“This is awkward Mr. Patel.”
“I do not understand, Norman, a well deserved bonus surely and money we need to loose after Paddies dealings. We will also now you see, be able to pay you an increased salary.”
“Well maybe, but.” Norman glanced at his salary cheque. “What is it Norman, we can only have one secret. No more.”
“I’m afraid I have to leave here, move on, something’s come up, an opportunity.”
“I understand that Norman, I arrived in England with only £5 you know.” “But I do have an idea, perhaps a solution for you Mr. Patel.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’m sure Doc would love to take over from me as well as continue to run the comedy. He would have Betsy to assist him, Patrick could become bar- manager as he wants more work and Doc’s former partner Nigel returns this week from a long holiday. Oh and Lenny could be your Head of Security, part-time of course. You see I would not be missed at all Mr. Patel.”
“I know, you may be indispensable but never irreplaceable. When will you want to leave?”
“My ship literally sails this Thursday.” “You’re now going on a holiday!”
“No, I wish. I’m going to work on a passenger cruiser”
“You call that work? I wish. You must arrange a meeting for me
Wednesday mid-day would be best. Please bring all those you mentioned, do they know?”
“Not quite yet, I’m working on it.”
“You guys really are comedians, please bring them all here Norman, no need for Lenny to attend though, just ask him to turn up for work Thursday night please.”
“Now I was going to feed you, but as you will be busy, we’ll conclude our business for today. I will however be pleased to entertain all of you on
Wednesday. A farewell lunch for you Norman. We will still meet up here first though, goodbye then.”
Mr. Patel placed all the takings and paperwork into his large briefcase. Norman escorted him to the door; one of his large minders was waiting to open the car door. Norman waved them off then poured a whisky to help him face the rest of the day. He was pleased to receive a call from Doc wanting news of Paddy and the future of the venue.
“The news is great for you Doc and the others” “All of us, what does that mean Zen.”
Norman lit a cigarette, “ Funny you should ask me that; I’m off mate. Time to move on. ”
“O.K. but tell me more.”
“I’m going off on the cruise ship with Chris and Eddie, part of the entertainment team.”
“O.K. tell me even more.”
“Well I have suggested to Mr. Patel that you take over as venue general manager, Betsy to assist you, Patrick bar manager and Nigel would fit in somewhere. So what do you think?”
“Aha, we’re only making plans for Nigel. When exactly do you sail, Norman pray tell.”
“Thursday.”
“Thursday, I see. Does Betsy know? Because I guess the rest of us will be cool with this news. Not that we won’t miss you.”
“I will tell her today.”
“Good luck, hide all the sharp knives first. I’ll talk to the others, call you tomorrow.”
“Just one thing, Mr. Patel wishes to meet us all Wednesday mid-day at the pub. Then take us all for the last supper; for me that is, at his restaurant.”
“O.K. the guys will be there, I’ll leave the job of getting Betsy there with you old sport.”
“Thanks, no problem as Rasta would say, see you Wednesday Doc.” Norman poured another scotch. Drunk was definitely the best way to handle Betsy. He took his jacket off relaxed and wandered round the Two
Buttocks. Many memories entered his mind, then mixed in with the scotch and were drowned. Now seated at the very table he had shared with Chris and Eddie the previous night he struggled to imagine confronting Betsy with his news. The scotch on optic was staring at him like a challenge that he rose to. Soon it was empty as was his cigarette pack. Without success he fumbled and even talked to the cigarette machine on his way out of the pub. The effect of his jabs had now kicked in, only instinct got him to the nearest mini-cab office. As a well-known regular he was accepted and well looked after. At the apartment he struggled with the front door, having never been this drunk in his life, he was relieved that Betsy was not at home as he was now hallucinating. He dived at the bed; it was late afternoon the apartment was dark enough for the escape he now needed.
Betsy returned to the apartment at 7 o’clock. The chiming clock she had inherited from her Grandmother struck out, this and the lights woke
Norman, his being fully clothed concerned Betsy. Norman stirred slowly, searching his jacket for a pack of cigarettes. Betsy threw him a pack.
“Coffee would be essential,” he said in a gruff voice staggering off to the toilet. On his return coffee was served. Betsy looked apprehensive. They sat at the dining table in front of the opened balcony doors.
“Phew, thanks I feel better,” said Norman sipping coffee, “I drank two pints of water in the bathroom, but I still needed this. Mr. Patel is a bad influence on me.”
“I doubt that dear, however I’m sure you have an explanation.”
“Well funny you should ask me that, I do and I don’t. I’m leaving the Two Buttocks. Taking a job with Eddie.”
“So you’ll be home late for dinner some nights, as Eddie works on a friggin cruise ship.”
“Could be, several months late actually.” “You’re dumping me Norman?”
“Not as such, look on it as promotion, if you like.”
“Promotion if I like, what the fuck does that mean Zen?”
“Well I have suggested to Mr. Patel you should become Assistant General Manager.”
“And what am I now?”
“Assistant Pub Manager and you help Doc out with the entertainment as well.”
“And who have you suggested to Mr. Patel he should make General Manager?”
