Man of Ruin: Episode One (Extra Special Pre-Release Edition)

by Oliver Franks

  “Ah…” I let out my traditional exhalation of appreciation. “Good stuff this.”

  “Isn’t bad is it,” she said. “We have a dealer in Provence, Chris gets him to send us a case now and again.”

  “Really?” I said, trying to sound interested. “That’s… cool.”

  “I suppose,” she said.

  She was giving me a searching look now, sort of a frown, but a friendly one that I took to mean she seriously expected me to relax now and not to treat her like a distant relative at a wedding.

  “Can’t just pick up a bottle in Tesco’s then I guess?” I said.

  “No!” she said, bursting into laughter. “Look, it’s just wine. You drink it like any other.”

  “It is good stuff.”

  “Whatever,” she said. “Now, since you are here, please just do me a favour and relax, OK? Do you want to watch the TV? We’ve got Sky Movies. You can choose. Anything you want.”

  “Alright,” I said, following her to the sofas.

  We sat down, she curled into a corner of one of the giant sofas, and me spreading myself into one of the armchairs. She threw me the remote and I switched on the big screen and chugged through the channels. There were plenty of decent flicks to watch, loads that I imagined she would be into - period dramas and the like - and a whole different bunch that were more up my street - action flicks and gory sci-fi thrillers and what-not. I hovered at one or two such gems, but found myself reluctant to choose.

  “Oh you are a one,” she said. “I told you I don’t care.”

  She stood up, came over and took the remote from me. Standing there, she flicked through and eventually arrived at what I considered the least likely film she could have chosen.

  “Sharknado?” I said. “Seriously?”

  “Why not?” she said, heading back to her corner of that sofa. “Change it if you want…”

  “No, that’s fine,” I said, so confused by her I can’t even describe. “It’s a classic.”

  *****

  So we watched Sharknado. A belter of a film, that’s for sure. Maybe not Oscar material but the doc was loving it, sipping her wine and laughing her head off at all the right moments. I was in awe of her I can tell you.

  When we got to the bit when this guy with a chainsaw slices this flying shark in half, the doorbell rang.

  “Pizza!” cried the doc, all excited.

  She got up in a flash and went to the door. I was about ready to murder that pizza, imagining all that bubbling thick cheese and those plump mega-juicy morsels of meat dolloped all over it, all nice and evenly distributed. I heard the door close and stood up to help the doctor lay out our eats, and was surprised when she came back empty handed, instead accompanied by a smart young man in a pin-stripe suit, pulling a small travel case on wheels.

  We eyed each other suspiciously, well him more suspiciously I think, since I had already clocked him from the pictures. It was her son. He looked from me to the TV, wincing at the sound of screams and the throttling of a chainsaw.

  “Who’s this?” he turned to the doc.

  “Well Daryl,” she said, “I was just about to tell you but you came straight in. This is David. One of my patients.”

  “Hello mate,” I said, forcing what I am certain was a horribly weak smile.

  “Bringing your patients home with you now?” he said, ignoring me.

  “Daryl…” his mum growled.

  He left his bag where it was and came over to me, putting out a hand, obviously finding my overweight frame, slouchy clothes and general laddish decorum not to his taste.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, holding my hand as floppily as it is humanly possible.

  “And you too mate,” I said. “Call me Dave.” I added, for some reason thinking that would ease the situation.

  He raised an eyebrow and wrinkled his spindly nose, as if a nasty smell had just materialised inside his nostrils.

  s“What’s this?” said the doc, looking at me. “Dave straightaway is it, when there I was calling you ‘David’ all day long? Who’s buying the pizza, hey? Me or him?”

  I was genuinely unsure how to respond.

  “Mum, please,” said Daryl. “Pizza?”

  He went back to pick up his bag.

  “And what is this God-awful film you’re watching?” he gestured with an arm to the TV.

  I could see she was about to answer, but then the doorbell rang again.

  “That’ll be the pizza man now,” she said brightly.

  Daryl sighed. I held my breath, fearful of more unexpected guests.

  But I was in luck, for it was the pizza man, and Daryl buggered off somewhere. At this point, I didn’t care. The snooty sod could bugger off wherever he wanted to, as long as I got my pizza.

  *****

  The doc and I settled in for our pizza and movie, the evening getting more and more surreal as it went on. With delicious wine and tasty pizza, and with sharks flying and screams and gore flowing, and no Daryl to poo on our parade, what wasn’t to like? The doc herself was chilling right out, getting downright silly with all the alcohol she insisted on quaffing. I wasn’t sure if this was normal for her or was due to the stress of the situation, but who was I to argue? After all I’m never one to refuse a drink or seven.

