Love's Cold Burn Page 9

  The taller miner had been taken in by Tom, but the other girl recognised Andrew and faced him. ‘Hold on a minute. You’re on our course aren’t you?’

  Andrew was feeling the effects of the canned lager, which gave him a small boost in confidence. ‘Yes. I’ve seen you … I have.’

  ‘You never talk to anyone. We thought you didn’t like us.’

  Tom again rescued Andrew. ‘Oh not at all. He’s very friendly … just extremely studious.’

  The taller miner wasn’t convinced. ‘We certainly didn’t expect to see you at The Drag Disco.’

  Andrew raised his left leg and replied. ‘Do you come here often?’

  ‘Ooh … that’s original,’ said the tall miner.

  ‘Are you a lesbian?’ Andrew said reluctantly.

  ‘Charming. We were right. You’re not very friendly.’ The girls hurried off.

  ‘I think I offended them … I did.’

  ‘Who cares? It was funny.’ Tom couldn’t hide his amusement and laughed, slapping Andrew on the back, which jolted the lower of his two breasts further down towards his tummy.

  Tom and Andrew returned to the others to find Hugh, Colin and Ian taking much more interest in Lisa than Brian.

  Hugh tried his luck first. ‘Are you Brian’s bird or can you dance with me?’

  ‘Well … actually … ‘

  ‘How about a dance with me?’ Colin butted in before she could finish answering Hugh.

  ‘I don’t think … ‘

  ‘Let’s hit the dance floor baby.’ Ian also dived in before she had chance to answer.

  Brian returned after a lengthy conversation with another player from the football team, who had taken part in the same game earlier but still had to listen to Brian talking him through another goal, which he assured him was even better than his winner against Westside earlier in the week.

  ‘Would you like to dance?’ Lisa asked Brian, anxious to get away from the unwanted attention of his friends.

  ‘Sure.’ They headed for the dance floor, Brian still holding his beer. He wiggled his hips a bit, but not with any great enthusiasm. He didn’t want to spill his beer.

  ‘Your friends all asked me to dance with them,’ she told him.

  ‘Bastards,’ he replied with feeling, not because he was worried he may lose Lisa, but because his friends had tried to take her from behind his back. It would have suited him if she had danced with one of them.

  Lisa, on the other hand, had built up her hopes during the week that Brian could be a good long-term prospect. She had been looking forward to The Drag Disco and taken the previous day off work to prepare her outfit.

  ‘I enjoyed our time together on Monday,’ she whispered in his ear.

  ‘Me too,’ he replied trying a little harder to sound sincere.

  ‘I quite like you.’ It was her first compliment.

  ‘You’re pretty special yourself.’ Brian played along. ‘I’m out of breath. Let’s sit down.’

  They returned to the others. Andrew was looking unhappy after offending his fellow politics students. Lisa, being very kind-hearted, saw his discomfort. ‘You don’t look too happy. What’s wrong?’

  Lisa was spoken for so Andrew felt comfortable talking to her. ‘I can’t talk to girls and when I do, they call me unfriendly and walk away.’

  ‘You don’t seem unfriendly to me. Let’s sit down and you can tell me more.’ She guided him to the seats and Brian was relieved to be able to share a beer with his floor-mates, with Lisa safely in the hands of the one person Brian knew would never ask her for a dance.

  ‘You shagged her yet?’ asked Hugh.

  ‘Of course … she’s only human,’ Brian replied defensively.

  Tom had noticed his brother’s flippant treatment of his guest and ushered him to one side for a quiet word.

  ‘I know it’s none of my business, but it looks like she’s fallen for you and you’re treating her very badly. It’s a shame because she’s lovely. Better than you deserve.’

  ‘I know. You’re right, but I don’t want a steady girlfriend so what do I do?’

  ‘Just be honest and tell her how you feel, but do it soon. Leave it too long and you’ll hurt her even more.’

  Brian looked past Tom to where Lisa and Andrew were deep in conversation. Andrew was enjoying the attention and Lisa was enjoying the chance to help somebody who seemed to be a genuinely good person.

  ‘Leave it with me Tom. I’ll have to wait for the right moment.’

