by steve higgs
I set the book to one side as I cleared my plate, tidied up and went upstairs to get clean and change my clothing. While steam started to billow from the shower to fog the mirror, I inspected my body. I found that I constantly struggled with my weight. I could gain pounds just by thinking about eating a cheeseburger and had done exactly that through actually eating one (or two) on a break in Cornwall a month ago. My usual diet of vegetables and lean meat, pulses, wholegrains and lots of water kept me on the right path, but it had been a fight to lose the excess I had quickly gained when I decided to take a break and eat what I fancied.
I slapped my stomach and twisted in front of the mirror. It was far from perfect, but I could just about see my abs again through the thin layer of fat over the top of them and the love handles had gone. With a mental slap for my vanity I climbed into the shower.
Getting dressed in the bedroom, my phone beeped the arrival of a text. I leaned in to press a button. The text appeared on the screen. It was from Hilary, confirming the time we were meeting. I hadn’t seen him since the incident with the witch at my house two weeks ago. He had messaged twice to say he was not able to meet for a drink as we usually would on a Friday. Big Ben had commented that his wife had put him under house arrest, labelled him as pussy-whipped and suggested we might never see him again. I wondered if Big Ben had it right. He was coming tonight though and was attending the stag party tomorrow, so I would find time to ask him how things were going after the near break up with his wife.
I texted him a reply, finished getting dressed and headed downstairs. It was 1737hrs, time to drop the dogs off. For my own amusement, I jangled their collars and called them to the front door. As always, nothing happened. A causal guest might not even know I had dogs. I took two paces which brought me into the kitchen where I grabbed the handle of the fridge and yanked it open. I called them again but could already hear them moving as they tried desperately to untangle themselves and get off the sofa. I had watched them do this on many occasions. They would happily sleep next to, on top off or intertwined with each other, the shared body heat adding comfort to the reassurance that the other was nearby. When they then heard someone at the door, or, as in this instance, heard the fridge open, they exploded into motion but generally they each hindered the other in their struggle to get upright and moving.
Two seconds elapsed, and they arrived by my feet, skidding to a stop across the slate tile. ‘Hello, chaps.’ I said, grinning as I shut the fridge door again.
They knew they had been tricked and were less than pleased about it. I snagged them both before they could slink back to the sanctuary of the lounge though. With collars on we headed out the door, around the fence and up the path to Mrs Comerforth’s house. Once they saw where they were going their pace increased. They were predicting an evening of snoozing on her sofa instead of their own and couldn’t wait to get started.
The dogs strained to be released when they saw her shadow approach the frosted glass of her door, but I kept them in check until she had the door open.
‘Good evening, boys.’ She said in greeting, her eyes on them not me. ‘Are you ready for some Coronation Street?’ I doubted they cared whether she watched soap operas, documentaries or action films, their tails beat even harder now that she was addressing them.
‘Ready?’ I asked her.
‘Yes.’ She chuckled and mimed getting into a wrestler’s stance to deal with the threat of excited Dachshunds. They were gone a nanosecond after I unclipped their leads, accelerating from a standing start to maximum velocity before they reached her doorstep less than a yard ahead. Bull went to the right of her left leg, whipping between it and the doorframe, Dozer ran blindly through her skirt making the hem whoosh with his passage.
Mrs Comerforth was already turning to go, ‘I’ll pop them back in your house before I turn in, love.’
‘Thank you.’ I called after her. I got a final wave and the door was closed against the cold.
‘Pub o’clock then.’ I said to myself as I set off.
What about the Strippers? Tuesday, November 22nd 1830hrs
Basic, Big Ben and two of Jagjit’s four brothers were already in the pub when I arrived. Jagjit was the youngest of five boys and the only one yet to produce grandchildren for his parents. They had plenty from the older four boys and he said the pressure on him to meet this requirement seemed to have diminished in the recent couple of years. He was marrying a white girl, but I didn’t know, and wouldn’t ask, what that would mean in terms of his parent’s expectations.