“Well Doc of course.”
“Well Doc of course, of course! Anything else?”
“Yes, Nigel will also work with Doc and Patrick can manage the bar.” “I had a fucking nightmare like this once Norman, I ended up killing somebody. I hope you packed your things before you got round to giving me this news flash on my life.”
“I’ll do it after one more coffee; what should I tell Mr. Patel, do you want the job?”
“No! Fuck you Norman. Now it’s time for your news flash. I’ve just returned from our local estate agents. They will take over the letting and management of this very desirable apartment. From this weekend it will become a rented property and I can even leave my car here. So maybe I will go on a cruise!”
“You know something I don’t know you know?”
“Lots of things I would hope, but only two you need to know. One your homeless.”
“I guess this is Instant Karma, do carry on though.”
“Two, you know when I came home yesterday, Chris was here. He was feeling guilty and he told me he was trying to drag you off to sea, but he just knows how you feel about me. So, he offered me a job, on the ship. It’s great Norman, we don’t get to share a cabin but that makes it even spicier. What do you say? Please be happy.”
“Sure I am. My head has been spinning that’s why I got drunk today. This is just perfect; Chris is one hell of a guy. I owe that dog, big time. So I don’t have to pack?”
“Course not, well not yet. We sail Thursday, it’s nearly Tuesday. Let’s not waist time honey.” Betsy started to undress whilst she remained seated at the table sipping her coffee and smoking, now naked from the waist up. Norman was enjoying the moment as she stroked her breasts.
“There’s nothing on the tele tonight, how about an early night. We got two busy days if we got-to get out of this place, as the song goes.”
Norman got up and walked off to the shower room. On his return Betsy was in bed, she wrapped herself around him before his head hit the pillow as if trying to prove a point. They made love in an unmemorable way, Betsy
soon fell asleep. Norman got up and dressed, he returned to the table, pouring himself a large glass of red wine, lit a cigarette and settled down to take stock of his life. With Betsy now snoring he reached for the phone. “Chris, is that you man?”
“Yes, Norman how goes it?”
“You ask me how goes it, I’ve just found out that you have offered Betsy a job on the ship because I couldn’t be dragged away from her. How does it go Chris?”
“I just thought when it came to the crunch, she would talk you out of it. So I leant you a helping hand. She’s already got all the jabs man when she travelled the world last year. Norman this fucking ship is like the Titanic apart from it floats. It’s enormous man, you’d hardly ever see her, it’s like a City on the sea. Trust me, besides she’s a bit laddish Norman, she’d soon find someone else to shag, I wouldn’t mind, no only joking. Besides I got her a job as a food and beverage supervisor, she will have to work even harder than the morons she’s supervising. She will be exhausted Norman, when she’s off duty she’ll be sleeping. Now what do you say?”
“Try anything once I guess and she’s as good as let the apartment now anyway, I’ve given in my notice at the Two Buttocks, Doc’s accepted my job and I didn’t have these jabs for fun, my arm aches.”
“I’ll take that as a yes then Norman shall I? Now can I get back to watching porno on the wide screen please?”
“I take it Eddies parents are out then.” “Yeah Monday night, line dancing.”
“What’s line dancing? No-matter. Call me in the morning to confirm Thursday.”
“Sure thing, relax Norman, go and shag Betsy while she’s still got the energy.”
Norman sat back; relaxed, sighed and considered the red wine box, “3 litres aye, French suicide, what a way to go, it’s a challenge,” He poured another full glass, placed it on top of Betsy’s piano sat down and started to play. Having had many years of piano lessons as a child he had no problem bringing the instrument to life. The apartment was filled with music and emotion, Norman listened and watched his hands as they seemed to move on their own. “Oh fucking hell, I wish I could sing,” he shouted getting up and pouring another large red wine and lighting a cigarette before slumping into a sofa. How Betsy had ever slept through his concerto for two fingers he would never know; however he thought if a wine box was a more attractive
proposition than your girlfriend, anything was possible in life. His eyes blurred before he finished the drink and he fell into the deepest of sleep.
“What the fuck is that,” screamed Betsy as she heard Norman’s mobile Peer Gynt ring-tone. Norman rushed round the apartment in a state of shock, brought on by Betsy’s screams and was further confused by the darkness and his fully clothed state. He tracked down his phone then the answer button, “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered down the receiver.
“Fucking hell Norman, are you on the job or what, is Betsy underneath you as we speak? Is the scaffolding up mate?”
“Shush Chris, what is it man, when is it? Oh no.”
“Excuse me, you did say to phone you with times for Thursday yeah!” “Yes, O.K. what time is?”
“ Now! 8 o’clock, to keep it easy we meet at eight on Thursday at Southampton station.”
“We’ll be there, where ever Southampton is, go back to your porno movies now, chow.”
Betsy joined him on the sofa, “Let’s have an, us day. Our last full day here together.”
“Sure, you could take me on a magical mystery tour. But first I need a huge breakfast.”
