Love Is Usually Where You Left It

by Gary Locke

  Jeremy removed his wallet from his trouser pocket slowly. Did he have one last play? Perhaps one last card up his sleeve? As he began to remove some papers from the front of the wallet he whispered, out of the corner of his mouth, towards Clive and Gayle.

  “Quietly, but quickly, make your way out of the building.”

  No – he was folding.

  Zoe began to walk towards him.

  “In fact” Jeremy added, his whisper turning into a shout in the space of two words. “RUN FOR IT!..... NOW!”

  Gayle and Clive instinctively reacted and quickly began running towards the door, with Jeremy, and his flapping coat, following close behind. Gayle couldn’t quite rationalise what was going on but still ran with the intensity of someone who, after camping and queuing overnight, had noticed the doors were now opening for the Primark sale.

  Clive got to the first door the quickest and flung it open whilst realising now why, and being thankful for the fact that, Jeremy had parked his car in the loading bay. That quick getaway that he amused himself about them needing – well they needed it right now.

  Chapter Thirty Four: The Youth Club.

  Just the mere sight of the buildings was enough to begin the stirring of memories long passed. Warm and sunny days when there wasn’t a care in the world and also cold, rainy ones when life seemed so complicated and the last place you wanted to be was actually here. It’s funny how most clear memories work that way: either really good or really bad – there never seems to be much that is in between.

  Here was Chestnut Street High School that Clive and Gayle used to attend and they were here tonight to specifically visit one part of it: the youth club. As part of Jeremy’s “masterplan” to help them rekindle their love, they were here to return to the scene of their very first kiss.

  The youth club was a small, one storey brick building that stood next to the main car park and somehow felt detached from the rest of the school that was mainly made up of multi-storey blocks that seemed to tower above it.

  Jeremy’s car turned into the school car park while Clive and Gayle tried hard to, as per instructed, “Let their minds wander back to that fateful night”.

  For Gayle that wasn’t too difficult as her mother used to drive her to the youth club; well, on the nights that their car could be bothered starting, anyway. That combined with the fact that Jeremy had somehow got a copy of Now That’s What I Call Music! 19, that was now playing Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash through his maroon Volvo’s cassette player, meant that her approach to the youth club was very much how it had been all those years ago.

  For Clive it was slightly different. His days of visiting the youth club had always started with a fairly long walk to get there, usually with the same one or two school pals. Jeremy had, at first, insisted on trying to make “each and every detail as close to the original event” as possible, but admitted defeat on this occasion when he couldn’t track down the whereabouts of one Robert Adshead. Clive suggested that seeing as, after he had met him the previous day, Knobhead was probably in possession of, up to, sixty pounds in cash, a “live for today” attitude and a horny pensioner, it may be several days before he once again appeared on the grid. So, for Clive, the actual arrival at the youth club felt new to him.

  However the whole setting and, somehow, mood of the evening, so far, did feel strangely familiar. What was also probably helping was the couple of glasses of “champagne” that they had both drunk on the way here, courtesy of Jeremy insisting that the Love Is… service is “V.I.P. all the way.” (It had certainly made both of their heads a little fuzzy, but Clive was more than a little suspicious of this particular sparkling wine from that elite area in France seeing as the label on the bottle appeared to be hand written and actually said “Shampagne”. He thought it best not to show Gayle, as she too might wonder whether they were actually drinking something that was meant to be consumed rather than something that could very well have been produced for washing hair.)

  One thing that was totally different about the night though was that, back in the day, youth club was always on a Tuesday whereas here they were now attending on a Saturday night. But maybe that was just a sign of progress and forward thinking by the organisers of the club – by running it on a Saturday night it gave teenagers something to be doing rather than having to go to the park and drink way too much alcohol and be sick everywhere.

  Jeremy pulled his car into a car park space and his headlights, that appeared to be stuck on, illuminated a young boy in the bushes in front of them – he was being sick and looked like he had drunk way too much alcohol.

  So much for progress.

  The three of them got out of the car and it was only then that the true, nostalgic sensation of being there manifested itself inside Clive. The whole place looked, sounded and smelt exactly the same as it had over twenty years earlier. If he wasn’t actually stepping out of a “vintage” Volvo then Clive would not have been surprised to find himself stepping out of a Delorean, while Huey Lewis blasted out Power of Love on the radio. He took a long and slow turn around; viewing the school in slow motion like it was the Coliseum in Gladiator, before settling on looking towards the youth club where there was a fairly long, snaking queue at the entrance. Clive zipped his coat up, out of habit rather than because of the weather as it was actually a very mild night, hoping to hell that the catchy Clash riff wasn’t now going to be continuously stuck echoing around in his head for the rest of the night. It was a cool song but one of those that had the potential to drown out anything else up in your head that you may need. You know, for example: thinking.

  Gayle took a slow look all around her and breathed in the air. She had absolutely hated and resented this place when she had first arrived here and yet, now, actually felt quite happy to be back, almost as though she had missed it.

  “Before I forget.” said Jeremy, removing a white envelope out of the inside pocket of his long black coat “Again, let me just say I’m profoundly sorry about the unfortunate incident at the church earlier. Now, these are the instructions for tomorrow mornings activities.”

