Paul McCartney's Coat Read online

  “Twenty four.” she responded. “Twenty five next February.” Then she winked. “And I’ve only ever had four birthday cakes in my life. Bloody deprived, I am! I’m definitely having one next birthday. Chocolate sponge I want. “She paused to think about this, as if resisting the urge to lick her lips. “Can’t wait.” she called after them as Ted led Ray away.

  “Fork Handles.” said Ray almost without thinking.

  “Sorry?” asked Ted, obviously confused. Ray looked apologetic.

  “Oops, sorry.” he said. “Fork Handles. Off that telly sketch. Two Ronnie’s I think it was. Very funny but went on a bit, I seem to remember.” Ted looked as if he was struggling.

  “Remember? It’s like Dockers names when we were on the dock. Never lost the habit, really. They just pop into my head. I can’t help it. Just happens.” Ted laughed out loud.

  “I see.” he said, and Ray laughed too. “Four birthday cakes, four candles. Fork Handles. Fork Handles it is, then!”

  “Well if she’s twenty four then I’m a teenager” laughed Ray as they went through the double doors. To one side a single door was marked, “laundry” through the window of which Ted pointed out several large washing machines. Ahead however through another set of double doors was what looked like a cafe. Across the top of the doors a vaguely flashing neon sign read, “The Las Vegas Diner”. Ted held the door open for him and the pair of them entered.

  Ray was quite impressed. There were probably fifteen to twenty tables dotted about the room, at which several people sat. The counter was at the far end, and seemed particularly well stocked with various sandwiches, cakes and treats. The room was well decorated with various ornaments and posters, all of which seemed to show various views of America and Las Vegas in particular. Ray went to ask, “Why Las...” but Ted held a finger to his lips and Ray stopped dead just as the man behind the counter emerged from a small door at the back which obviously led to the kitchen.

  “Cup of tea?” asked Ted as he led Ray to an empty table nearby. Ray followed, unable to take his eyes off the man behind the counter who was dressed from head to toe in white spandex which had garish, swirling patterns all over it. The neck of the one piece uniform was completely open, revealing an extremely hairy chest, around which was draped an obscenely large gold medallion. The man topped this ensemble with a large quiff of jet black hair that was obviously dyed, and a huge pair of black sunglasses that almost covered his entire face.

  “Two teas please, Bert.” shouted Ted, accentuating the man behind the counters name before taking a seat as Ray carefully lowered himself into his chair without taking his eyes off Bert for a second.

  “Bert?” squeaked Ray.

  “Uh-huh!” responded the man behind the counter who started to prepare the two drinks.

  “Erm...” said Ray, his eyes never leaving Bert as he made the tea.

  “Don’t ask.” said Ted, and for a while they sat in silence until the two drinks arrived. Ray enjoyed his tea, and when they were finished they resolved to continue with the tour.

  “I’ll get these.” said Ray, approaching the counter and paying for the drinks.

  “Thankyouverymuch.” said Bert in a strangely slurred accent and they were off again. As they made to leave the cafe Ted pointed out two people sat in the corner of the room. One was Mrs Vanderbilt, the other a tall middle aged man who was dressed in what seemed to be an expensive suit which clashed with his extremely fair complexion and thinning white hair. This was combed across his gleaming bald head in a defiant fashion. His face seemed ageless, and oddly like that of a baby. As they watched they saw that Vanderbilt was jabbing a finger towards him, obviously labouring a point about something or another. The man looked slightly scared of her.

  “Who’s that with Vanderbilt?” said Ray.

  “That’s Mr Boniface.” he said wearily. “He’s the manager of this place. Works for the company who run the whole shebang.”

  “I thought Mrs Vanderbilt was in charge?” said Ray.

  “I think she thinks so too.” he said, “But she isn’t. Well, not in name anyway.” They left the cafe behind them and took the exit through the twin set of double doors and then crossed the common room again, making their way towards another set of double doors set to the other side of the lifts.

