EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY FIVE
Ivor sat on a folding chair in the middle of the living
room as Mike cut his hair. Ivor’s
father, Jack Mold, sat in a black
leather easy chair and stared unnervingly at Mike, watching his every move.
The odd occasions Mike had visited Ivor’s house to cut his hair, he found it
disquieting. Although the building was a straightforward sixties council house,
somehow the inside seemed to be infected by something disturbingly strange. The
living room was devoid of personality; swept clean of history. There were no books, ornaments or pictures on
the wall, and the only furniture consisted of a sofa with wooden arms, the
leather easy chair, and a dark oak upright chair. These three pieces of furniture were angled
towards a large screen TV set, which was the most dominant feature of the room,
and remained constantly switched on with the volume turned infuriatingly low,
as if a television image of the outside world was the only way of bringing any
character to this miserable room. And
Mike guessed that the drab curtains which were drawn closed, and the naked 40
watt bulb that dangled from the ceiling, was a permanent state, and little
sunlight, if any, ever entered the room.
‘Cut it short,’ Ivor’s father instructed. ‘Much shorter than last time.’
‘Not too short,’ pleaded Ivor.
‘I’m telling you, son, get a proper haircut.’
Mike coughed politely. ‘Why don’t we
split the difference, Jack? Shorter than
last time, but not too short.’
Ivor’s father stood up, his craggy face a portent of some apocalyptic prophesy.
‘There is going to be a lot of changes round here,’ he said. ‘Changes that will benefit us all. And I want
my son to look his best. That’s all.’
Mike forced a smile. ‘Don’t worry,
Jack. Ivor’ll look the biz after I’ve done.’
Jack snorted disparagingly. ‘Can you
make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear then?’
Although true to a degree, Mike thought this was unduly harsh coming from
Ivor’s own father.
Jack Mold suddenly bent over and leant close to his son. ‘I’m off out.
Be back dead on seven. And it’s your
turn to cook the dinner. You better not
burn it again or...’ He laughed, a high pitched cackle, and raised a fist in
front of Ivor’s face.
Ivor stammered, as he usually did when he felt nervous. ‘I w-won’t, Dad. N-never
do.’
His father straightened up and went to the door. ‘Good boy.
And when I get back we’ll talk about you know what. But I don’t want you to get too excited.’
‘I won’t, Dad,’ said his son dutifully, as his father closed the door behind
him. After a brief silence, when all
that could be heard was the muted sounds of the
television and the click of Mike’s scissors, they heard a car start up in the
road.
‘Your father still driving the Robin Reliant?’
‘The same.’
‘No trouble getting spares?’
‘No trouble full stop. It’s very
reliable.’
Mike laughed. ‘Hence the name. Now your old man’s gone out, Ivor, what was
it you were going to tell me about the women?’
Ivor sniggered. ‘Finish the cut, then
I’ve got something to show you. But you
must promise not to tell a soul.’
‘My word is my bond.’
Mike finished cutting Ivor’s hair in silence, fetched the mirror out of his
black bag and showed him the results.
Ivor nodded approvingly. As soon
as Mike had removed the mantle from his shoulders, the postman leapt to his
feet and disappeared into the gloomy hall.
As Mike put his haircutting things away, he heard a drawer being opened
and banged shut. Then Ivor scuttled back
into the room, grinning hugely, his eyes glowing with anticipation of a secret
about to be revealed. Conspiratorially,
he shuffled close to Mike, and opened a folder to reveal photographs of Thai
women.
‘Look at these,’ he said with undisguised relish. ‘And look at her. I’m going out to Thailand next month.
I’m getting married to one of them.’
‘How did you find them?’
Excitedly, Ivor took a newspaper cutting
out from under the photographs.
‘It was in the Friday-Ad, Dad found
it for me.’
Mike’s eyebrow’s arched upwards in surprise.
‘Your dad found it?’
‘It was his idea.’
Mike studied the advertisements. Most
had photographs, poor reproductions like those in Eddie Shah’s Today newspaper lampooned by ‘Spitting
Image’. From what Mike could make out in
the pictures, many showed young, good-looking Thai women cuddling mature men.
‘I’ve registered with this agency,’ said Ivor, pointing to one of the
adverts. ‘They fix everything for you.
Look at her. She looks a bit of all
right.’
‘She looks very sexy, Ivor.’
Ivor sniggered dirtily. ‘That’s what Dad
said.’
Mike frowned deeply. ‘Let me get this straight. Your father’s pushed you into this. Why?’
‘Oh, I don’t really know. I expect he’s
fed up with my company. I expect he’d
like to have a woman about the house.’
Mike’s mouth fell open in amazement.
‘She’ll be able to cook some nice food,’ explained Ivor.
‘You mean the three of you’ll be living here under the one roof?’
Behind the lenses of his glasses, Ivor’s eyes seemed to dilate into
confusion. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘Well,’ began Mike, ‘it’s just that it seems...er...’
‘What?
‘Weird.’
‘Weird?’
‘Yes, you know...your father living in the same house as two newlyweds.’
Ivor snapped the folder shut, and almost wished he’d never confided in Mike.
‘There’s nothing wrong with that. After
all, it was Dad’s idea.’
‘Exactly.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I just think it’s...’ Mike saw the hurt expression on Ivor’s face, stopped
himself from saying what he really thought and patted his shoulder. ‘Oh, good luck to you, Ivor. Go for it.
It’s time you were introduced to the delights of a regular sex life.’
Ivor was suddenly overcome with excitement and jigged up and down. Mike moved towards the door.
‘And if you’re going out to Thailand, Ivor, you might as well have some fun while you’re
out there.’
Ivor’s breathing was suddenly rapid.
‘That’s what I thought.’
Mike turned to say goodbye and happened to cast his eyes downwards, spotting a
bulge in the postman’s trousers.
Escaping hurriedly down the hall towards the front door, Mike thought
about the poor Thai girl that would eventually end up in this bizarre
household. It was claustrophobic, and he
imagined it as a scene from some black and white horror film.
Although it was bitterly cold outside, Mike found he was perspiring heavily as
he headed towards his car.
IN EPISODE 136
Who is responsible for the spread of pornography into Tunbridge Wells
charity shops?