Wednesday, December 17, 2008
The Barbarians
“Who were the Barbarians then?” George asked pressing his cigarette butt firmly into the ashtray with his thumb and blowing the last remnants of smoke high into the already smoke filled lounge bar. His fingerers stained noticeably yellow from years of heavy smoking crushed the last remnants of life from the butt folding the battered filter over on itself on the ashtrays rim.
“They were Tommy McArdles crew from over on the Upton Estate. That’s what they first called themselves before Frank Grady joined them” Terry replied pulling the ashtray a little nearer to himself across the pub table and dabbing a now extensive tower of ash onto the mountain of stale cigarette ends.
“So when did Frank appear?” George enquired. His natural instincts of Police investigation flooded back for the first time since retirement and gave him a sudden thrill he hadn’t felt in years
“Must have been about 1955, 56” Terry snapped back quickly in his thick Cockney voice wincing as he blew smoke into his eye, “ He was brought in just as a member of the gang. Tommy was the boss back then; Frank was his cousin and Tommy had invited him to join the gang. Nobody messed with Tommy God rest his soul. He was the same at school, you must remember, tough as old boots he was even as a nipper. Here’s Billy now, he’d tell you, he knew Frank better than anyone”
“Here we go, let the dog see the rabbit” Billy quipped “Good health” Billy announced jovially placing the drinks down carefully on the vacant beer mats and pulling up a stool.
“How we doing then George?” Billy asked sitting himself down heavily “Long time no see?” George felt a twinge of discomfort. Of all the old gang, he felt most wary of Billy.
George was a new addition to Terry and Bills regular Monday Club at the Hammer & Pincers. But today was no ordinary Monday. As an ex-Policeman George was treated with a sense of caution, not because they had anything left to hide, but more borne from habit.
“I was just telling George about Tommy and Frank.” Terry explained staring across at Billy with his brow furrowed careful with his choice of words. Terry had jet black, slicked back hair, the style of which he had not altered in fifty years or more. He had bright green eyes that belied his advancing years giving him a youthful friendly appearance; his face on the other hand carried all the hallmarks of a full and hard life. George had a much softer complexion by comparison; friendly and old with dark brown cask conditioned eyes you would guess were incapable of lies. There was a redness to his nose and cheeks that suggested a love affair with whisky.
“What’s your interest all of a sudden?” Billy asked sincerely but with just a hint of menace that came not through any deliberate attempt to intimidate but more from involuntary instinct. Billy could look menacing in his sleep. A stocky deep-set man decorated in tattoos gold chains and rings. A thick grey thatch of hair and a neatly trimmed beard framed his narrow, mean eyes and weather beaten face. It was only when Billy took out his foldaway spectacles to read the Racing Post that a softer side emerged, a weakness that was reassuringly warming.
“I worked these streets long enough Billy, same as you.” George replied defensively, lowering his gaze, “ Only difference is we were on different sides, that’s all. Don’t see how that really matters anymore though, I went school with them all, grew up with them all same as you”
“Its okay, were all friends” Terry jumped in sensing a heightened tension about to threaten the afternoon, “I’m sure Billy didn’t mean it in a bad way did you Bill?” Terry offered resting a hand on Georges arm for just a second, but long enough to register. George lifted his head and returned a small smile of gratitude.
“Lets put it down to my suspicious nature, can’t teach an old dog like me new tricks. Never trusted the old bill then and still don’t trust em now, no offence to you Georgie”
“Lot of water passed since then Bill” Terry added “ were all older and wiser, were not bloody kids anymore” He added picking up his pint dealing the first damaging blow into its frothy head.
“We were all still kids when Frank first appeared” Billy offered unexpectedly. He paused while a third of the pint disappeared in one go, wiping his mouth and admiring his work Billy continued “he was a bit older than us by two or three years, always had money and the ladies loved him of course. I suppose we all looked up to him in our own way. But that confidence of his had a ruthless side to it. We were just kids running little rackets with Tommy at first, no real harm in it, a few pennies here a few there we were just playing, you remember them days George, even you ran with us back then. But it all started to change with Frank. He was tough, not like Tommy tough but tough in a different way, he was smarter, shrewd but most of all he was mean. Looking back it was only a matter of time till he took over, I think its what Tommy wanted, take the pressure of expectation off him maybe”
A silence seemed to descend over the table like an all-consuming mist each left with their own private thoughts while they made in roads into their drinks. The jukebox fired up and some song that none of them could name started playing. The door opened and a few mourners filed in. Nods of recognition and respect were exchanged George kept his head down.
The Hammer and Pincers was an old fashioned tired looking place with a threadbare carpet, high ceilings, curtains that had not seen the inside of a washing machine for years and old fashioned paint flaking wall paper. The sign at the front boasted pub meals though in honesty the place wasn’t fit for dining and was barely fit for drinking in. Back in the day this had been the hang out, this was where the Barbarians met when it was a popular and thriving pub, they as good as owned the place back then. They had continued to do so through the years. The busy trade had long since died along with the Barbarians reputation, the pub, like its inhabitants, felt like it was ready for demolition. Every inch of the fabric of the place was held together with memories. Billy and Terry couldn’t help gazing round, the pictures on the wall, the old jukebox, the pool table, everything was reminiscent of a bygone era preserved in dust.
