Caine part in Educating Rita.
I offered drinks. I needed one but had been most abstemious all afternoon. The last thing I wanted to do when they turned up was to be pissed. Judith and Jerry had Coke, Sheila went for a gin and tonic and I had a beer. All very civilised.
‘Well I suppose we’d better make a move,’ I said when the glasses were empty.
‘Have you booked, Dad?’ asked Judith.
‘You don’t book where we’re going,’ I said mysteriously.
‘Little Chef?’ said Judith.
‘Not quite.’
It was still pouring out so I took a big golf umbrella when we went to the car, and sheltered the women. Blimey, but it’s strange thinking of Judith as a woman rather than a little girl. But by the look of her that evening she was all woman and make no mistake.
It was a short ride inside the misted up Escort to the High Road, but of course we had to park a quarter of a mile from the restaurant and I was glad of the brolly as we all four tried to huddle beneath it during the walk there from the motor.
The place was three-quarters full when we arrived and as we went inside we had to negotiate a large puddle of rainwater that had collected under the front door where it failed to reach the floor by about half an inch. We grabbed the last table for four just inside the small front window and the momma took my umbrella out to the back. She looked a little flustered and there was no sign of papa.
‘Where is he?’ I asked as she took our order for the starters, more Cokes and a bottle of white wine for Sheila and me.
‘Downstairs,’ she said with a grimace. ‘He’s not well.’
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘Nothing serious I hope.’
‘Too much rain,’ she said enigmatically, and left us.
Judith made a quizzical face at me and I shrugged in return.
I offered cigarettes but there were no takers so I desisted too. One of the daughters, or maybe it was a niece, brought prawn crackers, the soft drinks and the wine.
‘Interesting place,’ said Jerry when everyone had a full glass, but what he meant was ‘what a dump’.
I suddenly realised I’d made a mistake bringing us there, as the puddle inside the
door grew larger as the rain came down harder.
‘Homely,’ I said.
‘It’s one of our favourites,’ said Sheila defensively. ‘The food’s great.’
‘Dad always did have eclectic taste in restaurants,’ said Judith. I saw that she was getting the vibe from Jerry too. Heaven forbid she should turn into a little snob like he appeared to be.
The prawn crackers vanished post haste and Jerry made an approving face, which was something, and the rain coursed down the window, so that passing cars, headlights on, shimmied across the surface of the glass like neon ghosts.
We made small talk about Scotland and Judith’s choice of universities, which I hoped was going to be down south close to London, but that she hinted might be nearer Jerry in Aberdeen. How they met at a student party, which gave me nightmares of necking tabs of ‘E’, getting loved up and going at each other hammer and tongs. But as Judith had had some small experience of that some years before, I didn’t mention it, and then the starters came. It had taken an inordinately long time for them to arrive and the first bottle of wine was no more than a memory so I ordered more, although I caught a dirty look from Sheila as I did so, and I realised I’d drunk most of the first all by myself.
We dug into a selection of Thai spring rolls, ribs cooked in the speciality honey sauce, butterfly prawns and miniature pork dim sum.
‘These are delicious,’ said Jerry. ‘I must say this place is much better than it looks.’
You little prat, I thought.
Whilst we were eating, from beneath us where the kitchens were situated I could hear the sound of altercation.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Judith.
‘Don’t ask me,’ I replied, through a mouthful of prawn. ‘Sounds like the chef’s getting a bit excited.’
The sounds of argument got louder and I recognised the voice of the pop screaming in English.
‘Why don’t you go and see?’ asked Sheila.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I think their kitchen is sacrosanct, and besides there’s too many sharp objects down there.’
I’d meant it as a joke but suddenly the daughter or niece or whatever appeared in the doorway, white as a sheet, and started yelling in what I assumed to be Thai.
‘There’s something wrong, Dad,’ said Judith, with a worried look on her face that recalled her mother so exactly that it hurt.
The girl came running to our table. ‘Please help me,’ she begged. ‘Father. Downstairs.’
As I was standing, mom came through the door also and I saw that the front of her apron was bloodstained, and the joke about sharp edges suddenly wasn’t so funny.
‘Quick,’ she cried. ‘Call the police someone, and an ambulance.’
Jerry took out his mobile and dialled three nines and I went to momma and said, ‘What’s happening?’
She replied in her native tongue. ‘I don’t understand,’ I said, and went to the door that opened onto the stairs that led down to the basement. Poppa was coming up, his shirt front and hands also bloody from cuts in his fingers and palms that literally squirted blood.
‘Jesus,’ I said as he collapsed on the stairs. I went to him and when I got up close I could smell whisky so strongly that he might have been bathing in the stuff. So much for ‘too much rain’.
‘Leave him,’ said a woman’s voice from behind me. ‘I’m a doctor.’
A young woman from another party of four joined me and knelt beside the old man, who suddenly voided his bowels and the rich smell of faeces joined the stink of blood and whisky in a sickening stew.
I stepped over the old man and gingerly went downstairs to where the chef was standing in the kitchen, amidst pots and pans that were boiling over on the two industrial sized stoves against the far wall, waving a bloodstained knife in his right hand. To one side there was a cutting block upon which were strewn playing cards and a lot of cash. ‘Get away,’ he hissed, in heavily accented English.
Now how the hell did I get into this situation? I thought. When all I wanted was chicken noodles and duck in fruity sauce. ‘Don’t do anything daft,’ I said, for the want of anything better.
