he says. ‘The buggers are everywhere. I’m never going to wear this lot again.’
‘Probably wise. I think that wrist chain is a symbol of The Gay Liberation Front, isn’t it? Funny, I always think they should be called The Gay Liberation Behind.’
But Sidney is too busy tearing his bracelet off to listen to me.
‘Let’s get out of here.’
‘Hang on a minute, Sid. Your friend might be over to buy you a drink in a minute.’ But my desire to stay is not only occasioned by the embarrassment I am causing Sid. At the far end of the room are a couple of fair looking birds, one of whom definitely has eyes for me. They are both on the posh side but I reckon that they are not above the thought of romantic dalliance. Stands to reason, doesn’t it? You don’t get birds in a boozer unless they know their way around. Dinner time, too. Down at the office the old man is taking his corned beef sandwiches out of his briefcase and they’re out on the town. It’s terrible, but it’s life.
‘Hang on a minute, Sid,’ I say, grabbing him by the arm. ‘I reckon we could be away there.’
Sid follows my eyes. ‘Yeah. Brings back memories, doesn’t it? This always has been a good place for pulling birds.’
For a moment I don’t know what he is on about and then I remember my embarrassing experience when I was trying to show Sid how I could charm chicks and be a successful window cleaner. That seems a long time ago now.
‘Where are you going?’ I say to him as he strains for the door.
‘I told you, I want to get out of this place.’
‘Don’t worry about him. He’ll soon back off if he sees you prefer birds.’
‘I’ve got to go shopping with Rosie this afternoon.’
‘Go another time. She’ll be all right without you.’ It is depressing to hear Sid going on like this. I can remember when he went ape if he walked past the underwear counter at Marks and Sparks.
‘I promised her.’
‘Break it.’
‘I can’t.’
Fortunately my desire for Sid’s presence diminishes strongly when the bird who showed signs of being able to resist me gets up and starts making as if she is about to leave.
‘Right. Piss off then,’ I tell Sid.
‘Aren’t you coming?’
‘I think I’ll stick around for a few minutes.’
‘Don’t you want to see Rosie?’
‘Very much, Sid. But she is my sister. Use a bit of common. I haven’t exactly been fêted with crumpet over the last three months. Just to see a bird is a new sensation.’
Sid shakes his head. ‘I’d have thought that gang bang at the nick would have done you for three years. I don’t know. In front of your own Mum and Dad, too.’
‘It wasn’t my fault, Sid. I was stoned, wasn’t I? We all were. It could have happened to anyone.’
‘Yeah. But when that bird climbed on the table–’
‘I’ve told you before, Sid. I don’t remember anything about it.’
My bird has got up now and looks as if she is about to follow her mate out of the pub. She gives me a real ‘come and get it’ look and goes into the ladies.
‘That bloke is smiling at you again,’ I lie.
‘Right, I’m off,’ says Sid, hurriedly. ‘You’re not coming, then?’
‘No, I’ll find my own way back. Give Dad a heart attack by telling him I’ve gone down the Labour.’
Sid pushes off and I take a quick butcher’s at myself in the mirror above the bar. My hair is a bit on the short side and I certainly have lost a lot of weight. Lean and hungry – very hungry. What am I going to say to the bird? A lot depends on whether I can catch her eye when she comes out of the khasi. If we have got a nice little smile going, then it doesn’t matter what I say. Hang on, here she comes.
The little darling slips out of the toilet and, without taking my eyes off her, I coolly raise the water jug to my lips and take a sip from it. I realise my mistake when the spout collides with my cakehole. Typical, isn’t it? Bleeding Cary Grant never has my luck. The bird does a double take and before I can get back on track some other geezer wanders over and starts chatting her up. Together they walk to the door and in the space of a few cruel seconds my plans seem doomed to failure. I am so distressed that I take a giant swig from the water jug when meaning to knock back my beer.
‘It tastes stronger than the piss you serve,’ I say to the barman who is giving me an old-fashioned look, and move swiftly out of the boozer. All is not lost because my bird has separated from the bloke she was with and is walking towards a sports car. An MGB, no less. Can’t be bad, can it? Only the best is good enough for Lea. Now what am I going to say to her? For a moment I cannot think of anything and then a giant wave of inspiration drenches me.
‘Excuse me,’ I say, belting to her side as her hand collides with the door handle. ‘I wonder if you could help me?’
She gazes into my face and I am conscious that she must have been away on holiday or under a sunray lamp. There are little flecks of white at the corner of her eyes.
‘What do you want?’
‘My mate has just gone off without his keys. I meant to give them back to him and I forgot. Do you think you could catch him up? He’s only been gone a couple of minutes.’
‘Won’t he come back when he finds he hasn’t got them?’
‘He’s going to Brighton, you see.’
‘Oh, dear. Well, you’d better get in, hadn’t you?’ She slips inside the car and stretches across to open the door and – by the cringe! I darn near cream my jeans. The mixture of tit and exposed thigh is powerful stuff to a man in my position.
‘Which way would he have gone?’
‘Across the common, I reckon.’ The MGB rips away, leaving behind a small smear of tyre rubber and I am thrown back into my bucket seat.
‘Do you live around here?’ asks my companion.
‘All my life!’ I say, trying to sound proud rather than defensive.
‘We’ve only just moved in. We used to have a flat in Surbiton but it was a bit far out. Do I turn right here?’
‘Left,’ I say. I am feeling a bit short on words because we have pulled up at some traffic lights and Sidney is in the car beside us.
‘Tell me when you see any sign of him,’ says my unsuspecting friend.
‘I will.’ I lean across behind her and give Sid a friendly wave. He does not say anything but just watches, open-mouthed, as our car roars away. It is a very satisfying moment and one