All four brothers were coming to the stag do, however Rajesh and Vihann both worked in London and could not get back in time to meet this evening. I hadn’t enquired what they did although I believed they were both in banking or possibly real estate management. Jagjit had told me about them at some point but the information hadn’t stuck.
Big Ben saw me coming through the door, ‘Alright, maggot muncher?’ He asked in greeting. Always the charmer.
Arjun and Aditya waved from the bar where they were just being served. Arjun gesticulated that he would grab me a drink while he was at the bar.
‘Just a sparkling water, please. I have to drive later.’ He nodded and spoke to the Landlord.
‘Good evening, Ben, Basic.’ I approached the table they were sitting at. There were two other chaps there that I didn’t know. Jagjit had provided a list of persons to invite and indicated where he knew them from. Thus far all contact had been by email or phone as some of them had to travel and were staying overnight, hence the meeting this evening.
I introduced myself, but the chaps knew me already. As I wondered how, they introduced themselves as Kit Granger-Smith and Ross Jarrett. ‘We were in the office when you burst in and busted Mrs Barker.’ Ross said. They were friends of Jagjit from his job in Canary Wharf.
‘That was quite the show.’ Kit agreed. ‘Everyone still talks about it now.’
‘Is that good or bad?’ I asked.
‘Definitely good.’ Kit assured me. ‘You saved the firm a lot of trouble that day. It would have come out sooner or later that she was defrauding us.’
I wondered about that. Mrs Barker had done a pretty good job of framing her stepson for his grandfather’s murder. I had got lucky on that case. Had I missed a vital clue, she might have got away with it and never been caught. I thanked them anyway, both for their comments and for coming.
Arjun and Aditya took their seats. ‘Thanks.’ I said as Arjun handed me my water. ‘We are just waiting on Hilary.’ At that moment, the pub door opened behind us. Hilary came in grinning from ear to ear.
He said, ‘Evening, all.’ As he closed the door. ‘Sorry I’m late. I was… busy. I’ll just get a drink if that’s okay. I’ve worked up quite the thirst.’
Hilary was different. Big Ben saw it too. He was more confident, more buoyant, more everything perhaps.
At this time on a Wednesday evening we were the only people in the pub, the jukebox was silent, and Hilary would hear me from the bar eight feet away, so I started talking.
‘Chaps, thank you all for coming. Some of you have travelled farther than others of course, but we are all here to celebrate Jagjit passing from bachelorhood to the sanctity of marriage thus we have a duty to see him off in a suitable style.’
‘Strippers!’ Said Big Ben with some cheer and volume. The landlord looked up but didn’t comment.
I pressed on. ‘As you know, we are meeting at 1600hrs tomorrow afternoon at Brands Hatch for a driving experience. There will be cocktails served afterwards, not before, and there will be a race, so I suggest we all stay sober for that element. That will take us to 1800hrs.’
‘Strippers!’ Yelled Big Ben again.
‘Not strippers I’m afraid. There will be a coach waiting to take us to the Balmoral restaurant in Rochester.’ This drew a few whistles of appreciation. The Balmoral was a steak and lobster place that was fully booked for months. I had to bribe the Maître’ D heavily to get us a table at short notice. I
t would be worth it though. I had never eaten there but had read the reviews and knew it was frequented by local celebrities and the rich. It had appeared on several TV shows where top chefs struggled to find enough superlatives to match the location’s appeal.
‘Then strippers?’ asked Big Ben, his voice now starting to sound hopeful.
‘Yes, Big Ben. Then strippers.’ I replied exasperated.
‘Really?’ Thank goodness. I was starting to think you hadn’t arranged any.’
Around the table all the faces were looking at me. ‘Of course, I didn’t arrange any strippers, Ben. Strippers are the fantasy of teenage boys. When we have finished our dinner, there is the option of heading into Rochester where the mile-long High Street contains no less than twenty-seven pubs and bars. We shall toast Jagjit in a gentlemanly style.’
‘So, no strippers.’ Big Ben wanted to confirm.
‘No, Ben.’ Any ladies we meet will most likely be inclined to keep their clothes on.
