Chesterbury Tales Pt. 09

They taught us how to do that in t' army. Unarmed combat, they called it.

He just dropped to t' floor like a stone. I rolled him over, held his face in a pool of stale piss a few times - the outlet had the usual blockage of butt ends and the like - then dragged him into the barn round t' back. In the light of a street lamp through a window I could see the dark patch in the straw.

It looked like t' blood o' t' wife, but I don't know. His nose was bleeding, that's all. So I kicked his head in, an' booted 'im 'hard in t' balls two or three times for good measure. As I walked through t' bar, t' other two were still laughin' and joking' in t' corner.

I don't think he'll be stuffing any more women for a long time.

At this point in the narrative, Laurie told the guests, he drank off his pint and I took his empty glass and went to the bar to refill it. I needed a little time to reflect on this amazing tale and why he had told it to me. I wondered if he'd killed the ginger-haired chap.

When I returned to the table I said I was glad he'd been able to tell me the story, but asked him why he'd told me. It was only necessary for him to have phoned to say Brenda had had an accident and was in hospital for a few days. His reply surprised me.

'My Brenda thinks a lot about you. She says you're a considerate, kind sort o' chap, an' somebody she could trust. She talks quite a bit about you. You're a bit of an idol, I suppose. So I thought I'd come to ask you what you think I ought to do about this business. I badly needed to talk to somebody about it. Get it out of my system I suppose. I mean this chap asked for all 'e got.'

Well, I told him that it might be a long messy business if he complained to the police and, if he thought he'd evened up the score, it might be best to forget it. Just a bar brawl. Not unusual in the pubs round that part of the town. I didn't think the police would really want to get involved in a private dispute.

However, he'd need to make sure that Brenda never went near that place again. When she was better, she could always have her job back with me.

He looked surprised. 'Nay,' he said, 'she'd never do that! She'd be far too embarrassed. She's said so. One of her main worries in all this is that she's let you down. She'll perhaps come in for 'er wages when your not 'ere, but she couldn't face you again. She's told me as much. I'm real sorry. An' so is she, 'cause, as I say, she thinks a lot about you and is right sad she's let you down.'

Well, that was the end of his story. After thanking me for the advice, he went. It was some weeks later that a friend I hadn't seen for a while joined me for a pint and a bite of lunch. He told me the story about how a man had been found unconscious in a barn at the back of the Oddfellows pub.

It seems that whoever had beaten him up had made a thorough job of it, smashed his balls in, chopped off his penis from the base - with anvil secateurs apparently, which were found in the straw - and stuffed it in his mouth.

The fellow had nearly choked on the loss of blood from a broken nose, but it seems that two of his mates found him in time and he was rushed off to the Infirmary. The Infirmary! Perhaps in the ward next to Brenda!

Laurie paused. 'So that's my tale!'

The guests remained silent for a few moments.

'Serve the sod right!' Delia said with feeling. 'He won't be molesting any more women for a long time, I'll bet!'

There was a murmur of general approval.

'I think that calls for cocktails all round' was Robert's comment. 'Then we should all retire for a rest and change for lunch.'

The couples ambled into the bar, before dispersing gradually, hoping that the next tale would be less gruesome. A good laugh is what they all wanted.

'From what I have heard of Gertie's tale, a good laugh is what you should get this evening,' was Julie's prediction.

But first, there would be the after-lunch fantasies!