Lunch On Lowestoft Pier

by Ken Blowers

  ‘She did, Sir. Being older, like. She could walk in any shop and buy you know, them.’

  ‘Indeed, supermarkets eh? Oh dear me, what is our society coming to?’

  ‘I, I really don’t know, Sir.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you do. Now, how often did these liaisons, take place?’

  ‘Every week, Sir.’

  ‘What? Every week, boy? Surely you exaggerate!’

  ‘Yes, Sir. I mean no, Sir. Er, it, it was, we did; it happened’

  ‘Come on, come on. Spit it out, Sir. Get it off your chest! ‘

  ‘Every, every Saturday night, Sir.’

  ‘Every Saturday? Surely not!’

  ‘Yes, Sir, soon after lights out.’

  ‘But, but, where? Where did this, depraved activity take place?’

  ‘In the School Chapel, Sir.’

  ‘What, really? Whatever will the Chaplain think! The poor man will probably want to get it re-consecrated. Why, why on earth the Chapel? Why, for goodness sake did you go there?’

  ‘Because, because it’s heated, Sir. The door is never locked.’

  ‘Ah, ha. How devilishly convenient for you. All too, too, convenient.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘You never stopped to think you might get caught? Hmmm? That you could get this young lady in serious trouble? Well?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I knew we, we, shouldn’t do it. But…’

  ‘No buts, me lad. You were a damn fool! I hope you can see that now, eh?’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘I hope so. I really do. So, how did it start? How did you get on to this evil slippery slope, then? Come on. Come on. No good holding back now. Best you get it all off your chest. Purge yourself of this sin and let us pray you may be forgiven, Sir.’

  ‘I started my meal late one day and so I was the last to finish. The others all left without me. So I stayed and I could see she looked a bit tired, so I offered to help her clear the tables. We sort of, got talking, like and she asked me if, if I’d ever done it.’

  ‘She never!’

  ‘She did, Sir.’

  ‘Never!’

  ‘Honest to God, Sir. But I said no. Not that I wasn’t interested. I said I just didn’t know how.’

  ‘I suppose you are going to tell me she volunteered to teach you, did she?’

  ‘Yes, Sir. She did. That’s how it started. She said I was a big enough boy for it.’

  ‘Really. Is that all it takes to lead the young astray today? Tell me, honestly, did you pay her any money for this, this service she was offering?’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘Ah! I thought so!’

  ‘Just a little, a very small amount now and again, to cover expenses, you know.’

  ‘Expenses? Is that what you call it?’

  ‘Those things, you know?’

  ‘From the supermarket?’

  ‘Yes. May I ask, Sir, if my parents have been notified?’

  ‘Your parents? No, no, not at this stage. This is just a preliminary chat, man to man, as it were. If it goes any further, then the parents must and will be told of course. I was hoping it wouldn’t be that bad. But we do seem to be heading that way, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I’m ashamed to have let them down, Sir and letting you and the School down too, of course. But, as I’ve heard said, a pretty girl can turn a chaps head. Cause him to do things he ought not to do. Knowing that, I should have been on guard, after all your instruction, personal guidance and that. But things just sort of got out of hand. It all happened so quickly.’

  ‘Yes, that’s the way these things happen, young fellow. It’s a shame you had to get caught and caught

  red-handed, as it where, by your very own Form Master. There’s just no running away from it. Once these things get set in motion there’s hardly any way to stop them. One simply cannot turn the clock back, you know.’

  ‘No, Sir. I know that. I’m very sorry; very sorry indeed, Sir.’

  ‘I should think so. I think you should know, young fellow that your Form Master was in near tears when he came to my rooms with the news of your transgression. I’ve never seen the poor man so upset. He really did think very highly of you.’

  The Headmaster rose to his feet and strode up and down his study in deep contemplation. Then he returned to his desk and opened a drawer. He removed a box and placed it on the desk. He slowly opened the box and looked at the object inside, a look of disdain on his face. He tilted the box towards Roger.

  ‘You know what this disgusting object is?’

  ‘Me, Sir? Yes, Sir.’

  ‘It is, or was, yours?’

  ‘Yes, Sir. It’s a Woodbine packet, Sir. With two fag ends, er, two partly smoked cigarettes in it.’

  ‘This packet and its contents, Sir, are obscene objects at Woodberry Hall and any other private school with an equal reputation for excellence in education, I should think. Smoking such an object, by any decent standards, could only be described as an indecent act. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘Woodbines? Woodbines? For heavens sake! It’s, it’s not only indecent it’s insulting to the School. If you really needed to try your hand at smoking why couldn’t you at least get yourself a half-decent cigar? That’s what the better-class boys do!’

  ‘When they’re caught, as they invariably are, their Form Masters then confiscate their illegal possessions, without need to trouble the Headmaster. Clever boys know such things. Why didn’t you? Where have we failed you? That’s what worries me more than anything. What will the School Board say when they hear about this, eh? Our boys, our boys smoking cheap Woodbines! What kind of message do you think that sends to our parents and prospective parents, eh? If it gets out, this sort of story will almost certainly be peddled all around the high-class boy’s schools and we shall be the laughing stock of the country. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if they start calling us Woodbine Hall!’ The Headmaster paused, to mop his brow with his handkerchief and to clean his glasses again.

