by Pamela Evans
‘Swiss made,’ the jeweller was saying, taking the watch out of the showcase and laying it on the counter. ‘Just look at that beautiful craftsmanship.’
‘Sorry, mate, I’ve changed my mind,’ said Mick, and hurried from the shop leaving the jeweller frowning.
He could hardly believe how careless he had almost been. That was what came of missing Jane so much. It had made him reckless. Oh, God, how he wanted her! The possibility that she might not want him back didn’t even occur to him because he knew Jane wouldn’t look at another man. Of course, with her not being in possession of the true facts of his leaving, he was going to be in trouble initially, until he’d explained what had happened. But she’d be so pleased he’d come back to rescue her from poverty and to look after her again, he didn’t envisage any long-term problems in that direction.
But he wasn’t going back until he could afford to reinstate them in their old lifestyle, in a lovely house like the one in Maple Avenue filled with good quality furniture, and a decent car for them both to use. Jane was a very special lady - she deserved the best. He experienced a rare pang of guilt at the thought of her living less well than she had when he’d been with her but he was soon able to dismiss it. After all, the state didn’t let people starve these days, and he’d make it up to her when he got back. He was disappointed at the thought of another Christmas away from his family, though.
The alleyways in the centre of Brighton, were lively and bustling on this winter Saturday. Mick passed antique shops, boutiques, craft shops, emporiums selling fancy goods, his heels clicking on the cobble-stones. Passing a well-known oyster bar, he walked on through this maze of quaint old buildings with overhanging upper stories until he came to the Drake’s Arms.
A blast of warm air and cigarette smoke greeted him as he pushed open the doors and he was instantly cheered. In here there were familiar faces - mostly men, many of them small-time villains. A lot of Mick’s business deals were done here because this was a pub patronised by the sort of people who wanted to buy or sell with no paperwork or questions asked.
He nodded to a few men on his way to the bar where he ordered a scotch.
‘You’re not new to this game, are you, love?’ he said to a barmaid he hadn’t seen before, noticing what a sure touch she had with the optics.
‘Not so’s you’d notice, no,’ she said with a friendly smile. ‘I’ve been pulling pints for so long I could do it with my eyes shut.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yeah. I’ve been working at the Fiddlers Inn for quite a while,’ she informed him. ‘This is my first day at the Drake’s.’
‘I knew I hadn’t seen you in here before . . . I would have remembered.’
‘My name’s Patsy.’
‘I’m Mick Parker and I’m glad to have you around,’ he said, grinning at her as he gave her his money, noticing how good-looking she was in a brash sort of way.
‘You’re a regular then?’ she said, handing him his change.
He nodded.
‘I hope the rest of ’em are all as friendly as you,’ she said.
‘They’re bound to be to a girl with lovely blue eyes like yours.’
He was stretching it a bit calling her a girl because she was well on the way to forty. And it was the contents of her tight-fitting sweater he’d noticed rather than the colour of her eyes. But she was a tasty sort with bright red hair, vivid blue eyes and a warm smile.
‘Is that the best you can do in chat-up lines?’ she asked.
He wasn’t chatting her up, the silly cow. He was merely talking to her the way most blokes talked to barmaids. She’d be lucky!
But he heard himself say, ‘I can try to improve on it, if you like?’
‘No. Don’t waste your time, love,’ she told him lightly. ‘I was only teasing you. I’ve heard ’em all in this job. And I never trust the smooth operators.’
‘Very wise, Patsy,’ he said, sipping his whisky.
She moved away to serve other customers and he found a space at the end of the bar and lit a cigarette. A man who had seen him come in and had checked with the landlord as to his identity, appeared at his side.
‘Mick Parker?’ he asked.
‘That’s right.’
‘I hear you might be interested in a spot o’ business?’