  “This way to the shop.” said Ted to Ray as they went through the doors. Across the top of them a large sign this time none - neon read, “Gift and Thrift Shop.” When they entered a medium sized man was tipping bags of coins into the till behind the counter. Several rows of shelves were filled almost to bursting with all kinds of odd gifts and general tat. Ray thought that it was quite amusing to see what the shop owner obviously thought were items of desire for older people. On the counter itself rows and rows of bags of Werther’s Original hung from long thin hooks. Noticing the pair of them enter the shop the man behind the counter closed the till and came across to them.

  “This is Dave, the shop owner.” said Ted, introducing Ray and the two men shook hands. Ray thought that Dave looked just a little, well... “Sleazy” pretty much summed it up. He had a full length brown cashmere coat on and a battered cloth cap. An unlit rollie hung from the corner of his mouth, to which Dave seemed completely oblivious. “Anything you need I can get for you, Ray.” said Dave, the rollie shooting from one corner of his mouth and then back again as he spoke. Then he tapped the side of his nose and winked. “If you know what you mean.”

  To Ray’s relief the conversation was interrupted at that point by the arrival of the postman who put several parcels down on the counter before asking Dave to sign for them.

  “I wonder what’s in these?” said Dave, now completely ignoring Ted and Ray as he began to excitedly tear open the parcels.

  “Wonder man.” said Ray, giving Dave one of his names. Laughing, the pair of them left the shop chuckling to themselves and entered the foyer once again.

  “I think I have my ley lines crossed today.” said Wilma as she saw them approaching.

  “Is it painful?” asked Ted and Wilma seemed to consider this for a while.

  “It doesn’t help with my karma, for sure.” she mused and sighed deeply to herself. Just then the phone rang and she picked up the handset, giving a formal greeting to whoever was on the other end of the line.

  “Please hold, caller.” she said in a formal manner, and putting the call on hold pressed a button on her desk. Over the intercom in all the common areas her voice could be heard clearly.

  “Phone call for Mr Lyon.” she said brightly, and then repeated herself. A few moments later Ted and ray watched as a small tubby man strolled across to a phone attached to the wall and picked up the handset. Wilma dutifully transferred the call.

  “That’ll be the zookeeper, then.” said Ray, laughing, and Ted joined in. They left Wilma and the reception area behind them and crossed the car park. “Right.” Continued Ted. “Now for the gardens.”

  “The garden is quite nice.” said Ted as they basked in the bright summer sunshine. “It leads all the way around the home in a great big circle. Come on. Let’s go and have a wander.” Having crossed the car park they made their way along a wide pathway that disappeared around the corner of the home and entered a large walled garden. A high fir tree hedge separated the home from the outside world, along which ran sloping beds of a mixture of flowers, their bright colours filling the beds. Ray gasped beside him.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said, and Ted agreed. The two men strolled in silence for a while, taking in the sound of birdsong, enjoying the peace and quiet of it all. Later they passed several of the residents out for a stroll and Ted dutifully stopped and introduced Ray each time they did so. Eventually they turned another corner and began to head along the rear of the building. Ray was surprised to see a large oak tree in the centre of what was almost a small wide field. The oak had obviously been there some time, but the branches had been lopped back, presumably in an attempt to keep it under control. Ray walked around the base of it
whistling in admiration. Set to one side was a small rounded rock jutting out of the ground almost as if it was some sort of not terribly comfortable seat.

  “This is a very old tree.” he said, and Ted agreed. “The spread of those branches almost looks like the fingers of a hand.” He noted, and Ted looked at them. Ray was right. They were wide, thick branches that ran from about twenty feet in the air in all directions.

  Leaving the tree behind them they turned the last corner of the building, now heading along another immaculately trimmed lawn along the far side of the home. Ray noticed a small shed off to one side, and a longer, higher building beside it, from which a large vent led onto the roof, ending in a wide funnelled chimney.

  “What’s that, then?” asked Ray, pointing to the larger of the two buildings.

  “I think it’s some kind of workshop or activity centre.” Ted replied. “I’ve never seen it open, though.”

