Mack's Progress Ch. 05

I spent some of the evening chatting with them and some working. Later on we had a darts match. Locals, against my family members, which was quite fun. I have no idea who won because there was some very questionable scoring going on. For those who are unaware there is a standard dartboard and what I think is referred to, as a London board. Scoring apparently is different for the two boards. Both sides were scoring as if they were playing on the boards they normally played on. Whatever, there was a lot of fun for everyone involved.

Millie slept with me that night and for some inexplicable reason, the sex between us was a little restrained, by Millie's normal standards.

Thursday morning quite early Michelle and I were performing the usual glass search. We had the assistance of four enthusiastic helpers. The children must have searched the riverbank and the shallower parts of its bed for a hundred or so yards either side of the pub and turned up some glasses that had obviously been abandoned many years ago. Some Beverley decided to scrap rather than try to recover for use. She gave all four children a reward for their efforts though.

The children also very cheekily, and without asking permission, joined Millie and me in the cellar to watch the ritual cleaning of the pipes. In doing so they prevented Millie from cleaning my pipe as was her habit. I don't think the children had any idea what Millie and I found so funny - well, I hope they didn't! You know by now what Millie's mouth was like, and she was throwing some ribald innuendo about.

Around ten Brian came into the pub and told me that they were all going on the smaller craft to visit part of the waterways where his large cruiser couldn't navigate. He asked me if there was some way that we could reserve the mooring, but I told him it wasn't really required as they could double moor the small boat on the larger one when they returned, if necessary. So my family sailed off for the rest of the day on Julia and Mike's hire cruiser.

That evening when they returned the pub was unusually quiet, just one of those things that can happen even in the busiest part of the season. Once again they ensconced themselves in the garden near the river and ordered dinner for everyone from our kitchen.

I suppose it was about seven thirty. I was leaning on the bar with Millie beside me when completely unexpectedly Lindsey walked into the bar from the garden. Beverley, Michelle and Patricia were all sitting on the bar stools; we had been discussing the unexpected shortage of customers, I believe.

Anyway Lindsey walked in the garden door and stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes met mine and Beverley, Michelle and Pat turned on their stools to look where I was staring to see what had attracted my attention.

Lindsey's eyes held my gaze for a while and then I saw them move first to Millie's famous appendages. Then she looked up into Millie's eyes, then Lindsey's gaze shifted first to Michelle, before passing on to Patricia's and then Beverley. She must have locked eyes with all of the girls.

What can you tell by looking into someone's eyes? I know full well that Lindsey immediately knew that I had bedded all four women. Her eyes met all of theirs again, as she slowly brought them back to stare into mine. For a moment longer she stood there unmoving, before bursting into tears, then turning and running out of the pub.

"Oh, shit!" Beverley exclaimed, breaking the silence, but she didn't enlarge further. I knew that Beverley had had the same realisation that I had.

A little later Julia appeared in the bar, her facial expression telling me that she was angry and that she wanted a word in private.

"What the fuck did you say to Lindsey?" Julia demanded when we got out into the car park. Oh, Julia doesn't normally swear, so I gathered that she was extremely angry.

"I didn't say one word to Lindsey, honestly, Julia. She walked into the bar, looked at me for a few seconds and then ran out again."

"Nothing?"

"Not a bleeding word; never got the chance!" I assured her. Although I didn't tell Julia of what I suspected that Lindsey had correctly assumed.

"You must have said something. Didn't you even say hello?"

"Julia, I didn't have time. I looked up and suddenly Lindsey was standing in the doorway. She stared at the girls and me for a couple of seconds and then she ran out again. No one got the chance to say hello or anything. You know how I feel about Lindsey, but Beverley, Millie and the girls have got nothing against her. Come on, you know Millie. You ask her. She'll tell you none of us had time to say anything to Lindsey; she just wasn't in there long enough."

"Damn, what's got into her?"

"Look, Julia, not that I think it will do any good, but if you want I'll go down to the boat and talk to her!"