  “You know”, she eventually said, finally breaching the unspoken subject. “I still can’t believe what I saw today. Was that real?”

  “Well I’m here aren’t I,” I said. “Can’t see you inviting a random like me round for pizza otherwise.”

  “Good point,” she laughed.

  I nodded.

  “It must be terribly difficult for you, honestly,” she said. “I can’t imagine.”

  “Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

  The film was coming to an end now. The doctor looked at me.

  “You mustn’t mind Daryl, by the way,” she said. “He’s been through a lot lately.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said, happy not to focus on my predicament.

  “Yes,” she said, shaking her head. “It seems his company isn’t doing terribly well. And he and his girlfriend are having a bit of a thing.”

  “A thing eh,” I said.

  “So he’s just come back here to clear his head, get some space, you know.”

  “Makes sense.”

  I ummed and ahhed like I knew what she meant, but really those sorts of things were quite alien to me, since I had spent the vast majority of my life single.

  “Do you have a girlfriend Dave?” she said, a bit out of the blue.

  “No,” I said. “Not at the minute.”

  Not ever, I meant.

  “Well don’t ever let that get you down,” she said.

  “I don’t,” I said.

  “There’s always time for that,” she said, ignoring me. “Somewhere, somehow, it’ll happen. You’ll be over the moon, and stuck for the rest of your life. It’s best to enjoy your time alone as much as you can. Just use that time to really be you, you know.”

  “Yup,” I said, thinking of all the wonderful, sad days I spent in my underpants on the sofa, scoffing Mackie D’s or whatever, doing whatever the hell I wanted. “That’s what I do.”

  “Well good for you,” she said.

  I nodded and raised my glass to her and we clinked them together, taking another swig. We were definitely a little bit sloshed.

  She looked at her watch. “I wonder if he’s just going to stay up there all night,” she said, indicating with her head to the floor above.

  I shook my head as if to say I had no idea. Though what I really meant was, I didn’t care.

  “Perhaps it was a shock for him to see you here,” she said. “God knows what he thought…”

  She giggled a little.

  “He probably just thought… Who’s that fat bastard in my living room?”

  She laughed, covering her mouth with a hand.

  “Dave!” she said, giving me a playful slap on the arm. “You may be a bit overweight, but I wouldn’t
call you fat.”

  “No?”

  “No,” she said. “But that’s just because I’m a doctor. As a rule I don’t call anyone fat!”

  She laughed again and I did too.

  Then we sat in comfortable silence, sipping the wine.

  *****

  The next piss wasn’t as breezy as the last. Being drunk and it now being evening and pitch dark out there in the middle of nowhere, it was hard to find the bushes at the end of the lawn, let alone locate and navigate through the scraggly opening in them. The doc had put on the lights at the back of the house but they only illuminated the garden so far. So I tramped out there and when I realised I was stuck without a bit more in the way of light, I fished into my pocket for my phone, thinking to use the torch function to guide my way.

  The battery was drained.

  “Bugger,” I muttered to myself.

  One reason it had been such a pleasant evening was the lack of random, scary phone calls. I had hardly stopped to consider this might be due to a lack of battery power, and thought little of it now, although I was annoyed to have to go back and ask for a torch.

  When I slid the French doors open, Daryl had come downstairs. He was sitting at the same table the doc and I had been sharing a pleasant drink at moments before. He looked up at me, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

  “Hello Dave,” he said, sounding about as bored and as down as I think I’ve ever heard anyone sound.

  “Hi Daryl,” I said.

  I stood in the doorway, pensive. The doc was preparing some food for her son, and I had to figure out a way of asking her about a torch without letting Mr Mopey Head here into the picture.

  “Out for a stroll is it?” said Daryl. “Pretty dark out there.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Just getting some fresh air.”

  He nodded, thinking nothing of it, thank God.

  “Well,” he said, “close the door now would you, it’s getting chilly in here.”

  I slid the door shut behind me. Shit, this could be a pain.

  “Here you go Daryl,” said the doc, bringing her son a disgusting looking plate of what must have been the lentil curry.

  “Thanks mum,” he said, giving her one of those flash-in-the-pan smiles that some people can switch on and off at will, returning to his melancholy frowning straight away as he tucked into his food.

  “You alright Dave?” said the doc, looking at me questioningly.

  “Yeah…” I said. “But…”

  “But?” she replied, clearly with no clue at all.

  I sighed. She looked at me blankly. I tried indicating silently in the direction of the garden with the nodding of my head.

  “What is it Dave?” she said, frustrated.

