by Paul Jones
‘Yeah, but it could also be very profitable as well. Just think of it, getting paid for beating up all those criminals.’
‘What about your mate Geoff? Do you really think he would go for something like that?’
Tom flicked him a look of irritation, ‘forget Geoff, he’d never go for it. Christ, I’d never tell him I was going to start something like that, he’d probably ban me from the club. I tried mentioning it as a joke tonight just to test the waters but I don’t think it went down very well.’
‘So, who have you got in mind to perform this kind of service?’
‘Well, you, me and perhaps Nigel on the doors.’
‘I dunno Tom, it’s a bit dicey.’
‘Aw, come on Chaz, you me and Nige have been going on about doing something like this for ages. Well now is our big chance.’
‘What, so we’re just going to go around smashing everybody up who looks a bit dodgy. Won’t take long for the police to feel our collars.’
‘Naw, we do it proper, plan it, organise it, disguise ourselves. We’ll use our loafs.
But Charlie still looked as if he needed a bit of convincing.
*
Having showered (and after convincing his wife that coming home ten minutes later than usual was due to running into an old pal and not meeting up with some blonde bimbo), Geoff finally settled in front of his flat screen TV.
Jan, Geoff’s wife then appeared with two steaming mugs of tea. Jan, was thirty-six years old, slim and petit. She had jet-black shoulder-length hair, and almond-shaped brown eyes, giving her a slight oriental appearance. She was attractive, but not beautiful, the kind of pleasant natural looks that didn’t require any make-up. She and Geoff had met in college back in their twenties when they shared classes in sports and nutrition, a course he had chosen before finally opting to study for a dispensing optician. Nowadays she managed her own health spa near the North promenade in town.
Jan leaned over to give Geoff his tea, her silken hair rolling across her high cheekbones.
‘Ta,’ Geoff replied, without taking his eyes off the TV.
Jan hooked a hank of hair behind her ears and eased up beside him on the settee.
‘So who is this Will Thomas you ran into earlier?’
‘Oh… Will. Known him for years. We used to train in the youth centre back in the early days. Bit of a left wing karateka though.’
‘Left wing what do you mean?’ asked Jan
‘Well, he was good at karate, don’t get me wrong, but he was a strong pioneer for real hardcore self-defence. He always seemed a bit disillusioned with traditional karate, and thought their outdated techniques didn’t really conform to actual street fighting. He always thought there was a better or more efficient way of maximising your power for every strike. As it stood, he thought traditional karate was extremely limited and lacking real power, and in an actual street encounter wouldn’t prove very effective.’
‘So what did you think about his views?’ Jan asked, cupping her mug in her hands.
‘At the time, I respected his views, and I think up to a point he may have been right. But I suppose its all down to what you want to get out of the art. When we began in the nineties, street crime was nowhere as bad as it is today. And most people including myself, did it for the sport, the love of the art, and to keep fit. And OK, it was still useful against the average idiot on the street. But today we’re dealing with a more savage breed of yob. They’ll stab you, stamp on you without mercy, and because they know how lax our justice system is, they have no fear of the consequences of their crimes.’
‘So Will’s training philosophy would be more suited to the yobs of today as opposed to the generation when you started?’
‘Exactly. Will was so anti-crime I suggested he should’ve joined the police force or the army. Anyone who broke the law, or had no respect for others, was considered an enemy. I used to take the piss out of him, but he would say you’ll see one day and I guess he was right,’ Geoff huffed wryly.
‘But didn’t you mention before that he’d just come out of prison?’
‘Yeah, but he didn’t tell me why he’d been in prison. But knowing Will, it’d probably be for beating someone up he would never take any prisoners.’ Geoff raised his brow with caution. ‘And a mean bastard he could be as well. He could turn from a saint to a beast in an instant.’
Jan raised her mug to her lips. ‘Not sure I’d want to have someone like that as a friend.’
