SUNDAY IN MEMORY LANE (Episode 12)

I was 24, and from day one, 1976 was a remarkable year....

My priority during the first few days of 1976 was security.
I had to get the door lockable again before my landlord saw it in pieces once more.
I had not seen Alan in many months when, unexpectedly, I bumped into him as I was leaving the block of flatlets where I lived. He was a plasterer by this time and was trying to find the guy who lived in the ground floor flat, to offer him some casual labouring work. There had been no answer at the door and so I agreed to pass Alan's phone number to Wilf when I saw him.
Alan asked how I was doing and I said "OK" in a distinctly unconvincing way.
When I explained that Tony had totalled my door for the second time in a month and that I was likely to incur considerable costs this time Alan smiled ruefully saying "Can't be that bad surely?" and I said "Would you like to see what I mean?"

Alan examined the damage and whistled through his teeth "Jesus!" he said and I laughed.
"No, if there is one thing that Tony most definitely is not, it is Jesus!"
Alan said "Leave it with me. Will you be in this evening?" and I said that I had no plans to go anywhere.

Just after dinner Alan arrived with all sorts of bits and pieces, his copious toolbox and Jai in tow. I immediately fetched coffee while Dan and Dylan leapt all over them like they were the latest new playthings. I excused myself and tore Dan away to have our bath, leaving Dylan on the bed watching the door frame being restored.
When we returned to the flat they had decided to take the entire right hand frame to pieces, rebuild it with new wood and they were replastering the gaping hole in the wall.
As he applied the plaster Alan said that he would have a word with Tony about the correct way to use the door in future, but he could not guarantee that a gorilla was capable of learning manners.

I went into the kitchen to prepare Dan's bedtime drink and toast, tell him a story and tuck him up for the night in his special cubby hole in the alcove. Dylan came and settled down in his own bed beside him.
I went back to my bedroom to find the entire job complete barring a lick of paint. I was so grateful but was warned not to fully close the door until the plaster had completely dried. It being January and very cold, that might take a couple of days.
We all lounged on the bed because there was no other place to sit in the room and we talked of old times and smoked a couple of joints. Alan usually only liked the occasional cigar but tried hard to be sociable, as he put it.
Jai had just split up from his latest girlfriend. Alan was missing his wife who had returned to Glasgow because of a family commitment.
The pair of them seemed to be at a loose end.

Jai suggested we adjourn to the pub and we all agreed that this was a splendid idea.
I popped across the corridor to let Gaye know that I was going out and she looked around from her television in surprise. I rarely went out on a weekday evening. She had heard all the banging and men's voices so she anxiously asked me if everything was alright. "Of course!" I assured her and explained that Alan and Jai were old friends of mine. She came to the door as we were leaving and Alan pointed to the repair job, mentioning that the door would have to stay open for a couple of nights.
Gaye looked a little afraid and concerned.
I just smiled, realising that two rough looking Glaswegian men would never been seen as acceptable company in a town like Clacton.

We went to their favourite pub and set up the pool table for a hilarious couple of hours of games. I loved playing pool and was making some great shots when who should swan through the door but Lorraine. The horror on her face upon seeing me with Alan and Jai was priceless. It turned to stone when Jai remarked "Hey Lorraine! You have a face like a smacked arse!"
We continued to play but I was conscious of her eyes boring into the back of my head so I made a point of turning to face her, standing with my pool cue upright beside me.
I watched her squirm slightly and turn herself away in her seat. She tried to engage someone at the bar in conversation, failed, looked very uncomfortable and then, realising that I was not going to look away, downed her drink and left, smartly.

The evening ended with Alan walking me home and coming up to my flatlet for a coffee, on the pretext that he wanted to check that the plaster had not shrunk away from the wood.
Inwardly, I cracked up at this and immediately realised what the game was going to be.
I sneaked into the kitchen and made us coffee in the dark, so that I did not disturb Dan. While I was waiting for the kettle to boil I popped into Gaye's to thank her. She had fallen asleep in front of the television and I gave her a nudge.
She told me that Dan had been totally fine and closed her door behind me.

When I returned to the bedroom Alan was sprawled out on my bed wearing a Cheshire cat grin. I put the coffee cups on the dressing table and perched on it alongside them. I reached for my cigarette pack and lit one, wondering how Alan was going to make his move.
"I have always fancied you, Fran" he stated without a glimmer of embarrassment but his face was a picture of complete surprise when I returned the compliment.
"Likewise." I ventured and twinkled at him over the rim of my coffee cup.
"You should have married me, you know. I was gutted when you took up with Tony!" and I nodded, smiled and replied "Yes, I know."
I don’t know what possessed me, but I slid off the dressing table and positioned myself over him on the bed. I seduced the living daylights out of that man and loved every minute of it. I admit that it made a fantastic change to be the instigator, for once in my life and Alan was far from unwilling!

Very late the following night, Jai pushed the bedroom door open and stuck his curly head around it. I was in bed watching the end of a film on the television which was on a high cabinet against the wall.
I burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all.
'Now what?' I was thinking as he came into the room.
"I was downstairs with Wilf, so I thought I'd check that you were OK." he muttered, pretending to examine the doorframe wood and plaster of his handiwork.
I stuffed the bed sheet into my mouth to stifle my giggles but it was hopeless, I was belly laughing and there was no hiding it.
I felt like some sort of Hollywood Mata Hari character, luring all my male friends into carnal compromise. But the truth was that my shattered self esteem was being healed at a tremendous pace as I released my sexual needs from their traditional cultural restraints. Why shouldn’t I? That was the question that failed to find an answer in my consciousness.
Jai offered to skin up and asked for a pint of water. He said that after drinking beer he always drank water, it was a trick he had learned from his alcoholic father.
I remarked that this must be how he maintained such clear skin and Jai sparkled under the implied compliment.

