‘Yeah, we can see,’ said Ben, sarcastically.
‘Well, go on; ask her out,’ said Barry, ‘you’ll never find out anything till you try.’
‘Yeah okay, soon,’ promised Mark.
‘Well, I’d better be going,’ said Barry.
‘What - in your hot-rod Anglia,’ joked Mark.
Barry was used to this so didn’t care for he thought that his car was fast enough for him. It was nowhere near as fast as Mark’s Kawasaki 350cc motorbike or Ben’s Yamaha 400cc, but Barry was just glad he could drive again.
‘I’ll see yer,’ said Barry, as he disappeared through the doorway.
‘C’mon - let’s drink up and go,’ said Mark. ‘Maybe we’ll catch him upon the mad-mile’.
The mad-mile was that stretch of road in the valley and it was popular with youngsters because it had four straight stretches with nasty curves in the middle. It was given the nickname because the speed limit was seventy mph but, often, people would hurtle along at far in excess of this. Ben was a more cautious driver.
‘I’ve got a passenger,’ he said, referring to Beverley, as they downed their pints and put their helmets on.
‘Oh, all right, I’ll see you later,’ said Mark.
They got on their bikes, started them up and drove to the lights, which changed to amber and Mark was off up the road in a flash whilst Ben went the other way. Whereas, Mark was going down the steep hill with three nasty curves in it which they’d walked up on Barry’s fateful day, Ben was going the longer way down a straight hill, around a roundabout and straight onto the mad-mile.
Mark was thinking of how far Barry had got when he came to the first corner. Round this - no problem, into the next - easy. When, he rounded the third corner, going downhill, he was still thinking about Barry. He may have had just a bit too much to drink for he was certainly going too fast. He drove into the last corner and, suddenly, in a split second, he realised that he could not come out of it. The corner was ninety degrees and the camber was sloping down into the side of the road - sharply. It really was very dangerous.
Mark suddenly lost control and could not lean with the bike around the corner. Smash, bang, were the sickening sounds that went through the still air. Mark had hit his head on the lamp post which was right on the corner. The bike toppled over and slid over the tarmac, coming to a halt some way down the hill.
Mark lay motionless on the pavement as the residents, who were used to accidents on that corner, swung into action and called the ambulance and police. Mark was quickly whisked away to hospital and his mother was called. She rushed to the hospital immediately and was told by the doctors that Mark would have to go to a specialist hospital for the head injury. It was on this journey that Mark passed away.
At 6.30 am, the next day, Mark’s mother had to start telling his friends about the accident. She rang Ben’s house first and then she rang Barry’s. Barry was still in bed so his mother answered the phone. The noise woke Barry up and the hushed tones puzzled him.
‘Mrs Connors. I am Mark’s mother and I have just rung to tell you that Mark had an accident, last night and he died.’ She was very to the point.
‘Oh, I am sorry,’ said Patricia. Poor, Mark! What happened?’ Mark’s mother told her the details and put the phone down.
A few moments later, Patricia went into Barry’s bedroom.
‘Barry - there is something I must tell you. Mark was driving home last night and he had an accident.’
‘What?... where?’ started Barry, still bleary-eyed.
‘They tried to get him to a specialist hospital but, unfortunately, he died on the way.’
‘He... he’s dead?’ questioned Barry, dumbfounded, ‘Yes - I’m sorry, he’s dead.’
Barry fell back onto the bed and cried and cried. Mark had been a friend for nine years - a good friend - and Barry just couldn’t bear to think of him no longer around. Life after school was just starting for the lads and now one of them had gone. To Barry’s brothers it may have seemed rather weak of Barry to cry like he did but the accident had made him much more emotional, with less power to control himself.
Barry finally stopped crying and wondered what to do that day. He had a solemn breakfast and then decided to go to see Ben for he was definitely not going to work! He phoned Charles to tell him this and although Charles said he was sorry, he asked why Barry couldn’t still go to work. This was the first time he had shown his true character to Barry - uncaring and selfish - but Barry was too upset to realise this.