‘Oh, no, don’t get me wrong. He’s one of the nicest people you could meet. A good mate who won’t let you down. He just believes that if you do bad, you get punished. And the more serious the crime, the harsher the punishment.’
Jan kept her opinions to herself, and turned back to the TV to listen to a widow of a man recently beaten to death by a group of youths. Standing in front of TV reporters and camera crews, the woman was campaigning for justice on street yobs and giving her reaction to the latest stabbing.
‘We must find a way to restore law and order in this country. We must find a way of ridding our streets of this scum. It’s time we made these low-life degenerates of society, who have absolutely no regard for law and order, take responsibility for the crimes they have committed. We need to take a stand now before any more innocent lives are lost. We need to take action now against these merciless animals and make the streets safe again for normal law-abiding citizens.’
CHAPTER 2
Will glanced down at his Seiko watch. It had stopped again. He cursed it and tapped it to try and shock it back to life. Under normal circumstances he would have simply binned the out-dated contraption by now and bought himself a new one. After all watches nowadays were a dozen to the pound, but this one was kind of special to him. It was the one Stacey had bought him when they went on holiday to Tenerife some five years ago. Stacey used to be Will’s fiancée , and they had dated for about six years. They had met when Will used to go jogging near his home in Warrington, a home he had bought and paid for back in the nineties, when he prospered somewhat in property developing. Maybe it was fate that they met, as Will was not really the sociable type. Maybe it was fate that whenever their jogging routes would cross, Stacey was the one who would stop for a chat. Strangely, Will always seemed to feel at ease with her, and when it was discovered that they were both from Llandudno, well, it was fate again, it just had to be destiny. Alright, she may have been a bit younger than him, ten years younger to be exact, but what did that matter?
Soon after their little flirtatious jogs, they began seeing each other on a regular basis, and within a year or so, Will had proposed. By this time, however, they still lived apart, as each one respected the other’s privacy. Stacey would remain in her up-market apartment, and continue working as a PA in a solicitor’s office, and Will stayed at his own pad. It was decided between them that when they married, they would give up their independent lives and live like a conventional couple and hopefully start a family.
In the meantime, Will had bought her a puppy Labrador named Georgie to keep her company, and hopefully guard her house for her when he grew up. Yet sadly, Georgie was killed by a couple of thugs a few months later. And that’s when everything started to go wrong. Will shook his head as the memories hit him like train carriages shunting into the back of each other at an emergency stop.
Thinking back to that terrible period in their lives, he recalled Stacey sobbing at him after the Georgie incident.
‘Why did you have to do that, Will? Why did you have to take the law into your own hands? Why didn’t you think about what you were doing? Why couldn’t you have let the police sort it?’
And then when Will was convicted and sentenced to three years in prison, he recalled those chilling words she had said to him. Cold, harsh and final like the cold steel of a butcher’s knife slicing through a rump steak.
‘No, Will, that’s it. We might as well call it a day. How can I possibly put our lives on hold for that amount of
time? It’s just asking too much of me when we had everything all planned out. How can I possibly trust anyone who can act so recklessly in a crisis. All you thought about was getting even with those thugs. You’ve thrown everything away in one moment of complete madness. It didn’t have to be done like that. Grown mature responsible adults don’t act that way. How can I possibly commit myself to someone who can so easily risk his own liberty and our future. What if we’d had a baby, a family. How the hell would I have coped with you away in prison? No, Will, you’re not ready to settle down, I don’t know if you ever will be.’
