Jeff wanted to look around to see where the hell James had got to. He needed help here. “That’s crap. Look at me, Alan, I am real. It happened to me, it can happen to you.”
“I’ll be dead or demented by the time they start dishing it out to the masses. Oh fuck, Jeff, how did we ever come to this?”
“You haven’t come to anything, Alan. You’re as active now as you were thirty years ago.”
Alan snorted, his jaw muscles working hard to stop his real anguish from emerging. “Not active where I want to be. Christ, not for years.”
Jeff muttered
“Collecting to support our country’s patriots, gentlemen.”
Jeff looked around. There were three men standing beside the table, late twenties with close-cropped hair. Jeff could remember the National Front from the first half of his life, their ranks always made up from skinheads or bulky, physically intimidating lads. Somehow they always managed the trick of looking as if violence could explode at any second without actually saying anything threatening. These three were almost the same, except one of them was Asian—and Jeff really didn’t think the National Front had modified its stance on membership, not even in these politically correct times.
All of them had gold and scarlet dragon tattoos spiraling around their wrists, the red segments glowing faintly. More tattoos were just visible above their collars. Knuckles and hands were scarred, trophies of a dozen street fights. Each wore a Union Jack badge with FREE ENGLAND printed across the middle. Seeing that, Jeff finally understood who they were.
“Hope you can contribute,” the one in front said. It wasn’t a question. He held out a pouch with several cash cards already in the bottom.
From the corner of his eye, Jeff saw the Europol team rising from their seats. He made a tiny
“I’d be happy to,” Jeff said. He fished around in his pocket for his cash cards, and found one loaded with fifty euros.
“Jeff!” Alan hissed.
“How’s that?” Jeff dropped it into the collection pouch.
The man holding it gave him a careful look. “Do I know you?”
“Doubt it,” Jeff said. “I haven’t been in this pub for thirty years.”
There was a long moment while the man tried to figure out if Jeff was taking the piss or if he was just drunk.
“Here you go.” Alan dropped another cash card in the pouch.
The man’s concentration wavered, moving away from Jeff. “Thanks, old man. Together we’ll bring your country back to how it used to be, don’t you worry.” The three of them moved on to the next table where the young girls were sitting giggling.
Jeff breathed out silently, his eyes locked on Alan’s. “Bloody hell.”
James returned to the table. “Three pints. Jeff, I decided you’ve got to drink more. What’s the matter with you two? You look like…”
Jeff stood up. “We’re leaving.”
“What? I haven’t touched this yet.”
“Come on.” He was giving none-too-subtle twists of his head to indicate the three collectors. “Now. We’re eating early tonight.”
James finally glanced at the collection team. “Oh right. I’ve already donated.” He raised his hand and waved at the team. “Night, lads.”
“Night, James,” the Asian one said. “You take care of yourself, hear? It’s a bad world out there.”
Alan and Jeff exchanged another look. “Definitely time to leave,” Alan said.
AS THEY WALKED DOWN BROAD STREET, Jeff slowly became aware of what they looked like together: Alan in his dark green conservative suit with its trousers shiny from too many cleanings and pressings. James, wheezing along in an expensive yellow and green cashmere cardigan with leather buttons. And himself, dressed in loose ochre trousers and black Adol shirt, complimented by a smart leather jacket, all of it chosen by Sue, and actually quite stylish, he admitted to himself. Anyone would think he was taking a couple of old uncles out to their 2010 reunion club.
People were looking at them that way, too. Youngsters walking about as their own evenings kicked off. Boys strutting their stuff in smart clothes, girls huddled together, tottering along in ridiculously tall heels. As they saw Jeff and his friends they dismissed them instantly. Jeff was surprised how much that brush-off hurt. Especially as the youngsters all seemed to be having a good time. Broad Street was full of laughter and giggles, welcoming shouts between groups, music and sharp, colored light spilling out of pubs and club doorways. It was a scene that exerted a strange degree of attraction on Jeff. Everyone was happy, out for a hot night of fun. And they all believed he was not, nor could be, a part of that. An invisible barrier of exclusion protected the three of them as they walked along in search of the Chinese restaurant where James had booked them a table.
What Jeff wanted to say was: “Come on, lads, let’s go hit some of the clubs instead.” And the three of them would scoot in past the bouncers and party on down until exhaustion and alcohol wiped him out as dawn was rising, maybe a few totes of the wacky bakky as well. It would be
But if he said it, they wouldn’t come, he’d be on his own. So he plodded along dutifully with his old friends and felt obliged to point out that as well as featuring in
18. LATE HONEYMOON
JEFF GOT HOME from the Chinese restaurant just before ten o’clock. The meal had gone pretty much as he’d predicted, and to cap it off, the food hadn’t been much good.
He hadn’t expected Sue to be home, not so early, but her Merc was standing in the garage when he parked. She was sitting on the big couch in the living room, wrapped in an emerald bathrobe, drinking a brandy and eating a bumper box of Thornton’s chocolates.
“You’re back early,” he said.
Sue produced an insincere smile. “Yeah. Didn’t much feel like a night out.”
“I know what you mean. I could have done without tonight myself.”
“How are James and Alan?”
Jeff sighed and flopped down onto the couch beside her. “Oh God, Alan was crying into his beer most of the time. And James was just being James; ranting about Brussels, and taxes, and money and then more money. I’ve heard it all a million times before.” He wondered what had happened with her and Patrick. A quarrel? It would have to be something pretty drastic to make Sue binge on chocolate. She was normally inhumanly strict about her diet.
“James has always been just James,” she said. “I thought that’s why you were such good friends with him.”
“Yeah well, maybe my perspective has shifted a little lately.”
“Hardly surprising.”
“Oh?” He leaned over and plucked the hazelnut swirl from the box.
“You don’t have anything in common anymore, do you? They’re pensioners in every respect. You’re a twenty-year-old in every respect but one.”
“Which one?”
“Experience. Apart from that, you’ve got your whole life to look forward to, and that makes you eager and
