The Three Halves Of Martyn Manning--Chapter Five: Simon and Charlie

Friday nights in the village pub were almost sacred to Martyn. They’d gather in The Feathers around 7.00pm. If Martyn could get away from work he might be there at 6.45pm. If he was busy it might be 7.10pm, but whatever happened Martyn, Charlie and Simon would be settled in their regular place at the bar by 7.15pm. If Martyn didn’t arrive first his pint of Adnam’s Broadside would be poured and waiting for him on the bar. This inference of friendship and community still gave him a tingle down his spine. Before he and Janet had moved to the village twelve years ago they’d lived in Sheffield and then Birmingham. In those pubs if he’d accidentally knocked into someone he’d have been threatened with violence. If he’d started talking to a stranger they’d have thought he was a nutter. But the Feathers was a real country pub. There was no music and few customers and if there was a stranger at the bar and if you didn’t speak to him you’d be thought rude.

And tonight as he walked to the pub he was thinking how Friday nights in summer were his favourite Friday nights. Birds were singing, a red kite hovered overhead, children on bikes were playing around the village hall, and the evening sunlight framed a perfect tableau of English village life. In the ten minutes it took him to get to the Feathers he said hello to three villagers, had a brief chat with another, and acknowledged the drivers of four cars. He loved living in this village.

When he got to the pub, Charlie, Simon and his first pint were waiting. He’d first met Charlie and Simon when he moved into the village through playing for the village football team. In those days they were still fast enough to catch and sometimes hurt the teenagers who nowadays would skip past them laughing. Simon owned a small advertising agency. He was tall and rangy with a shock of thick grey hair but had been a useful left full-back in his day. Charlie was shorter and stockier with the type of dark looks that women consider attractive but men can’t see what the fuss is about. Charlie had played enthusiastically in any position the village team would have him. As usual they started by talking about football, both their own careers and the teams they supported. This lasted for most of the first pint. The second pint was taken up with the last week’s television which evolved into “The Best Comedy Programmes of All Time”. Martyn went for “Father Ted” whilst both Charlie and Simon wanted “Dad’s Army”. The third pint was politics with Martyn defending Thatcher and Charlie moaning about stealth taxes. It was only with the arrival of the fourth pint that Simon felt it was time to broach the subject he and Charlie had been leading up to all night.

“So Mart my boy, heard anything from the missus lately?”

“Not a word in two months now mate. The kids get occasional e-mails but nothing for me. Sod her. If that’s the way she wants to play it she can fuck off and good riddance to the bitch.”

“Well I’m sorry to hear that mate, I really am. She’s been a real cow to you. But it’s not all doom and gloom is it? Here’s me and Charlie stuck with our missus’s while you’ve got every excuse to be out playing the field. Get out there and have some fun. Move on with your life. You’re well-off and you’ve got Caroline to look after the kids. There’s nothing stopping you. Get out there and have a good time.”

“Just a second” said Martyn. He took out his pen, tore a beer-mat in half and wrote “Caroline” then slipped it into his pocket. The Caroline situation was beginning to get desperate. If he didn’t do something about a replacement in the next few weeks he’d be without anyone to look after the kids and then he’d be well and truly buggered. He turned back to Simon.

“Dunno if I can be arsed Simes. I’m forty-four man and I work all hours. I’m good for nothing when I get home at night. Dunno if I can be bothered with all that dating lark.”

Simon gave Charlie a knowing look which Martyn was too pissed to notice. It was Charlie’s turn.

“But it’s no aggro at all these days with all this internet dating. It’s a piece of piss. I bet you could get a different shag every night of the week if you wanted. Fuck me, imagine that. You wanna get on one of those websites. I can just see your advert now. “Successful architect, 44, separated, 5ft 10. Medium build, fair hair, blue eyes. An independent thinker, my friends even say I’m borderline eccentric. I’m looking for someone to put some sparkle back into my jaded life after an unpleasant and hurtful experience. I’m intelligent, kind, generous and a good listener so why don’t you give me a try. I look forward to hearing from you.”

Margaret the landlady put another three pints on the bar. They hadn’t finished their fourth round yet but she knew they’d stay for at least one more and she wanted to get them pulled before the darts team arrived.

“So whaddyer think Mart? It must be worth a try. Don’t you reckon it’d be a laugh?”

“You are fucking joking aren’t you?”

“Martyn” said Simon, “don’t be like that. Look, we’ve made it even easier for you. Show him Charles!”

Charlie pulled several stapled sheets of A4 paper out of his shorts pocket and handed it to Martyn. The first page was largely covered in bright primary colours but when he studied it Martyn saw it was printed from a dating agency’s website and there was his advert pretty much as Charlie had described it.

“You really are a pair of bastards aren’t you.”

“That’s not the half of it mate” said Charlie. “Go on, turn it over.”

Martyn turned the first page and looked at the second and third. It was an e-mail string between “Martyn” at Charlie’s mail address and a girl called Lisa. He skimmed the string without taking it in but he did notice that in the most recent mail Lisa had agreed to meet “Martyn” and given her phone number.

Martyn looked around to see if anyone was within earshot. A couple he didn’t know were sat at a table about six feet away. “You cunts” he whispered under his breath, then more loudly “What the hell do you expect me to do with this now?”

“What we expect you to do with that my boy,” said Simon “is to call her up and arrange a date. It’s not hard is it? Honestly, she’s blond, attractive and separated and lives in Cheltenham. We wouldn’t stitch you up with a monkfish would we? Give it a go. I wish it was me.”

Martyn folded the paper and put it in his pocket. “I’ll think about” he said. His friends continued to tease him for a while but eventually he managed to change the subject. He knew that all he had to do was to mention Tottenham Hotspur again and Simon would be off. They had another pint, then they were so full of ale they had a couple of shorts each, then dragged themselves out before they made complete fools of themselves.

When he got home Martyn checked out Lisa’s entry on the dating agency’s website. The boys were right, she was blond, attractive and separated. And she lived in Cheltenham.