Swimming with the Sharks

Swimming with the Sharks
By John Riddle
Part Three of the Tenerife Trilogy

Tenerife to the average visitor from Northern Europe is a beautiful
holiday island.
It is the holiday home of many Europeans who have flocked to the island
in search of sun, sea, sand and yes sex.
Beneath the fa?ade of a holiday paradise there flourishes a sub culture
which encompasses all aspects of life, a sub culture in which a
multitude of characters make a good living through methods fair and
foul.
They are known as "the sharks".
The sharks get fat and rich because they control. They control through
fear and brutality and sometimes through death.
Oh sorry, forgetting my manners once again, my name is Anthony Grant,
Tosh to my friends.
I came to Tenerife, this island in the sun, following a spell as a
guest of Her Majesty and you will no doubt be aware that my life on
Tenerife has had its ups and downs, it has in short been a real roller
coaster.
Whilst in prison my Spanish partner, who I left in charge of the
business, ripped me off and when I settled here involvement with a
local builder saw me returned to the UK to serve the unexpired part of
my sentence. However both men have been sorted but
that's what we call here "swimming with the sharks".
You can trust no one!
Seemingly legitimate businessmen involved in a variety of businesses
use other people and play on their weaknesses. They do not break the
law they merely bend it or fracture it a little, and get exceedingly
rich into the bargain.
I have just returned from a splendid holiday in Calgary, Canada with my
partner the beautiful Maggie and now we have settled back into our
penthouse we are picking up the threads of our life here in
Tenerife.
We have met before, Anthony John Grant, Tosh to my friends. I served
time in Blackmore Prison before retiring to live on this beautiful
island, or as I like to call it Fantasy Island.
Nothing is real here, people are living in a plastic world, or as we
called it in jail - "telephone numbers".
People are always expecting that cheque from England that never
arrives, that lottery win that never comes, telephone numbers didn't I
tell you.
"Come on Maggie," I shout gathering together a bundle of the papers
from the table in the lounge.
"I have a meeting with the guy from the newspaper at eleven" I
added
"Oh you and your charities. Who said charity begins at home?" Maggie
replied with a measure of sarcasm in her voice.
We have invested heavily in property in Tenerife and had a substantial
income, which meant at this moment in time we could devote our time to
helping the less fortunate than ourselves. Repaying the society I
offended you might say.
The Government in the Canary Islands however was tightening up on
property lets and had decided that on each holiday complex there should
be only one letting agent and that was the first threat to our standard
of living. Do I sell and live off the capital or hand the apartments
over to a letting agent for a period of three years and pay them ten
per cent commission?
Decisions decisions and I don't really need them at this time.
I did not want to put my life in the hands of an agent.
Lose control you see and I like to be in control.
The position remains confusing and like to many owners on Tenerife I
had decided to do nothing until the authorities forced my hand.
In the meantime Maggie and I literally were raising thousands of
pesetas for the various charities.
Today we had a meeting with one of the local newspapers and later had
to see Eddie Walsh at the Claddagh, an Irish Bar in San Telmo. This was
our local and we felt obliged to help Eddie in anyway we could.
Eddie had heard about a young Irish lad, Sean Dorrian, who was born
with spine bifeda and who had spent his time since birth in a
wheelchair. The lad had written to one of the Irish papers in Galway
saying he had heard about the therapy method of swimming with the
dolphins. Eddie?s relations in Ireland had sent the paper and this
generous Irishman got the ball rolling.
Research in America had revealed that handicapped people who had tried
swimming with the dolphins found it a rewarding and therapeutic
experience and Eddie had a plan to bring Sean to Tenerife to fulfil his
dream.
Maggie and I arrived at the Claddagh following one of our regular
meetings with the local press. We needed constant publicity and with
six English language publications in Tenerife they eagerly clammered
for news.
"Right Eddie" I said taking control of the meeting from the outset,
"let's get started."
"How much do we need and how are we going to do it?" I asked.
"Maggie you take the notes," I said thrusting a pad and pencil into my
beloved's hand.
Maggie just smiled. She knew when I was in control and in full flow
there was no stopping me.
"Well Tosh," said Eddie, "I think we shall need about three thousand
pounds to bring Sean and his parents over for two weeks," he
estimated.
Eddie, a very amicable man originally from Galway listed the various
activities he thought would bring in the necessary cash.
"I have a programme, which includes an Irish supper at the Claddagh,"
he began.
I smiled.
How did I know that some of the events would be held at Eddie?s
place?
Natural I suppose.
"Then we can have a car boot sale and a barbecue at my house in
Chayofa" he concluded.
"That's a good start Eddie;" I commented knowing that a person will
respond to positive praise rather than negative comments.
Too many events centre around the Claddagh would restrict our catchment
area and I wanted as many bars and businesses as possible to feel
involved.
"Maggie and I thought that a car rally one Sunday afternoon might
attract a lot of interest," I explained.
Eddie does not open on a Sunday afternoon and I could see he was
somewhat disappointed.
