Fifty Years of Fear

by Ross Greenwood

  Sadly, I didn’t know where he lived and had no idea how to reach him. I explained this to Clara and at first she understood. As the months ticked by, she began to get twitchy as though I were trying to avoid setting a date. Maybe that’s why she kept mentioning it to all and sundry, to make sure I wouldn’t forget.

  She’d never met Frank and thought it strange that I would be so bothered over someone, brother or not, whom I hadn’t seen for three years and was so reckless at staying in touch. After six months of no contact, I relented, and we set a date for early the following year.

  She wanted it all planned beforehand and almost insisted I ask Scott to be my best man. I did - and he agreed, although with less enthusiasm than I hoped. Clara was an only child and her dad maintained he would pay for everything. Thirty-five people we were able to muster. That pleased me, despite a fair number of them being her relatives, but Clara was disappointed. At that point, I decided to stop trying to understand women and let it wash over me.

  I finally received a postcard from Leeds and, as it stated, Frank turned up with a fiancée of his own on a hot Sunday in late summer. I told Frank we would cook for him when he arrived. Clara chose to do a roast chicken, and was sweating and panicking in the kitchen.

  I was working under my bonnet with a guy called Silent Kevin from work. I suppose we’d become friends, although it was hard to say as he didn’t get his nickname for nothing. He worked on the production line too, but his real love was cars. The Ford Fiesta had been playing up and Clara mentioned spending the money to buy a more family-oriented vehicle, or at least one with four doors. It felt like tempting fate, so Kevin started coming over a few months back to see if he could sort out the problems.

  He always brought four beers with him. One each whilst fixing the car and one each after eating dinner. Clara cooked him something as a thank you. It never seemed to occur to him that she might want a drink. I wasn’t sure if he was lonely or not. Whenever I asked him if he wanted to come over, he was usually free. That day, he only arrived with two beers as he had declined the invite to the family reunion afterwards.

  ‘It’s no use you hiding under there you know.’

  I pulled myself out from under the engine and there he stood, with the same look on his face. As though the pair of us had been out the night before and got drunk, and he’d popped round at lunchtime to try and tempt me into going for a livener. A good feeling flowed through me. His hair seemed longer with a few flecks of grey, but other than that, he looked the same. The lady with him was striking. She had a short, red, harsh bob on top of an expressionless face of heavy make-up.

  My brother introduced me to Rebel with a squeeze to my shoulder. I got a cool handshake in return. Frank gazed at her with blatant admiration and held her other hand whilst he talked.

  ‘This is my brother, Vincent. The one I told you about. You can call him, Vinnie, like I do. Still managing to keep this on the road, are you?’

  He gestured to my car. As he did, Kevin came out from underneath the car. He glanced at my brother and Rebel, decided nothing interested him and nodded at me.

  ‘I can’t get those screws done up. I’m not sure we’ve put it back in right.’

  Before I could speak, Frank cut in.

  ‘Vinnie, you go and introduce Rebel to your missus. I’ll give your friend a hand here.’

  I looked at my brother and Kevin, then at Rebel, who studied me. None of us were happy with that arrangement. Frank shooed us off, and I took her round the back. She noticed the concrete slope at the back with confusion and seemed relieved when she found Clara wasn’t in a wheelchair. Even though I was keen to return to the others, Clara waylaid me with concerns over cooking times. I feared what I might get back to as the other two made an unusual pair.

  I needn’t have worried. They were laughing together when I returned and drinking beer. Frank put my empty bottle on the pavement and grinned.

  ‘Clever bloke, this. Great man to keep around.’

  Kevin beamed like he’d been awarded a prize.

  ‘Frank did it with good, old-fashioned brute force. It was easy after that. I’ll have to get his number so he can help out again.’

  To my surprise, I felt let down. I couldn’t remember the last time he had put three sentences together with me. He picked his tool box up, smiled, and walked away.

  ‘Isn’t he staying for lunch?’

  ‘No, he has another motor to work on.’

  ‘Doesn’t he say goodbye?’