Then Will retorted. ‘It’s OK you saying all that. Those two bastards killed my dog! He was only a pup for God’s sake. What kind of monsters would do something like that to a poor defenceless animal? They deserved what I did to them. You can’t punish me for that. How the hell can you throw everything away after six years, just because I didn’t let the police handle it, like every other supposed law-abiding member of the public? Just because things haven’t gone according to your plans? Listen, Stacey, life isn’t always as straightforward as that. Sometimes things happen in this life, things that are beyond anyone’s control. Sometimes you are put in these situations and you have to do what you think is right, not just for yourself, but for everyone. It’s those type of decisions that determine the kind of people we are. I’m not proud of what I did, but, yes, if I was put in the same situation again I would do exactly the same thing. Not because I don’t give a damn about you or our future. Of course I do. I would never risk that for anything. But this is the way God made me, and if I’d have let them get away with what they did then it’s me who has to live with it. You can’t always live your life by someone else’s rules. Sometimes you’ve got to say sod it, that’s not right, this is what needs to be done, even if it breaks the bloody law!’
‘Yes, well, you did break the law, didn’t you, Will, and now I’m the innocent one who has to pay the penalty. I just can’t start all over again after all that time.’
*
And that was that; she broke off the engagement and Will went to prison. After which, he received no phone calls from her, no letters, no nothing, she completely cut him off. Will even tried ringing her from prison, but she wouldn’t even speak to him. That was hard, Will recalled, his bitterness tempered a little with self-pity. How the hell could she just cut me off like that? As for the house he had to leave behind, fortunately a friend offered to look after it for him in exchange for accommodation, and a very minimal rent.
So why was Will back here now thinking about his ex-fiancée? The plan was very simple, he wanted to try to win her back. After all the time he spent in prison, all the anger, the let-downs, somehow he still had a tiny pilot light of hope inside that told him she was worth giving it one more shot.
To him, there was unfinished business to sort out; he couldn’t continue with his life, his new found freedom, without knowing for sure that his relationship with Stacey was truly dead and buried. His plan was to give himself two months to try and win her back, and if he hadn’t succeeded in that time, then he would give up. But what a long shot it was. He hadn’t heard from her in three years. For all he knew, she could be involved with someone else, she may even be married with a family. What if she’s not even living in North Wales?
The only thing he did know was that when he was convicted, Stacey had planned to get a job transfer back to North Wales, and move back into her parent’s hotel while she sorted herself out. So that was his starting point. But once again, that was three years ago, and the more he thought about his daunting task, the more he doubted his chances. One half of him was saying he was completely wasting his time, the other half said what have you got to lose? If it all went pear-shaped, at least he could say he tried.
Right! He sucked in a short breath, setting his plan into action. I’ll go to her parent’s hotel tonight, and we’ll start there.
*
Jan, Geoff’s wife, had the week off from her work (unfortunately Geoff couldn’t get the same dates off) and she decided to treat herself to at least one or two days of pure indulgence. That meant a good afternoon’s trawl through the clothes shops. She headed towards the new retail shopping centre on Mostyn Broadway.
I’ll spend a couple of hours in Debenhams, and British Home Stores, she thought, maybe have a coffee in Costas, then nip over to Asda to pester Geoff, and do a bit of a shop there before home.
A couple of brain-straining hours later, Jan was on her way back to her car parked somewhere in the centre of the car park. In her mind she was bustling over whether or not she should have bought that leather handbag she saw for £44.99. The reason she hadn’t was because at the moment she and Geoff were supposed to be saving up for a new bathroom suite. Yet as she sank into her vehicle, now sandwiched between two people-carriers, she let out a yearning sigh. Surely one little handbag isn’t going to break the bank, she said out loud. Call it a holiday treat. And Geoff will probably treat himself when he’s off at the end of the month. She chewed her lip, and wrestled with her conscience. I know, if it’s still there tomorrow, then it’s destiny I’m meant to have it. Still mulling over it, she swung the seatbelt over her shoulder and started up, ready to shoot over to Asda. Carefully, she began easing out of the parking space, checking both sides, and her rear view mirror, text-book style, when a loud blare of a car’s horn stung her with fright. She slammed on her brakes, and turned to find a blood-red, customised car with music pumping out of its half-open tinted windows. Where the hell did that come from? She frowned – wasn’t there a second ago. But being polite, she mouthed an apology, and a wave, and slipped back into first gear ready to move forward and let the car pass. Suddenly, she saw the door of the car swing open, and a lanky adolescent in a grey sweater stormed over. Jan’s stomach rippled with concern, as she opened her electric window.