Thinking quickly on my feet I added, "and the final clue could lead
everybody back here to the Claddagh for 8pm and a quick drink before
going home to change for the evening session."
"That's a great idea," said Eddie and we won him over on that
one.
"I will donate a prize for the winning team," he added, the enthusiasm
of the moment taking over.
Eddie is a generous man and has a heart of gold.
"We also thought that we would run a Grand Charity night in Princess
Di?s" I said.
Eddie was not too keen on that idea but I explained that there was a
great deal of money to be made between midnight and three at a venue
like Di?s.
"People from Las Americas won't be coming to the Claddagh that time of
night Eddie," explained Maggie pushing her flowing red hair back over
her tanned shoulders.
Eddie had a soft spot for Maggie and readily agreed with the Charity
night idea even though he would not directly benefit from the
event.
"We have to spread the events around Eddie," I reiterated and he
agreed.
"Right Maggie, so what is the programme so far," I asked turning to my
partner.
Maggie with her usual efficiency ran down the list.
"The Irish Supper I thought we would have on the 8th April. It's a
Thursday night and the last night for a lot of people," she
began.
Eddie and I nodded our approval.
"The following Sunday if it's ok with you and Bobbie, Eddie, could we
have the barbecue," she asked.
"Oh?yes I think that will be fine," replied Ed, "but I will check with
Bobbie and Keith."
Keith is Eddie main man in the bar does everything from serving the
customers to playing the penny whistle in the Claddagh Band, the
resident group of musicians.
Keith originally from Coventry makes a mean barbecue; Maggie and I went
on one of his impromptu feasts one summer. Brilliant.
"The following week we could have a car boot sale again on the Sunday,
that's the 18th, and the following week again on Sunday the car rally,"
explained Maggie.
"Don't you think that's too much Sunday activity," asked Eddie.
"No not really. It gives us all week to pull in as many customers from
the Claddagh and Sunday is often a dead day in so far as many people
are concerned," replied Maggie.
"And finally," she suggested, "I think we should go for 7th May a
Friday night for the show at Princess Di?s.
"That's a good suggestion," said Eddie, "as most of the artists have
Friday night off."
"Do you think that will bring in the three thousand we need," I asked
having sat silent through Maggie's report.
"Well if we get 50 to the Irish supper that will raise 50,000 pesetas,"
calculated Maggie.
"We need to set the barbecue a little higher at say 2,000 pesetas per
ticket," she added, "how many tickets can we sell and how many people
will your garden hold Eddie," she asked.
"Let me see, I think if we sell 50 tickets, some people won't turn up,
but I think 50 is about the limit," he replied.
"Right, that's another 100,000 pesetas," I quickly calculated, "less of
course the cost of the food and drink."
"The car boot sale or at least table top sale is more difficult to
calculate," pondered Maggie.
"I think we need to charge people say 2,000 pesetas for a table or car
boot, and I really don't know how much that will bring in," said Maggie
with a doubt in her voice that perhaps it was not such a good idea
after all.
The car rally we all decided was to be more of a fun event giving the
people who helped raise the money a social event adding that we could
run a raffle which in all might raise another 25,000.
"I think the Charity Concert at Princess Di?s is the big one," I
commented, much to the disgust of Eddie.
I quickly added, "Well the last time we held one there we raised more
than 500,000 pesetas and at the present rate Eddie that's more than two
thousand quid.
Maggie made a quick calculation and if everything went according to
plan the events should bring in almost 700,000 pesetas more than the
three thousand pounds we needed to bring Sean and his family to
Tenerife.
"Right publicity is going to be important," I interrupted, adding "The
quicker the better".
"Why don't we use Jack Tempest?" asked Eddie
Jack is a local reporter who came to Tenerife having retired from the
press scene in England and was now working with the Island Scene.
Jack had been quite useful on other events I had organised and I knew
he would help.
"Good idea Ed and I will contact all the others and the radio
stations," I replied.
The press had been very good in promoting my various charitable
attempts in the past and I had no reason to suspect they would not give
us the same support again.
It was a good story with a human interest and I know people on holiday
like helping the less fortunate than themselves.
"Right I think that wraps it up" said Maggie putting her notes away,
"that should keep you out of mischief for the next few months Tosh,"
she laughed.
Maggie was brilliant.
She had supported me through thick and thin and now when I become
involved in raising money for charity she is always there even though
sometimes she must feel neglected.
I love her dearly. Without Maggie's support I probably would have left
the island and returned to a life of crime in the UK.
The work I am doing for cases such as Sean is my contribution to life
on this island. I could sit sunning myself by the pool each day, but in
all honesty I get a kick out of helping other people, and that's not
bad for an old lag.
"See you later," shouted Eddie as we made our way out of the Claddagh
into the bright sunshine.
Maggie and I returned home to our penthouse in Los Cristianos.
We were indeed fortunate to have such a wonderful life. The apartment
was one of half a dozen or so I had purchased with my ill gotten gains
from exporting cars to Australia.
It was beautifully furnished by Maggie and believe me this lady has
taste.
The lounge led to a massive balcony with some of the most fabulous
views across Los Cristianos harbour beyond to the mystical island of La
Gomera.