  ‘Not often, no.’

  ‘I like him.’

  ‘And my beer by the looks of things.’

  ‘I was just being polite. It tasted like transmission fluid.’

  He leaned against the side of the car and yawned.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Yeah, I don’t like it either.’

  ‘Not the drink stupid. Rebel.’

  ‘Very pretty.’

  ‘Isn’t she? I’m in love. She’s the one for me.’

  He laughed at my raised eyebrows.

  ‘Early days though. Let's just say we're having fun.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘And to you. Surely it’s me who’s supposed to get married first.’

  He was joking, but I needed to tell him the news. I'd left it out of my letter back to him as I wanted to inform him personally. It had been eating me up as the days ticked by.

  ‘Frank. I asked a friend called Scott to be the best man.’

  He actually recoiled. I took a step towards him and he waved me away.

  ‘That’s fine, Vinnie. I'm aware I haven’t been around. I didn’t know where the time vanished to start with. I looked all over for work. It was a struggle without qualifications. Then I found out about Mum’s family.’

  Now it was I who reacted.

  ‘I thought her parents were dead, and she was an only child.’

  ‘She was an only child and her parents are dead, but Vinnie, they only died five years ago.’

  It’s hard to say what passed through my brain over the next few seconds. Lots of the books I read told of the special relationships between grandparents and grandchildren. I’d had many a thought as to how grounding that would have been. Why were we denied this?

  ‘I did meet a few cousins though.’

  ‘Will they want to come to the wedding?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought so,’ he said with a sad smile.

  ‘Why didn’t we know them?’

  ‘They disowned Mum, years ago. Look, it’s all in the past now. There isn’t any point in raking up what’s been left behind. I wasn’t sure what to tell you and that was part of why I didn’t come back. Then I met Rebel, and I really did forget everyone else. Now, come on. Mum told me to watch out for you after she was gone. Who is this best man?’

  ‘It’s Scott, from your year at school.’

  ‘What?’ His rage was instant. ‘That fucking prick.’

  The meal didn’t go too well. Frank had brought two bottles of wine, which I think helped him forget the best man news as he drank most of them himself. Clara was clumsy with everything and said little. I wondered if she was intimidated by Rebel’s beauty or my brother’s silence. Rebel’s tight clothes showed off an admirably slim figure which Frank couldn’t seem able to resist touching. Their interaction was unusual, with an edge to it. She watched him like an observer of a street fight. Some girls love danger.

  They made me remember the time Frank and I put an aerosol canister on a bonfire. As the fire licked the sides of it, a tinging sound came out. This got louder and faster until we both began to step away, unsure as to what might happen. With an almighty bang, it blasted fifty feet up in the air and blew wood and burning plastic over our crouching heads. All that remained was a smouldering patch on the ground. I feared something similar might occur here. By the time dessert had disappeared, it was a relief to get them out of my house.

  Chapter 18

  1994 - Age: 28

  Scott insist
ed I have a stag do. He also asserted that it would be a pub crawl. The dreaded - or loved, depending on your drinking habits - ‘Crown to Town’. Fifteen grotty pubs along Lincoln Road with a pint in each place. For someone who drinks it's no small task, for someone who doesn’t it's mountainous. The sensation I got as I looked at the creaking sign for The Crown was one of an inexperienced climber gaping up at Everest. The only concession he would allow was you could have a spirit at every third pub. He said that would avoid bloating.

  There were seven of us in all. My brother had returned to Leeds and stayed in touch. However, he didn’t confirm whether he would come for the pub crawl, just that they would be there on the day. Scott and I assumed he would be absent.

  When Frank rocked up at the pub a little after 6.30 p.m. and saw us gathered at the bar in our matching, bright, white, Magnificent Seven T-shirts, it was a bad sign. The seven were me, Silent Kevin, Scott, twins called Arnold and Alan who were nice quiet guys from work and my bowling team, and a couple of Scott’s friends from work. I knew their faces, little else, but Scott assured me it was the more the merrier. He would be wrong.