"No, Mack, I don't think that's a good idea at all. Lynn has locked herself in one of the cabins and she says she doesn't want to talk to anyone. Especially you. I asked if I should get you to go down there."

It was only later that I noted that Julia had used the name Lynn again. I'd wanted to call Lindsey Lynn but she'd objected very strongly. She'd always insisted that people call her Lindsey.

-------------------------

Michelle slept with me that night.

"What are you going to do, Mack?" she asked, at some unearthly hour, after we'd worn ourselves out and had stopped for a while to recuperate.

"About what?"

"Lindsey! She's in love with you, you know."

"Bollocks, she's shagging Conway, and has been for years."

"What makes you say that? I haven't seen her show any affection towards him. Yeah, I'd say he fancies her. But, oh... you know what I mean."

"Chellie (my pet name for Michelle stolen from Patricia), they are a pretty cute couple when it comes to hiding it. Christ, they've been working together for years and managed to keep it hidden from everyone there. Once that arsehole's divorce comes through, they will be all over each other, take my word on it."

"Well, if that's the case, why was Lindsey so upset when she realised that you were...? Oh, you know what I mean."

"Well, let's see. Lindsey thought that she had me wrapped around her little finger. I'll admit for a time there, I worshipped the ground the woman walked on. But then I discovered that she was taking the piss out of me. It could be that she's finally realised that she no longer can throw her spell over me, or pull the wool over my eyes even if she can the rest of my family." "Oh, so what happens now?"

"I think that I'll try to fuck you to death, to get my revenge on women in general. How does that sound?"

"Some hopes," Michelle replied.

------------------

The next morning I was just getting out of the shower when I heard the local taxi driver talking to Michelle in the kitchen. He was asking for a Miss Gateland who had apparently ordered a taxi to take her to Norwich station.

"That's Lindsey," I informed Michelle by sticking my head around the kitchen door still wrapped in my towel.

"Oh, Crikes!" Michelle exclaimed and then led the taxi driver outside to point out what boat Lindsey was on to him.

"What do you think gives?" she asked me after strolling into my flat, on her eventual return.

"Buggered if I know," was all I could offer as a reply.

"She's left and gone home by the looks of things," Michelle offered. "Had her bag packed ready and everything."

"She's a free agent, Michelle; perhaps she didn't like hanging around here because I was here."

"Something's not right there, you know, Mack. I'd say that girl is really hooked on you."

"Then why was she shagging Conway?"

"Who says she was? I didn't see them all over each other!"

"And nobody who comes in this pub sees you and me all over each other, or Millie, or your mother either come to that. But you know as well as I do what goes on in this flat!"

"Mack, you always have been too quick to jump to conclusions, you know. Is there any possibility that you've read Lindsey all wrong? After all, you were wrong about that soldier bloke, weren't you?"

"Michelle, I know things about Lindsey that I've never talked to you or anyone else about. Take it from me what you see ain't what you get with that woman. I don't know, perhaps she's a control freak or something. She played me like a bloody harp when we were together and when I twigged that something weren't kosher she didn't like it. I have no idea why she's gone home, perhaps she only came here thinking that I'd fall at her feet again, and she's pissed off because I didn't!"

There was a pretty subdued atmosphere when my family was about that morning. Julia came to tell me that Lindsey had gone home. But I was able to tell her about the taxi driver and that I already knew. They hung around for a few hours and then cast off and went to explore some other part off the Broads.

Millie later informed me what Julia had told her that, after they thought Lindsey had safely locked herself in one of the cabins, they had returned to the garden and left her in peace. But when Stephanie had gone back on board later to check on the children and Lindsey, she found that she'd disappeared. They were just about to panic and send out a search party when Lindsey had come walking along the riverbank from the direction of the village. She informed them that she was going home the following morning and had been to the village to book a taxi.

----------------------------

My family stopped for one night the next week on their way back to the boatyard to return their cruisers. I didn't see Conway at all, but I saw his children. All four youngsters hung around me as much as they could get away with.