‘I’ll kill you.’
‘Why?’
‘You and that old man want to cheat me out of my money.’
The wages of sin, I thought, looking at the blood-spotted cash on the board. ‘No mate,’ I said. ‘We just want to get him to hospital and for you to put the knife down.’
He waved it in my direction and from above I heard the howl of sirens and heavy footsteps on the ceiling over my head. Reinforcements. Thank Christ for that.
‘Give it up, mate, the police are here,’ I said gently.
‘Police. I spit on your stinking police.’ And he did, if not on the coppers at least on the floor in front of me. There were more footsteps, this time on the stairs, and I saw a blue uniform out of the corner of my eye.
‘Don’t make life difficult,’ I continued, waving the copper back with one hand. ‘The old man’ll be alright. It’s just a few cuts. Give me the knife and you can save the dumplings.’
He looked at the food boiling over on the stove and I stepped forward. Bad mistake. He saw me coming and lunged with his knife hand so that the tip of the blade caught the sleeve of my jacket. I let him come, pulled him forward by his right arm and put on an arm lock, twisted viciously and the knife hit the deck point downward, quivering in the wood. ‘Hey,’ he yelled. ‘That hurts.’
‘Tough.’
The cop came in and I held the chef as he put on the cuffs. ‘That was rather silly, sir,’ said the constable.
‘I know. Heat of the moment.’
‘We’ll need a statement. Are you hurt?’ He indicated the tear in my sleeve with his eyes.
‘No, mate,’ I replied. ‘My family’s upstairs and they’re probably freaking out. I’m not going to press charges. He didn’t draw blood.’ And with that I ran up the stairs, past the old man who was being looked after by paramedics, and back into the restaurant proper where Sheila, Judith and Jerry were standing, looking worried. Through the water on the window I could see blue lights from the emergency vehicles flashing outside.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ I said.
‘Your arm,’ said Judith.’
‘It’s nothing. Didn’t even break the skin. Now come on, the cops want to talk to me, but I don’t want to talk to them.’
We opened the door and the rain was coming down like bullets. ‘Shit,’ I said, went back to the door leading to the stairs and saw my umbrella leaning against the wall where the old man was lying. ‘Sorry,’ I said to the ambulance crew, reached over and picked it up. ‘But it’s pissing down out there.’
Momma caught us as we were leaving, our order in her hand. ‘You didn’t pay,’ she said.
‘Next time, darling,’ I said as I ushered Sheila, Jerry and Judith out.
Christ, I couldn’t believe it. I took my life into my hands and she still wanted me to pay for the meal. And we hadn’t even got to the entrée.
We walked fast back to Jerry’s car and I saw that his hands were shaking as he drove us back to my place. I don’t mind admitting mine were shaking too. ‘Coming in for a nightcap?’ I asked when he stopped the car outside my door.
‘I don’t think so,’ he replied. ‘I’d better get Judith back.’
‘Don’t worry, Jerry,’ said my daughter. ‘Things always happen when Dad’s around.’
Sheila and I climbed out of the back of the car and Judith got out and gave me a hug. ‘I think it was when you went back for the umbrella that did it,’ she said. ‘See you, Dad.’
Sheila and I stood under the umbrella and watched as the tail lights of the Escort vanished into the gloom. ‘Another night to remember,’ she said drily, even though the rain was still thudding down around us.
13
Judith phoned me on
Sunday morning early. ‘Sorry about last night,’ I said. ‘Bit of a cock up in the catering department.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Jerry was a bit freaked at first, but I heard him on the phone last night to his room mate in Aberdeen. It’s all turning into a bit of a legend. You soaked in blood taking on a mad chef. Sort of South Park, if you know what I mean.’
I did but I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
‘I’m sure by the time we get back up it’ll be half a dozen knife crazed killers,’ she went on. ‘You’re quite a hero.’
‘A legend in my own dinner time. I was stupid. I should’ve left it to the police. Ruined my best jacket too.’
‘Never mind.’
‘Not much point is there?’
‘So what did you think of him?’ she asked, changing the subject. ‘Come on, tell the truth.’
I hesitated.
‘Come on, Dad.’
‘At first I thought he was a snobby little prat,’ I replied, after a few seconds. ‘But he handled himself well in the emergency. And you look like you get on, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.’
‘Well that’s something.’
‘How about Sheila?’ I asked.
‘She’s great,’ my daughter said without hesitation. ‘Far too good for you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Only kidding. I mean it. I’m glad you’ve found someone so nice. Hang on to her.’
‘I intend to. So when are you going back up to Scotland?’
‘This afternoon. It’s a long drive. We’ll stop off somewhere for the night.’
‘Single rooms?’
‘Dad,’ she said, with a warning in her voice.
‘Alright, I won’t ask.’
‘There’s a good boy.’
I felt like a hundred years old. ‘Well make sure he drives carefully,’ I said.
‘I will.’
‘Call me soon.’
‘Of course.’
And that was that. I smiled as I put the phone down. ‘A hero.’ If only they knew.
14
Now all that had happened in the spring time, which came early that year, at least for me. And all through the three or four months that followed I don’t think Sheila and I spent more than a few hours apart. I know we saw each other almost every day and I certainly never got tired of her company. We watched movies on video, ate out a lot, got drunk and high, went to the country and seaside again for weekends, laughed so much that sometimes we cried. And we fell more and more in love.
