EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY FOUR
Mike was true to his
word and had not had much to drink lately, and he really made an effort to help
Craig and Mandy in the wine bar, as well as supporting Maggie in the struggle
to conquer her addiction. The trouble
was, Mike didn’t feel he had a serious addiction. Okay, he argued with himself, perhaps it got
out of hand, and it was serious drinking, but nothing he couldn’t control. So, after cutting a client’s hair in
Southborough, he called in at The Royal Oak in Speldhurst Road for a pint.
It was late afternoon, and there were only two men at the bar. Mike recognised one of them as Ivor, a local
postman. Mike ordered and paid for his
pint, then swung around on his bar stool to face the postman.
‘Haven’t seen you in a while, Ivor.’
Ivor nodded, then downed three-quarters of a pint of Guinness. He wiped his top lip with the back of his
hand before speaking. ‘Still drinking in
the same pubs. Cross Keys now and
again. What about you?’
Mike shook his head. ‘Don’t get over
this way much. Especially now I’ve been
done.’
‘Yeah, I had heard.’
Mike watched as Ivor downed the last of his Guinness, accepted the next ready-poured
one, and sank half of that as well. He
stared at the postman’s enormous girth, marvelling on how someone who gets so
much exercise could be so overweight. It
had to be the Guinness.
Mike, taking things easy, sipped his pint carefully before speaking. ‘I try to do all my clients in the same
district on the same day – now I’ve got to use public transport.’
‘Must be difficult.’
Ivor downed the rest of the fresh pint and waited for the next one to be pushed
across the counter. Mike marvelled at
the postman’s ability to consume beer and found himself laughing, almost with
admiration. Ivor, glazed eyes and a
puzzled frown, swung his head around with a questioning look.
‘Sorry. Just a joke I remembered,’
explained Mike. Then quickly changing
the subject: ‘How’s your old man?’
‘Still the same.’
‘If you don’t mind me asking, Ivor, how come you’ve never left home?’
The postman shrugged and pursed his lips.
‘Why would I want to? I get on
okay with Dad. And Mum died ten years
ago, so I don’t want to leave him all on his own.’
Mike nodded thoughtfully. ‘He retired,
your dad?’
‘About a year ago.’
Ivor smoothed his hair down at the back, took another long swig of stout, then
said, ‘I’m going home after the next pint.
If you’re free, I could do with a trim.’
Mike glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve got a
haircut in Kibbles
Lane in
ten minutes. I could do yours in about
an hour’s time, Ivor.’
‘Suits me.’
The postman suddenly grinned, a trifle lasciviously Mike thought. He looked like Billy Bunter in a tuck
shop. He leaned close to Mike and
dropped his voice to a conspiratorial level, glancing furtively over his
shoulder first.
‘There’s something I want to show you.’
‘Oh?’ questioned Mike suspiciously.
Still grinning mischievously, Ivor tapped the side of his nose. ‘I’ll show you when you come round. These are women I’m talking about. And I’ve never ever been with...’ Unable to
take the sentence to its conclusion because of embarrassment at this
confession, Ivor shrugged and smiled timidly before adding: ‘These are gorgeous
women – little dollies – and you can take your pick. ’
Mike’s curiosity was aroused. He
finished his beer, slid off the bar stool, and smiled at Ivor. ‘I can’t wait to hear about it. See you later.’
*
Mrs. Armitage went storming into the charity shop and threw the video onto the
counter. ‘Shop!’ she bellowed.
Mrs. Dagway, stooped and bow-legged, shuffled into the shop from the back,
where she had been sorting out the ‘new arrivals’, mainly books and videos.
‘Hello, Gemma,’ she said with a smile, which rapidly faded when she caught
sight of her frequent customer’s enraged expression. ‘Is something wrong, dear?’
Mrs. Armitage tapped an index finger like an angry woodpecker onto the
video. ‘I bought this Toy Story video for my grandchildren.’
‘Oh. Doesn’t it work?’
‘It works all right. I only wish it
didn’t. I want you to see if you can
remember who donated it.’
Deeply puzzled, Mrs. Dagway scratched
her chin. ‘Goodness! That’s tricky, trying to remember...’ She
stopped speaking and looked earnestly into her customer’s angry face. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘I was hoping you could remember who donated this video before I go to the
police about it.’
Mrs. Dagway gave a small choking cry of alarm.
‘The police! What on earth!’
Mrs. Armitage took the video out of its plastic box and pointed to the
label. ‘This label has been taken off
the real video and stuck on this...’ She
showed an expression of disgust, as if she had eaten something repulsive.
‘...this disgusting pornographic film.’
‘Pornographic? Toy Story? Surely not.’
Mrs. Armitage ground her teeth impatiently.
‘No, no, no! This has been substituted for Toy Story... this disgusting filth.
Now please see if you can remember who donated it.’
Mrs. Dagway rubbed her forehead. ‘I
really have no idea.’
‘Try to remember.’
‘I’m trying. I’ll have a word with the
manager. Perhaps she can remember.’
‘Where is she?’
‘She’s gone home for the day. She’ll be
in at half-nine tomorrow.’
Mrs. Armitage snapped the video back into its box, picked it up and strode
towards the door. ‘I can’t wait that
long. I’m taking this to the police
station.’
Mrs. Dagway shuffled forward a few paces and made a remorseful gesture with
both hands held out towards her customer’s retreating back. ‘I’m so
sorry, Gemma. I hope your grandchildren
didn’t see much of the video before...’
Mrs. Armitage spun round in the doorway, her face mottled and angry. ‘Gordon was out in his shed. I put the video on for the children, then
went and cooked their tea. They must
have seen a good half of this filthy, filthy garbage before I found out what
they were watching.’
‘Didn’t they come and tell you?’
Mrs. Armitage shook her head violently.
‘They’re only five and three years old.
They probably didn’t understand what was going on.’
‘Ah well, perhaps there’s no real harm done then.’
Mrs. Armitage looked as if a thousand volts had shot through her body. ‘No real harm done! It could leave a lasting impression,
subjecting them to this filth. So I’m going to the police right now. And if I were you, Denise, I’d take all those
other videos off the shelf. There may be
more of this disgusting garbage.’
Mrs. Armitage swept out and slammed the door.
Mrs. Dagway stood and surveyed the video shelf. It was almost four o’clock, time to lock up and go home. And now she had to spend time clearing the
shelf. Perhaps she could take a dozen
videos home with her, to check them for quality, then bring them back to sell
in the morning. But what if she was
subjected to obscene scenes of copulation – and worse? Would she be able to cope? For the sake of the charity shop, she
decided, she would see if the videos were clean. And if they weren’t...well, what did it
matter? She had brought up three sons
and her husband had been in the navy.
IN EPISODE 135
Mike finds out what Ivor meant about the women.