  With Frank there, we became the hateful eight. In hindsight, the look that passed between Scott and Frank as he arrived should have been enough to get me to ring a taxi, go home, and put it down to a poor idea. Less blood would have been spilt too.

  The first four pubs weren’t too bad. My nervousness gave me a dry mouth, and the beer actually helped calm me down. Everyone seemed to be getting on well and talking about man things. I saw my brother chatting to Kevin with great gusto. Scott and I even fit a quick pool game in at The Windmill against Alan and Arnold.

  Nevertheless, the ferocious pace needed to grace the final pub before closing was too much for a lightweight such as me, and I began to flag. After we left the eleventh pub, I waddled down the street like an overfilled rain barrel on bowed legs.

  Despite a considerable amount of boasting from Scott and his friends about what massive drinkers they were, all three of them were worse for wear. Scott’s voice became progressively louder and more obnoxious with every watering hole we visited. This, combined with the congratulatory braying by the two friends at his rubbish jokes, began to get us disapproving looks from everyone in our vicinity. The barman at The Hand and Heart asked us to finish our drinks and leave.

  Soon enough, it wasn’t fun anymore. It started to feel like we were prisoners of war being marched at punishing speed by an evil officer - Scott in our case. As we trudged to The Norfolk, Alan and Arnold lagged behind. I dropped back to see if they were okay.

  ‘How’s it going lads? Almost there.’

  They both looked apologetic but steadfast.

  ‘We’ve had enough, Vinnie. We don’t drink much and certainly not at this pace. I’m so full I can hardly breathe.’

  For a few seconds, I thought about trying to persuade them to stay. In reality, I wanted to leave with them.

  ‘We’ve both got work tomorrow too.’

  They shook my hand and disappeared. The empty street seemed darker. The speed they left was indicative of the fact they were probably worried Scott would come back and shoot them at the roadside for not keeping up.

  I was stepping through the doorway into the next pub when I remembered the factory was shut on Sunday for maintenance.

  The atmosphere had taken a turn for the worse when I stood at the bar with the remaining participants. Frank and Scott squared up to each other. Scott’s mates were behind him in threatening poses. Silent Kevin seemed oblivious to the quarrel as he got served.

  ‘Heh, what’s going on?’ I said.

  ‘This guy is a dick. You sure you want him as your best man?’

  ‘You’re just jealous that he asked me.’

  ‘Not jealous, just surprised.’

  Kevin came and stood between them as he handed out the drinks. This seemed to diffuse the tension, although more alcohol would not improve the atmosphere of violence that hung around us. Scott’s trio went to play the fruit machine and left us staring at each other.

  ‘What was that about, Frank?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Vinnie. I overheard something and challenged him. He didn’t like it and got all shirty. He always was a bully.’

  ‘Can’t you forget it, please? We only have a few more pubs and then it’s over.’

  Frank’s expression told me I was incorrect.

  ‘Where are the other two?’ said Kevin, noticing the absence of the twins.

  ‘They escaped.’

  It kicked off at The Harvester. By this time, I was seeing double and struggling to keep any tension in my face. The thought of more liquid was an awful prospect. Kevin and I had dropped to the rear.

  When we got to the car park, we were met by a tangle of four bodies rolling around in the dirt. It was a dark night and difficult to see what was happening. There were only a few spaces with cars in as it was more a food pub than a boozer. By 10.30 p.m., it seemed everyone had eaten and gone home so there was no one to raise the alarm.

  One of Scott’s friends rolled from the melee and lay on the floor, half-conscious. It was hard to tell if he was paralytic or injured. The other two were getting the better of Frank. Scott was a sturdy man now and his friend similar. It was a vicious fight, not a fair one, with fists and boots being rained down at every opportunity.

  I looked about for a stick or stone. Anything to even the sides. The single streetlight was no help. Feeling desperate, the grey fog of alcohol lifted to reveal a red mist of rage. I grabbed Scott’s remaining friend by the back of his coat and threw him away from the fight. He turned and came at us, but Kevin stood in the way and he put his hands up saying, ‘Okay, that's enough.’