  Gayle gave Jeremy a look that she hoped said “the “unfortunate incident at the church” was a complete nightmare, so apology not accepted” before taking the envelope from him. She read the hand written words on the front.

  Sunday – 10 a.m. 221 Deanwater Way. Do Not open until arrival.

  She held it up for Clive to read before placing it into her handbag. Clive quickly recognised that 221 Deanwater Way was the address of the Love Is... “office”, in the shopping precinct. What could Jeremy have in store for the next day that meant going there?

  “Ok, let’s go.” said Jeremy as he started walking towards the youth club. “Let me do the talking!”

  Gayle and Clive immediately looked at one another. Why did “Let me do the talking” instantly remind both of them of the fiasco of the afternoons events, that had also begun with those same five words.

  Oh please, not again.

  Jeremy ignored the queue and headed straight towards the entrance door. He noticed Gayle looking at the queue and, perhaps expecting a question and deciding to pre-answer it, said: “We’re not queuing, we’re going straight in. I told you, V.I.P. treatment all the way!”

  Gayle looked at Clive and rolled her eyes. She had a feeling that it would almost certainly not be the last time she would be doing that during their “adventures” with Jeremy.

  A few steps later they were alongside a woman at the entrance door, who was standing by a small, makeshift desk that had a book and money tin on it. She looked exactly like the women who used to run the youth club back in the day. She had what, back then, seemed to be a typical “social worker” type of look - a bright red flattop hairstyle, baggy green jumper and Doc Martin boots.

  It was hard to hear exactly what Jeremy was saying as he was speaking quietly and pretty much right into her ear but, after a few seconds of saying whatever he said and in God knows what accent, the woman a
ppeared happy to let him, Gayle and Clive in.

  “Ok, you’ll have to sign in the book, and I’ll give you visitors pass each.” She said, passing Jeremy a pen, pointing to the large exercise book on the desk and then reaching for some blank, white stickers underneath.

  “What did you say again? Health and safety and..... where, are you from?”

  Without hesitation, Jeremy answered.

  “Certified records and bursary services. They merged several departments together during the latest budget cuts. We’ll be making the school dinners as well before you know it!”

  The woman at the desk laughed along with Jeremy before he looked back at Clive and Gayle and offered a congratulatory, sly wink. Gayle rolled her eyes once again as she wondered, through a mixture of bemusement and confused admiration, how certain people are gifted with endless front and are fluent in complete bullshit.

  “Jeremy, Clive and Gayle?” checked the woman on the desk, as she began writing on the white stickers in thick, black marker pen.

  “That’s correct” said Jeremy as he finished entering their names into the exercise book.

  “Health and Safety, Certified Records and Bursary Services?” she asked next.

  “Correct again!” said Jeremy, a bit over-smarmily to not be cringe-worthy.

  “That’s a bit long for the passes, so I’ll have to just put the initials on.”

  “That’s not a problem” said Jeremy. “We won’t be long anyway; just a check of the interior of the premises and then a quick word with yourself and some of your marvellous colleagues out here about any health and safety concerns and..... record keeping..... and services and..... things.”

  Thankfully Jeremy’s rambling dipped in volume towards the end of his sentence and the woman at the desk was more interested in peeling off the back of the stickers than actually listening to his mumbo-jumbo. She then attached a sticker to each of them, after rather embarrassingly asking Clive and Gayle which one of them was Clive and which one of them Gayle. No wonder she had fallen for Jeremy’s ridiculous cover story.

  “Thank you very much Hayley. We will come back to see you when our inspection is complete.” Jeremy said, with a smile, to the flat-topped woman; somehow in a way that made a very normal sentence sound like outrageous flirting. But it appeared that his charms had worked a treat on Hayley who with a smile of her own, and reddening cheeks, said:

  “I’ll look forward to it. Take as long as you need.”

  Gayle watched in a state of confusion. Is this what passed for flirting these days in people of a certain age? She was now also of a certain age and was nearing the stage that she would require to be fluent in flirting herself. The thought of acting like this make her feel a bit sick.

  Jeremy walked towards the far corner of the entrance room. Gayle and Clive followed; Clive feeling like he needed to give Jeremy a piece of his mind. Especially since he and Gayle had been gracious enough to accept his “sincerest” apologies about the afternoon events at the church baby group, and his “guarantee” that it “would never happen again”.

  “What’s going on now? Are we actually going to go anywhere that we are allowed to be?” he snapped at Jeremy in a quiet but sharp voice. “And where the hell are we supposed to be from? Health and safety and bursary and something else records?”

  Jeremy put his hands out in front of him and gently rocked them up and down, making a silent calm-down kind of gesture.

  “Health and safety, certified records and bursary services.” He said calmly. “I find that the more details, and more extreme you make an untruth, the more likely it is to be believed..... and how else do you expect me to get you in here?”

  “How else do we expect you to get us in here?” Gayle interjected, her own anger bubbling away inside. “We didn’t ask you to bring us here. If it turns out we’re not allowed to be here, then maybe not coming here would be a better option?” she added with extra sting at the end of her sentence.

