Chapter Eighteen - The Boys' Night Out

Saturday 18th November

Terry had lived next door to his mate Stu for forty years.  They had been best mates for about thirty-nine and three-quarters of those, give or take a few weeks immediately after the Walkers moved in and a couple of fall-outs while Terry was fighting his benefit appeals.  Their friendship was refuelled with a weekly drink together, at least when health, time and money permitted.  When the Works' club had closed, the venue of choice became the Lord Nelson pub near the railway station, named for the locomotive not the admiral.  Like the pub itself, Terry and Stu had been through good times and bad.  Unlike their local, Terry joked, they had kept the same management over the years.  It was just as well their bosses didn't mind them having the odd night out.

'I'm surprised you didn't want to take your Linda somewhere to celebrate tonight, Stu,' Terry said.  'It must be a relief for both of you.'

'You know what she's like, mate.  Can't miss Strictly, can she?'  He took a long gulp of beer.  'Anyway, her brother and sister-in-law are coming round later.  I can't stand them.'

Terry knew that.  Stu's brother-in-law had caused no end of trouble for him by convincing him to invest in a double-glazing business that had gone pear-shaped.  It had taken Stu a long time to get back on his feet afterwards.  He had never forgiven Barry for talking him into jumping before he was pushed and costing him a proper redundancy pay-out when the Works had closed.

'Fancy inviting them round when you were expecting to find out about...'  Even though his mate had got the all-clear, Terry still didn't like to use the word cancer. It was almost as if he was afraid of jinxing him.  'You're definitely alright, though?'

'Well, I haven't got cancer,' Stu said bluntly.  

'That's good, isn't it?' Terry checked.  'That's what you've been worrying about.'

'I'm still not right, mate.  I've got emphysema.  That's bad too.'

'That's what I've got,' said Terry.  'It's not great.  It helps if you give the fags up.'

'I haven't smoked for years,' said Stu.  'Well, not properly.  Not since they banned it in pubs.  Remember what this place used to be like?'

'You could hardly see across the room,' Terry recalled.  'Do you remember when I whistled at what I thought was a girl with long blond hair, and it turned out to be a young bloke?'

'Do I?  You were lucky not to get your nose broken,' Stu laughed.  'That must have been soon after we started coming here.  Of course these days, you're in trouble even if it is a bird you're whistling at.  Modern women don't know how to take compliments, do they?  I bet if I whistled at that good-looking girl over there, she'd report me to the police.'

Terry followed his friend's line of sight.

'If she didn't, I would.  That's our Shells, my granddaughter!'

'No way!'  Stu was mortified.  'I didn't recognise her, mate.  I though she was twenty-odd, made up like that.  What's she doing in here, and dressed like that?  I bet her mother doesn't know.'

'I reckon she does.  She's sitting next to her.'

'I thought that was her sister!'  Stu squinted past the partition into the lounge bar.  'What's going on through there?'

'I forgot,' Terry said.  'Our Shane's band are on tonight.'

'Band?'  Stu swore.  'I remember when this used to be a proper old-fashioned boozer, where you could have a quiet pint,..'

'If no-one glassed you or the police didn't turn up to bust the druggies in the bogs.'

'You can mock, Terry, but I've said it before.  If she's not careful, that Marie's going to ruin...'

'Ruin what, Stu?'

A mountainous figure blotted out the light from the stained glass light fitting as it leaned over to pick up Stu's empty glass.

'Ruin all the competing pubs for miles around, Wayne!' said Stu, immediately recognising the owner's husband.  'Terry says she's got a band in tonight.  She spoils us, doesn't she?'

'It's a benefit gig,' Wayne Reynold's explained.  'Didn't Terry tell you?'

'I forgot.'

'Forgot!'  The big man shook his head disapprovingly and took their empties away.

'What's it for?' asked Stu.

'Our place,' said Terry.  'Where Lyn and I do our volunteering.  They want to open up at night, so the homeless have somewhere to crash out.  They need money for extra electric, hot drinks, blankets and breakfasts, and extra insurance.'

'I wouldn't have thought old Wayne was a bleeding heart about stuff like that.'

'You'd be surprised, mate.  He gave us a load of blankets last year, after Big Sally's gang came in with some camping mattresses.'

'Aren't her lot doing something across the road from the café?'

'Yeah. They're doing up the old shops and getting the flats above fit to let out.'  Terry said.  'Lyn says the Housing Association need some small homes for single people and couples.  It's that Bedroom Tax thing.'

Stu grunted.  'We had a dose of that when I was out of work,' he said.  'I thought we were going to get chucked out at one point.'  He looked through to the lounge again.  'I might chuck a few quid in, if they aren't shit.  What do they play?'

'Drums and a couple of guitars, I think.'

'No, mate.  What sort of music?  Rock 'n' roll?  Country?  Blues?'

'They're a rock band,' said Terry.  

'Noisy?'

'Pretty noisy.  And political.'

'The regulars won't like that, will they?'

'Some of them will,' said Terry.  'Looks who's here.'

A very tall, sturdy woman with long red hair had just come in, and was soon joined at the bar by a dark haired young man.

'Is that her husband?' asked Stu.  'He only looks like a nipper.'

'He is only a nipper.  He's twenty-five.'

'He doesn't look that.  Makes you wonder what a big, self-sufficient girl like Sally sees in him.  You'd have expected her to do better, even though she's not all that pretty.'

'You watch what you say about that young lady, Stu.  I owe her my liberty!'  

That might have been a slight exaggeration by Terry, although Sally Archer's part in Terry's first appeal victory had been crucial.

'Don't run her other half down either,' he added.  'He's a clever bloke.  That weird house he designed for old Wayne was going to be on one of those TV programmes. Amazing Designs or whatever they call it '

'When?' asked Stu.  'I wouldn't mind seeing that.'