I helped them with their lines the following morning when they left again. Conway was on the deck of Brian's big cruiser and I threw the bow mooring line to him. If looks could kill, the one he gave me would have put me in my grave.

----------------------

Within a couple of days, life at the pub had returned to normal as far as I was concerned. Patricia and John were getting more and more into each other so it was no surprise to anyone that on Patricia's nineteenth birthday, John produced a ring and asked her to marry him. The wedding date was set for the following spring, exactly one year from their first date.

"They haven't known each other that long," I said to Beverley in a quiet moment.

"At least she's made her mind up quickly, Mack. Christ, how my life would have been different if I'd known what I wanted when I first saw it. I was a silly bitch and thought that something better might come along. The only thing that did was my two girls."

"And this pub, Bev. You're nicely set up here, aren't you?"

"The trouble with a pub, Mack, is it's your life. I have to live and breathe this place every bloody day, whether I feel like it or not. I won't say that I don't enjoy my life, but sometimes I see Polly and wonder if I would have done better if I'd got in there first."

I had no idea who Polly was at the time and there was something about the way Beverley was talking that prevented me asking.

-----------------------

Two things happened that September that were going to make further changes to my life. The first was Philip's grandmother having another stroke. She remained in hospital after that one and was never to come out again. But the "Old Witch" as Millie called her, hung on until the early part of December. And the second was that I discovered who Polly was.

It was less than a week after Phil's gran had her stroke that Mrs Plod, George wife's passed away. Word went around that she'd had a heart attack during the night and had just not woken up one morning. Poor old George found her dead beside him when he woke up. He was on compassionate leave for a long time and we had a replacement bobby for a while. Everyone at the pub except me -- I wasn't a proper local and I'd never said two words to the woman -- went to her funeral out of respect for one of the village main stays. You know Mothers Union and all the church and village committees, you say it and apparently Mrs Plod, or to use George's real name Mrs Polly Gummer, was involved with just about everything.

Her death brought about a change in Beverley that I think took all of us by surprise. Beverley suddenly took an interest in those same committees that Mrs Plod had so recently vacated. When things went quiet for the off season in the pub, all sorts of committees started holding meetings in the corner of the big bar. "So much warmer than the village hall in the winter" appeared to be the standard justification for these moves. There was, of course, the further point that Beverley had been seconded onto these committees but no one ever mentioned that or why she hadn't been on them when Mrs Plod was alive.

After a month or so George returned to duty. By December when Philip's gran finally popped her clogs, George's patrol route had seemed to change. It now called for at least two calls on the pub to check everything was all right most days of the week when he was on duty. And he became a regular customer when he was off duty. It appeared that when Beverley wasn't talking to her committee members she was chatting quietly -- mostly laughing - with George.

And I might add, if George had paid a visit late in the evening, Beverley was in my flat before the other two got a chance of a look in.

Millie and Philip got married in early January. Millie had nearly killed me in the week before the wedding. "Damn it, if that bugger ain't as good as you, I could be back!" Millie commented more than once.

"Forget it, Millie. Once you've tied the knot with Philip then there's no excuse for you climbing in bed with me."

"Spoil sport!" was her only reply.

--------------------------------

Julia was still calling me most weekends, often by then from my parents' house so I could have a few words with them as well. But mother and father would often drop the name Lynn into the conversation and that would normally bring further communication to a sudden halt.

Actually, that Lynn bit was really getting to me. Lindsey had always been so adamant about her correct name being used. I think I settled the anomaly in my own mind with the conclusion that Conway must be calling her Lynn and the others had picked up on using it.

Julia would still mention Conway now and again. Sometimes she'd slip-up and mention Lindsey or as everybody appeared to be calling her Lynn as well, but not very often.

------------------------

Millie's wedding to Philip was a village event. It's not often we closed the pub but we had to as we were all at the village hall for the reception. Actually you could say we didn't close the pub we just moved it to the village hall for the night because Millie and Phillip used Beverley's licence to sell the alcohol later. Look, just about everyone in the village was there. Plus maybe three or four hundred people from the farms from miles around. Phil's family might have had money but not that kind of money.