  “Calm down.” Jeremy said, his own voice remaining quiet and really rather soothing. “This is an important place in your history – we need to be here. Anyway, it’s rather exciting isn’t it? Doing things that you’re not supposed to be doing?”

  Gayle looked at Clive as he slowly smiled and cheekily raised his eyebrows. He was enjoying this. Without wanting to, she couldn’t help but smile back as a small sensation of butterflies gently erupted in her stomach. She wasn’t sure if it was the awakening of some thrill-seeking passion, and she would soon be trying out bungee jumping and sky diving, or if it was just the Shampagne talking, but she found herself reluctantly agreeing.

  “Ok” she said, trying to keep any excitement out of her voice. “I suppose we’re here now, we might as well do it. What’s the plan?”

  Jeremy flashed a massive smile.

  “That’s the spirit! You two have a look around, try and look a bit official as you do, and I’ll come and get you when I’ve got everything ready.”

  After speaking those words, he was gone. He disappeared into the main youth club hall and out of sight before either Gayle or Clive could react.

  Clive looked at Gayle and smiled again.

  “Shall we?” he asked holding his hand out.

  Gayle reached out and grabbed his hand and they, too, walked away from the corner and headed out into the main hall.

  “This is so weird” Gayle whispered under her breath. “It’s like nothing has changed.”

  Clive nodded his head in agreement.

  Just as they both recalled from the last time they had been here, in the main hall stood a rickety, old trampoline that, every time the person on it bounced, groaned like a proud, wooden boat being battered in a severe weather storm. There was a queue of about fifteen kids waiting to have their go and risk the danger of jumping up and down on a contraption that seemed out of date 20+ years ago, and was surely going to give up and collapse at any given moment. A female youth club volunteer stood at the front of the queue, holding a stop watch, staring at in blankly, and looking like she had completely given up the will to live.

  Against the side wall there was a game of badminton in full swing and beyond that, in the corner, there was a small arts and crafts table set up that had about half a dozen kids huddled round, making things.

  As Gayle had said, it felt like nothing had changed whatsoever; everything was just as it had been back when she and Clive were at school. Gayle smiled a little as she noticed a line of people standing along the corridor to the right of the main hall that lead to the tuck shop that was by the small bar / kitchenette area. In a world in which everything is changing at such a rapid rate, it felt somehow comforting that some things hadn’t changed one little bit. Kids were still handing over loose change in exchange for sweets and panda cola bottles.

  Meanwhile, Clive had been gazing through the window that looked into what used to be a rather basic gym / weights room back in the day. It appeared like that room, too, remained pretty much unchanged and he could clearly see a couple of dozen, mostly big, lads in rugby shirts lifting weights, arm wrestling and pushing one another around; no doubt trying to impress the handful of girls watching on with their “macho actions”.

  Clive remembered venturing into that room a couple of times in the past before realising that weights weren’t his thing and being “asked to leave” by some of the bigger, more muscled lads. Thank God Gayle never seemed to be impressed by this brainless act of strapping on a large leather belt and attempting to lift your own body weight in cast iron. Bloody Arnold Schwarzenegger had a lot to answer for back in the 80s / 90s.

  As he realised that he still hadn’t actually found out what his thing was in life, Clive watched on as a younger looking lad, who was just wearing a t-shirt, began to drink the contents of a large glass that Clive had seen one of the bigger lads fill up with beer from a can, what looked like cigarette butts and had allowed all the other lads - to spit into. He wretched a little as this young lad struggled to down the vile cocktail, as the m
ale members of the room chanted something very loud. Clive realised it was some kind of initiation ceremony and the younger lad was trying to prove he was worthy of joining this rugby top wearing elite crew – by drinking cigarette butts and flem coughed up from the deepest areas of the throats of over twenty, probably germ-infested, teenagers. After a few seconds he lifted the glass high into the air in triumphant fashion before turning it upside down and placing it on top of his head. Loud cheers blasted out of the weights room, even threatening to be louder than the creaking trampoline in the main hall, as the young lad, who looked like he would have to go home immanently and spend a week in bed vomiting, was presented with his very own rugby shirt. Lots of the other lads began some strange celebratory actions which, to Clive’s annoyance, including a lot of “dabbing”.

  Clive had no understanding of what this dabbing craze was about and, even at the risk of being exposed as a sad, old, out of touch, fuddy-duddy, found it completely got on his nerves. It summed up the youth of today – attention seeking and completely weird. His only explanation about where it had come from was that someone, at some time, had sneakily tried to check themselves for possible body odour, outstretched an arm as they did so and inadvertently, and randomly, started an unfathomable craze in the process. Probably similar to how most unfathomable crazes begin.

  Chapter Thirty Five: Rubik’s Cubes, Millennium Falcons and Tracey Islands.

  Clive tried to clear his mind.

  It was wrong that he was allowing himself to become annoyed about dabbing once again. Although it is weird, and has robbed a legitimate way to clean something gently with a cloth or paper towel of its exclusive meaning, it is just a weird trend and is one of those things that has become fashionable; will be for a while before it gets replaced by something else – probably something even weirder and even more annoying. (Fidget spinners / flossing?)