“I’ll warn you now George, some of the boys might not be too pleased to see you at the service” Billy announced, finally breaking the painful silence as if it had been welling up inside of everyone, just waiting to be said
“Come on Billy lets not.” But George jumped in interrupting Terry’s diplomacy, it had to be said and under the circumstances he supposed Billy was the right man to say it. “Its okay Terry, he’s right.” George answered; he had made his choice over forty years ago when they were all innocent young friends together. They chose their path and he had chosen his and he would have to live with it.
An uncomfortable silence returned to the table, a feeling that George knew he would have to get used to all-day. As a Police Officer he had been part of something. Something that had given him purpose in life, he had never married, ‘married to the force’ was the long-standing joke in the Met but once retirement crow barred its way into his life everything just suddenly stopped. He found himself pottering round the house and garden never seeing a person from one day to the next. Life began to take on a mundane empty routine that George was struggling to cope with. Of course there were clubs for ex Police personnel and he had even attended a function or two but deep down they weren’t his scene. He never liked dressing up for a night out, in his day there had been a social club for the local PC’s he had frequented after a shift but as time went on he seemed to know fewer and fewer of the people who drank there.
The pub began to fill up, George watched as a sea of half recognisable and unfamiliar faces poured in, all dressed in black. He recognised different faces for different reasons. A sullen clamour of voices echoed around the room, he could feel the eyes of fellow mourners boring into him, he could hear their whispers he knew he was unwelcome, un-wanted. He felt uncomfortable and the air seemed to be getting hotter.
“I might step outside for some air” George suggested rising to his feet but Terry grabbed him sharply by the coat sleeve and pulled him back down recognising his discomfort
“What good will that do, your with us, you’ll be okay” Terry was right, outside or inside George knew he would always be an outsider in this world, on the streets he had grown up on and with the people he had grown up with.
“He was always good to me, Tommy was, even after I sent Frank down. He would never tell any of you but he would still call on me from time to time”
Nobody spoke. There wasn’t much else to say. The pub door opened “The cars here” a voice called in. All around glasses were drained in haste; Billy, Terry and George did like wise and picked up their coats. It was cold outside and it was likely to be a long afternoon. A few mourners shook hands with Terry and Billy, exchanging pleasantries and offering condolences.
“Ill just use the toilet before we go” George said as people began making their way toward the waiting cars.
_______________________________
“Who were the Barbarians then?” George asked pressing his cigarette butt firmly into the ashtray with his thumb and blowing the last remnants of smoke high into the already smoke filled lounge bar. His fingerers stained noticeably yellow from years of heavy smoking crushed the last remnants of life from the butt folding the battered filter over on itself on the ashtrays rim.
“They were Tommy McArdles crew from over on the Upton Estate. That’s what they first called themselves before Frank Grady joined them” Terry replied pulling the ashtray a little nearer to himself across the pub table and dabbing a now extensive tower of ash onto the mountain of stale cigarette ends.
“So when did Frank appear?” George enquired. His natural instincts of Police investigation flooded back for the first time since retirement and gave him a sudden thrill he hadn’t felt in years
“Must have been about 1955, 56” Terry snapped back quickly in his thick Cockney voice wincing as he blew smoke into his eye, “ He was brought in just as a member of the gang. Tommy was the boss back then; Frank was his cousin and Tommy had invited him to join the gang. Nobody messed with Tommy God rest his soul. He was the same at school, you must remember, tough as old boots he was even as a nipper. Here’s Billy now, he’d tell you, he knew Frank better than anyone”
“Here we go, let the dog see the rabbit” Billy quipped “Good health” Billy announced jovially placing the drinks down carefully on the vacant beer mats and pulling up a stool.
“How we doing then George?” Billy asked sitting himself down heavily “Long time no see?” George felt a twinge of discomfort. Of all the old gang, he felt most wary of Billy.
George was a new addition to Terry and Bills regular Monday Club at the Hammer & Pincers. But today was no ordinary Monday. As an ex-Policeman George was treated with a sense of caution, not because they had anything left to hide, but more borne from habit.
“I was just telling George about Tommy and Frank.” Terry explained staring across at Billy with his brow furrowed careful with his choice of words. Terry had jet black, slicked back hair, the style of which he had not altered in fifty years or more. He had bright green eyes that belied his advancing years giving him a youthful friendly appearance; his face on the other hand carried all the hallmarks of a full and hard life. George had a much softer complexion by comparison; friendly and old with dark brown cask conditioned eyes you would guess were incapable of lies. There was a redness to his nose and cheeks that suggested a love affair with whisky.
“What’s your interest all of a sudden?” Billy asked sincerely but with just a hint of menace that came not through any deliberate attempt to intimidate but more from involuntary instinct. Billy could look menacing in his sleep. A stocky deep-set man decorated in tattoos gold chains and rings. A thick grey thatch of hair and a neatly trimmed beard framed his narrow, mean eyes and weather beaten face. It was only when Billy took out his foldaway spectacles to read the Racing Post that a softer side emerged, a weakness that was reassuringly warming.