I had joked on more than one occasion that I would write a love story
and call it "The Mists of Gomera" but to date I have never got around
to writing anything.
Too busy you see.
Maybe one day eh?
Whilst Maggie prepared lunch, I made the drinks and carried the food
she had prepared and the drinks onto the balcony. It was a beautiful
day and as I looked toward the harbour I could see the Fred Olsen liner
coming into dock having made the crossing from La Gomera.
Maggie joined me and we basked in the warm Canarian sunshine.
This indeed was paradise.
Maggie broke the silence, "I think we should contact the press
especially that Jack Tempest, Eddie mentioned," she suggested.
Maggie was full of good ideas and I agreed that I would ring Jack after
lunch.
The sun, the view, I could sit here forever I thought grasping Maggies
hand. I said nothing just looked at this beautiful creature who shared
my life.
Maggie said nothing either but squeezed my outstretched hand.
That said it all.
Maggie cleared away the remnants of our meal and I attached myself to
the telephone.
"Good afternoon Island Scene," said a sweet voice on the other end of
the telephone.
"Ah yes, could I speak to Jack Tempest please," I enquired.
"Could I say whose calling," replied the girl.
"Oh yes its Tony Grant," I replied.
I was switched over to one of those infuriating musical messages which
some companies have adopted feeling they soothe clients who have to
wait.
They don't soothe me they infuriate me.
"Hello Jack Tempest speaking," a voice interrupted the music.
"Hi Jack, Tony Grant here. Eddie Walsh at the Claddagh suggested I
speak to you about a charitable project we are running for the next few
weeks," I explained.
"Right Tony," replied Jack, "fire away."
I gave Jack all the details Maggie had so accurately noted and
explained about Sean Dorrian and his wish to swim with the
dolphins.
"That's a great story Tony," said Jack, "can we get photographs of Sean
and perhaps of you and Eddie" he asked.
"That should not be a problem Jack, but do me a favour call me Tosh,
all my friends do, Tony is a bit formal," I laughed.
"Ok Tosh, and about the photographs," asked Jack.
I was beginning to like this guy. He kept the conversation focussed and
was clearly a professional.
"Well I could be at the Claddagh later tonight and I know Eddie will be
there, perhaps tonight then," I suggested.
"Oh that might be a little difficult Tosh as I am going out for dinner
tonight," he pondered.
"Well come after your meal then," I further suggested.
"Ok, the Claddagh about 11pm," agreed Jack.
"Bye for now," I said hanging up the phone at the conclusion of what
was a very interesting introduction to Mr. Tempest.
I explained to Maggie that we had a date with the photographer that
evening. She scowled and then smiled.
Maggie does not like her photograph taken even though she has an
hourglass figure.
I spent the remainder of the afternoon contacting the remaining local
press Island Connections, Tenerife News, The Paper, Canarian Weekly,
the Western Sun and the Island Sun.
Yes if there is one thing that Tenerife is not short of its newspapers
in the English language, and all the afore mentioned are
freebies.
Further calls to the Radios stations Oasis FM, Waves Fm Gold FM and
Power FM. Although these stations sometimes escape the holidaymakers as
the hire cars do not have radios, it is a valuable link to the
residents and with more than 11,000 Brits on the island plus the Irish,
Welsh and Scots that was a big catchment area.
Maggie in the meantime had swopped her apron and the kitchen sink for
the computer and was busy making posters and flyers for the various
events. She was an absolute wizz on the computer and very soon the
ideas of that afternoon began to take shape.
Maggie suddenly stopped. "Tosh look at the time," she exclaimed.
I looked at my watch.
Where had the day gone? It was dusk outside.
"Right let's stop right there," I said taking control of a situation
that had just gone on and on. "Let us go and get something to eat. We
need to eat and then we have to meet Jack for the photo call at the
Claddagh," I suggested.
Both Maggie and I looked exhausted but we both knew we had to shower,
eat and not keep the press waiting.
"Let's shower together Maggie," I suggested, "that will save
time."
"You never miss a trick do you," laughed Maggie as she slipped out of
her dress and into the bathroom.
I quickly followed dropping my shorts as I entered the room and
climbing into the shower were Maggie was already washing off the toils
of the day under a pulsating spray.
"Oh Maggie I love you so much," I whispered pressing her nubile body
against my battered frame.
"Oh Tosh," she groaned as I messaged those parts that really rouse this
beautiful lady.
Showering together takes a little longer than when you shower alone but
is certainly more satisfying and I regularly need my moments of
satisfaction.
I picked Maggie up, grabbed a towel from the rail and carried her into
the bedroom where our lovemaking climaxed.
We said nothing for a while just lay in each other's arms.
"Right," said Maggie slapping me across my naked buttocks, "Where shall
we eat tonight?"
"I feel like an Italian," she added to which I responded, "And where
will you get an Italian this time of night", referring of course to an
Italian man as opposed to meal.
"The old one's are the best Tosh", she laughed.
That's one of the million things I love about my Maggie.