  The brothers went back to the others. Hugh and Colin were winding up Ian who had not had much luck with his chat-up line of ‘let’s hit the dance floor baby’, which he had tried four times. To make things even harder for Ian, Hugh had placed one hand on top of his head and rubbed his left cheek with his other hand. This had been a distraction so Colin could place a condom on Ian’s right shoulder without him noticing. The lubricant held the condom in place on Ian’s blue nylon dress.

  Hugh then offered Ian an incentive. ‘Ian. Your chat-up line is rubbish, but if it works on that fat girl at the end of the bar, I’ll buy you a pint.’

  ‘You’re on big man. Just watch and learn.’

  Ian strutted towards the chosen girl. ‘Let’s hit the dance floor baby,’ he said with great confidence, but the girl seemed distracted. She was looking at his shoulder. He followed her gaze and saw the condom. His shocked red face turned to see his floor-mates creased up with laughter. It was too much embarrassment. He left.

  Two hours later Colin and Hugh headed for the Coffee Bar while Lisa, Andrew, Tom and Brian trudged through the snow back to Dickens Court.

  ‘That was a good disco,’ Lisa said, waving her violin case in Brian’s direction.

  ‘Do you …’ Andrew began.

  ‘It’s okay. The game’s over,’ Tom stopped him.

  ‘So. Can you tell me now?’ Andrew asked, with no echo; again due to the volume of alcohol.

  ‘Yes. What’s it all about?’ asked Lisa, who had been told about the tasks by Andrew.

  ‘So YOU made Andrew bark!’ Things fell into place for Brian.

  ‘I’ll tell you over coffee. You joining us Lisa?’ Tom asked, because he knew Brian wouldn’t.

  The four of them made themselves comfortable in Andrew’s room and helped themselves to his stock of custard creams. Andrew put on his Jim Reeves tape, which played quietly in the background. Tom sat at the desk, Andrew in the soft chair and Brian alongside Lisa on the bed leaning back against the wall. Lisa felt very comfortable, Brian felt very uncomfortable and Andrew wanted to know why he had been standing on one leg for most of the evening.

  ‘Okay Tom. I’ve completed all the tasks. What was their meaning?’

  Tom had everybody’s undivided attention and looked Andrew in the eye knowing he would be unhappy with his answer.

  ‘Andrew,’ he paused. ‘The tasks have no meaning whatsoever. They were utterly pointless and will tell you no more about me, or you, than you already know.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Brian laughed.

  Lisa raised her eyebrows hoping for a better explanation, while Andrew felt a little cheated.

  ‘So if they were pointless. Why did you make me do them?’

  Tom addressed Andrew more firmly. He wanted him to see the point and accept it.

  ‘Life is a random set of opportunities that fall in your path. Nothing happens for a reason that has been pre-planned by anybody. What you do with the opportunities you are given is entirely down to you. If you want something to happen. You have to make it happen. Nobody can do that for you.’

  Andrew looked disappointed. Tom was looking for a glint of realisation in Andrew’s eyes, but saw nothing, so he continued.

  ‘You are waiting for Pink Socks to come to you because your mum told you it’s in the stars. That’s a load of bollocks. Total and utter bollocks. If you want to get close to Pink Socks, or whatever her name is, you’ve got to go to her and ask her out. She might say yes. She might say no. It doesn’t matter if y
ou fail. At least you could move on.’

  Tom stopped, waiting for a positive reaction.

  ‘Your destiny is in YOUR hands. Nobody else’s. Can you see what I am saying?’

  Andrew didn’t want to give up on his idea that fate would take care of him. The thought that he had no choices in life and all would be taken care of was comforting.

  ‘I can see what you’re saying,’ Andrew squirmed. It was hard to disagree with his best friend when Tom had been so passionate in his delivery. ‘But there must be some greater guiding force.’

  That set Tom off again. ‘Andrew. We’re born. We live. We die. We’re not put here for a reason and we go nowhere when we’re dead. We are JUST here. Even the Bible says we come into the world with nothing and we take nothing when we go. When you’re dead, you’re dead, but while you’re here, you make the most of the opportunities that fall in your path. All I did tonight was change your path slightly.’

  Andrew, Brian and Lisa had slipped into deep thought, tossing the ideas over in their minds. Tom was ready to defend his ideas and his treatment of Andrew, which he believed had been necessary to shock him into doing something about the girl he thought he loved.