Barry was still feeling devastated when he got into his car to drive to Ben’s. He had given up smoking for the fifth time a few weeks ago, but now he needed a cigarette so he bought some on the way to Ben’s and lit up when he got there.
‘Hello, Barry. How did it happen? He was only with us last night.’
Ben’s eyes were red, indicating that he, too, had been crying. ‘I don’t know - where was it, though?’ said Barry.
‘On the hill at the end of the mad-mile. I went down the other way and he went down that terrible hill.’
‘But he’s been down that hill many times before so why should he crash?’
‘I suppose he was going too fast, too much drink - or there was something wrong with the bike. It’s a shit anyway.’
The two lads went into Ben’s house and later, Clive and Stan came around. They chatted for two hours reminiscing about their lives and experiences with Mark.
‘That’s two of us who have had bad accidents on bikes,’ said Barry. ‘Don’t you three want to get off them and into cars, quickly?’
‘No, no, I’ll have to be more careful,’ said Stan. ‘I like bikes too much to get off them completely.’ Stan had recently bought a 250cc Honda and it was his pride and joy.
‘Well - be sure you are careful. One death and one severe injury - a nearly death - should warn you,’ said Barry. Of course, he knew what it felt like to ride bikes and such fun and exhilaration couldn’t be had when driving a car. Even he sometimes longed for the day when he would ride again - but it would never come.
The days passed quickly and on the night, two days before Mark’s funeral, the lads were in the pub again.
‘Listen, they’ve got Mark in the undertaker’s down the road and I’m going to pay my last respects and go and see his body tomorrow. Does anyone want to come?’ It was Nick, a rather tall chap who rode a 250cc bike.
‘Yeah, yeah okay, I’ll come,’ said Ben.
‘And me - I want to see him once more,’ said Clive. Barry stared at the floor - those emotions beginning to well up again.
‘No, no, not me’ he said. ‘I just couldn’t bear to see him lying there lifeless.’
‘Oh,’ said Nick. ‘But it will be the last time you’ll ever see him.’ Barry continued to stare at the floor for he couldn’t imagine seeing the once jovial Mark, lying there - dead. The day of the funeral arrived and Charles said Barry could have the morning off to attend it, as long as he was back by midday. All the others were given the day off as it was a very upsetting time for them. Barry thought of what he would have said if Charles hadn’t let him go - not nice thoughts at all!
The funeral was held at the local crematorium quite near his work. The short service was held around the coffin that suddenly started sinking into the furnace below. Barry glanced down but he couldn’t watch and when he looked a moment later, it had gone. The service finished and they went outside to look at the wreaths. Barry looked up to see black smoke belching out of the chimney. This was his mate, Mark - gone to ashes and smoke.
The guests finally went back to Mark’s mother’s house for snacks and Barry went in to find everyone talking in a light hearted manner and he couldn’t understand it. After attending a terribly sad occasion, here they all were, smiling at each other. Of course, they were trying to keep each other from becoming t
oo sad because if people dwell on such things, especially when driving, more accidents could happen. Barry was not in a happy mood so no one could make him smile.
At the end of the day, Barry sat in his room and held his head in his hands, thinking about the events of the last week. The only other death that he had experienced before was that of a next door neighbour who had committed suicide when a friend of his had run off with the man’s wife. That was bad enough but not nearly as bad as the death of a good friend. He then reflected on the cause of the accident - that damn motorbike and probably, drink. These were the same causes as his accident, but he had walked, or hobbled, away. Then he remembered one of the things that Mark had always been saying - that he would die when he was thirty-five years old. Barry had always tried to persuade him that this couldn’t be true for he had a long life ahead of him and that he should look forward to it. This had been Barry’s opinion and he couldn’t see why Mark had this other view and when he had asked him for an explanation, Mark had always shrugged him away, not wishing to divulge the reasons so he had obviously been certain of this.
