50 Bales of Hay

by James Perch

  “Anyway…” Mark continued, “I was patrolling the motorway, when I heard a call come in from headquarters. A coach had broken down and was parked on the hard shoulder. Unfortunately for Lorraine, a Polish lorry driver was overtaking when he lost control of his vehicle and sandwiched her campervan between the coach and his lorry. They brought in a breakdown truck to tow away the campervan, but they couldn’t open the passenger or driver doors. The pair of doors were well and truly wedged. When I saw her pair, I knew I had to smash her back doors in, or at the very least bash one out. She was traumatised by the event and I offered her succour. I took down her particulars and we soon got acquainted.

  “My hero!” said Lorraine and faked a swoon.

  “I could easily tell you were a policeman,” Keeley interrupted. “You’re tall, have a stance that commands authority, and I can see your truncheon from here. That’s a big one.”

  “I’m off duty today. I don’t have my truncheon on me.”

  “Oh,” said Keeley, suddenly embarrassed.

  “That’ll be Lorraine’s umbrella rolled up in my pocket. She likes to take precautions.” Mark pulled it out and swung it about.

  “I like to take precautions, too,” said Jez, as he ripped open a foil packet.

  “What’s that rustle?” said Keeley turning around to face Jez.

  “My name’s Jake, not Russell,” I replied giving her a nudge. “It’s tin foil.”

  “I’m going to put some potatoes on to bake, in case anyone’s still hungry,” continued Jez.

  He wrapped up four pre-washed potatoes in the foil and placed them on the barbecue.

  Elaine glanced over to the potatoes and over-emphasised a lip-smacking slurp. “That should whet my appetite,” she beamed.

  Jez turned to her and smiled. “I love that you are whet for me.”

  Keeley sat by Mark and Lorraine and let out a sigh.

  Lorraine looked at her expectantly, waiting for the sentence to come.

  “I was meant to be on a date last night, but he stood me up. I don’t seem to be lucky in love,” she said finally, letting out another sigh.

  In a bid to comfort her, Mark reached over and gently held her shoulder. “Aw, don’t feel too bad. Everyone has a bit of bad luck. You’re better off not having the date than finding out that you’re wasting your time. My last two relationships ended badly. I found my first girlfriend in bed with one of the local church bell-ringers. I wasn’t happy and I told him off.”

  Keeley’s eyebrows raised and she said, “Tolled?”

  “The relationship after that lasted a year until I found her naked in bed with a Chippendale. I was so mad I broke it off.”

  “Painful,” said Keeley with a wince.

  “My ex used to rope me into what he called Bumph fun,” said Keeley quietly.

  Mark was just taking a sip of cider when he simultaneously choked, sprayed a mouthful out and almost spilled the pint down himself.

  “We’d do it in the local newsagents,” Keeley continued.

  Lorraine looked over with her eyes bulging and her jaw dropped. She closed her mouth and shook her head. “That sounds illegal.”

  “I just wanted to impress him,” she continued, awaiting admonishment from Mark. “He was a bit of a bad boy. He’d go in and shake all the flyers and adverts out of the magazines and then we’d run off with them.”

  Mark turned his gaze to the heavens momentarily and said, “I don’t think we’ll hold that against you Keeley, just as long as you’re sorry.”

  “Are you not seeing anyone, Jake?” asked Lorraine.

  “Not at the moment,” I replied. “Whenever I get close to a girl, my dad tends to scare them off. I don’t think it’s intentional or out of malice though. I guess the closest I’ve ever been to a stable relationship is when I tended the horses.”

  “Why would you want a relationship with a horse?” asked Keeley. “That’s a bit freaky.”

  “Sorry, that was a little joke.” I gave a sheepish grin. “A stable relationship? Horse-stable? Anyway…the last girl I fell for seems like ages ago now. I was working with my dad one weekend on the farm, and over the hedge I noticed a petite girl with long auburn hair, walking down the country lane in a floaty summer dress and sandals. She approached us just as Dad was attaching a trailer. To get her attention, I balanced on the trailer, as Dad and I passed by on his Massey Ferguson.”