  As Jim Reeves sang Distant Drums in the background Lisa had a few ideas of her own to share.

  ‘So. Tom. You don’t believe in life after death?’ she asked.

  ‘Dead is dead is dead.’

  ‘Maybe it’s not that simple,’ said Lisa.

  Tom was always prepared to listen to new ideas. Brian grabbed two more custard creams. Andrew was still shell-shocked.

  Lisa continued. ‘Well … I heard a theory once, and I think there’s something to it, that your soul never dies. Experiments have been done that show animals lose a tiny amount of weight the very instant they die. Some believe that could be the soul leaving the body.’

  Brian was sceptical and nodded but with a smile that said he found the idea a bit crazy. Tom considered the theory but had no response. Andrew was imagining himself approaching Pink Socks and had heard very little of what Lisa had said.

  She went on. ‘Maybe that’s why people who have a brush with death have an out-of-body experience. Perhaps they have died, the soul leaves the body, but returns when the person is revived and bought back to life.’

  ‘Could be,’ Tom acknowledged. ‘So where does the soul go?’

  ‘Who knows? Maybe it enters another body the instant they are born or conceived. Some think the soul enters animals. Maybe it just sits in limbo not realising it has left the body. There could be loads of lost souls floating around not realising they are dead.’

  Brian thought this a bit silly. ‘I think they would realise they were dead as time passed and they got hungry.’

  ‘But what if time is meaningless when the soul leaves the body. When the soul lived in the body, the body needed the food and the body wore out and died, not the soul. Perhaps time is meaningless for the lost soul as it waits for a new body.’

  Tom was following the idea with interest. ‘Then a few seconds would be the same as a few years?’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Lisa, pleased that at least Tom had followed the argument, even if Brian looked thoroughly bored and Andrew had fallen asleep.

  ‘We’d best leave him to it,’ Tom said, covering Andrew with a blanket.

  Lisa went to the toilet.

  ‘You haven’t talked to her yet have you?’ Tom asked while it was just the two of them.

  ‘Not had chance, but it’s worse than that. She’s asked me to go to dinner with her parents next Saturday and I didn’t say no, which she took as a yes, but I can’t go anyway.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Derrr. Football club night out.’ Brian couldn’t believe Tom had forgotten.

  Tom couldn’t believe Brian was putting football ahead of Lisa’s feelings.

  When she returned, Tom left them to it in the hope that Brian would do the right thing.

  Chapter 15

  Football club night out

  A week later, November 26, 1983: Fifteen players from Southside University Football Club sat on both sides of a long narrow table in the Red Lion. Tom Hill sat between Slogger and Leaps Like A Salmon, while Brian Hill sat opposite Tom, between Who Me and I Got The Last Touch.

  ‘They took £25m worth of gold bullion this morning from the Brinks Mat warehouse near Heathrow. That’s less than 20 miles from here,’ said Who Me, a player always in trouble with the referee.

  ‘That’s enough to buy eight Diego Maradonas,’ replied I Got The Last Touch, who often claimed goals following goalmouth scrambles.

  Slogger’s booming voice briefly overpowered the others. ‘Maradona’s a girl. Barcelona and all your other top European teams are full of pansies. You only have to breathe on them and they fall over. You have to be tough. It’s a man’s game and tough tackling wins games.’

  The team was split between those who preferred the traditional English style of football and those who preferred the technically superior continental game. Slogger, captain and centreback for the second team, as his name suggested, was in favour of the more physical English game.

  Leaps Like A Salmon, who was good in the air, but even better with the ball at his feet, disagreed. ‘Bollocks Slogger. Football is a game of chess. It’s a thinking man’s game and the Italians have got all the right moves. That’s why they are world champions for the third time.’

  ‘Brazil have won it three times as well,’ shouted Brian. ‘Silky skills are the key. If it’s not entertaining, it’s not worth winning.’

  Brian was a very skilful striker and scored a lot of goals, often from hopeless situations, but when trying the almost impossible he sometimes gave the ball away. Tom, on the other hand, was a no-nonsense central midfield player and never gave the ball away, but he rarely scored goals. The two brothers were very different in many ways and Tom was now suspecting that his brother had not done the right thing with Lisa Wentworth-Simpson.

  ‘Another drink Brian?’ Tom shouted over the heated discussion.