Barry thought that this could be the reason why Mark had died and he had lived. The will is a tremendously strong force and Barry had told himself that he was going to live and enjoy life whereas Mark was convinced that he would die, before his accident, so maybe this was the reason for the outcome of both. Barry continued to ponder in his room and concluded - it’s a tough life. Soon after this period, Barry decided that he didn’t really want to continue seeing Shu. He thought that he would like to meet some new people, so he told her of his decision and she was upset but coped with the news. Barry continued to see his mates in the pub and tried to chat to some new girls. He was in the unenviable position of trying to hide or disguise his limp. The hand didn’t really matter so much because he could use his left hand easily now, but the girls just didn’t appear so Barry started to wonder if he had done the right thing.
Time was marching on and then something happened that the whole group dreaded - Stan was killed in a motorcycle accident. He had been apparently innocently riding down a hill and a motorist just drove into him. As Stan had been in the year below Barry at school and Barry didn’t know him as well as he had known Mark, he did not stay off work when he heard of the accident but was anticipating the funeral a week later.
‘Say Charles, can I have some time off work, next Tuesday to go to a funeral?’ asked Barry.
‘Oh, no, not more time off,’ said Charles impatiently. ‘That’s all you young lads ever think of - getting time off work. When do I ever stay off work?’
‘But, Charles, it’s for a funeral!’
‘Well, he won’t see you there so I don’t see why you must go. Was he a good friend?’
‘Err, not that good, but...’
‘There you are then! Besides, I need you to go somewhere next Tuesday.’
‘Where?’
‘To our biggest client - who’s still alive!’
Charles was obviously not going to let him go to the funeral without putting up a hell of a fight so Barry gave in to this forcible persuasion.
On the day the funeral took place, Barry felt deeply guilty because he was not attending but kept telling himself the reason - to go to our biggest client to do some work. He still did not realise why Charles was doing it or the selfish, cold-hearted need of the man to get people to do things for him. He had such a plausible attitude though, which would continue to fool everyone he met.
Barry’s absence at the funeral was seen in a very bad light by the rest of the group, especially Clive, who had got on well with Stan. After that, he shunned Barry much of the time and the group started to fragment, but they still met, occasionally, at The Kings Head and it was there that Barry had his first real chance to go out with a girl.
It was near Christmas of that year and Barry had asked Jackie - the barmaid Mark had drooled over- if he could meet her for a drink when she was off duty. She had agreed and so a date and time was arranged. At the same time, however, Shu still fancied Barry and she had knitted him a sleeveless jumper and as she was still staying nearby, he was invited to go for a Christmas drink on the night before the date. Charles had asked him so Barry felt compelled to go but really, he didn’t mind seeing the pretty Shu again, so went there after work.
They all sat down in the large living room and Barry was presented with the gift from Shu. She had sat for hours, knitting him the sleeveless jumper. The jumper was much too big, of course, because Barry was very thin, but he was chuffed that she had gone out of her way to do this for him - and that was that! Shu and Barry started dating again and Barry, for the first time in his life, stood a girl up. He didn’t meet Jackie on the following evening or go to the pub again for a long time and the romance with Shu blossomed.
In the spring, Shu finished her art and English courses at the local college and had to look for a job. She and Barry were still dating and she didn’t plan on going back to home, if she could help it. She had several Chinese friends and was advised to try and get a job in a Chinese restaurant in the City. There were no local Chinese restaurants at that time in the area she lived in offering jobs so she spent several days going up to town and asking for work. Eventually, her persistence paid off and she got a job as cashier in the City centre. This meant that she either had to commute or find a flat or bed-sit closer.
