A bit late!!

Hank stood there open mouthed , not quite believing what he was seeing.  What was the guy thinking of?  Fair enough he had been single ever since he had known him. To be fair he hadn’t really seen Bill trap a girl in all the times he had been out.  But to propose so soon when he didn’t even know the girl.  And where did he get the money for a house?  He still owed Hank £50 from last pay day and said he was broke.

Hank thought these thoughts and more and only realised when Bill and rosey was gazing at him expectantly that they were talking to him.

“what ? Sorry mate, I was miles away.  I need a beer.”

“Er mate you just went to the fridge and got one.  It’s in your hand”.  Hank looked down and sure enough a can of lager was in his hand.  “So what do you reckon then. Will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Be my best man at the wedding?”

“eh. ME?  I’m not being funny mate and I’m honoured and all but don’t you think you should ask your best mate?”

“I am, mate.  My god are you pissed or something.  Don’t answer that.”

“no well yes, but I meant whatisname.  Your best mate in civvy street.”

Bill looked at him nonplussed “who do you mean?”

“That  bloke, you know.  Sebastian was it?  The guy who worked at the hairdressers,  he came down to visit and stayed in your room for about three weeks.  Mind you we haven’t “ Bill suddenly interrupted him.

“Any way mate can’t ask him, erm listen really want you to do it, will you? Anyway think about it, we’re off to buy a ring.”  with that Bill and rosey left Hank in the kitchen of the flat .  This was too much.  He was buying a wedding ring.  And now he doesn’t speak to his best mate Sebastian, even worse he doesn’t count him as a friend at all.  It was a shame because those two guys were really close.  And where the fuck was his £50.

They moved into the house and to celebrate rosey went and bought some rather revealing underwear and some nice food to prepare a meal for Bill when he finished work.  She had worked really hard the past two weeks in getting furniture and organising the legal side of the house.  She even bought a dozen roses and sprinkled the petals over the bed.  She knew that Bill was working today and thought about phoning home.  She hadn’t told her parents about Bill yet.  Her gran was diagnosed terminally ill three years previously and yet was defying all medical experts by still being alive.  She was currently on a hill walking holiday in the Andes and her parents were anxious.  Especially since she was supposedly scaling the north face of machu picchu that very day.

Bill had had a quiet day at work and was decidedly quiet about moving in with his newly betrothed.  He knew that Hank was a bit low at the prospect of living alone.  They had only rented a flat three months previously and so Bill felt he was leaving him in the lurch financially.  Especially how Hank was talking animatedly about wanting to buy a new cork screw for his collection.  This one must have been special as for the past two weeks Hank had been saying he only needed £50 for it.  Every conversation eventually came round to the fact that he was £50 short.

Bill was outside smoking a tab when Hank approached.

“alright fella how’s it hanging?”  He enquired.  Hank had recently purchased a pipe, trying to look wind swept and interesting but still couldn’t manage to keep it lit long enough.  So he was stood there with a miniature blow torch in one hand and his pipe in the other.  Every breath he brought up the blow torch and inhaled then coughed.  Bill couldn’t see the appeal.

“yeah mate, quiet day for me,  have you heard from rosey?  She must be busy today.  Still £50 short for that cork screw.”

Bill simply nodded.  A lot of Hanks conversations came round to the cork screw recently.  He admired him for having a hobby but was beginning to get a bit bored with him going on about it all the time.  Besides he thought, it was probably his way of coping with him moving out.  He felt guilty again.

“Hank I was thinking maybe we should go out for a few beers, we haven’t done that recently”

“no not since the weekend anyway.  Thing is I’m on nights as of tomorrow so could only make tonight.”

“hmm tonight, not sure mate. Rosey will have spent all day moving my stuff in and you know how it is she’s probably tired. It’s a bit much to expect her to have ironed my clothes by the time I get home.”

“what do you need clothes ironing for, just t shirt will do.  Pop round yours on the way and get some scran.  I’ve nothing at the flat.”

“yeah ok mate, should be a laugh.”

“any way must be getting back.  Need to find out if I can get some over time this week.  Reckon I’d get about 50 quid for a late shift on a Sunday.”

“dunno”

“no , no I didn’t think you would some how.”

Both headed their separate ways, Hank to the pub and Bill home to Rosey. She had done herself proud. The smell of lasagne wafted in from the kitchen and there was a glass of wine waiting on the coffee table. As he sat back watching the news Rosey came in and said that dinner would be ready in about 20 minutes. They sat in comfort discussing the days events and he complemented her on what she had done with the house. She coyly agreed that she had been busy and it had taken a lot out of her, she would probably have an early night she said with smile in her eye. As they ate she once again said in endearing and coquettish manner that the bed was calling her, Bill threw her a knowing look and smiled broadly at her. After the dishes were done Rosey went upstairs with a spring in her step and Bill stayed to watch the news, when that was done he gave Hank a ring.