Her sense of humour even when I repeat the old jokes with remarkable
regularity she still laughs.
That is true love!
We left our apartment and walked hand in hand, like you lovers as the
Canarian moon shone overhead in a star filled sky. At moments like this
you really appreciate the beauty this island has to offer.
We walked down to Rimini, a small Italian restaurant adjacent to the
Travel Shop in Los Cristianos. We like it here. A warm welcome assured
from the owner Mario as you enter.
While you sip on the splendid house red you can watch Mario at work in
the open kitchen preparing the pizzas.
He rolls out the dough, spins it with remarkable accuracy, tosses it,
before placing it on a metal dish and garnishing it with whatever
topping you desire.
The good wine, freshly prepared food, soft music gently playing in the
background. This was truly a romantic moment. I slipped my hand across
the table and gentled touched Mags.
We just looked at each other and said nothing.
We don't have to, as we instinctively know what each other is
thinking.
That must by one of the formula for love.
Our pizzas arrived and I released Maggie?s hand to tuck into my
Hawaiian pizzas complete with pineapple and banana. I was having
withdrawal symptoms for sweetness being a reformed sweetaholic. The
fresh ham on a bed of cheese, and fresh pineapple, the flabour bounced
around my mouth.
Maggie is far more sensible than I am and she had chosen the Four
Seasons, a tasty combination of seafood, meat and chicken, with
peppers, olives.
Rimini was unusually quiet for the time of year but all was explained
when it was revealed by the Mario who checked if all was ok.
Manchester United was playing Real Madrid and the majority of his
regulars would be in after the match.
This island thrives on football although Tenerife has slipped from
their European glory days and now faces life in the second
division.
We chatted as we pondered over our coffee and liquor, paid the bill and
slipped out into the warm Tenerife night.
We walked down Aven.de Suica, which forms part of the main road system
leading to the harbour area, passed Palacio, El Cine, through the
tunnel that connects the old side with the new beach.
Seated in the darkened tunnel on an old coat was a man in his fifties
playing a shrill tune on his whistle as people passed by dropping a few
pesetas into a coconut shell which doubled as a make shift collecting
dish.
His dog was asleep beside him.
"I wonder where he will sleep tonight Maggie," I enquired.
"Who knows Tosh, more than likely the beach," she replied with an air
of resignation.
We arrived at the Claddagh and everything as usual was in full
swing.
Willie, Keith and John, the Claddagh band played on as usual and the
punters where jigging around as only visitors to an Irish bar
can.
We positioned ourselves at the end of the bar near the telephone.
Colin Kirby one of the regulars was already installed and we exchange
pleasant banter with him. Colin is a Chelsea fan but did not rise to
the bait about Manchester United. This was our usual seat.
"What will it be Tosh," enquired Eddie merging from the kitchen.
"Oh just the usual Ed, we are waiting for Jack Tempest", I
replied.
"Wait no longer," smiled Eddie, "here he is now," pointing to a smartly
dressed man entering the bar accompanied by a very attractive
lady.
Eddie did the introductions, "Jack, Tosh, Debbie, Maggie," he
stuttered, "Well now you know each other."
"What will it be Jack and Debbie," I asked.
"Oh Dorada for me, replied Jack, "and you love," he said turning to
Debbie.
"Could I have a gin and bitter lemon please," replied Debbie.
In the course of what remained of the evening Jack took the obligatory
photographs whilst Maggie and Debbie chatted away.
They seemed to hit it off immediately but then Maggie is such a warm
gregarious character.
"Did you get a photograph of Sean Dorrian?" enquired Jack.
"Blast," I exclaimed, "sorry I completely forgot," I replied.
"Eddie, have you a photograph of Sean for Jack please," I shouted over
the band.
Eddie duly obliged and I gave it to Jack.
"There you are the only one to have the complete story, photograph of
Sean, photograph of Eddie and the crew, an exclusive you might say
Jack," I laughed.
"Thanks for that Tosh", he replied.
I did explain that I had of course contacted all the English language
papers and the radio stations but some how I felt Jack would be the
best bet. He had that professional air about him.
The evening slipped away and Maggie and I bid farewell to Jack and
Debbie but not before arranging to meet them later in the week for a
meal and then a tour around some other bars in Tenerife where I knew
the owners would help with the appeal.
I took an immediate liking to Jack and I know from what Maggie said
later that she and Debbie where just fine.
We walked up the stone staircase that connects the Claddagh to the main
street in San Telmo, hailed a taxi and sped off into the night to our
love nest at the top of the hill.
I was tired but at least today had been very productive and who knows
what tomorrow will bring.
Maggie and I lapsed into unconsciousness in each other's arms wishing
that this moment would never end.

The next few days flew by and we both went about our various activities
Maggie producing poster after poster on her computer and me ringing the
various artists to secure a promise of an appearance at Princess
Di?s.
I had spoken to Les Styles the compere at Di?s and after consultation
with the owners Leno and Ray it was agreed that the charity night could
go ahead on 7th May.
Les suggested various artists to contact and during the course of the
week secured a glittering array of stars.