‘Well, that sounds shit. Anyone else want to see some tits on our night out?’
There were some rumblings from around the table, but no one said, “Yes please”.
‘Honestly.’ Big Ben was shaking his head. ‘This is because you are worried I will just shag them all and leave you lot with nothing, isn’t it?’ His raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘I get it. I do. The likelihood of you pooftas getting any action when I am around is limited, but I’m not totally insensitive. On a chaps’ night out like this one, I would make sure there were some ladies along with lower expectations that would be happy to settle for one of you. I’ll make a call now, just give me a minute.’ He had his phone out already and was scrolling through his contacts. ‘Strippers coming right up.’
I slapped his phone away to send it skittering across the table. ‘No strippers.’
He eyed me incredulously. ‘Somebody’s tired.’ It was all in jest, of course, a bit of banter because he loved to annoy me.
I had to finish the point though, just in case he brought a bus load of scantily clad ladies along anyway. ‘Ben, what is the attraction of strippers? Please explain, because so far as I understand it, they take their clothes off, hopefully in a sensual manner that a lady might as an intro to a night of sex, then they dance around a bit, gyrating and such, which one might also sometimes benefit from if the lady is so inclined right before the whole sex thing gets underway. Then, once one’s motor is running at full speed and the old blood is pumping, they pick their clothes up and go home. The sex thing they have been getting you very much ready for doesn’t happen. Why would we want strippers?’
‘Because, you dung trumpet, we are men out doing manly things. Without some women around to marvel at our magnificence, we might as well turn in our heterosexual badges and be done with it. The strippers aren’t there for us to look at.’ He looked around the table making eye contact with everyone in turn. ‘Although, to be fair, we probably will. However, in my experience the ladies will spend more time looking at us.’
Big Ben liked to forget that the rest of us look like normal, average men, not like an Adonis.
‘I don’t want strippers.’ Said Hilary. ‘Not just because Anthea wouldn’t approve, which she very much wouldn’t, but mostly because like Tempest said, I find them pointless.’
‘Pointless?’ Asked Big Ben. ‘They are female perfection personified. They are the epitome of everything that attracts men to women.’
‘Exactly.’ Agreed Hilary. ‘That’s why I don’t want to see it. Real women don’t look like that, Ben. My wife is lovely but producing children has side effects. I am very content with what I have got. Most especially so recently.’ He added extra quietly. ‘And I don’t need to be reminded how she used to look a decade or more ago.’
Arjan chimed in with, ‘Hear, hear.’
‘I think that settles it, mate.’ Big Ben looked less than impressed. ‘No strippers.’ I concluded.
We went through the details of timing and transport to the venue. Hilary, Arjan and Aditya were all to collect others and would abstain from drinking until we’d arrived at the restaurant whereupon they would abandon their cars at my office, thus avoiding parking fees and we would all get taxis home when the drinking was done. There were twelve of us in total.
Jagjit, Tempest, Hilary, Basic, Big Ben, Arjan, Aditya, Rajesh, Vihann, Kit, Ross and a chap called Ian that I hadn’t met yet. Ian was a friend of Kit’s, an old school friend that was apparently a local fellow but short on friends. When I had first emailed the group, Kit said that Ian knew Jagjit and asked if he could come along. I wanted to say no but couldn’t come up with a reason to justify it and his inclusion made it an even dozen, a nice balanced number. So, he was coming as well. How he and Jagjit knew each other would become apparent tomorrow.
I got up and went to the bar calling, ‘My round.’ As I went. I had printed out an itinerary for the next day which provided all the relevant times and addresses, it was a belt and braces move because everyone had already joined a WhatsApp group and had a link to a cloud-based itinerary. It was also a bit nerdy, which Big Ben helpfully pointed out, but I had willingly accepted the burden of the task of best man and I was going to be good at it because I hated when people did things half-arsed.
The Landlord dutifully poured the drinks and I left him my card while I zeroed in on Hilary. He was already talking with Big Ben.
