Wednesday
“I still take her a cup of bed tea every morning and cook the evening meal and do all the cleaning…”
Chess looked at the blob-blank faces of his 2 drinking companions and raised a glass of Best.
“Since that first morning of our honeymoon….” Faces kindled in anticipation of the oft repeated salacious details to come. Except they didn’t.
“35 years I’ve done it. She just lies in bed all day.”
Deprived of oxygen, interest flickered then died. Disclosure time, Chess decided.
“Our sex life is dead. That’s why I’ve booked myself a flight to Bangkok. One way. After Friday you won’t see me till I’m fully re-trained.”
Eyes focussed, necks lengthened, ears strained, cheeks rosied. Gratified he continued but in a conspiratorial voice so low I could catch only occasional words –
“Jade Buddha, temples, lady-boys, kick boxing, massage parlours,” -plus “Ohs” and “Ahs” punctuated with laughter.
Friday
I had arrived late .They were at their usual table. I took mine. To disguise my eavesdropping, I extracted my mobile, opened G-mail and focussed my gaze downwards on the Inbox. Gareth was holding the stage. After nodding to me he continued.
“I been once. .. with Frank, the boy, on access week. Thought he would / might respond to the different culture. Daphne, the ex, wasn’t keen but the social worker had cleared it with their legal. Spent most of our time in McDonalds and The English Chippy. And Dream World ‘s haunted house. Might as well have gone to Barry Island.”
“Not my style” I heard Chess say as he stood up to leave. “You know I was in Special Forces. I leave tomorrow. Keep in touch boys.” And winking “I’ll send photos!”
Monday,- six weeks later.
Some think the Old Lion much improved by recovering the leatherette seats, re-tiling the floor and painting over the loos’ (for me) educational graffiti. I must admit a sentimental attachment to the whiffs from old carpet soured with spilled alcohol and slobbering canines. I missed the familiar lived-in-and-loved nostalgia it had absorbed of celebrations, commiserations, assignations, declarations and altercations from tongues struggling for traction on a loosening slide of alcohol.
I had visited every Monday, Wednesday and Friday since Chess’s departure. He had sent photos.
“Fuck me, what’s he up to there? Looks more athletic than the Chess we know!” It was Marvin’s rarely heard mouse-squeak of a voice as together they devoured Gareth’s phone.
Chess entered, leaner, tanned, his limp was less pronounced.
“Saa-wat-dee.”
“How’s things at home now? How’s Maureen?”
“Maureen? Got her to join me in week 2. She’s a natural, so my old work-buddy Colonel Ratanaporn thinks. From a complete beginner got her to kick-box Khan level 2 in just 4 weeks. Transformation; she makes morning tea for me. No hiding place for fluffs, she just kick-boxes them into the dustpan. Her Pad Thai is to die for. And our sex life….”