Andy Maughan, a lad I knew from previous concerts agreed to do his Roy
Chubby Brown spot sometime during the evening and he was quickly
followed by Nikki Paul who does Barry White, Jacqui Peters our own
Shirley Bassey impersonator and Paul Stone who is Tenerife's Billy
Idol.
When new acts on the island approach bar owners for cabaret spots the
first thing they ask is "Who do you do?"
Bars like entertainers to impersonate someone and Tenerife is the Mecca
of impersonators.
We have SEVEN Elvis's.
The list of stars was growing by the day. Kevin Isaac's one of the
Elvis impersonators was signed up, Micheala Sydney who does a mean
Gloria Estefan, and Tina Turner in the person of Karen Newman all
agreed to join the bill.
Comedy was not forgotten and a very good friend Miss Katy Kennedy,
Tenerife's entertainer of the Year 1998 and 1999 agreed to appear in
her famous frock.
Katy is one of the few entertainers who are just themselves. Katy tells
a lovely story of a young punter who after seeing her show stopped Katy
in the supermarket.
"Aren't you the woman, who does Katy Kennedy," he asked. Fame
indeed.
Another star in his or her own right who agreed to appear is Miss
Crystal Star, alias David Ormrod, who is the female impersonator at the
famous Wigan Pier in Tores de Yomely.
David has a pair of legs any woman would die for.
"Yes love of course I will appear in your charity show," David readily
agreed and "I will drag along some others as well", he quipped.
David was true to his word and persuaded international singing stars
Marvin Ruffin and Angie Gold to appear.
Angie has released records in American and Marvin is cousin of the
world renowned Jimmy Ruffin. Marvin in turn agreed to bring along
Sheila Tyson formerly of the Supremes.
The show was taking place.
The night arrived when we were to have dinner with Jack Tempest from
the newspaper and Debbie. We had chosen to eat at the Overseas Chinese,
which was one of our favourites.
We met Jack and Debbie at the restaurant and exchange the customary
greetings.
The meal was up to the usual standard we expected of Tommy and the
staff at the Overseas and when he threw in a free bottle of vino and
complimentary liquor the night was complete.
Jack and I inevitably talked about the charity do whilst the girls
exchanged notes on their week. I was pleased when Debbie and Maggie
arranged to go shopping up north on Saturday.
Maggie has few friends as such but they hit it off and I was pleased
she would have a companion to shop, as it was not an activity I
particularly enjoyed.
Jack and I responded by arranging to play golf at Los Palos, a
picturesque nine hole par three course only ten minutes from Los
Cristianos.
Jack and I were of similar ability only taking up the game since our
arrival in the Canary Islands.
At the conclusion of the meal Maggie again focussed the conversation by
saying "Now where?"
"Oh lets give the Claddagh a miss tonight.
If we go down there Eddie will want to talk about the Charity do and I
have had enough for one day," I replied.
Jack agreed.
"I know," he said " lets go to San Eugenio. There are a couple of new
bars up there and it will make a change for us all," he added.
"Right San Eugenio it is then," I agreed.
We walked down from the Overseas bidding goodnight to Tommy and the
crew at the Overseas and caught a taxi near the church in the
square.
Soon we were speeding along the TF1 coming off at Exit 29 and following
the road to the Aqua Park in San Eugenio alto.
The taxi pulled up at a strip of bars just around the corner from Roy?s
Pizza.
"Here we are," announced Jack as he helped Debbie and Maggie from the
taxi.
We walked into a bar which had recently changed hands and was renamed
Talk of the Toon.
The Toon as Jack explained referred to Newcastle United Football Club
and their supporters who were nicknamed The Toon Army.
Hanging behind the bar was a photograph of the owner and his wife,
obviously taken by Jack.
Jack introduced us to the owners, a "canny" couple Jack called them
from North Tyneside. There can be no more passionate soccer supporters
than the Geordies and the walls were festooned with black and white
memorabilia.
We enjoyed our drink in the pleasant little bar before walking around
the corner to be faced by another Irish Bar, O?Neill?s.
"Not another Irish bar," I laughed.
"Oh this one is different Tosh," responded Jack.
It surely was different.
An Irish theme pub, which had a new act to the island, a lad called
Archie O?Moanaghie from County Clare.
Archie stood more than six foot tall with a mop of black hair.
Jack explained he had interviewed the lad shortly after his arrival
from Gran Canaria where he had played for more than 10 years.
Archie had written a song for the Irish World Cup team when managed by
Jack Charlton and there was no doubt he was a character.
Archie tried to engage the audience with good-humoured banter and
during what he called a pee break Jack roped him into the charity
night.
"Hi Archie, pleased to meet you," I said and then introduce
Maggie.
Archie is usually at the Soul Seller in Playa de las Americas on Friday
evenings but he promised he would turn up after that gig.
When he returned to the stage Maggie said, "I thought you had had
enough of charity work for one day," and smiled, that knowing
smile.
We stayed at O?Neill?s until midnight and then wandered up to the
street with Jack and Debbie to catch c taxi.