‘Good evening, Hilary. How is everything with you?’ I asked, shaking his hand cautiously. ‘How’s the shoulder?’
A week and a half ago his right shoulder had been dislocated in a life and death battle at my house. He had done it to himself but in doing so had saved both my life and Big Ben’s. We were both grateful, but it is not the sort of thing chaps talk about more than once. You thank the guy, then you move on, otherwise it becomes a big thing and is always there when you talk, hanging around in the background waiting for someone to bring it up.
‘It’s good actually. The doctors said the damage to my rotator cuff was minimal and I should expect to recover fully in eight to ten weeks.’
‘Good. That’s good.’ I replied. Then I got to the point I wanted to discuss. ‘You seem different. What’s going on?’
‘That’s what I said.’ Said Big Ben.
Hilary looked at him. ‘No, you didn’t, Ben. You said that I seem less totally gay than usual.’
That did sound more like something Big Ben would say. I brought Hilary’s attention back to me. ‘So, what is it then. You seem… deeply content.’ It was the best description I could come up with.
Hilary shrugged a sly shrug. ‘Let’s just say that things have changed at home. The little incident with the witch has altered the dynamic between Anthea and I for the better. I am feeling pretty good about life right now.’
Big Ben laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘You mean you’ve been smacking that ass. Good for you, buddy.’
Hilary pursed his lips. ‘I do wish you wouldn’t talk about my wife like that.’ Then he smiled and brightened. ‘But yes, smacking that ass is pretty much what has been happening. Anthea was very remorseful about kicking me out, about treating me badly and about underestimating me. Somehow I went from loser to hero in just one act of madness.’
‘Maybe that’s all it takes.’ I nodded my approval. ‘Good for you, man. Oh, there are drinks at the bar for you guys.’ The landlord was signalling for me to enter my pin number. ‘I’ll get them.’
We chatted for a while, I made sure I talked to everyone and asked Kit about his friend Ian. He said he wasn’t sure himself how Ian knew Jagjit, only that he did, and that Ian had a job that made meeting people and making friends a little tough. I empathised, it had been tough making friends in the army. Once I had been promoted several times, there were few peers in any of the environments I would find myself in and everyone I saw on a daily basis had to call me boss or sir and had no desire to hang out with me socially. Except for Big Ben that is.
I checked my watch to see that I would need
to get moving in a few minutes. Big Ben caught my eye from across the room, he was aware of the time too. We finished up our drinks, said a round of goodbyes and left the chaps with a promise to see them the next afternoon.
Cleaning Duties. Tuesday, November 22nd 2030hrs
Emptying the bins was a task that had to be completed every day and no one else wanted it at this time of year because it was dark and cold. Maybe in the summer months it was a more popular job, but for now we were assigned to it as the new boys and that suited us just fine despite the howling wind whipping around and between the buildings. The only other outdoor cleaning task was the road sweeper that went out each night to take care of discarded sweet wrappers, cigarette butts and any other detritus. That was driven by an old Ukrainian man who’s name I had heard but could neither say nor spell.
As the cleaners filed out, Big Ben and I went with them, collecting our supply of bags to refill the bins as we went.
Pasha had given us ninety minutes to get the job done. It was longer than we needed but not if we were going to sneak off to look for the map, it wasn’t. I had explained to Big Ben about the map when we met in the car park outside.
‘So, we just have to hope it is easy to find.’ Was the comment he had made upon hearing my second-hand description of where it should be located.
Now it was 2030hrs and we had dutifully pushed our wheelie bin through the Dockyard as far as the museum. There were no bins here, none outside anyway and there was a cleaning crew visible inside the museum. We could see them through the windows. They would be attending to the visitor areas though, not the back rooms where Big Ben and I were heading.
Glancing around to make sure we were not being observed, I slipped the key into the lock again, gripped the handle and gave the door a shove. The hinges squeaked once and then were silent. The door opened into a short corridor and a flight of stairs that ascended to the next floor. Like everything else in the Dockyard, the building was at least two-hundred-years old, so the staircase was wooden and would creak like mad if we attempted to ascend it.