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Come and help me.’

  ‘What? Carry two drinks?’

  ‘Yes.’ Insisted Tom.

  Brian slipped away from the table and joined his brother at the bar.

  ‘Have you phoned her yet?’ Tom asked. Lisa was probably, at this very minute, singing Brian’s praises to her parents and waiting eagerly for a knock at the front door.

  ‘Not yet.’ Brian could see the disappointment in his brother’s face. ‘I meant to, but …’

  ‘But what?’ Tom knew his brother didn’t want a regular girlfriend but he didn’t want to end things either. Brian had enjoyed another roll on the bed after The Drag Disco, but still not used one of his condoms. He half wanted to take the relationship further, but didn’t want to have to put the work in and, for Brian, it was work.

  ‘But I was too busy.’

  ‘No you weren’t.’ Tom didn’t like being fobbed off. ‘Whether you see her again or not, at least have the good manners to let her know you can’t make it tonight.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Now. Or I’ll do it for you, and that would definitely bring things to an end.’ Tom handed his brother a two pence coin for the payphone.

  Brian dialled the number. It was engaged. ‘Let’s get the beers and I’ll try again.’ He tried again. Still engaged. ‘I promise I’ll try again later.’

  They returned to the table where the footballers were arranging a game. Losers would have to drink some of their beer, the amount depending on how badly they lost. It ranged from one to four fingers depth on their pint glasses, with the fingers placed horizontally on the outside of the glass. All drinking was to be done using the left hand. Again there were drinking fines if you made a mistake, levied by Slogger, who was elected as drinking chairman for the evening. If a fine of more than four fingers were needed, the offender would be ordered to drop his pants and show his bum, as Brian had done for the ladies of the women’s institute t
wo months previously at the Wanderer’s Rest. In the first game, the players took turns to name a newspaper in time to rhythmic clapping and table thumping.

  Thump, thump, clap. ‘The Guardian.’ Tom.

  Thump, thump, clap. ‘Daily Telegraph.’ Leaps Like A Salmon.

  Thump, thump, clap. ‘Daily Mail.’ I Got The Last Touch.

  Thump, thump, clap. ‘Southside Gazette.’ Brian.

  Thump, thump, clap. ‘The Sun.’ Who Me.

  ‘That’s not a newspaper,’ shouted Slogger. ‘It’s a comic. Two fingers.’ Who Me disagreed but kept his thoughts to himself. If he questioned the chairman, his fine would probably be doubled for showing a lack of respect for the leader. The players jeered loudly as Who Me drank his beer.

  ‘Two more fingers Who Me. You used your right hand,’ Slogger added quickly followed by more jeers as Who Me drank more beer.

  Brian had a mouthful of his beer, but was seen by the chairman.

  ‘I didn’t give you permission to drink Brian,’ Slogger blasted with authority.

  ‘Sorry Mr Chairman.’

  ‘Two fingers.’

  Who Me lost the last game so he started the next round and chose phrases to describe women’s breasts.

  Thump, thump, clap. ‘Tits.’ Who Me.

  Thump, thump, clap. ‘Knockers.’ Goal Hanger.

  Thump, thump, clap. ‘Boobs.’ The Hard Man, first team captain.

  Thump, thump, clap. ‘… err.’

  Slogger thought it a serious crime to lose after only three people on the subject of breasts. ‘Four fingers.’ Loud laughter.

  ‘Four fingers?’ High pitched protest.

  ‘Your whole pint.’ Slogger wasn’t prepared to have his authority questioned.

  Erections came next.

  ‘Hard on.’

  ‘Wood.’ Tom.

  ‘Stiffy.’

  ‘Ramrod.’

  ‘Boner.’ Brian.

  ‘ … err … ‘ Who Me couldn’t think straight. He had been punished too often. He had an empty glass and anticipated the loud cries for punishment. He climbed on his chair, turned around, undid his belt and dropped his pants to whistles, cheers and loud applause.

  The footballers went through another three games, countless beers and a number of exposed bottoms before Who Me fell asleep as singing took over from games. When a song about sexual activity with a variety of animals came to an end, Who Me woke up and reached for his beer. It wasn’t there. He had finished it and the barmaid had taken his empty glass, but in his drunken state, he thought his pint had been taken.