Racing Green Jags

1     It was when I first saw Monkie and coincidentally the first time he saw me just before eight on a Saturday morning spring of ‘66 shortly after the train had pulled into the station. I felt rough, there was no doubt about that. So rough I felt lucky to be there considering how the previous night’s entertainment had gone. What with all the drink and then, of course, the hospital visit didn’t help.

2       As we wandered along the alley there was no time to wonder about Take Six man. I noticed Monkie was limping. Not so much though, just a bit here and there, but enough for me to wonder.

3          My head was right back into shape as I walked into the shop to stare at a frown that made Julie’s good looks unnaturally severe. Even ten minutes late needed an explanation. She didn’t say a word but her fingernails clicking the countertop demanded an answer. So, I told her I had helped a dying man at the scene of a car crash. 

4       At six I pushed the door and walked into what was, for a pub, a bright space. The big side windows faced west and on such a fine evening light streamed in. A quick glance around. No signs of trouble. That was the thing with going into a pub on your own especially with my pedigree. Sometimes trouble lurked. Fellas out for the night wanting a bit of spending money or, and this was even more relevant, some past acquaintance finally catching up and wanting to make things right was the commonly used expression. At the moment I was thinking of a fella in a light blue Take Six suit but he wasn’t in there. Besides, I’ve a memory for faces and names and could not place him anywhere or put a name to what had been quite a distinctive face.

5       I’m sure it was not difficult to miss any of M onkie’s cars . This particular one was parked right in the middle of the crowded car park near five scooters with all the accessories. A rusted pile of metal with an Austin badge on the front and paintwork that was more or less blue .  

6       After Marge had cooked us dinner, I managed to get Monkie to drag himself away from a very entertaining conversation with her so we could go and pick up the girls. The girl from the shop, Wendy, turned out to be one of those who wouldn’t stop yacking. By contrast her friend, Joan, seemed a bit… well, I don’t really know how she seemed, she was just so quiet. Her look made me think of eating beef stew with dumplings. Anyway, thinking we might have made a mistake with the chalk and cheese we stuck the two of them in the back and headed off. The thing was my heart wasn’t in it. I think I’d only agreed to call them because of Monkie insisting. The truth was I had something really meaningful on my mind that was making me nervous. Something only a trip to the doctor would resolve.