I found myself wondering whether Jai knew about Alan's visit the night before but dismissed it. 'Surely not.' I thought. But I didn’t really care, one way or the other.

Four hours later Jai was going for his fifth erection and I could not take any more.
I begged him to stop and he looked distinctly disappointed.
"I am gasping for a coffee" I simpered, as I tried to stand up but could not seem to engage my kneecaps. I was light headed and slightly dizzy from all the exertion. My bed was soaked so when I returned with two cups of coffee I asked Jai to get up while I changed the sheets, making a mental note to keep a towel under the pillow in future.

Jai was as wide awake as he might have been after a good night’s sleep. I could hardly believe it as he joked, skinned up again and proudly displayed yet another full blown erection.
At twenty four he was a walking, talking dynamo. But I was trashed, finished and almost pushing up daisies when he finally left to go to work at 7am.
"I reckon you can shut the door now!" he said, placing his hand on the fresh plaster around the door frame. I groaned with deep relief and crashed out exhausted.

Thankfully Dan slept a little later in the mornings as he approached his fourth birthday. But after only one hour of sleep I was fit for nothing.

By Friday of that week I had recovered enough to go out for the evening with Elaine.
I did not tell her about my two midnight visitors. In truth, I wanted to keep my outrageously nefarious activities a complete secret. I thought it was best that way. I was not proud of my behaviour but neither was I ashamed.

We went to Reg Brown's as usual and I was very surprised when another Glaswegian friend strolled into the bar and greeted me with a hug. Dougie was very tall and had the wickedest green eyes that drew you in like magnets.
"What are you doing here!" I exclaimed, delighted to see him. He had only very recently moved from Felixstowe to Clacton, escaping an unwanted relationship. He had previously engaged my attention with his incredible passion for politics and foreign affairs, very unusual among young people at that time.
He was the only one of "the boys" who had spent a bit of time in the army. Well, I say the army but he actually seemed to have spent most of his time in the Military Corrective Training Centre at Colchester. It was, and still is, the only detention centre for military personnel in the UK.

He was always immaculately dressed and carrying a newspaper whenever I saw him.
He made his living by gambling on horses, dogs and playing cards. I suppose he was a hustler. He was seldom short of cash, so I guessed he was pretty good at it.

We were arguing about Maggie Thatcher who had recently become the first female leader of the Conservative Party. I said it was great to see a woman reaching the top of her political career and he was chewing my ears off, raging that she was a hazardous harridan who would destroy this country if she ever got her handbag into 10 Downing Street.

Elaine was talking with some of our musician friends at another table, but keeping a close eye on me. She came over and I introduced her to Dougie. I could see that she was attracted to him and so I made an excuse to visit the toilet, giving her time to make her pitch.
Dougie was curious to see this glorious flat she talked about and so, at the end of the evening, as we passed my place I wished them goodnight and went home, bowing out of going on to Elaine's for a smoke.
At 8am the following morning I was giving Dan his breakfast when there was a discreet knock at my kitchen door. I opened it to find Dougie propping himself up against the wall.
"She has done me in!" he grumbled dramatically as he slung himself into a seat next to Dan at the table.
"Who done it?" asked Dan between mouthfuls of porridge.
"Gimme some of that, Dan, I am starving!" said Dougie and Dan laughed, wrapping his arm around his bowl. There was no parting Dan from his food at any time in his little life. I found another bowl and ladled a large portion of porridge into it, adding a generous drizzle of honey and milk which Dougie declared was the way that Big Jessies eat porridge.

We all sat solemnly slurping away and Dan finished first.
"Who done you in, Dougie?" he insisted to know.
Dougie gazed at him sadly and declared "That big Plank, that's who!"
I nearly spat my mouthful across the table.
"Oh Dougie, don't call her that, please!"
"Well, she deserves it. She wore me out! And as for that bloody 1812 Overture ringing in my ears all night, I am deafened I swear! You can't move without it rattling and rocking."

Poor Dan failed to understand any of this and realised that he was not going to get a word of sense out of Dougie. He jumped down from the table and went through to my bedroom to drag his Scalextrix track out from under the bed. He had races to run!

I was in fits of giggles at Dougie's lurid account of his night with Elaine.
"Have you got a pack of cards, Fran?" He suddenly asked and I went to fetch them, careful not to tread on the precious Scalextric bits and pieces festooning the bedroom floor.

We played rummy at the kitchen table for a short while, drank coffee and smoked cigarettes, occasionally arguing about the ubiquitous Maggie Thatcher and her ghastliness.

It was a Saturday and Dougie had punters to meet in one of the local clubs, so he thanked me for the Big Jessie breakfast and said that he would see me later.
He had the Queen of Hearts in his final winning hand.
Apparently this was indicative of a successful day for a hustler such as himself.

Little did I realise, at the time, but I was about to become his Queen of Hearts for many years to come…..