  The stupid woman, had she forgotten everything I was dealing with?

  “Alright,” said Daryl, who had put his spoon and fork down and was now watching the pair of us. “What’s going on? Mum?”

  She was about to say something but I beat her to it.

  “Can we talk please doc? In private, like?”

  “Of course Dave,” she said.

  “Please excuse us Daryl.”

  “Mum?” he said, almost whining.

  “Look Daryl, it’s not up to me to tell you anything alright. I’m sure you’re aware of the concept of patient confidentiality.”

  He grunted and went back to his food, looking at me with suspicion.

  *****

  She took me down the corridor and into another room, a study. There was a large dark wooden desk with a big comfy leather chair and lots of shelves with books and files and things. Also, there were loads of framed photographs of her husband hanging all over the walls, showing him receiving awards and shaking hands with important looking people.

  “Wow,” I said. “Your hubby really is a big cheese isn’t he.”

  She let out a dismissive exhalation and a wave of her hand.

  “So,” she said, sitting herself on the edge of his desk. “What is it?”

  “Nothing really,” I said. “It’s just dark outside. Too dark. I can’t see my way to that field again.”

  “Oh!” she laughed.

  “I guess it is funny in a pathetic sort of a way,” I said. “But really doc, I just need to pee. Have you got a torch or something you can give me?”

  “Of course!” she said, immediately getting off the desk, walking to the other side and rummaging in the drawers. “I know he has one here somewhere.”

  “I wouldn’t want any more accidents,” I said. “Especially in this lovely mansion of yours.”

  “Here,” she said, handing me a torch.

  “Tar,” I winked at her.

  She blushed and I felt a sudden pang of regret tinged with utter stupidity. She was old enough to be my mother, and probably the only woman I had made blush since that time I’d fingered Alice down the Moka Club. But that was years ago, we were teenage idiots, and Alice was drunker than a rum barrel full of drunken monkeys. What’s more, talking of monkeys, so far my adult-life sex life had been cold enough to freeze the balls off one.

  *****

  Unfortunately after that everything just sort of seemed shit again. It was the wine mostly, I knew. It does that to me. Too cultured. Beer and burps is much more my thing.

  I passed Daryl as I ventured outside for the second time. I could sense him watching me but was grumpy as hell myself, so I blanked him.

  That makes two moody bastards, I thought.

  After doing my business, I spent a minute or two to appreciate the misty after-effects, the fog of chemical destruction rising slowly into moonlight above the frosty field.

  It was time for bed, I decided. Enough nonsense for one day.

  By the time I returned Daryl had already wolfed his food and returned to his cave. I told the doc I was tired, she showed me to my room, and we all went our separate ways, to dreamy-dream lands far and wide.

  I flopped onto the bed in my clothes and slept surprising well, considering. I guess that whole silly evening pushed all thoughts of the day’s horrors away from immediate attention.

  Alas, it was to be the last decent kip I got for a long while.

  Chapter 11

  It’s the littlest problems that I find the most annoying. Not having somewhere you can safely pee may seem trivial, but it almost made me feel like a toddler again, needing to pee in inconvenient places, tugging mummy’s hand, hearing her scold me again.

  “Why didn’t you go before!”

  Well, I woke up in that lovely bed in the spare room of the doc’s lovely big house, and had more problems than just that. They seemed to multiply suddenly, like a fuse being lit.

  It started with the shower. I hadn’t had one for two days now, and knew by the pong of my hairy armpits that it was high time. Luckily, the doc had provided both towel and dressing gown in the spare room, and what’s more there was a pristine white tiled on-suite with a shower which I eagerly jumped straight into. Blasting hot water. Bliss.

  Problem number one.

  The sound of water pattering on tiles is a sure-fire signal to my bladder that it is time for it to let out its own stores of liquid accrued over-night. Normally, I’d just let it rip right there and then, but I stopped myself from doing so. Quite some effort that took too. The first of the day, I needed to pee, and badly.

  So I cut short my usual long and lazy shower sojourn, jumped straight back out and rubbed myself furiously with the towel so as to get dry. This isn’t as easy as you may think, since I am quite frankly a blubbering fat hulk. But get dry I did, and then came problem number two.

  Clothes.

  The morning before I had taken no shower and thrown on whatever was to hand. Now these garments wreaked from all the running, sweating, worrying, pub-smell and also, pizza-smell I’d been putting them through. I couldn’t wear those again unless I really wanted to send the doc and her pompous son right off me. I’m not stupid, I knew this house was a God-send, and I didn’t want to jeopardize it just yet, s
ince I still had not the faintest clue what I would do or where I would go otherwise.