  “A tractor?” asked Keeley.

  “I’m pretty sure she noticed, yeah. A few weeks later she started to attend the same school as me, but things didn’t work out.” I shrugged and focused my attention on Mark and Lorraine. “Have you got any policing anecdotes for us, Mark?”

  “Hen nights in the city centres are eventful. As soon as the drunken ladies see my uniform, their eyes light up and they’re full of mischief. There’s always some joker who wants to grab my helmet,” he replied with a shrug. “I was on the shooting range yesterday. I have a little pistol which hits the spot. I tend to prefer shooting my load on my own. It can be off-putting to begin with, trying to aim alongside a gang of guys with their weapon out.”

  “My two brothers followed my dad into the armed forces,” said Keeley.

  “What’s your surname?” asked Mark.

  “Partes,” answered Keeley.

  Mark snapped his feet together and offered a salute.

  “Private Partes ready for inspection, sah!” bellowed Mark.

  “Oh they weren’t all in the army. My dad was in the Royal Navy.”

  “Really? Able seaman?” asked Mark.

  “Well, he had three kids, so make your own mind up,” she said with a shrug. “My eldest brother met his current girlfriend in the Labian Embassy.”

  “I’m guessing you mean Libyan Embassy?” interjected Mark.

  Keeley nodded absentmindedly. “Oh yes, of course. It’s one of the Middle East g-spots.”

  “Hot-spots?” asked Mark.

  “I keep getting those confused. Yes, hot-spots,” Keeley added, starting to flush a shade of crimson. “My youngest brother has always loved airplanes and anything to do with flight. He had one of those digital stimulation things for his computer.”

  “I’m guessing you mean flight simulator?” offered Mark, always eager to help.

  “So he’s in the RAF?” I asked.

  “No he’s a grocer,” she stated deadpan. A smile formed and she gave me a nudge. “Yes you’re right. I’m only kidding. He had a real interest in the interiors of old warplanes. He loved a cockpit. He was amazed at how one man could squeeze into such a small space.”

  “Hey Jez!” called Mark, “is your dad still keeping you busy doing up houses?”

  “Yes he’s flat out. He’s got two properties for sale at the moment. He’s been banging about with different solicitors for months. These current properties have been a bit of a nightmare to get to this stage. Now we’ve reached this point of the sale finally, I’m expecting all parties to collapse on completion. The latest project has had little or no setbacks so far. We need to gut the windows from a three bed semi his guys are working on at the moment. I’m off to the glaziers’ tomorrow. They might have some windows for us to pick up. They have a showroom in the city called Reg’s Room of Panes. He’s got quite a varied selection. Anyway, how about your dad? How are things with him? Does he still practise gynaecology?”

  “Oh seldom. He’s been getting stressed out recently. He always seems to be getting in a flap, so he works part time. He can’t do it full time, but he likes to keep his hand in.”

  I turned back to Keeley and asked her if she liked music. Her eyes lit up and I knew she did, even before she opened her mouth.

  “My parents got me interested in music at an early age. Listening and playing. I went to a music workshop last summer run by a group of Germans at the local college. It was really interesting. Every instrument was catered for. There were vocal workshops to work on oral skills, tutors offering help with instruments and general discussions. Those of us that alr
eady played an instrument were given the opportunity to dabble in another area. We were encouraged to get well acquainted with each other’s instruments. I partnered with one lad who cupped my sax and I fondled his organ. I was quite keen on a fiddle, but the harpist was too intrigued to let anyone else get a look in, the selfish plucker.”

  “I’ve never been much of musician,” I said, interrupting her swiftly, as she paused to breathe in. “I once tried to learn the guitar but I couldn’t master the fingering.”

  “I don’t play percussion myself, but I did see an interesting troupe of percussionists from Bonn. They called themselves ‘Die Klickerz’. They didn’t just play drums, but of course they loved to get their maracas out, and stroke their guiros. The youngsters were mesmerised. We were shown that percussion doesn’t have to be just boring old triangles or castanets. Various pans and old tubs made up makeshift drums. I was also very impressed with their display of campanology—bell ringing. They told us that we’d know when it was over. We’d just have to listen for the toll of a bell end.”