“You all right mate, what you up to?”

“ just having a couple of swift ones , what about yourself?”

“Fucking Rosey has pissed off to bed early so I’m just watching crap TV at the mo”.

“You might as well come down for a couple of pints then”

“nah, don’t think she’d like that, you know just having moved in and all that.”

“She’s asleep mate, she’ll never know and I’m not having a late one”

“Yea fair one, what pub you in “Stoke arms?”, right see you in 20 minutes”.

Two hours and  eight pints later a serious conversation loomed. Hank obviously wasn’t happy with the way things were working out. Bill felt that he might be jealous of all the time that he was now spending with Rosey but he had to live his life.

“the thing is fella I’m worried about you. You hardly know Rosey and you’ve moved in with her already and got engaged after one shag, and to be honest she wasn’t that good, needed a lot of direction. Have you shagged her since?”

“The thing is Hank, its only been 23 days since I met her and what with buying the ring and the house and the furniture and the curtains and, well the list is endless we haven’t had time for sex.”

“           Ah well dude you can always move back in with me if it all falls apart and I do think that Rosey is a cunt. She didn’t listen to a word I said the other night. And no one else likes her. But they wont tell you that.”

Another four hours, two pubs and a night club passed and the two found themselves at Bill’s new house. Hank crashed out on the sofa whilst Bill gingerly made his way up the stairs. 15 minutes later Hank was awoken by Bill shaking him.

“What’s up mate?”

“it’s a bit delicate mate but me and Rosey have just had a bit of a row and we were getting down to making up and I couldn’t quite manage, the old fella aint responding. I was wondering  if you wouldn’t mind coming up and sitting in the corner, you know and if its not too much trouble, doing that direction thing again?”

“No worries mate, I’ll be right there”

Hank got undressed and went up stairs. He climbed into bed and reassured them that it would all be ok. He gently started stroking the inside of her thigh and cooing in her ear. Bill wasn’t quite sure where this was going but knew that Hank had his best intentions at heart. It all became quite sordid and sweaty but he was pleased to see that Rosey was thoroughly enjoying herself. Eventually Bill got his turn and with direction and demonstrations managed to show her a good time too.

“Cheers mate” he said.

“Don’t mention it mate, what are friends for?” and with that Hank kissed Rosey goodnight and got out the bed and returned to the sofa.

There was a bit of a lull in the department for a while, people were becoming wary of being seen talking to either of them. Bill, always a thinker thought that something had to be done to rehabilitate the two of them back into the CO’s and the departments good books and so he brought it up in the pub that afternoon. After 12 pints they had made the first of many plans: people needed a opportunity to let their hair down and to feel good about doing it. The only option that seemed right was a charity function, raise some money for a good cause and then have a bit of a do in the evening. But which charity, something close to the CO’s heart, that would go down well, but what? A half bottle of Jameson later they had it. All that was needed was to find a charity for the follically challenged, that could come later but they needed to work out what they could do for the fundraising. Hank was totally against the idea of anything too physical and Bill didn’t feel that a three legged pub crawl was the answer to the problem. This wasn’t going to be easy.

On the way home from the kebab shop it became apparent that they would need help but it would have to wait until the morning. The department was heaving on the late shift and there wasn’t much chance to sort things out so Hank invited a few of the girls for a drink and when they declined he asked some the less ill patients. So it was that the unlucky pair found themselves at the captains table again the next morning. “Kelly and Mason, what a surprise to see you here again so soon; you really better have a good explanation for last night!”.

“Well sir, we finished work at 21:00 and decided to have a few pints to chill after a stressful day. We then proceeded  up to the stroke unit to see if PO Bawlins fancied a drink but as usual the poof  declined. On the way out we noticed a man sitting outside the unit and he looked quite down so we took him for a drink to cheer him up. Anyway he couldn’t hold his drink could he Bill, he kept spilling it and making a right tit out of us in the pub. What I mean sir is that he couldn’t actually physically hold his drink and when I poured it down his throat the twat just gurgled and spat half of it on the floor. Well we wheeled him out of the pub and as I went to light a fag the wheelchair sort of got away from me and took off at a terrible pace down the hill. I think you know the rest, the coast guard did a great job but the cliff wasn’t that tall and his injuries were relatively minor considering. Also sir LNN Mason did accompany him to A/E and he was seen straight away and the ITU consultant said he should regain the use of his left foot. We honestly had no idea that he was patient on the stroke unit and that’s about it sir.”

The next two months in the glasshouse passed quite quickly and they had time to work out what they would do for charity, a sponsored sleep in aid of the British Under haired Men’s Society. Sponsor forms were drawn up and donations sought. A bed was secured in Littlewoods window and the date set. The plan was to sleep for 72 hours straight, in public and then have a reception to hand over the proceeds at the British legion.

