The four sat outside on a bench enjoying a cold beer, watching ducks idling along the glistening lake, and listening to wood-pigeons repetitive, coo-coo-coo-cu-cu. Familiar fragrances of flowering hawthorn bushes drifted on the light breeze
Steve took out a packet of cigarettes, lit one, and with a satisfying grin, blew out a cloud of smoke and said. “I like sitting here, and I can smoke,” he leaned over to Charles. “But don’t tell Chewy.”
Charles nodded and asked. “So Steven, how come you ended up at Fossdyke?”
Wayne and Elvin groaned. They knew Steve’s life story because he had told them many times.
“I’m from Scunthorpe, thirty miles away,” said Steve, “When I left school, I worked in the steelworks alongside my old dad,” said Steve and smirked, “I got caught up in the swinging sixties and wanted to be a rock star, so I bought an acoustic guitar and learned to play.”
Steve did a quick air guitar demo, smiled and continued, “I saved my wages and upgraded to an electric Fender Stratocaster, adopting the stage name, Strat... because it sounded cool,” he smirked, giving another air guitar demo, before continuing. “Me and two mates from the steelworks formed, ‘Strat and the Steelers.’ We performed in several pubs and clubs in Scunny,” he sighed. “We could have been famous if we weren’t crap... and I wasn’t married to Jane. After we disbanded, I settled down and worked long hours at the steelworks to support my family.”
He coughed, took a swig of beer, and said, “We had a beautiful daughter, Lucy.” Steve looked proud and told Charles. “Lucy’s smart, unlike her dumb old Dad. She was always an intelligent and independent young woman. She’s now a successful Doctor and she and her husband Bernard own Fossdyke,” said Steve, took a photograph from his wallet, and showed Charles his middle-aged daughter. Charles felt relieved that she wasn’t bald like her father, as Steve said. “That’s my little girl, Doctor Lucy Fossdyke.”
“Oh, so that’s why it is called Fossdyke?” asked Charles.
Steve nodded and took another swig of beer. “Anyway, after Lucy went to University, Jane and I drifted apart. I worked long hours to pay for the university medical school, and Jane got a job in a bike shop.”
He chuckled and said. “The manager wasn’t only riding pushbikes, the bastard. I should have realised when she trowelled on her makeup to go to work. When I found out, I went to the shop and punched his lights out, and later divorced Jane,” Steve sighed. “I felt gutted and spent the next few years skipping work and spannered.” He looked at Charles and said. “In my forties, I realised my life was going nowhere and my dad, even though retired, gave me grief because he heard rumours that the steelworks were about to sack me. One morning I woke up and thought, Fuck it! So I booked a flight to Australia. Lucy was then a qualified Doctor with a well-paying job, so I took my savings, a bag of clothes, my old Stratocaster, and flew to Oz.”
“Oh,” said Charles, impressed by Steve’s audacity.
“Yeah, it was great. The years flew by, moving from town to town, city to city, and job to job. I played rock ‘n’ roll in local bars for drinks and food and lived the carefree life I always wanted, with no ties. I severed all links in England.”
“What about Lucy?” asked Charles, “Didn’t you at least stay in contact with her?”
Steve shook his head, “No, nobody.” He smirked, “But don’t worry Charlie my story has a happy ending... sort of. I was almost sixty and alone. I wanted a female companion to take care of me in my old age. I knew that if I stayed in Australia or returned to the UK, I would stay alone. A short, fat, bald, sixty-year-old musician, who smoked three packs of cigarettes a day, would be as appealing to a western woman as Deep Heat on a dildo. Besides, I didn’t fancy being lumbered with an old troll with loads of kids or grandkids, so I tried the Philippines.”
Wayne and Elvin juddered, they knew what was about to come next. They had heard this many times before as a prelude to one of Steve’s repeated tales.
Wayne turned off his hearing-aid as Steve said. “When I was in the Philippines,” Elvin’s groan went ignored as Steve went on, “I had my biggest regret,” he nudged Charles, laughed, and said, “I wished that I had gone sooner, the place made my head spin. This fabulous new culture and lifestyle drew me into a magical existence.”
Charles noticed Steve demeanour change as he talked passionately about the Philippines.
“I settled in Angeles City, a raucous, sex-filled place. I worked in live music venues around sin city. Although I wasn’t paid much, I reaped the other benefits of being a western musician and lived a carefree life with benefits,” he chuckled, rubbed his crotch and continued. “I no longer wanted to settle down, with too many eager young women to choose from.” Steve laughed, rubbed his hands together, and said. “They all wanted to please this sex god, although they cost me a lot of money.”
Elvin tutted, and he and Wayne went to the bar for more beer while Steve continued. “I spent years living a blissful existence, until one day I woke up in agony. It felt like an alien eating its way through my stomach.” Steve put his hand on the left side of his abdomen, winced, and said. “I’d never felt so much pain, and having no money, the girl I was with at the time, took me to the local quack, who operated on a strangulated hernia.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Charles. “That sounds serious.”
“Nah,” said Steve, “It wasn’t too bad, but it made me realise that if something serious were to happen, who could I turn to, and who would look after me with having no money? I tried to contact Lucy, who I’d had no contact with for over 20 years and with no idea where she was, I contacted the British embassy in Manila.”
Elvin and Wayne brought beers outside. Elvin heard the part of Steve’s conversation when they approached and sighed. He looked at Wayne in his silent bliss, nudged him, nodded to his pubic region, and shrugged. Wayne, realising Steve must be on the J-cloth story, smiled, while Elvin groaned. They had heard the hernia story many times. They put the drinks down and Steve and Charles took a drink, as Steve continued. “A few weeks later the embassy contacted me and told me they had traced my daughter,” Steve looked proud as he announced. “Doctor Lucy Fossdyke M.D., a general practitioner with a practice in Cleethorpes. Lucy and her accountant husband, Bernard, came to visit me in Angeles. It was great to see them, especially my little girl. Bernard’s a bonehead, but a nice bloke.”
“I bet you were overjoyed,” said Charles. “Did you come home with them?”
“Nah,” said Steve, “they kept trying to persuade me, but I was too happy in the Philippines, so they went home without me.”
Steve took another slurp of beer. “About a month after they’d left, I got the same excruciating pain in my gut and they rushed me to the local hospital where a quack opened me up. They found a large mass that they thought was a malignant tumour... I shit myself when they told me.”
Charles looked concerned, Elvin yawned, and Wayne smiled, unable to hear Steve’s tale, as he went on, “The embassy contacted Lucy, who became distraught. She arranged for me to be medivaced to England. I got flown back and rushed into surgery when I arrived in Manchester.”
Steve unbuttoned his shirt, showed Charles a large scar down the centre of his abdomen, and pointed to a smaller hernia scar on his right-hand side. “The operation was a success and the surgeon removed a filthy old J-cloth from my abdominal cavity, festering there from my back-street hernia operation.” He laughed and said, “I made a full recovery, but now have an irritable and uncontrollable bowel, which gives me moments of embarrassment. I let rip pungent-smelling gas, which escapes at the most inappropriate moments when I’m nervous or excited.”
“Pungent,” interrupted Elvin, “It smelled like a rat ate a pile of cow dung, before crawling up yer arse and dying... wait until you smell it Nobby, it will make your eyes water.”
Steve chuckled and said, “As