"Where do you live Jack," enquired Maggie, obviously calculating that
we might not be going in the same direction.
"Oh we have a small apartment in Victoria Court," he replied.
"Great, that's just down the road from us, we can drop you off," I
replied.
Taxi secure we sped off at break neck speed to Los Cristianos.
We bid farewell to our companions, Maggie and Debbie arranging to meet
Saturday for the excursion to Santa Cruz and Jack and I agreeing to
meet at the golf course 9am.
"How about a night-cap Maggie" I said as we entered the complex.
"Oh Tosh I have just about had enough for one day, let's go to bed,"
she replied wearily.
Mr. Grant did not need a second invitation.

All to soon the Saturday came round and Maggie and Debbie set off for
Continente near Santa Cruz in my car.
I trusted Maggie to drive up the TF1 but told her to take care.
"Right Jack," I said turning to my friend from the press, "let's play
some golf,"
We drove the ten minutes or so to Las Palos golf course, parked up and
walked down the slope to the office and paid for our eighteen
holes.
It was a bright sunny morning with the swallows and swifts ducking and
diving over the water hole as Jack took first honour.
Crack, his ball fairly whizzed towards to the hole bounced once and
then through the back of the green.
"Bit too hard Jack," I commented as I positioned myself on the
tee.
I then proceeded to thump mine into the trees on the right of the hole
and had to drop a shot or two as Jack went down in four.
It was nip and tuck all the way and clearly Jack and I were well
matched.
I don't see golf as being that competitive and although I like to win,
it is the social life that is more important.
We finished our round with Jack coming out on top by two strokes as I
found the water again on the last hole.
"Good game Jack," I said extending my hand.
"Great mornings entertainment," he replied.
"I wonder how the girl's are doing," I pondered as we indulged in a
post match drink at the clubhouse.
"Oh they will be alright Tosh. I expect they will be back at four
o'clock or so," assured Jack.
"Have you got anything planned for the rest of the day," I
enquired.
"Not a thing Tosh, its my day off and I am going to enjoy it," he
laughed.
We agreed that lunch would be next on the agenda and I suggested we go
to El Cine and typical Canarian bar near the port in Los
Cristianos.
"Sounds good to me," agreed Jack.
We left Los Palos and made our way down the back road back into
Cristianos parking up in the harbour.
The town was full of happy smiling people hustling and bustling in the
sunshine.
We walked from the harbour passed the colourful fish stalls that were
selling the previous nights catches and walked up the slight incline in
to the street which houses El Cine.
"My friend" shouted Carlos as he came from the bar, "How are you?" he
asked and before I had time to reply, "and how is Maggie".
I explained to Carlos Maggie had gone shopping in Santa Cruz with her
friend Debbie and introduced Jack to Carlos.
"Tosh is a good friend of Carlos and you are welcome," responded
Carlos.
"I will have a table for you shortly but in the meantime will you have
a drink," enquired my Canarian friend.
"Two Dorada Carlos," I replied assuming control.
"That's alright with you Jack" I quickly added.
"Fine Tosh, no problem" said Jack.
We were show to an empty table and Carlos came to take the order
himself.
"What will it be Jack," I enquired.
"What do you suggest" he responded.
"Well how about chicken wings, hake and salad," I advised.
"Sounds ok by me," said the agreeable Jack and the order was
completed.
The food at El Cine never disappoints and today was no exception.
I love the chicken wings with the mojo sauce, especially the spicy
red.
Jack was impressed and said he would have to bring Debbie.
"She would love this," he said with a mouthful of bread and hake.
" I think I will even write about it," added Jack, always the newspaper
man.
"Day off remember Jack, chill out forget about work;" I advised.
The meal concluded we sat back and enjoyed a coffee and liquor.
"This is the life you know Jack, can't knock it," I said.
"Oh I don't know about that Tosh, sometimes I wonder if I have made the
right move," he said with an air of caution.
Jack went on to tell me something of his life in the UK and how he came
out here alone and the subsequent developments.
"Oh since Debbie came out the quality of life has improved, but I am
always aware that nothing might last forever, and I just take each day
at a time," he confided.
It transpired that the apartment the couple lived in was small and they
needed to move out to improve their quality of life.
"Our apartment is dark and not much natural light and we really need to
find something better," he explained.
"If you don't mind me asking what are you paying at the moment Jack," I
asked
"Oh we only pay 50,000 pesetas a month, but its only a studio, no
balcony and sometimes the walls seem to close in on you," he
replied.
"We eat, sleep, shower and work in the same room and it does get you
down after a while," he added.
From my experiences in a cell at Blackmore Prison I knew just what he
meant.
"Look Jack, I may be able to help you there," I offered.
I explained to Jack that I had several apartments in Los Cristianos,
which were purely for holiday lets.
"If you wanted one of them, and some are very nice I am sure we can
come to some arrangement," I explained.
"But I can't afford holiday lets," said Jack, "What do you charge a
week?"
"Well it is usually two hundred quid a week, but don't worry about that
I would rather have a few on long term let," I said adding "let me work
it out."