‘I might be,’ said Mick cagily, looking at the man who was thirtyish, tall and painfully thin with protuberant eyes and a long hairstyle like Mick Jagger’s. ‘I’m always willing to listen to any business proposition.’ He paused meaningfully. ‘So long as it’s legit. I don’t touch anything chancey.’
‘Bristle Sharp gave me your name,’ the man said meaningfully. ‘He told me I’d find you in here.’
‘Bristle Sharp, eh?’ said Mick, his attitude changing at the mention of a well-known local villain with whom he regularly did business.
‘That’s right.’
‘In that case, let’s go and sit down, mate,’ said Mick.
They sat at a corner table.
‘Sheepskin coats,’ said the thin man, who was known ironically as Podge. ‘Men’s and women’s. They’ll go like a bomb in this weather.’
Mick knew this would be a good earner if he could get the coats cheap enough. But it wasn’t in his best interests to seem eager.
‘I might be interested,’ he said. ‘But I’d have to see the goods before I could say for sure.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘Bring a sample out to my warehouse on South Street,’ he said. ‘If I like what I see, we can talk price.’
‘It’s top-quality gear,’ said Podge.
‘It’s also hot,’ said Mick. ‘I’d be taking a risk. I won’t touch ’em at all unless I get ’em at a rock bottom price.’
‘Plenty of people will be willing to take ’em off me,’ said Podge.
Mick drew slowly on his cigarette, looking unconcerned.
‘Feel free to let them go then, mate,’ he said with feigned indifference. ‘But if you’ve still got ’em on your hands next week and you wanna do business, come and see me at the warehouse.’
‘Righto.’
Each man was aware of the other’s tactics. They both knew they would eventually do business. It was just a matter of who would win on the question of price. They chatted about business generally while Podge finished his drink, then he left.
Mick went back to the bar and ordered another whisky.
‘Have one yourself, Patsy,’ he said pleasantly.
‘That’s very nice of you, Mick,’ she said. ‘But I’ll miss out this time, if you don’t mind. I’ve already got one lined up. There’s still quite a while to go until closing time. Daren’t get squiffy, not on my first day.’
He grinned. ‘We can’t have you rolling home, can we?’
‘No fear.’
He noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring but pretended innocence as a way of extracting information.
‘You’d be in dead trouble with your husband if you did that.’
‘I’m not married, dear,’ she said breezily. ‘Not any more. I’ve been divorced for five years.’
‘A boyfriend?’
‘Not at the moment.’
‘Oh.’
‘You married?’ she asked.
Mick hesitated before replying. To his surprise he found himself wanting to bare his soul to her. He hadn’t responded to anyone on a personal level since he’d left home but Patsy’s warmth touched him for some reason. There was something about her that he found appealing. God, he was lonely. He needed someone. It had been so long since he’d been with a woman.
‘Separated,’ he said at last.
‘We’re two of a kind then.’
‘That’s right.’ He drank his whisky. ‘What are you doing when you finish here?’
‘Going home to have something to eat and put my feet up before it’s time to come back for the evening session. Why?’
‘I was wondering if the two of us might go somewhere, ’ he said, feeli
ng oddly nervous. ‘Seeing as we’re both on our own. Perhaps we could go and have a bite to eat together?’
‘Yeah, that’ll be smashing, Mick,’ she said with a beaming smile. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
They went to a fast food place and had steak and chips because they were too late to get lunch anywhere classier. It was hardly luxurious but it was bright and cheerful and the food was excellent. Patsy was such good company it was impossible not to get along with her. Even at this early stage he could tell that she had a very easy going nature. She told him she was originally from London and had come to Brighton to make a new life for herself after the break-up of her marriage.
‘He went off with my best friend,’ she explained over coffee. ‘A double betrayal, I think they call it. It meant I lost the two people closest to me.’
‘Must have been awful.’
‘It was a real blow. I had to get away somewhere . . . away from all the pity that was being dished out to me. I was demoralised enough. I didn’t need people feeling sorry for me.’
‘I can understand that.’