“I worked these streets long enough Billy, same as you.” George replied defensively, lowering his gaze, “ Only difference is we were on different sides, that’s all. Don’t see how that really matters anymore though, I went school with them all, grew up with them all same as you”
“Its okay, were all friends” Terry jumped in sensing a heightened tension about to threaten the afternoon, “I’m sure Billy didn’t mean it in a bad way did you Bill?” Terry offered resting a hand on Georges arm for just a second, but long enough to register. George lifted his head and returned a small smile of gratitude.
“Lets put it down to my suspicious nature, can’t teach an old dog like me new tricks. Never trusted the old bill then and still don’t trust em now, no offence to you Georgie”
“Lot of water passed since then Bill” Terry added “ were all older and wiser, were not bloody kids anymore” He added picking up his pint dealing the first damaging blow into its frothy head.
“We were all still kids when Frank first appeared” Billy offered unexpectedly. He paused while a third of the pint disappeared in one go, wiping his mouth and admiring his work Billy continued “he was a bit older than us by two or three years, always had money and the ladies loved him of course. I suppose we all looked up to him in our own way. But that confidence of his had a ruthless side to it. We were just kids running little rackets with Tommy at first, no real harm in it, a few pennies here a few there we were just playing, you remember them days George, even you ran with us back then. But it all started to change with Frank. He was tough, not like Tommy tough but tough in a different way, he was smarter, shrewd but most of all he was mean. Looking back it was only a matter of time till he took over, I think its what Tommy wanted, take the pressure of expectation off him maybe”
A silence seemed to descend over the table like an all-consuming mist each left with their own private thoughts while they made in roads into their drinks. The jukebox fired up and some song that none of them could name started playing. The door opened and a few mourners filed in. Nods of recognition and respect were exchanged George kept his head down.
The Hammer and Pincers was an old fashioned tired looking place with a threadbare carpet, high ceilings, curtains that had not seen the inside of a washing machine for years and old fashioned paint flaking wall paper. The sign at the front boasted pub meals though in honesty the place wasn’t fit for dining and was barely fit for drinking in. Back in the day this had been the hang out, this was where the Barbarians met when it was a popular and thriving pub, they as good as owned the place back then. They had continued to do so through the years. The busy trade had long since died along with the Barbarians reputation, the pub, like its inhabitants, felt like it was ready for demolition. Every inch of the fabric of the place was held together with memories. Billy and Terry couldn’t help gazing round, the pictures on the wall, the old jukebox, the pool table, everything was reminiscent of a bygone era preserved in dust.
“I’ll warn you now George, some of the boys might not be too pleased to see you at the service” Billy announced, finally breaking the painful silence as if it had been welling up inside of everyone, just waiting to be said
“Come on Billy lets not.” But George jumped in interrupting Terry’s diplomacy, it had to be said and under the circumstances he supposed Billy was the right man to say it. “Its okay Terry, he’s right.” George answered; he had made his choice over forty years ago when they were all innocent young friends together. They chose their path and he had chosen his and he would have to live with it.
An uncomfortable silence returned to the table, a feeling that George knew he would have to get used to all-day. As a Police Officer he had been part of something. Something that had given him purpose in life, he had never married, ‘married to the force’ was the long-standing joke in the Met but once retirement crow barred its way into his life everything just suddenly stopped. He found himself pottering round the house and garden never seeing a person from one day to the next. Life began to take on a mundane empty routine that George was struggling to cope with. Of course there were clubs for ex Police personnel and he had even attended a function or two but deep down they weren’t his scene. He never liked dressing up for a night out, in his day there had been a social club for the local PC’s he had frequented after a shift but as time went on he seemed to know fewer and fewer of the people who drank there.
The pub began to fill up, George watched as a sea of half recognisable and unfamiliar faces poured in, all dressed in black. He recognised different faces for different reasons. A sullen clamour of voices echoed around the room, he could feel the eyes of fellow mourners boring into him, he could hear their whispers he knew he was unwelcome, un-wanted. He felt uncomfortable and the air seemed to be getting hotter.
“I might step outside for some air” George suggested rising to his feet but Terry grabbed him sharply by the coat sleeve and pulled him back down recognising his discomfort
“What good will that do, your with us, you’ll be okay” Terry was right, outside or inside George knew he would always be an outsider in this world, on the streets he had grown up on and with the people he had grown up with.
“He was always good to me, Tommy was, even after I sent Frank down. He would never tell any of you but he would still call on me from time to time”
Nobody spoke. There wasn’t much else to say. The pub door opened “The cars here” a voice called in. All around glasses were drained in haste; Billy, Terry and George did like wise and picked up their coats. It was cold outside and it was likely to be a long afternoon. A few mourners shook hands with Terry and Billy, exchanging pleasantries and offering condolences.
“Ill just use the toilet before we go” George said as people began making their way toward the waiting cars.
_______________________________
# posted by aworthlessexistence @ 11:57 AM 