‘Sorry, I didn’t see you I’m afra …’
The lad pushed his bony face through her window. ‘You want to look where you’re going, you stupid bitch!’ his raised tone drew looks from passers-by.
Jan immediately went on the defensive from this thick-headed Neanderthal.
‘Excuse me, I did try to apologise, and you did just appear from nowhere.’
The lad’s face screwed into a snarl. ‘Oh, so you’re trying to say it was my was my fault, are yer?’
Jan’s finger was poised over the auto-door lock button. ‘No, that’s not what I meant, I’m just saying I did look where I was going, but I still didn’t see you.’ She couldn’t help staring at his stupid fringe that looked glued to his forehead with hair gel.
‘Well, you obviously weren’t looking properly, were you?’
Jan resisted the urge to argue and antagonise him. ‘Look, OK, I apologise again. There was no collision, no damage, let’s just forget it shall we?’ She gulped.
By now two security men in high visibility jackets had appeared at the entrance of the Debenhams and were looking over inquisitively. The lad spotted them and like a school bully seeing his headmaster watching, his anger abated.
‘Yeah, you’re lucky you didn’t hit me,’ he spat, and stormed off.
Jan breathed a sigh of relief, her hands shaking on the steering wheel. She felt like crying, but told herself not to be silly. She glanced in her rear-view mirror once more, and saw that the car was gone, thank God.
All thoughts about nipping over to Asda had now evaporated. Geoff was bound to pick up on her agitated state, and if she told him what had happened, he’d only want to drop everything and go out looking for the yob. No, she decided she would head straight home and have a good strong cup of coffee. Maybe she would tell Geoff another time.
*
Will glanced at his watch, and lifted it to his ear, it had stopped again. He cursed it, and couldn’t be bothered to reset it again until he got back to his flat later. Anyway, it was somewhere near eight-fifteen to eight-thirty, and he stood about a third of the way up the North promenade. Down tow
ards the opposite end, near the entrance to the pier’s head, was Stacey’s parent’s hotel. Will crossed the road to the prom walkway and threw a look down the sweep of the shore lined with a necklace of bright sodium street lighting that stretched all the way to the little Orme . The biting November breeze caused him to wince and he thrust his hands deep into his duffel jacket pockets to keep them warm. Passing one of the prom shelters, he could hear shouting and jeering coming from the other side of the glass divider, but he paid it little attention. Nearing Stacey’s hotel, Will reached the fifty-foot cenotaph tower used for war remembrance services. He crossed the road to a row of hotels that curved back towards the pier entrance. Finally, Will stood the base of the concrete steps leading up to the front door of Stacey’s hotel. Will craned his neck in the hope of catching a glimpse of Stacey in one of the lounge windows. It was empty, but inside it did look invitingly warm.
Will climbed the steps and stood hand poised over the doorbell. Taking a second, he pulled himself together, and rang it. There was no answer. He rang it again, taking note of the no vacancy sign in the lounge window. Through the misted glass door and cosy peach light inside, there was movement. Will braced himself, and the door opened ajar. A short man in his early sixties, with a hang-dog face, straightened up in recognition.
‘Oh, hullo, Will.’
‘Hello, Gary. How’s tricks?’
Gary was Stacey’s father, and the relationship he had had with Will while he was dating his daughter had been pretty good. Back then, Gary liked him and always felt that Will would have looked after his daughter. It was just a pity that Will got himself in trouble with the law. Gary was definitely old-school, and although sometimes he could be a crusty old sod, he was still generous to a fault. Everybody makes mistakes, and all that.
‘Just got out, have yer?’
Will nodded.
‘How did it go?’
Will made a face. ‘Just glad it’s done really … you know?’