  “Right.” said Ray as they drew closer to the building and peered through the dusty windows. Ted was surprised to notice that the room was covered from wall to ceiling with all kinds of tools. A lathe stood on one side of the workshop alongside what could have been a potter’s wheel. The crowning object of them all was a large open forge that sat just beside where the funnel chimney exited to the roof outside.

  “Blimey.” said Ted. “That’s a fair old set up, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll say.” said Ray. “It’s like a factory in there.”

  “I think that may be a small exaggeration, laddie!” came a deep gruff voice from behind them, startling them both. Ray turned in surprise to see that a very small man carrying a gardening spade stood behind them, grinning. Ted smiled back at him.

  “Ray, this is Dorven, the gardener.” he said. “And Dorven, this is Ray. He is a new resident.” Dorven gave a sweeping bow as Ray stood open mouthed.

  “Well met.” said the gardener in his deep voice. Joining in, Ray gave a small bow in return whilst at the same time examining the short man closely.

  He was dressed in some kind of two piece leather tunic that managed to pull off “comfortable” and “well padded” at the same time. Thigh high leather boots completed the look. Ray was shocked to estimate that at best Dorven stood four and a half feet high, and half a foot of that was probably the thick, brown beard and hair that seemed to have a life of its own. The spade that Dorven was dangling over his shoulder was bigger than the man himself.

  “The gardens look wonderful!” blurted out Ray. It was the only thing that he could think of saying.

  “Aye, well it takes some time but I seem to have a knack for it, do you see?” said Dorven, and Ted and Ray just nodded. “As for the forge there.” Dorven pointed at the building they had just been peering through the window of, “It takes some tending, but a good forge it is too.” His mind seemed to wander far away at that point, and Ted and Ray just stood there in the garden watching him until he seemed to come back to himself. “Aye. Like one of old.” he went on. “I have forged a piece or two myself in there, so I have.” With this he dropped the spade onto the grass and removed his left glove, revealing a thick gold band on his finger. He held it up in the air before them so that they could get a good look at it. It shined dully in the sunlight and then he quickly replaced his glove again. With a wink he bid them good day and went on his way, before stopping briefly as he neared the smaller hut of the two that looked as if it was some form of gardeners shed.

  “By the way.” Dorven shouted across them.” If you see anyone taking any of the garden ornaments let me know.” Ted and Ray nodded obediently. “We seem to have a thief! Last night we lost the wishing well and two flower fairies.” He paused, almost as if taking stock before continuing. “Oh. And a wood elf vanished as well.” With that he spat violently onto the lawn. “Not that the wood elf’s missed much.” he finished and vanished into the hut, the door of which he closed angrily and loudly behind him.

  “I hope I’m not about if he catches whoever did it.” muttered Ted once they were a little distance away from the hut.

  “Nor me.” agreed Ray. “Nor me.”

  They were now approaching the far side of the car park from where they had started, the tour of the gardens nearly complete. As they crossed the last part of the lawn Ray noticed a large elm tree with curious markings off to one side by the hedge.

  “Now that’s unusual.” he said as they approached it across the lawn. “I thought all of the elms had been done in by Dutch elm disease a long time ago.” As they approached it however, they became distracted by a small sign hung on one of the lower branches of the tree.

  “What’s that say?” asked Ray, reaching for his glasses in his shirts breast pocket. Ted had read it before but did so again.

  “It says, “Walk on the living, they don’t even mumble. Walk on the dead, they mutter and grumble. What are they?” It’s like a kind of riddle.” he finished. “I asked one of the residents the other day and they told me Dorven put it there, apparently.”

  “Right.” said Ray. He thought that he may just possibly be getting a headache. “What’s the answer?”

  “Dunno.” said Ted. “I can’t work it out, though to be honest I’d forgotten about it. Everyone I’ve asked doesn’t seem to know either. Ah well. ” They wandered a little further along and noticed that another small sign seemed to be hung from the branch of a smaller tree that sat in the hedge.

  “Bugger.” said Ray. “There’s another one!” When they peered up to it however, it was a polite warning in dark red paint. Well, it looked like paint, anyway, but Ted wasn’t entirely sure. It read. “Whoever is stealing garden ornaments from the old people’s garden is lower than a snake’s belly.”