“You’ll have a healthy breakfast, go and have a shower, I’ll cook.” Betsy cooked up scrambled eggs and beans served on brown toast her favourite, followed by white toast and thick cut marmalade. Norman
produced a pot of strong coffee. Betsy insisted he have an orange juice first. They enjoyed their meal together, finished off with the first shared cigarette of the day. They were closer than they had been; with no more work to consider at the Two Buttocks Norman felt his mind clear of life’s clutter. Mid morning they wandered off under a sunny London sky into the bitter cold streets that led to Tower Bridge. They crossed the Thames on Betsy’s planned tour. She took Norman onto the Docklands railway and down to Garden Island station. They then used the old wooden lift down to the tunnel walk under the Thames to Greenwich. Betsy broke their silence.
“We should have borrowed a couple of Doc’s kids, could have played happy families.”
“Or unhappy families, replied Norman.” “Better still.”
They boarded the Cutty Sark. “Some practice for Thursday Norman, I thought.”
“Hardly.”
Betsy soon got bored, dragging Norman off to the park and then into a favourite Italian Restaurant of hers. “Another meal already,” he asked.
“I know you found breakfast light, she replied, “They do great snacks here and red wine.” The pair spent nearly two hours on their snack and bottle of wine each. The restaurant was Quiet; the staff remembered Betsy from her spell of living in the area.
“Soon places like this will be lost forever,” announced Betsy. “What do you mean?”
“Anti smoking legislation Norman, will kill off moments like this.” She lit another cigarette, deliberately blowing the smoke in the direction of the non- smoking area. “This World is so fucked up now. We are allowed to buy cigarettes but not to smoke them, what the fuck are we supposed to do with them. You can now get a bigger fine for smoking one than for taking drugs. Perhaps that’s the answer stop smoking 99% Taxed cigarettes and start smoking 0% Taxed de-bush-man. I’ve paid to educate other peoples’ kids through smoking, I should have been in the New Years Honours List, not most wanted list. Then drinking, we have to support the Drinks Industry, Ernest, Katie, Lenny plus a million others, but we mustn’t get pissed up as we puke into the Chancellors brief case and behave badly or we get arrested.
It’s the same with fucking cars, the Government wants us to buy them to keep some trade agreement it’s made with some fucking country it’s scared of and then not use them. They even need us to buy petrol at 99% Tax for what, to fund wars to build the American Empire, so what are we suppose to use this petrol for, they keep telling us we should only use Pubic Transport no I don’t mean Public. Maybe we should pour our booze down the sink fill the empty bottles with petrol stick a fag in the top and sell them to football hooligans. So what will be next?
Right now we got the great Junk food debate, we need to support the Fast Food Industry, buying their food, but, yes, you got it, we mustn’t eat it, cause if we do and get fat it cost the Tax-Man to put us back together again, with the Tax money from our, ciggies, booze, petrol and junk-food.
So soon you’ll light up a fag whilst you’re pissed at a drive-in
McDonalds’ and the Police arrest you, up to your eyeballs in legal taxable past-times. Then you’ll get locked up in a cell you’re taxes are paying for anyway and the following morning be ordered to pay fucking Court Costs
for the privilege of getting fined. It’s just not a perfect World. Nigel doesn’t smoke, fucking nerd.”
“If that’s the end of your Political Broadcast on behalf of the Betsy Party, then let’s go.”
Betsy summoned the waiter, and then sent him packing with one of her many credit cards, more than Norman knew existed. The waiter returned for Betsy’s signature, “Please get us a cab to Tower Bridge.” He nodded.
“Glad you know a short cut home,” said Norman. “We’ve done enough fresh air today.”
Their cab driver tapped on the restaurant window, they shook hands with all the staff on the way out. Norman was finding the scenery back to the apartment a total contrast from the railway journey earlier. “Now you can see how the other half live in London Norman, not a pretty site,” sighed a cynical Betsy as they were driven through a vastly populated area “it’s a poverty trap.”
Their cab soon rolled over the cobble stone courtyard stopping just
outside their front door. Inside the apartment temperature was up in the high eighties. Betsy opened the balcony doors. Norman poured two large red wines. They took a sofa each to sink into, but Betsy was soon hunting through her video collection till she found one of her cherished tapes. She put it on the big screen, Norman was intrigued.
“It’s Roman Polanski’s Cul-de-sac,” announced Betsy, “look at that scene, where do think it’s filmed? The North East of England, would you believe, Lindisfarne. There, even I could meditate.”
They settled down for the film. Neither spoke till it finished. Norman exclaimed, “That was fucking great, got any more.”
“It’s time for my shagging now, you know what Zen says about sex?” He shook his head.
“No me neither, let’s find out. I’ll sort you out a film for later if you really want.”
She switched off the screen and in the winter darkened afternoon she undressed on her way to the shower. Norman followed, they washed each other, dried off slightly and got into bed. After a very memorable sexual encounter they both fell into an alcohol induced sleep. It was early evening before Betsy woke up Norman. She was hunting for another video for him to watch.
“Here’s a great one,” she shouted, “Orson Wells Mac Beth.” She put it on, providing a rather bizarre backdrop to their cosy evening in. They opened lots of packet snacks and another bottle of wine.
“I lent this tape to Doc once.” “Did he like it?”