Millie, after she came back from her honeymoon, still worked in the pub. Only she was going home in the evenings and she wasn't working full time.

"Not as good as you, luvver! But I'm getting him trained up all right. Anyway if you fancy a quickie anytime I'm always game, you know?" Millie whispered in my ear as she gave me a hug on her first shift back.

"Millie, you're a married woman now. Behave yourself!" I replied with a grin.

Then Millie and the twins disappeared into the kitchen from where peals of laughter were heard emanating for the next hour or so. I might well have worked the shift on my own for all I saw of any of them, including Beverley, that day.

"Someone's missing you!" Beverley commented on one occasion when she came out of the kitchen to grab yet another bottle of wine.

------------------------

The next change kind of fell from the sky. It was on a Sunday lunchtime in February. During the off-season, our only really busy times -- and that is a relative statement -- were Friday and Saturday evenings and Sunday lunchtimes. Since Beverley had suddenly become a member of all those committees Sunday lunchtime had become busier than ever (off-season).

Anyway it was one of those statements that every body unexpectedly hears in a crowded pub. You know there's that inexplicable moment of silence and someone says something that everybody in the place clearly hears. In this case it was George's daughter, Jean, who was at the pub with her husband and children. Whether she made the statement as loud as she did with the intention of everybody hearing, I don't know. But half the village heard it quite clearly and then things got complicated, for Beverley and George anyway.

"Why the hell he don't stop pissing around, and ask her to marry him I can't bleeding-well understand!" Jean almost shouted to Millie - who being off shift - was sitting with Philip at the same table.

You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife, as everyone in the place looked at George and Beverley who had been in conversation over the bar. The two of them looked around the pub at everyone in there, who in turn were all grinning at them.

"Well, dad, are you going to ask her or not? Christ, it's like living in a bloody soap opera round here lately," Jean yelled.

George and Beverley had both turned bright red and were obviously lost for words. But George's daughter wasn't giving up. She strode across the bar until she was stood beside her very embarrassed looking father.

"Dad, there ain't a soul in this pub that don't know that you have been in love with Beverley since forever. Mum's gone now and we are all waiting for you two to get hitched, so damn well get on with it and ask Beverley before she gets fed up with waiting and marries some other silly old sod."

"You shouldn't speak to your father like that Jean!" Beverley began to say. I could see her 'high horse' attitude beginning to surface.

"Be quiet please, Beverley; I'm trying to help you out here. Anyway at the moment I can speak to my dad how I like, and you can't say nothing about it. Once the bugger sticks a ring on your finger, I'll start calling you mother and then you can tell me what to say and not say. Well, dad, are you going to ask her or have Tony and me got to put up with you looking mopey around the house forever."

George really did look like a deer caught in a car's headlights. But it was Beverley who gave up the charade first.

"Well, George, are you going to ask me?" she said.

But George was a little more fly than any of us imagined. "Don't I remember that I did ask you once out by the old windmill? You know you never did give me an answer, Bev."

"Bugger, you're right, I didn't, did I?" Beverley said with a smile on her face. Then she stood there looking at George."

"Well?" Jean demanded.

"If you still want me George?" Beverley said very quietly.

"Damn, it's about time!" Jean shouted. "Where's the bloody vicar? We got a proper job for him to do. You got any champers behind there, Mack?"

---------------------------

The following day, George had gone home. (Where do you think he slept?) Only he didn't get much sleep, I can assure you of that and neither did I nor Michelle. That damned chimney again. I had to stuff the thing up with some insulation that one of the guys from the boatyard got for me, in the end. George and Beverley were not only very vocal whilst making love. They also did a lot of reminiscing, but I'm not going into what we heard here.

Oh, you might have noticed that I said "making love" and not shagging like a pair of bunny rabbits. Well, that was what the lovers did; they made love to each other, and it bore no relation to what Beverley and I had been doing for the previous god knows how long.