Neville and Marie’s day together ended with a peck on the cheeks and Neville promising to call her sometime. What he really wanted to say was that he had a wonderful day, enjoyed every moment of her company, her humour, her understanding, it had felt so natural their time together, he was very attracted to her and he wanted to call her every day. He was not normally lost for words or afraid of saying what he felt, but there was an instability creeping into his life and he wanted to protect Marie from that. His ex-girlfriend, Sarah, had returned from America and he felt sure she would try to rekindle their romance. He was due to attend a school friend's reunion on the Friday evening and it was highly likely she would be there. He had thought about not going but knew they would meet sooner or later and decided that neutral territory was the best battleground, if there was to be a battle.
He was also thinking about his future as a salesman with the paper. He now knew this was not to be his lot in life and eventually he would need to seek a new job. He had reviewed the situations vacant in the local and national papers, not looking for anything in particular, but to give himself ideas of the sort of positions available. His issue was he needed to do something different but he did not know what that was. He’d read an article about volunteer services overseas and the sort of work these organisations carried out to support the less well off in the world. Could he really see himself living that sort of life, when his life thus far had been so privileged and comfortable? Would he just be a burden to others when he imagined spending more time caring for himself rather than those in need?
He had rearranged some of his sales appointments for the Wednesday he’d spent with Marie, so the next two days were very busy and it was late Friday afternoon before he called the newspaper office for any messages. The girl in the office complained he was ringing so late. She had arranged to meet her boyfriend and did not want to keep him waiting. The first message was from A.J. Waterson. Neville, after confirming she received the message on Wednesday, said she could throw that one away. There were a number of messages from a client, a garden centre, complaining about their recent advert in the weekend edition of the paper. Neville explained he had seen them that morning and sold them a full page spread for the following week. There were a few more messages from other clients asking him to call when it was convenient and the last one she had received was from a Mr Hughes.
“Was that Albert Hughes?” Neville asked. He has a client called Hughes, but he had a feeling that this message might be from Albert.
“He didn’t give his full name,” the girl replied becoming agitated the call was taking so long. “He just said that he would like to meet with you some time.”
“I assume he suggested the Station Inn?”
“He did say something about a Station, but said you should not try meet him at the Station.”
“Did he say Station or the Station Inn?”
“Look, I’ve got to go, the line was very bad and all I heard was Station, he might have said Station Inn but I’m not sure. Have a good weekend Mr Conrad.”
The line went dead. The mention of Station, Neville felt sure the message was from Albert, and he had probably said Station Inn. Why had he said they should not meet at the Station Inn? Perhaps Albert wanted a more private meeting place, but there was always John’s room above the bar where they had met before. Maybe he did not want John involved in the meeting. Neville did not have a phone number for Albert, he was not sure he was even on the phone, how were they to arrange to meet? He decided that would have to wait, he needed to get home and change for the reunion.
Some of the lads, as they were referred to, were already standing at the bar when Neville arrived. Their loud voices and laughter suggested they had been there drinking for some time. Someone shouted, “Hi Neville, what are you having?” “I’ll have a pint,” he said to the barman, who explained there was a tab as Neville tried to find some change in his trouser pocket.
Most of the lads saw each other regularly, either at work or socially, so the idea this was a reunion of old school friends who had not seen each other for years was wide of the mark. The ones who were not part of this social circle rarely turned up for the reunions and were the butt of the jokes when stories were told about incidents during the school years. Neville was somewhat of an exception. The lads always liked him at school and he was eagerly welcomed back into the fold whenever the lads met. His popularity did not end with the lads as the girls always welcomed him with open arms, hugs and kisses. His good looks meant he was never short of female company, but as hard as any individual tried there was not a single member of the girls that succeeded in capturing his heart. It was Sarah who had finally achieved where the others had failed. She had played the hard to get card and her apparent lack of trying had enticed Neville into her spider’s web. Once she had won her prize, she could flaunt her trophy in front of the girls. She then directed her energies to another cause, which was her design career.
The girls, standing apart from the lads, formed a group with one member the centre of attention. She was obviously pregnant explaining the father was away at the moment working abroad. There were knowing looks between some of the girls suggesting the father might not reappear. The attention then moved to another member’s large solitaire diamond engagement ring bought by someone who was big in the city. They, overly enthusiastically agreed, that a rather smaller version, worn by one of the other girls, was equally nice.
Each late arrival resulted in squeals from the girls, cheers from the lads, or rather embarrassing indifference. The embarrassed ones formed a group of their own and related potted histories of their lives since leaving school. Since they were all in their early twenties, there was generally not much to tell and the conversation soon degenerated to long periods of silence and glances across to the lads and girls who seemed to have so much to talk about.
