We unloaded the bikes and carried our bags upstairs. Nobody seemed to have brought more than a small tank bag, a rucksack, or throw-over panniers. No point when we were only here for another two days. It struck me then that half the trip was nearly gone already and so far the Devil’s Bridge Club hadn’t done anything that might require them to need a pair of bodyguards in tow.
Tomorrow we were due to cross the border for the run down to Dublin.
What the hell did they have planned then?
***
The bar at the hotel was small – too small for the seven of us to sit round in comfort. Instead, once we were showered and changed into our civvies, we headed out into the evening sunshine and walked up the steep main street in search of another watering hole.
“At least this way,” Tess said, puffing out a breath as she eyed the climb, “we’ll be going downhill on the way back.”
“Yeah,” Paxo put in, grinning at her. “Have too much to drink tonight and we can just roll you back down to the hotel instead of having to carry you.”
We found a pub at the top of the hill which, after an initial moment of restraint, proved welcoming. Nevertheless, Sean and I steered the group to a corner table with a clear view of the door. We also made sure we grabbed the chairs that meant we could keep an eye on the rest of the room without making it obvious.
We chose from the menu and Daz went to order the food from the barman and get the first round of drinks in.
“You must have come across a load of queers when you were in the army, eh?” Paxo said to Sean. He was watching Daz move across the other side of the room like he was trying to spot the difference in the way he walked.
“They’ve only just changed the rules to allow it,” Sean said calmly. “When I was in, the Powers That Be took a very dim view. If they found out you were gay, you were out. Counted as ‘dishonourable conduct’, apparently.”
“Maybe it’s because they didn’t do pink camouflage,” Tess said, waspish.
“The Spartans positively encouraged homosexuality in their soldiers,” William said reflectively. “They reckoned it made them fight more fiercely alongside each other.”
“Yeah,” Paxo said, “and look what happened to
“One of the guys who works for me now is gay,” Sean said, making me automatically do a mental review of his staff, trying to work out who. “It makes no difference.”
“A gay bodyguard?” Paxo repeated. He shook his head in disbelief. “Ah mate, what kind of a bloke would want someone protecting them who might make a pass at him?”
“What’s the guy’s sexual orientation got to do with how well he does his job?” Sean asked, sounding impatient now. “Charlie’s a bodyguard. Are you trying to tell me she can’t protect men for the same reason?”
“Yeah, but she’s not gay,” Jamie said with a grin. “I mean, if she was, would a woman want her looking after them?”
“Now
“My sister’s gay and she’s been in a steady relationship for the last eight years,” William said, his voice suddenly cold. He fixed Paxo with an icy glare and watched his confusion for a couple of beats before adding, “Confucius say: when in hole, mate, stop digging.”
“Well how was I supposed to know?” Paxo muttered, still rather pink around the ears. “I thought they were just flat-mates.”
Daz came back with the first of the drinks and raised his eyebrows at Paxo’s scowling face and William’s equally stony expression.
“Well,” he murmured, wry. “This looks like being a fun-packed evening, doesn’t it?”
***
The first signs of trouble lit up about an hour later. The boys had come to an uneasy truce and, after a couple of beers each, the conversation had relaxed back onto something like its old footing. Tess now seemed to be making a play for Jamie and he wasn’t resisting too hard, although he did keep shooting little worried glances in Daz’s direction, as if just making sure he really didn’t object.
The pub had filled up gradually and all the tables were now occupied. The demographic was younger than I’d expected for such a sleepy little place, mostly young men who could well have been other visiting bikers. Out of leathers it was hard to tell.
Sean subjected everyone to the same casual scrutiny when they arrived and, sitting next to him, I could tell the moment something changed.
“What is it?”
“There’s a table of lads over near the far window,” he said to Daz. “Without making it obvious, can you have a look and tell me if you know them?”
To his credit, Daz made a reasonably convincing job of glancing around as though to check the location of the gents’ but, when he turned back, he leaned forwards conspiratorially. The others did the same and I saw a flicker of annoyance on Sean’s face.
“Not a clue, mate,” Daz said. “Why, what’s the problem?”
“They keep looking over here and nudging each other,” Sean said, his voice low. “I think we should drink up and find another bar.”
“Suits me,” Paxo said, shrugging as he reached for his beer and sat back.