She gave him a querying look. ‘How about you? Are you getting a divorce?’
‘Oh, no!’ he exclaimed in horror, because even the suggestion caused him pain.
‘Well, don’t look so shocked,’ she said lightly. ‘It’s what separated people usually do eventually, isn’t it? Get divorced.’
‘Not Jane and me,’ Mick said firmly. ‘Ours is only a temporary separation.’
‘Oh, I see,’ she said knowingly. ‘It’s just a trial thing, is it?’
‘Something like that.’
She drew on her cigarette, looking at him. ‘Well, I hope it works out for you.’
‘It will, it will . . . there’s no doubt about it,’ he insisted with far too much emphasis. ‘It’s just a matter of time.’
‘You’re lucky.’
‘You’d like to get back with your husband then?’ he said.
‘Oh, no. I don’t want that bugger back . . . not ever.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘It’s just that . . . well, it does sometimes get awfully lonely, going home to an empty place.’
‘A woman like you doesn’t need to be lonely, surely?’ he said. ‘I mean, with looks and a personality like yours.’
‘I get plenty of offers,’ she said, ‘but I don’t go in for one-night stands with married men who get a kick out of laying the barmaid in their local.’
Mick knew she had said this as a warning to him. Oddly enough it wasn’t a one-night stand he wanted with her. He didn’t know quite what he did want from her but it was more than just sex. He needed someone to ease his loneliness until he was ready to return to Jane and the children.
‘You may find it hard to believe but I don’t go in for one-night stands either.’
She didn’t say anything, just looked at him with a half smile. Her face was large and round and heavily made-up. She looked cheap and tarty but there was a gentleness in her eyes, despite the thick mascara. He knew instinctively that he could trust her.
Maybe it was because she was a stranger; perhaps it was because she had such a warm and comforting way about her. But whatever the reason, he found himself telling her the bizarre story of how he came to be here in Brighton - the whole sorry tale. It was a huge relief to unburden himself at last.
‘That’s some story,’ she said finally.
‘You’re not kidding,’ said Mick. ‘I’m just living for the day when I can go back to Jane.’
She chewed her lip, worried because it seemed rather a naive thing to say.
‘Don’t you think you should have gone as soon as you got your memory back?’
‘Oh, no, I can’t go back to Jane while I’m a loser.’
‘But, Mick, she’ll have gone through hell when you went missing,’ Patsy pointed out. ‘Don’t you think you owe it to her to let her know you’re alive and well?’
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m not going back until I’m ready.’
‘How long have you been away?’
‘Oh, it must be more than three years now,’ he said. ‘Yeah, it’ll be four years next June.’
‘And you’re quite certain she’ll have you back?’
‘Positive.’
‘You don’t think she might have found someone else by now?’
He shook his head. ‘Not Jane. I’m the only man for her.’
Which was perfectly understandable for a woman married to Mick Parker, thought Patsy, who had fancied him rotten the minute she’d clapped eyes on him. She thought he was gorgeous with his swarthy complexion and dark, melancholy eyes. If he hadn’t had such an obsession about his wife, there might have been a chance of something worthwhile developing between them. But even after such a short acquaintance, she could tell he was a troubled man with a definite fixation.
‘While you were there with her, I expect that was how things were,’ she said, because she thought he needed to face facts. ‘But you’ve been away a long time and she doesn’t know that you’re planning to go back. I mean, you couldn’t blame her . . .’
‘You can take my word for it, Patsy,’ he interrupted with emphasis, ‘I’m the only man Jane wants.’
‘The sooner you go back to her the better then,’ was her answer to that.
‘I can’t . . . not yet.’
‘But how is she going to feel when you do go back and she realises you’ve had your memory back for some time?’ she asked.
He didn’t even want to think about that so just said, ‘I’ll worry about that when the time comes.’
‘Anyway, you don’t seem much like a loser to me,’ said Patsy.