  ‘Why do you think parents pay such high fees for their boys to come here, eh? Standards, Sir. High standards! That’s what they expect. That’s what we try to so hard to deliver! I won’t have you or any other boy trashing those high standards in such a flagrant fashion.’

  ‘No, Sir.’

  ‘Hmm, will they be after your head, or mine, do you think?’

  ‘I, I don’t know. I’m sorry, Sir.’

  ‘Being sorry will solve nothing. We are both in trouble here, me lad. What we have to do now, is be a bit cunning.’

  ‘Cunning, Sir?’

  ‘Yes, cunning, extremely cunning. A bit of a gamble too, if you like. There are certainly high stakes at risk here. A lot of reputations could be harmed if the full facts of the matter became common knowledge. Yes, indeed. I’m not about to let that happen if I can help it.’

  The Headmaster opened another draw in his desk and pulled out another box, opened it, and showed the contents to Roger.

  ‘This box, as you can see, contains a half-smoked cigar, right? One of mine, naturally.’

  ‘Yes, Sir, but..?’

  ‘No buts, young man. That is hardly an appropriate word here today. You are up to your ears in trouble. I’m in trouble. The School’s in trouble. So, to make you look just a little bit better in the eyes of your School and your School-mates, not to mention your parents; I intend to label the first box of Woodbines as evidence pertaining to Ms Clutch and the second box with the cigar as evidence pertaining to you. I will record that you made no move to hide the evidence but surrendered it to your Form Master, with apologies for being so damn

  naïve. In my opinion, no real harm has been done and as such, you are awarded the punishment of…, hmmm… confinement to the School grounds for the rest of term.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘No buts, young Sir. I’ve had quite eno
ugh of “buts”. I’ve had it up to my ears with your damn buts! Now just get the hell out of my sight before I change my mind. Go on, boy: about turn. Quick march. OUT! OUT! OUT!’

  Roger quickly marched out and as he passed through the door he could hear the Headmaster bellowing: ‘and don’t you dare, don’t you ever dare, bring those dreadful, cheap, Woodbines onto these premises again!’

 

  CHAPTER 8

  THE WALL

  Larry is me name. Leary Larry to some, that's what they call me, you see when I'm out with the boys.

  I sort of fancy myself as a bit of a comic; life and soul of the party and all that. Yes, I know, it's all a ploy to get a bit of attention for a few seconds, maybe for a few minutes if I'm lucky. But I need that. I really do. It's not good all the time. The other guys tend to score off me. By that I mean if they can make me look small it makes them look big, right? Know what I mean?

  Anyway, the good thing is the fool’s cap that I wear, tends to get me invited out quite a lot to wherever the action is. Tonight, down on the Gold Coast, it was all happening at Dano's Wine Bar. A great place for good food, good drink and lots of bad, bad, girls if you're lucky and I usually am. That's one of the perks of being the fool, you see, the girls tend to feel sorry for you. I love it!

  One of the toughest of the boys there tonight is a big part-time bouncer and full time thug, called Mad Mick. Anyway, I happened to notice a gorgeous girl called Judy, dancing and gyrating with another girl, Patty I think her name was. Both of them wearing very little and showing just about everything. Mind you, I didn't know Judy was Mad Mick's current girlfriend or things might well have been very different. Anyway, I say, somewhat foolishly in retrospect and maybe a tad over loud, ‘Cor, look at that Judy! Isn't she a cracker, I mean a real cracker? Yeah! Who wouldn't fancy a bit of that, eh?’ Burping rather loudly as I looked around, bemused and not noticing, well not immediately; just how suddenly it had all gone a bit quiet within our little group.

  Mad Mick, sitting directly opposite me, turns and looks at me like I'm a heap of you-know-what and like he can't believe what he's hearing. I've got the ear of everybody around me now. Centre stage I am, where I always want to be, right? Watching her, I say to one and all ‘is, is like being in Marks and Sparks at sale time. When they open them there doors, everything you see, you know, you just know is coming down. Ha, ha, ha.’

  But I don't leave it there. I take a handful of coins out of my pocket and stupidly continue; ‘And... and I think I've, I've got just about the right money here. Here now, ha, ha, ha.’

  I'm beaming like a bleeding lighthouse, thinking I'm such a very funny guy. But nobody laughs. Nobody even giggles. I wake up to the fact nobody dares. I can hardly believe it! Me and my stupid mouth.

  Mad Mick downs his beer, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then, without a word being said, smashed his beer glass on the edge of the table! You could hear everybody draw in breath in alarm and I sit up stiff out of surprise and then I find I'm absolutely frozen motionless with fear; as Mad Mick leans over the table and swipes the broken glass across me throat.