Neville looked at the group of embarrassed ones and noticed Sarah who, since returning from America had rather more to tell than the others and was the centre of attention. He had not seen her arrive and did not know how the others might have reacted on seeing her. He suspected the girls might have shunned her, they would not have been quick to forgive the way she flaunted her relationship with Neville. He thought she looked different, there was less makeup and in some ways less of her, not physically but her presence. It was like visiting a building or place from your childhood, they were always smaller than you remembered. He felt sure her experience in America had affected her in some way and he began to feel sorry for her, a sort of sadness when you realise a hero is only human. They saw each other, both smiled in acknowledgement but neither made a move to cross the room to meet each other.
Neville mingled. This was something he did naturally, not like those people who constantly announce they must mingle only to find the group breaking up just as they arrived, or even worse the group closing ranks to prevent the intrusion of an unwanted mingler. Spaces always appeared in groups when Neville decided to join. He was not the centre of attention, but people always wanted him as a member of their group and would listen when he made an observation or a witty remark. The party was drawing to a close and people started to leave, some with a fanfare and promises of “I’ll call you”, or “We must not leave it so long next time”, others left without their absence, or previous presence, being noticed.
Neville turned, he knew Sarah was stood next to him; he had smelt and recognised her perfume.
“Do you want a drink?” he enquired, “I think the tab is still open.”
Sarah smiled and nodded in reply.
“Who is settling the tab?” she asked as they walked towards the bar, trying to make small talk.
“The lads have in hand, I’m sure they’ll let us know if they want more money. Shall we sit or stand at the bar?”
“Let’s stand in full public view; I’m sure the tongues will start to wag if we are noticed together in an intimate huddle in a corner somewhere.”
Neville agreed and as they sipped their drinks at the bar the conversation continued with enquiries about how are you, how are things going, are your parents healthy, are you enjoying the party, until Sarah finally announced that her American adventure had been too much of an adventure and she was forced to return to England.
“I had an affair with one of the managers in the office where I worked,” Sarah started to explain without Neville enquiring what she meant by adventure. “I knew he was married, but he said it was all over with his wife and they were going through the process of getting a divorce. I was so stupid to be taken in, but I did not realise how stupid I had been until I learned that he had said the same to some others in the past. I was not the first; I was not even the first victim in the company. It became common knowledge and I was a laughing stock. It was so embarrassing I just couldn’t stay there any longer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Neville interjected, genuinely sad to hear of her misfortune. “Couldn’t you have looked for another job is the US?”
“I suppose so, the work visa might have been an issue, but I just did not have the energy, I needed to get completely away from the place. I’m staying with my parents now until I can get my life sorted out.”
Neville was beginning to wonder if sorting out her life included trying to get back with him, but he need not have worried as she announced,
“We had some good times together, you and me I mean, but it really wouldn’t have worked out. I think we both knew that all along. There was just something missing that would have driven us apart eventually. I know some of the other girls thought I was just out to catch you, but it wasn’t like that, I did, and still do, genuinely like you, but maybe there’s the problem, like is not the same as love. We can still remain as friends, can’t we?”
Sarah was close to tears and Neville reassured her that he would always be there for her as a friend.
“I know I haven’t been away all that long, but I wondered if you had found anyone else?” Sarah asked having recovered some of her composure.
Neville’s thoughts immediately sprang to Marie, how should he describe her, did they have a relationship that could be defined as “having found someone else?
“I’m involved in this, how shall I describe it, a sort of quest, and I’ve been working with this girl who has helped me with some of the... Oh this must sound such a jumble, let’s just say it’s early days.”
“It all sounds very mysterious,” Sarah exclaimed, “I would love to hear more about it at some other time.”
One of the lads, who had rather too much to drink, slapping Neville on the back harder than he intended, interrupted their meeting.
“We are all going back to thingies house”, the lad slurred.
Neville needed to think of an excuse for not going back to thingies house as he turned to see Sarah wave to him as she walked towards the door. He was about to make a sign that he would call her when the lads arm wrapped around his shoulder. He smiled to her and managed to shrug his shoulders resigned to his fate as he was marched towards the remaining group of lads.
Neville woke with a hangover headache. “Why had he agreed to try someone’s home brewed beer?” he recalled as he tried to piece together the events of the previous night. He searched around the bedroom and found his trousers folded over the back of a chair. He had not been capable of hanging them in the wardrobe but the folds were neat and so he convinced himself that he had been reasonably capable when he returned home. An image of getting out of a taxi appeared out the fog of his thoughts and picking up the telephone on the table in the hall next to the front door. “Had the phone been ringing when he arrived home? No he had made the phone call, he had called Marie.” Neville slumped back on the bed with his head in his hands. “Why had he called her in that state?” But she was not there; the call had been answered by a male voice. “What had the voice said? Marie is not at home, she is out with friend.” Neville needed to go back to sleep, to sleep it off, but the phrase, “she is out with a friend” repeated in his mind like stuck record until the fog returned and he drifted into oblivion.