  “Do you just play instruments, or do you sing as well?”

  “My music teacher at school used to give me one-to-one sessions. He was so blown away that he offered me lessons in cunning linguistics, because I was so good with my mouth. He was always complimenting me on my impressive set of lungs.” She stood up and gave us a quick blast of ‘Finally’. “I like a bit of C.C. Peniston,” she said.

  “You don’t pronounce it like that, love,” Lorraine said with a grin. Keeley shot her a hurt look and sat down again.

  “I saw that Tony McGregor in town yesterday,” Lorraine said with a shudder. “He was going into the angling shop. He’s always given me the willies.”

  “He’s really creepy,” agreed Keeley. “I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could toss him.”

  “Throw him?” offered Mark.

  “I’m not sure about that,” answered Keeley. “I wouldn’t be able to pick him up, never mind throw him. Eww Tony!” She stopped talking for a second to accentuate her dislike with a visible shudder. “He was in my class at school. He was a nuisance, always teasing the girls, dangling his maggot, and forever being told to put his tackle away.”

  “My neighbour’s a fisherman,” Mark said, “and he often sees Tony on the waterside. He laughs at him because he has this massive rod, but it’s wasted on him, because he’s not that sure how to use it properly. Tony seems to have been fishing for years. There’s no faulting his research, he knows which fish are where, and what lure to use. There’s definitely no denying he’s a master baiter, but he’s still a novice at reeling in fish.”

  “How about a net?” asked Lorraine.

  “Oh, she couldn’t stand him either,” said Keeley.

  Mark chuckled, shook his head and carried on talking. “He would sit on the bank as other anglers proudly displayed whoppers, whilst he sat forlornly nursing a tiddler. He just couldn’t catch a sizeable fish.”

  “I also heard that he went through a spell of shoplifting until he was nabbed by the rozzers,” said Lorraine winking at Mark.

  “Come again?” Keeley asked.

  “Caught by the fuzz,” I answered.

  “Fingered by the police,” laughed Mark.

  “Oh that’d deter me too,” said Keeley. “It sounds degrading, to say the least.”

  “My sister is going to be cajoled into wearing a policewoman’s outfit for her hen night. She’s getting married in few weeks’ time, so I might be babysitting next week whilst she’s busy,” Elaine said with a shrug. “She’ll be bringing her six year old daughter Briony over with her. I don’t really mind. She’s a lovely girl. I’m one of her godparents. It’s the hen party this weekend, so I’m helping the matron of honour by getting some kinky stuff. It’s tacky, but the girls expect the tradition. I’m told there’s an Ann Summers shop somewhere near. There was a ‘discreet’ ad for it in the local paper, apparently. I must say though, I’m feeling kind of apprehensive about going in somewhere like that.”

  “Oh that sounds like a giggle,” Lorraine said. “I’d come with you, but I’m going to be busy decorating this week. My dad’s leg is in plaster, so it’s up to me and mum to finish it.”

  “Do a good job. We don’t want any white bits on show,” said Mark.

  “I’ll have you know that I know my way around a roller, thank you very much,” Lorraine laughed.

  “You seem to know the inside of an Audi quite well also,” Mark winked.

  Lorraine blushed and took a sip of her drink.

  “We’ve got too much on at work at the mo, otherwise I’d be there like a shot,” Jez said.

  “I can join you, if you’d like,” I offered.

  “I’m not even sure where it is or if they’ll be open, but I’d be grateful not to go alone.”

  “Fine then. I’ll pick you up when you’re ready.”

  “Aren’t you a nice lad?” Jez remarked, wandering off for another beer.

  I turned to Lorraine and enquired about her dad’s leg.

  “I think he was rushing the decorating. He fell off the ladder and fractured a bone. Luckily for him, Mum was close by and called an ambulance.”

  I reached over to the table with the tip of my finger and pressed it. “Touch wood, I’ve never broken a bone. I’ve had plenty of accidents, scratches, scrapes and cuts, but no breakages.”