  It's all so unreal. To my mind it simply can't be happening. I must be drunk. I must have fallen asleep and I'm simply having a nightmare.

  But then I'm suddenly aware that my hands, which have drawn instinctively up to my chest, are now covered with the sticky warm blood pumping from my throat! I feel no pain. But I am weakening and then I'm falling... falling, I hit the floor on my face. Mad Mick kicks me in the guts and rolls me over on to my back.

  I'm stunned. I can't believe this is happening, happening to me! Me! I can't speak. I can't hear anything. I look up, even that takes real effort. The very last thing I ever see at the end of my worthless life is Mad Mick's big ugly face. As I lay there, too weak to even close my eyes, with the last drop of my blood pumping from my neck, I die. I die cursing Mad Mick with my very last breath.

  But that's not the end of the story. I expect you'd hope I'd say that. But if you expect me to explain the why's and wherefore's of life after death you are going to be disappointed because I don't understand it myself! For a start, there's no such thing as time when you're dead. I mean that's a worldly thing: summer time, winter time, overseas time. All that time business ends when you die. No days. No nights. No hours. No minutes. Just a never ending, everything.

  Now I have to say, I don't remember ascending, you know, to a higher place. But I do remember, I can still see it now. This immensely high wall and then I got this feeling I was, kinda on the wrong side of it. The outside, of something really big.

  I walked on and on and on, seemingly forever. Looking for a gate of some sort to get in through the big wall; but nothing, nothing like a gate of any kind. The more I struggled and couldn’t find the way in, the more I was determined to do so. Now don't ask me how long I was doing this because well, I think I've already covered that point. Time just didn’t exist. But eventually, surprise, surprise; I met a man coming the other way! Yes, he was a man alright though where he came from I had no idea. But he was kinda dark by skin and unshaven. It was at that point that I realised that I was unshaven too and I simply couldn’t believe how long my beard had grown! But looking at his beard and feeling mine I guess we had both not shaven for a least a week, maybe even more; that is, according to dear old earth time.

  We nodded and smiled weakly at one another. He seemed friendly enough. Wearily, almost instinctively, we both sat down on the rough ground, facing each other. ‘You speak English?’ I said enquiringly. The man shook his head. Disappointed by his response, I continued, indicating with my thumb and said ‘Big, big wall....’

  ‘Strewth! He replied. ‘Bloody big wall alright, mate!’ Sheepishly he pulled his head in, covered his mouth and looked around in mock shame. ‘Absolutely the biggest bloody wall I've ever seen in me flipping life, or perhaps I should say, in me past life.’ He paused for a moment and coughed the dust out of his mouth. ‘Me name’s, Blue.’

  ‘Oh no! No. No, don't tell me. This here....’ I waved a hand at the wall; ‘is the flaming wall around Paradise. And..., and it's set somewhere out in the middle of that damn awful, dried up, Australian desert!’

  ‘No. Noooo, mate. I don't think so. We’re not in Australia now. No, if we were, there would be a bloody great sign on the wall there saying: WELCOME – NO PARKING! All around would have been mined out

  years ago!’ He laughed and laughed until he almost choked himself. ‘What, what did we do wrong on earth to deserve this kind of treatment?’ He asked, still coughing. ‘Do you know?’

  ‘That's easy,’ I said. ‘A man killed me. Me! Yeah! Just for looking at his woman in a certain way; a certain way, that on reflection, I really shouldn't ‘ave done.’

  ‘Really? Gorn, you're kidding?’

  ‘No. No. Me name’s Larry, by the way. What about you? What happened? Same sort of thing, get done in over a woman, did you? Just like me?’

  ‘Me? A woman? Oh, no. No, I simply died thinking I was a better driver than I was. Simple as that, mate. It was a hard lesson to learn too. Mind you, most unfortunately, I killed a man, his wife and three children in the learning. Quite clearly I was in the wrong, so very, very, wrong. I think maybe that explains me being on the wrong side of the wall here, with you. It’s what they used to call ‘being beyond the pale’. Only in this case it’s beyond the bloody great wall.’

  ‘You think, then... there's a right and a wrong side to the wall, perhaps?’

  'Oh, yes. It's a big wall and in my view it's circular. Yeah. There's a definite curve in the wall, that way, see?’ he said, pointing. ‘It's enclosing a huge area. It could be Heaven, Paradise, or, you know; the other.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ I replied. ‘I can see it now.’ I got up and kicked the hard ground, ‘I don't reckon there’s any kind of future for us on this side of the wall anyway. Do y
ou?’

  ‘No, mate. Absolutely none!’

  ‘Nothing could possibly live long out here. So, what happens to us, then?’ I asked him.

  ‘We're already dead. So it can't get any worse, mate. Not really. But, I met another man back there’ he indicated with his thumb, ‘way back, who said we have to learn to forgive and love our enemies if we can, or at least put right what's wrong.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Only then will we find the gate in the bloody big wall.’

  ‘Just my flaming luck,’ I said, banging my fists on the wall. ‘Are you telling me, we've got to go back - down there and try and make amends?’