I scribbled some figures onto a scrap of paper and calculated that from
the two hundred a week I had to pay for laundry and cleaning which
reduce that to one seventy and then on average I only had thirty weeks
of the year booked out.
"I usually make about five grand a year on an apartment less tax and
stuff that brings it down to just over four thousand which is about
three hundred a month," I explained.
Jack looked stunned.
"Just think Jack, a separate bedroom, balcony for three hundred a
month," I said.
"What's that compared with what we are paying now," he asked.
"Well that's about 70,000 pesetas," I replied.
"And you can fix us up with this place?" he said rather
sheepishly
"No problem, can move in when you like," I added.
"It's a deal," said Jack extending his hand, which I shook.
"Don't worry about a deposit, I trust you," I laughed sensing that Jack
was a bit sceptical of my offer.
"Don't get me wrong Tosh I am really grateful but I have had some awful
gaffs and have heard of people being ripped off all the time," he
explained.
"No problem mate," I responded.
"I know why don't we call at my place, see what's available, and you
can tell Debbie the good news when they get back," I said with more
than a sprinkling of enthusiasm
"Right, we will do that," replied Jack.
We finished our drinks, bid farewell to Carlos and made our way up the
hill.
I checked and found that apartment 565 was empty, got the keys and took
the lift to the fifth floor.
"This one is one I bought earlier," I joked as I opened the door to the
apartment.
It had not been used for two weeks and the air smelt a little
stale.
I switched on the electricity and walked to the patio window, drew back
the curtain and opened the sliding door to reveal the view of
Cristianos we took for granted.
"This is brilliant Tosh," exclaimed Jack and I saw his face light
up.
"I can have this for 70,000 pesetas a month?" he asked
"Why not" I replied, delighted that I could help Jack.
Jack indicated he would have to give his current landlord four weeks
notice and of course he would have to discuss the move with Debbie but
he was confident that she would jump at the chance to move somewhere
else.
"We shall be neighbours," I concluded as I locked the apartment
door.
"I am sure Debbie and Maggie will appreciate that," replied Jack.
I gave him the keys and told him to take Debbie round that
evening.
We went our separate ways and I returned to our penthouse and awaited
Maggie?s return.
I must have nodded off as I woke with a start when I heard the key turn
in the lock on Maggie arrival.
"Hello love, have you had a good day," I asked
"Brilliant," replied Maggie, "just brilliant" she added plonking the
shopping bags on the settee.
Maggie then told me of her expedition to Continente with Debbie and I
shared with her my dealings that afternoon with Jack.
"Are you sure that is a good move taking in a long let," asked
Maggie.
"Oh I think so and they seem a nice couple," I responded.
"Now let me see what you have bought," I asked.
Maggie unpacked the bags one by one and judging by the amount of
shopping she had bought half of Santa Cruz.
Having examined the spoils of her shopping spree I then asked about our
evening meal.
I was exhausted and I could see Maggie was too.
"Let's eat in tonight and pig out on television," I suggested.
"Oh Tosh, I can't be bothered to cook," cried Maggie
"That's ok we will send for a take away from Roy?s" I replied.
Indian food ordered I told Maggie to take it easy and relax whilst I
set the table.
I made her a gin and bitter lemon and pulled a can for myself.
About forty minutes later our Indian takeaway arrived and we tucked in
heartily with the full knowledge that our night was to be one of total
relaxation.
I cannot recall the movie we watched as we both drifted off full and in
the knowledge that tomorrow was another day, another day in
paradise.

The sunlight streamed through the window as I woke to face another day
on this wonderful island of Tenerife.
I looked across the pillow to Maggie who was still asleep and thanked
God that I had this wonderful lady as my partner.
I slipped out of the bed and into the shower trying not to wake Maggie
but as soon as the cascading water hit my body I knew she would be up
and about.
I walked out of the bathroom with one towel around my waist whilst
drying my hair with the other. Maggie had slipped into a silk shirt she
sometimes wears as a night-dress and was busy preparing
breakfast.
"Here Maggie, let me do that," I said grabbing the tea towel from her
as she washed the remnants of last nights washing up.
Every morning when I woke I thanked my lucky stars that Maggie had
stood by me through thick and thin, through the prison sentence, and
anything I could do to make here life that much easier I would.
"You go and get showered," I invited, "I will finish that off."
Maggie adjourned to the bathroom and I took control of the
cooker.
Not that I am a dab hand at the role of chef but every now and then I
will try. In any event there is not a lot you can do to spoil bacon, is
there?
I had a lazy day planned, just tying up a few loose ends for the
various charity events we had organised and Maggie was going to finish
off the flyers and posters.
I won't bore you with all the details but the next few weeks were
hectic raising the charity money and to be frank I was pleased when it
was all over and we passed over the money to the people bringing the
young Irish lad to Tenerife.
We saw Jack Tempest and Debbie almost everyday usually for a nightcap
in the Claddagh, but Maggie and Debbie developed a close relationship,
that two or three dinners a week and a game of golf was the usual
pattern.