  “I fell off my friend Peter’s Chopper as a youngster,” said Keeley. “I was going too fast and came off after losing control. I just remember falling off and regaining consciousness with it still between my legs. I was bruised and battered with a sprained wrist. Oh, I was in agony. I was strapped up for a fortnight.”

  “How did you manage to lose control so easily?” I asked incredulously.

  “We were just messing about. Neither of us knew the other one’s bike very well, so the whole thing was unfamiliar. I think I wobbled in the direction of Peter and we collided. Luckily, Peter’s dad’s very practical. He’s actually a fully qualified mechanic. You can often still find him in his garage, up to the elbow in well lubricated flanges and greased nipples. He has a guy with him and I often find them hammering away or screwing something in the workshop. After the accident, he checked that the bikes were still roadworthy, tightening up any visibly loose nuts and bolts. He was conscientious about Peter’s gear stick and promised him that he wouldn’t have troubles with his knob anymore.”

  At this point Jez joined us again. He sat in front of Keeley and pulled out three tangerines from his pocket. He then started to juggle them as she stared in awe. He started with a fast low juggle, followed by a much higher arc. Elaine walked behind him and grabbed a tangerine from the air.

  “Very impressive, but I feel uncomfortable with you flirting with my friends,” she whispered, placing the tangerine down on the little picnic table and walking away.

  Mark applauded and let out a holler of appreciation. “I’ve not seen juggling like that since I saw a guy balance his mate’s balls on his chin at Covent Garden.”

  Jez stooped down next to us watching Elaine heading towards the house. In a low whisper he said to Mark and me, “My last girlfriend accused me of being an outrageous flirt. She left because of my roving eye. I must confess to past infidelities, but I was young and carefree then. You can’t blame a good looking lad for keeping his options open. You’re from a farming background, Jake. You should know how it goes. My days of sowing seed are far from over. I did have a brief affair with a pretty young dwarf. My ex was furious and asked me how could I stoop so low?”

  I thought that Elaine deserved better and tried to hide my outrage at Jez’s behaviour. I stood up and announced that I’d grab the chicken. I followed Elaine in the direction of the house and within a few moments I’d caught up with her. Her leisurely amble was no match for my stride. I followed her into the kitchen and went over to the fridge.

  “What’s your preference?” she asked. “Breasts or thigh?”

  I looked into her eyes and lic
ked my lips. “I really couldn’t say. I don’t have a preference. If I could, I’d eat the whole bird.”

  “Oh, I could’ve done without Jez flirting in front of me today. I’m not in the mood.” She let out a huge sigh and looked at her feet.

  I walked over to her and touched her hand gently. “If I had a girlfriend who was as hot as you, I’d treat her with more respect.”

  She looked into my eyes. “I don’t doubt it,” she said. “In another world I’d be with a guy like you instead of him.”

  I held her gaze for a few more seconds and then slowly moved my face towards hers.

  Elaine whirled on her heels. “I’d better get some more ice. It’s melting quickly in this heat.”

  That particular memory was cut short as a nurse came in and checked the clipboard at the end of my bed.

  “You’re awake. Hey, just get some rest right now.”

  Hey? hay? That’s frustrating. Fifty bales of hay? Why does that keep coming into my head? I’m guessing my subconscious is protecting me from something, in my current traumatised state. The nurse leaves and I’m left with my recollections.

  An Unexpected Meeting

  The next day I was pottering around the kitchen when I heard a knock on the door. I knew it wouldn’t be my aunt because she was out bright and early, off for a day trip somewhere. I opened the door to find Elaine standing there.

  “Good morning,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind me popping over unannounced. Jez is busy, apparently, and I didn’t feel like going back home again yet. My sister arrived earlier than planned. She landed on the doorstep late last night with Briony. The poor little mite has a slight cold. I would still be in bed, but I couldn’t sleep through the erratic coughs. I thought I might as well do something, seeing as I’m awake.”

  “Here’s an idea,” I suggested, “how about going for a jog?”

  “That’s not a bad idea. I must warn you that I always end with a sprint finish.”