He was also thinking about his future as a salesman with the paper. He now knew this was not to be his lot in life and eventually he would need to seek a new job. He had reviewed the situations vacant in the local and national papers, not looking for anything in particular, but to give himself ideas of the sort of positions available. His issue was he needed to do something different but he did not know what that was. He’d read an article about volunteer services overseas and the sort of work these organisations carried out to support the less well off in the world. Could he really see himself living that sort of life, when his life thus far had been so privileged and comfortable? Would he just be a burden to others when he imagined spending more time caring for himself rather than those in need?
He had rearranged some of his sales appointments for the Wednesday he’d spent with Marie, so the next two days were very busy and it was late Friday afternoon before he called the newspaper office for any messages. The girl in the office complained he was ringing so late. She had arranged to meet her boyfriend and did not want to keep him waiting. The first message was from A.J. Waterson. Neville, after confirming she received the message on Wednesday, said she could throw that one away. There were a number of messages from a client, a garden centre, complaining about their recent advert in the weekend edition of the paper. Neville explained he had seen them that morning and sold them a full page spread for the following week. There were a few more messages from other clients asking him to call when it was convenient and the last one she had received was from a Mr Hughes.
“Was that Albert Hughes?” Neville asked. He has a client called Hughes, but he had a feeling that this message might be from Albert.
“He didn’t give his full name,” the girl replied becoming agitated the call was taking so long. “He just said that he would like to meet with you some time.”
“I assume he suggested the Station Inn?”
“He did say something about a Station, but said you should not try meet him at the Station.”
“Did he say Station or the Station Inn?”
“Look, I’ve got to go, the line was very bad and all I heard was Station, he might have said Station Inn but I’m not sure. Have a good weekend Mr Conrad.”
The line went dead. The mention of Station, Neville felt sure the message was from Albert, and he had probably said Station Inn. Why had he said they should not meet at the Station Inn? Perhaps Albert wanted a more private meeting place, but there was always John’s room above the bar where they had met before. Maybe he did not want John involved in the meeting. Neville did not have a phone number for Albert, he was not sure he was even on the phone, how were they to arrange to meet? He decided that would have to wait, he needed to get home and change for the reunion.
Some of the lads, as they were referred to, were already standing at the bar when Neville arrived. Their loud voices and laughter suggested they had been there drinking for some time. Someone shouted, “Hi Neville, what are you having?” “I’ll have a pint,” he said to the barman, who explained there was a tab as Neville tried to find some change in his trouser pocket.
Most of the lads saw each other regularly, either at work or socially, so the idea this was a reunion of old school friends who had not seen each other for years was wide of the mark. The ones who were not part of this social circle rarely turned up for the reunions and were the butt of the jokes when stories were told about incidents during the school years. Neville was somewhat of an exception. The lads always liked him at school and he was eagerly welcomed back into the fold whenever the lads met. His popularity did not end with the lads as the girls always welcomed him with open arms, hugs and kisses. His good looks meant he was never short of female company, but as hard as any individual tried there was not a single member of the girls that succeeded in capturing his heart. It was Sarah who had finally achieved where the others had failed. She had played the hard to get card and her apparent lack of trying had enticed Neville into her spider’s web. Once she had won her prize, she could flaunt her trophy in front of the girls. She then directed her energies to another cause, which was her design career.
The girls, standing apart from the lads, formed a group with one member the centre of attention. She was obviously pregnant explaining the father was away at the moment working abroad. There were knowing looks between some of the girls suggesting the father might not reappear. The attention then moved to another member’s large solitaire diamond engagement ring bought by someone who was big in the city. They, overly enthusiastically agreed, that a rather smaller version, worn by one of the other girls, was equally nice.
Each late arrival resulted in squeals from the girls, cheers from the lads, or rather embarrassing indifference. The embarrassed ones formed a group of their own and related potted histories of their lives since leaving school. Since they were all in their early twenties, there was generally not much to tell and the conversation soon degenerated to long periods of silence and glances across to the lads and girls who seemed to have so much to talk about.