Being an independent lady, she wanted to start living on her own and where she was staying at that time was just like being at home with her mum and dad - albeit in a different country. She looked around in the local press of different areas in town and listened to more advice and then, lo and behold, she heard about a house that had been turned into flats a couple of miles from the town centre and she went to see it. The price, being only a few quid per week, satisfied her more than the conditions, so she told Barry.
‘Barry, I move to the City be nearer work. Do you mind?’
Being Chinese, and female, she almost felt subservient to Barry and so needed his agreement and Barry could see several advantages to her being alone.
‘Well . . . err... no. I won’t be able to see you so much - mostly at the weekends. Is that okay?’
‘Yes, I should like to see you weekends.’
Barry loaded her baggage into his Anglia the following weekend and moved her to her new digs. She showed him into her bed-sit, which was up in the attic.
‘Crikey it’s a bit small isn’t it?’ exclaimed Barry, as he walked in. The room was only four feet by twelve feet and it had a little stove, a bed and a wardrobe stuffed into it.
‘It’s okay for me,’ said Shu, proudly. ‘I’ll be all right!’
They took all her belongings in and sat down on the bed.
‘Rather you than me,’ said Barry, thinking of his mother’s nice three bedroomed semi back at home. ‘It’ll he cold in the winter - look, you’ve only got a thin wall and slates between you and the outside! Hmm - I’ll have to come and keep you warm.’ They smiled at each other and spent the rest of the afternoon in the room.
As the weeks went by, Barry got used to driving up to the north side of the City on weekends and, occasionally, at night. He had worked out a fairly quick route which took less than an hour. As the time went by, he kept getting hints from Shu that she would have to go back to China next year because her visa was running out and the only way Barry could help her was to marry her. What a problem, he thought. He would only be twenty-one next year, but he kept going over it in his mind, wondering if he loved her enough.
Eventually, he asked Thomas because he thought some guidance might help.
‘Say, Thomas, what shall I do about Shu? I know she wants to marry me and I like her a lot, but I don’t know if I can.’
‘No - definitely not! You shouldn’t marry her yet because you’re still too young!’ Thomas was trying to exert the authority he didn’t have.
‘But if I don’t, she’ll have to go back home and I don’t want that.’
‘Look, look, there are many things in life that have to happen - you can’t control everything!’ Thomas was trying to maintain a hold on Barry just like he had when Barry was in hospital and he knew that if he got married, that hold would be severed.
Barry considered what Thomas had said, especially the bit about ‘you can’t control everything’ but he knew he could control this! Just like his mother, when someone told him not to do something, his hackles rose and he did it!
The very next Saturday, he popped into the jewellers in the shopping arcade in the High Street and spent £70.00 on an engagement ring with three small diamonds set in it. In the afternoon, he slowly drove up to see Shu, with the ring pushed safely in his pocket. He rang the doorbell.
‘Hello Barry. Come in, quickly, out of the cold.’ It was a raw January so Barry rushed in. They went upstairs to her room and as Barry sat down, he could see his breath turning to mist in the cold atmosphere of the room.
‘Are you all right up here? It’s cold enough to free the balls off a brass monkey!’ He sat rubbing his hands.
‘Yes. I get used to it. We had no central heating at our home.’
‘Turn the fire on, please. Look, I’ve something I want to ask you. Sit down there.’
Barry motioned to her to sit down on the bed and he stood up. Shu sat and stared at Barry, her eyes shining in anticipation. ‘I realise that you will have to go back home, soon, and I know that I don’t want you to. You make me happy, Shu, so I want to marry you.’ Barry fumbled in his pocket and brought out the small box, which he opened and then presented the ring to her.
‘Oh, Barry, thank you,’ said Shu, with a lovely smile on her face. ‘Yes, I will marry you.’
Barry sat down on the bed next to her and embraced her. They kissed and cuddled for a long time and Shu revelled in what was happening. It was what she had longed for ever since she had started going out with him - to be wed in England to a handsome man. She had never really worried about his disability for his nice nature was worth more to her than how he walked.
Would You Believe Him? Page 10