'I said was, mate.  I don't know exactly what happened but, according Tom, Sally's father-in-law, there was some kind of row and old Wayne did a Jeremy Clarkson on the producer.  That was the end of that, wasn't it?  Big Sally wasn't happy, as you can imagine, because young Daniel could really have done with some good publicity, what with him trying to set up as an architect.  Old Wayne's doing his best to make it up to him and hires him to do the plans for some of his buildings, but it's not like being on telly, is it?'

‘I suppose not, mate,’ said Stu.  ‘Still, having a bloke like Wayne Reynolds owing you a favour could come in handy, couldn't it?’

Stu missed whatever Terry said in reply due to an ear-splitting squeal of feedback from the other bar.

'If they keep that up, I'm off down the Engineers Arms,' he said.

Terry didn't comment.  The band started sound checking, rattling the drum kit and twanging out a few chords from their guitars.

'I don't reckon this is going to be my cup of tea,' Stu decided.  'The beer's cheaper at the Engineers and...'  He stopped.  'They might be okay, though.'

Terry wondered what had prompted the abrupt change of heart, until he saw that the latest arrivals for the gig were Tom Appleby and his wife, Hilary Carrington, done up for a night out and showing a tidy bit of cleavage.  Old Stu had always fancied Hilary.  

'We ought to go through, or the good seats will all have gone,' said Stuart,  He picked up his pint.

Terry decided to wind him up.  'It'll be too loud through there.  We can hear them from out here and still talk.'

'Your grandson won't be very impressed if he doesn't see you in there supporting him.'  Stu stood up.  'Come on, mate!'

Terry stayed where he was.  'He's got all his mates in there listening, and probably girls who fancy him.  He doesn't want an old fart like me cramping his style.'

'His mum's watching.  That's not cool either.'

'You're not bothered about the music, Stu.  I know you.  You just want to get an eyeful of old Hilary's...'  Terry checked himself as a familiar figure came past.  'Tom!  Hello mate!  We were just coming through to see the band.  This my neighbour, Stu Grant.'

'We've met.'  

Terry thought the Yorkshireman looked a good deal less friendly than usual.

'That's right, you have.'  In this very pub, when Stu had been hitting on Hilary, if he remembered correctly.  'Can I get you a drink?  And would Hilary like anything?  She's looking lovely, as always.

'Spending your back-pay then. Terry?' asked Tom.

Terry didn't know what he meant.

'Hilary saw something in the paper about people who swapped from Incapacity Benefit to ESA being underpaid, for years,' Tom said.  'It's not clear exactly what the problem was.  We'll have to see if affects you at all, won't we?'

'In that case, mate, the drinks are definitely on me!'

'I couldn't possibly let you, Terry.'  Tom said.  'Apart from anything else, Hilary's asked for something a little stronger than usual.'

'Not baby news from the newlyweds, is it?' Terry asked. seeing Sally and Daniel talking to Hilary.

'Nothing quite so momentous, though I wouldn't be too surprised if we had that to contend with before too long.  We've got a moving date.  The work's all finished on the cottage and we can move in whenever it suits us.  We might aim for this side of Christmas.  Quite where we're going to put everything we don't want to leave behind, I'm not sure, but there is a garage.'

'What's happening to your old place?'  Terry seemed to remember Lyn telling him that Hilary had a fancy house out towards Winchester.  'I suppose they're knocking it down to build a load more.'

'Nothing of the sort,' Tom insisted.  'Vaughan got the local Victorian Society interested and listed it some while ago.  It's being taken on as a going concern by a couple of lads in the hotel and catering business.  It was starting to get a bit much for us, so we thought we'd quit while we were on top.  It'll allow Hilary to go properly part-time next year, if she wants to.'

'Not thinking of retiring, is she?'

'I wouldn't use the R-word near her, if I were you,' Tom warned.  'She's a WASPI woman.'

'She's certainly dished out some stinging comments to me in the past!' Terry joked.

'That's as in Women Against State Pension Inequality,' Tom explained.  'It's a campaign.'

'How's that?' asked Stu.  'Isn't all this business with the retirement age going up down to women going on about equality, and the bloody EU interfering too?  They've brought it on themselves, if you ask me.'

'They could have put our retirement age down, mate,' Terry reminded him.

'Whereas poor Hilary's has gone up, then up again,' Tom explained.  'We can't complain, financially, but other women, whose pension arrangements were geared up for retirement at sixty or soon after, are having to work on for five or six extra years, if they're in a job where they can do that, or finish before their state pension is available.'

'I wonder if your Linda's affected by this?' said Terry.  'Old Lyn's been on at me about it.  I thought she'd be getting her pension at sixty, but apparently not.'

'Linda's is due next spring, I think.'  Stuart frowned.  'I told you, bloody EU bureaucrats...!'

Whatever he was going to add was lost in a thrashing of guitars and the thunder of drums.  The band were ready to go.

Terry followed Stu towards the lounge bar area.  While they had been talking with Tom, more people had arrived, including Terry's elder son, Darren, and younger son Mike and his family.  Darren was still dressed for work and must have picked up Lyn on his way there, as she was sitting beside Hilary with a big grin on her face, cheering her grandson as Marie announced The Chancellor's Men.

'Budget day next week,' said Stu, on hearing the name.  

'Yeah,' said Terry.  

'We'll have to go round the Engineers after that,' said Stu.  'They always put the price of beer up, don't they?'

'Beer and petrol, mate.'

Paula and the old priest had been talking about a load of other things that might be in it this year, but Terry couldn't remember what they were.  He couldn't hear himself think for loud, strident music.  

'Let's give the Engineers a try now,' he said.