  Meanwhile, Scott had pulled a small knife on Frank and had him backed up against a wall. Scott lunged at him. Frank grabbed the arm that was holding the knife and pushed it skyward. As I ran toward them, I saw a piece of dislodged tarmac and scooped it up. Using two hands and with all the force my fury could muster, I bashed it on the back on Scott’s skull. The lump broke in half as Scott slumped to his knees. With each piece as a weapon, I pounded the top of his head with the sharp edges as though I was a drummer at the crescendo of an ancient sacrifice.

  Strong arms lifted me away from the scene.

  ‘Steady now. You’ve won,’ Kevin said.

  Scott rolled onto his back and let out a painful cry. The friend I had pulled away came to his assistance and looked down in shock. Turning to me, with hate in his eyes he snarled his response.

  ‘You lunatic. You could have killed him. I’m ringing the police.’

  Scott’s bloodied hand rose up, and he managed to gurgle, ‘No.’

  ‘He’s right. Vinnie did what had to be done defending me. Scott here bought a knife to the party,’ Frank said.

  The man thought for a minute and nodded.

  ‘Fuck off then. I’ll ring for an ambulance, say we were mugged by kids or something.’

  Kevin hailed a passing black cab and we got into the back. The gloom was a good thing as my hands were sticky with blood. Frank managed a smile.

  ‘Sorry, Vinnie. I keep getting you into trouble.’

  All I could think was at least Scott wouldn’t mind not being my best man.

  The wedding happened three weeks later. I suppose you could say it was a success, comparatively anyway. There were no-shows. Scott was one, and Frank was the other. Neither were surprising. I think, deep down, part of me felt pleased. The chances of any drama decreased.

  Alan and Arnold told me Scott was kept in hospital for observation for four days and had been off sick since. His two friends from our pub crawl steered a wide path from me. If I was a certain type of man, I would have found it comical. However, the thought of Scott returning was an unpleasant one. I struggled to relax at work.

  It was still depressing to think I had no family present at my wedding. Silent Kevin was best man. He surprised us with a very witty speech. I was lucky to have a friend like him. Alan a
nd Arnold, from work, also came. The neighbour, Owen, who liked my mother after my dad passed, also attended. I’d forgotten about him. I see now that it’s easy to do. You become so involved in your own life that you neglect others.

  Owen had aged disproportionately in the years since those funerals. Not that I knew his age or when his birthday was. He was thrilled to be invited and stood on the groom’s side of the church with a grin. He more than paid us back by dancing like a professional and became a big hit on the day.

  As I watched his exuberance pull people from their shells, me included, I wondered if life would find a way of punishing me for my neglect. Is it a crime to be lazy and thoughtless?

  Clara’s dad gave her away. It was the only time I’d seen him show even a glimmer of enthusiasm for anything. I should have taken the warning. I felt bad because as she walked up the aisle, my first thought was that she looked enormous. She’d complained about putting on weight, but I had brushed it aside. It didn’t bother me, although her off-the-shoulder wedding dress made me think of rugby prop forwards.

  It was a lovely sermon. I was nervous and kept muddling my words up. Clara, on the other hand, said her piece loud and clear. This was her day and she was going to enjoy it. We went for a nice meal at The Queensgate Hotel after the service and then through to the lounge for a few drinks.

  Gradually everyone filtered away and it was just the two of us at the bar. She was flushed with a big smile. Silent Kevin was in a corner living up to his name because the remaining bridesmaid had her tongue down his neck and speech would have been impossible.

  ‘Shall we go up to our room and get up to mischief, my husband?’

  The effect of sitting on a bar stool had made her cleavage heave up so it was almost under her chin. Like she was peaking over two speckled space hoppers. That was my good fortune, I’d always considered breast is best. Although, I couldn’t help thinking I was staring at one of those colossal breakfasts which are free if you can eat it all. In the spirit of that, I would give it my best shot.