Neville looked at the group of embarrassed ones and noticed Sarah who, since returning from America had rather more to tell than the others and was the centre of attention. He had not seen her arrive and did not know how the others might have reacted on seeing her. He suspected the girls might have shunned her, they would not have been quick to forgive the way she flaunted her relationship with Neville. He thought she looked different, there was less makeup and in some ways less of her, not physically but her presence. It was like visiting a building or place from your childhood, they were always smaller than you remembered. He felt sure her experience in America had affected her in some way and he began to feel sorry for her, a sort of sadness when you realise a hero is only human. They saw each other, both smiled in acknowledgement but neither made a move to cross the room to meet each other.
Neville mingled. This was something he did naturally, not like those people who constantly announce they must mingle only to find the group breaking up just as they arrived, or even worse the group closing ranks to prevent the intrusion of an unwanted mingler. Spaces always appeared in groups when Neville decided to join. He was not the centre of attention, but people always wanted him as a member of their group and would listen when he made an observation or a witty remark. The party was drawing to a close and people started to leave, some with a fanfare and promises of “I’ll call you”, or “We must not leave it so long next time”, others left without their absence, or previous presence, being noticed.
Neville turned, he knew Sarah was stood next to him; he had smelt and recognised her perfume.
“Do you want a drink?” he enquired, “I think the tab is still open.”
Sarah smiled and nodded in reply.
“Who is settling the tab?” she asked as they walked towards the bar, trying to make small talk.
“The lads have in hand, I’m sure they’ll let us know if they want more money. Shall we sit or stand at the bar?”
“Let’s stand in full public view; I’m sure the tongues will start to wag if we are noticed together in an intimate huddle in a corner somewhere.”
Neville agreed and as they sipped their drinks at the bar the conversation continued with enquiries about how are you, how are things going, are your parents healthy, are you enjoying the party, until Sarah finally announced that her American adventure had been too much of an adventure and she was forced to return to England.
“I had an affair with one of the managers in the office where I worked,” Sarah started to explain without Neville enquiring what she meant by adventure. “I knew he was married, but he said it was all over with his wife and they were going through the process of getting a divorce. I was so stupid to be taken in, but I did not realise how stupid I had been until I learned that he had said the same to some others in the past. I was not the first; I was not even the first victim in the company. It became common knowledge and I was a laughing stock. It was so embarrassing I just couldn’t stay there any longer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Neville interjected, genuinely sad to hear of her misfortune. “Couldn’t you have looked for another job is the US?”
“I suppose so, the work visa might have been an issue, but I just did not have the energy, I needed to get completely away from the place. I’m staying with my parents now until I can get my life sorted out.”
Neville was beginning to wonder if sorting out her life included trying to get back with him, but he need not have worried as she announced,
“We had some good times together, you and me I mean, but it really wouldn’t have worked out. I think we both knew that all along. There was just something missing that would have driven us apart eventually. I know some of the other girls thought I was just out to catch you, but it wasn’t like that, I did, and still do, genuinely like you, but maybe there’s the problem, like is not the same as love. We can still remain as friends, can’t we?”
Sarah was close to tears and Neville reassured her that he would always be there for her as a friend.
“I know I haven’t been away all that long, but I wondered if you had found anyone else?” Sarah asked having recovered some of her composure.
Neville’s thoughts immediately sprang to Marie, how should he describe her, did they have a relationship that could be defined as “having found someone else?
“I’m involved in this, how shall I describe it, a sort of quest, and I’ve been working with this girl who has helped me with some of the... Oh this must sound such a jumble, let’s just say it’s early days.”
“It all sounds very mysterious,” Sarah exclaimed, “I would love to hear more about it at some other time.”
One of the lads, who had rather too much to drink, slapping Neville on the back harder than he intended, interrupted their meeting.
“We are all going back to thingies house”, the lad slurred.
Neville needed to think of an excuse for not going back to thingies house as he turned to see Sarah wave to him as she walked towards the door. He was about to make a sign that he would call her when the lads arm wrapped around his shoulder. He smiled to her and managed to shrug his shoulders resigned to his fate as he was marched towards the remaining group of lads.
Neville woke with a hangover headache. “Why had he agreed to try someone’s home brewed beer?” he recalled as he tried to piece together the events of the previous night. He searched around the bedroom and found his trousers folded over the back of a chair. He had not been capable of hanging them in the wardrobe but the folds were neat and so he convinced himself that he had been reasonably capable when he returned home. An image of getting out of a taxi appeared out the fog of his thoughts and picking up the telephone on the table in the hall next to the front door. “Had the phone been ringing when he arrived home? No he had made the phone call, he had called Marie.” Neville slumped back on the bed with his head in his hands. “Why had he called her in that state?” But she was not there; the call had been answered by a male voice. “What had the voice said? Marie is not at home, she is out with friend.” Neville needed to go back to sleep, to sleep it off, but the phrase, “she is out with a friend” repeated in his mind like stuck record until the fog returned and he drifted into oblivion.