‘Compared to what I used to be, I am,’ he said. ‘I mean . . . I run a secondhand car and live in a rented flat. It isn’t much for someone who used to have a big house and two new cars on the drive.’
‘Are those things really so important to you?’ she asked.
‘Aren’t they to everyone?’
‘Not to me,’ she said without hesitation. ‘So long as I’ve a roof over my head and enough money to live on and pay my bills, I’m happy.’
For a moment Mick almost envied her. But not for long.
‘What you’ve never had, you don’t miss, I suppose,’ he said. ‘But I’ve been up there in the money and I want to be there again.’
‘Oh, well, each to their own, I suppose,’ she said mildly.
They lapsed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
‘Well, that was a most enjoyable meal,’ she said after a while. ‘But I must go when I’ve finished this coffee and cigarette.’
‘So soon?’ said Mick, who felt happier than he had in ages and wanted it to continue.
‘Afraid so.’ She drank her coffee. ‘I have to be back at the pub at half-past five and I need to do a bit of shopping before I go home.’ She smiled at him. ‘Thanks ever so much for lunch, Mick . . . it made a nice change.’
‘I’ve enjoyed your company.’ He stirred sugar into his coffee slowly, looking at her. ‘You’ve really cheered me up.’
‘I could win medals for cheering people up,’ said Patsy.
‘I can quite believe it . . . but I can’t believe I’ve told you so much about myself.’
‘It’ll go no further.’
‘I know that.’
They left the cafe soon after and went their separate ways, making no further arrangements. But that evening Mick couldn’t get to the Drake’s Arms quick enough.
‘I was wondering,’ he said to Patsy as she served him with a whisky, ‘if you fancy going somewhere after you’ve finished here tonight? We could go to a club, if you like.’
She turned to the cash register and put his money through the till. When she turned back to him she was smiling.
‘Why not?’ she agreed casually, and he wondered if anything ever rattled her. ‘We might have a few laughs.’
They went to a club called the Orange Tree which was in a smoky cellar. There was a small dance floor surrounded b
y tables and a band playing in the corner. They dined on chicken in a creamy sauce followed by chocolate gâteau and a good few drinks. When they smooched around the dance floor, Mick felt as though he had rejoined the human race after a very long absence. It felt so wonderfully normal to be holding a woman in his arms again.
‘Fancy coming back to my place for a nightcap?’ he whispered into her ear.
Patsy didn’t come over all coy, or ask what he had in mind. She simply said, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’
They were two lonely people, reaching out to each other for comfort. There was no more to it than that. They both knew Patsy wouldn’t leave until the morning but neither of them had any thoughts beyond that. It was enough to feel happy for now.
‘But, Jane, you can’t do this to us,’ said Lena one evening a few days later when Jane went next-door to tell her neighbours she was looking for somewhere else to live. All the children were playing upstairs, safely out of earshot.
‘Whatever will we do without you?’ said Giles, sitting on the sofa moving a pile of exercise books.
‘I’m absolutely devastated,’ said Jane who had been offered a chair by the fire opposite Lena, sitting with her legs curled under her. They were all drinking coffee which Lena had made as soon as Jane appeared.
‘I bet you are,’ said Giles.
‘For some reason it had never occurred to me that the landlord might want to sell the cottage one day. I suppose it should have come into my mind when this one was put on the market.’
‘Property prices are shooting up at the moment, especially in London,’ said Giles. ‘I suppose he wants to get in on the boom.’
‘I haven’t told the children yet,’ said Jane. ‘They’ll be heartbroken.’
‘So will Kevin,’ said Lena gloomily. ‘To lose his best pal, Davey.’
‘He won’t lose him,’ said Jane. ‘We’ll be staying in the area and the kids will be going to the same school. I’m determined not to uproot them any more than I have to. I just hope I can find a decent place to rent not too far away.’
‘It won’t be the same for the boys as living next-door to each other,’ said Lena.