Although it was for charity they  didn’t want to be out done by each other, so a few days before they both went their separate ways to prepare for what was now the talk of the hospital.  Bill started a careful regime in order to ensure maximum tiredness.  He had read about sleep deprivation and the effects of stimulants and sedatives.  He gradually cut down on his sugar intake.  He had read about how bears, prior to hibernation, eat semi digestible matter to act as a sort of butt plug so his body wouldn’t wake up with the need to go the toilet.  The morning of the start of the sleep in he was ready.  He had fleece pyjamas, eye shades earplugs  and lavender soaked handkerchief.  He hadn’t slept for two days.

Hank was late.  They were meant to be in bed for nine o’clock and it was five to already, with no show.  The CO was looking up and down the road and everyone could sense the tension rising.  The CO had arranged for local TV and radio coverage for the start of the event and had had the streets lined with sailors to promote the navy in a good way.

Then at two minutes to nine broken glass and growls could be heard from the building opposite,  then raised voices followed by something being hurled through a window.  A face appeared at the broken window.  It was a balding face of a thickset man who looked very angry. 

“You cheeky Irish bastard.  You’re barred.  If I ever catch you hiding in the toilets of my pub again I’ll kill you!”

The crumpled pale figure staggered up and nonchalantly made his way towards the littlewoods window.

As the man passed the CO it became obvious that it was Hank.  It was obvious to Bill how Hank had been preparing.

“Jeez mate have you been drinking for three days solid”

“wazzat, bastard …look at my hand, aren’t hands amazing.”  then collapsed asleep.

They put Hank in his bed whilst Bill got his pyjamas on. While Bill got ready Hank woke up briefly and changed beds. To great applause Bill took a bow a climbed into the bed. With a sinking feeling he realised that the bed was wet, wet and warm. The dirty bastard he thought. He swamped the bloody bed. Bill sat up and was about to get out when he saw the CO staring at him, he thought better of leaving and sank back into the sodden sheets swearing revenge on the Fat Irish git. Hank was oblivious to all of it, totally out of it as only a drunk can be, he was snoring in minutes whilst Bill suffered. The snoring was bad enough but the sleep farts had to be the worst, what had he eaten? He would never get to sleep at this rate and now the fucker was talking in his sleep. 48 hours later Bill really could take no more. He climbed from the bed, peeled the sheets from his clammy skin, cast a look at Hank, still sleeping like a baby, and headed off for a shower and something to eat.

The next evening Bill had freshened up and got some sleep and was now at the British legion ready for the handing over of the cheque. They had managed to raise over 3000 pounds in all and he was feeling quite proud. At 22:00 Hank still hadn’t appeared and it took them some time to realise that he was still asleep in Littlewoods window. The CO’s driver was sent to get him and in the mean time Bill mingled.

Dishevelled but sprightly Hank jumped from the car a got a rousing round of applause. He sprang up the steps and handed the cheque over before heading to the bar. The CO made a long boring speech about the quality of people in the navy and their ability to care for others only to be interrupted half way through when Bill and Hank rolled through the double doors, punching, scratching and screaming all the obscenities under the sun.” You pissed my bed you twat, and I had to lie in it for 2 whole sodden days”. “Bollocks fella, I pissed my bed and slept in yours so don’t blame me, you slept in my bed!”.

This made Bill pause for thought. Well actually it was his bed so it must have been Bill’s fault after all. He apologised and Hank graciously forgave him and they set off for a pint, best mates again.

Propping up the bar they basked in the glory and adulation surrounding them. As the evening wore on Bill started to feel that he needed a woman in his life and turning on his bar stool scanned the room for likely victims. At that moment an attractive young lady came to the bar and ordered a drink. Twisting round smiling from ear to ear Bill calmly said “your money is no good here”. He paid for her drink and led her to the dance floor and proceeded to woo her with his slick dance moves.

“This really is nice” said Rosey “but I prefer to dance to music”

“No problem came the reply” as Bill headed off in Hanks direction. Two minutes later Rosey was wondering just what she had got herself into. She was slow dancing in his arms whilst Hank followed them around, humming in her ear some daft Irish love song about leprechauns and Siamese twins.

That night Bill gave Rosey some loving whilst Hank shouted instructions from the corner, again Rosey found this quite disconcerting but put up with it, after all Bill had said that he loved her. The following morning Hank made her breakfast and Bill was nowhere to be seen. He eventually reappeared around noon and got down on one knee and proposed. Totally shocked she felt that she could do nothing but accept. Bill then pulled a set of keys from his pocket and gave her them saying that he had bought a house for them to live in and they should have four children and a dog.