  Moving on they were just crossing the car park when the ice cream van turned into the drive and approaching the main entrance began to ring its bells. Ted dove into his pocket and pulled a small object from his pocket and pressing a button on it, holding it high above his head until the music stopped. When it did he replaced the device into his pocket and smiled broadly at Ted.

  “Dictaphone.” he explained. “I use it to record things in case I forget. Helps with the memory, see?” and he winked. Ted just looked at him curiously, not entirely sure what it was that Ray was up to.

  They were by now however exhausted, and the two men headed back through the main entrance doors and into the foyer, before making their way to the lift. When it arrived the pair of them entered and pressed the button for the third floor. Just as they did so a tall thin man shouted from across the lobby, “Hang on!” then once again, “Hang on!” Ted pressed the button to hold the doors and the man thanked them before requesting the second floor, where he got out. As the lift continued its ascent to the third floor, Ray mimicked the man calling. “Hang on!” he said. “Hang on!” before grinning, “That’s the wobbly biker, that is!

  Laughing, the two men exited the lift.

  “There is quite a timetable of activities and what have you that the home runs as well.” said Ted, “Though I haven’t had much time for any of them myself.” he finished. Ray however, looked exhausted.

  “Perhaps we could have a look at it tomorrow.” he said. “I think I definitely have a migraine coming on.” Ted agreed and the two men parted ways. Once he was back in his flat he stood looking out over the garden for a while until eventually he came back to himself, and went to make himself something to eat.

  ***

  “Then there’s the chiropody and massage sessions.” said Ted to an unsurprisingly underwhelmed Ray. They were sitting in the Vegas Diner drinking coffee, the sun shining brightly through the cafe’ windows, a timetable of the centre’s activities spread out on the table in front of them. Ted continued. “There are a few fun games on a Wednesday. Apparently that includes card games, chess and draughts.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much fun to me.” said Ray sulkily. Ted decided to press on.

  “Beginners and intermediate computer classes on Thursdays, craft classes Friday and Boccia
every Tuesday.”

  “What’s Boccia?” asked Ray.

  “A bit like indoor bowls.” said Ted. “Though they seem to make the rules up as they go along when they do it here.”

  “That sounds sort of okay.” Said Ray. “But only just.” He put down his coffee cup despondently. “This bloody place needs livening up.” he sighed. “There’s loads of stuff they aren’t using. That bloody big forge outside, for a start!”

  “I don’t think most of the people here could be trusted with something like that.” said Ted. “They’d probably end up burning the bloody place down. Or worse.”

  “Boom!” said Ray, and Bert looked up from the counter in disapproval before returning to rehearsing what seemed like some kind of dance routine. The two men laughed and Ted continued.

  “Some evenings they have entertainment on.” he said. Singing and what have you. Ray however, didn’t look overly impressed.

  “It will probably be “roll out the barrel” or worse.” he said, pulling a face.

  “True.” said Ted before sighing loudly. “I even saw on the notice board on our way down that the Salvation Army is coming to play a concert this morning.” Ray rolled his eyes.

  “God bothering bastards.” he said. “Come on - let’s go for a stroll in the garden and get out of the way before they get here.”

  With that they paid for their drinks and Bert waved them off with a friendly, “Have a nice day, y’all”. As they entered the common room and began to cross to the entrance doors they saw Wilma head around the corner with a parcel the postman must have just left for the gift shop under her arm. Beside him, Ray sniggered quietly to himself.

  “Watch this.” he said, and slipped across to the reception desk with Ted in hot pursuit. To Ted’s surprise Ray shot around the corner of the desk, and taking the Dictaphone from his pocket pressed a couple of buttons. Then, winking to Ted he pressed the intercom button to “on”. Ted listened as he pressed play on the small recording device and suddenly the ground floor was filled with the previously recorded sound of ice cream bells ringing out across the home. As the music finished Ray stashed the Dictaphone back inside his pocket and shot around the other side of the desk just as Wilma re-appeared around the corner, bursting through the doors from the shop.