Yes life was wonderful here on Fantasy Island.
Maggie and I had it made but every now and then a scallywag would
dangle a carrot, an opportunity to make an extra few pounds, and the
greed in old Tosh Grant would take over.
One such scallywag, Brian Potter, a business tycoon from Kidderminster,
arrived on the island and set up an office in a tax free zone He was
boasting that he could save business people on the island "millions"
with a loophole he had found in the tax laws.
Oh yes I thought and have we not heard that before.
Needless to say the thought of saving millions ate away at me for a few
days until I manoeuvred a meeting with him, saying I was only vaguely
interested.
We met at Charlie's Bar in Los Cristianos, opposite the Sunday morning
market site.
I had several meetings there previously.
Introductions over Potter explained that he was a financial adviser
from Kidderminster who had connections in the Cayman Islands and
Southern Ireland.
He had set up an office in central Los Cristianos and hoped to be
fully operational within the month. He explained that his scheme was to
move money around several foreign locations, using invoices, and the
money eventually disappeared, so far as the taxman was concerned, being
returned fully to the rightful owner, less of course Potters fee.
Which was? "Only 10\% Mr. Grant," he explained.
At this point I would have usually said "oh call me Tosh", but I didn't
like Potter but his scheme could save me 20\% on my annual tax bill,
and that was something considering as my apartment empire was bringing
in a substantial amount.
I was still rather cautious, and nagging away in the back of my mind,
was a thought, "I have seen this guy somewhere before".
I could not think where, but it bothered me long after we had said our
farewells.
Experience tells me several things about business in Tenerife, one
never trusts anyone and I mean anyone, tell nobody what you are up to,
and so far as possible keep Maggie away from the seedy side of
life.
I did tell her of course about the meeting but she did not know the
finer details of what was at best sailing near to the wind and at worst
criminal.
Could I afford to become involved in anything dodgy again bearing in
mind my previous experiences on the island?
My head said, "Walk away Tosh" but the greedy side of my personality,
greedy so far as making money, or at least paying the taxman less, said
goes for it.
Before we would have a winner I would talk to one of the few people I
could trust, Jack Tempest for one.
Jack and I arranged to meet during the day as if I raised the subject
at our nightly drink in the Claddagh, the listening ears might cotton
on to what I was up to.
We would meet at El Cine at lunchtime, it would be crowded, and no one
would think it was strange Jack and I being there, as Carlos, the owner
was a close friend.
Jack and I arrived simultaneously at El Cine to be greeted by Carlos
and shown to our table. We order drinks and food before I began to
explain to Jack the meeting I had with Brian Potter.
"Jack," I began, "I have had a meeting with a new financial consultant
on the island, a bloke from Kidderminster, who is offering to save me
20\% on my tax bill. What do you think? I enquired.
"Tell me more," replied Jack, with that look on his face that he maybe
on to a story.
"Oh Jack, this is strictly off the record on the q.t." I replied.
"If there is a story later" I stuttered, "you will be the first to
know," I added.
I explained Potters scheme as he had told me.
"Sound very strange to me Tosh," replied Jack, "That the big boys in
the financial world have not cottoned on to this, very strange," he
added.
We went over the details time and time again and Jack could see that I
was keen to try and save 20\%.
"Look Tosh, yes you could gain 20\%, and what's that in real terms."
Asked Jack.
"Well without going into all the details, probably about ?30,000 per
year," I replied.
"And what could you lose," asked Jack playing devil's advocate.
"Well something in the region of ?300,000" I gulped.
"Still sounds strange to me," muttered Jack.
We ploughed into the excellent food provide by Carlos and looked at
various options.
Jack asked a series of probing questions, as is his usual style and
pointed out that the rewards were not worth the risk.
He came up with a suggestion to test the water, which would save me
?3,000 but only put ?30,000 at risk, not ten times the figure I
originally planned.
"If the man is genuine, and you get your returns plus savings, then
maybe, only maybe, you could trust him with a larger deposit,"
suggested Jack
He had successfully sowed the seeds of doubt, or at least watered them,
as I had my suspicions about Brian Potter and it still niggled me that
I had met this man before.
I would make several calls to England, but Kidderminster was not my
territory and I would have to rely on others.
"Could you make some enquiries for me Jack with you pals in England," I
asked.
"No problem, mate, just need his name, address, date of birth, or
anything really to identify him," replied Jack.
I knew our intrepid reporter had contacts in the UK and he at least
would not let me down.
In the meantime to satisfy my greed I would meet Potter again and get
him to move around a smaller amount, say ?30,000 to see what he could
do. If all went well within 28 days I would have my ?30,000 back, plus
?6,000 and I would pay Potter ?600. That seemed good business to
me.
Too good!
Jack and I finished our lunch and I asked him not to share our
discussions with Debbie, as it would get back to Maggie.
"See you tonight in the Claddagh Jack," I enquired.
"Aye I will be there Tosh, as usual," he laughed in reply.
I made my way back to the apartment.
There was a note on the table; Maggie had gone shopping with
Debbie.
I smiled in the full knowledge that Maggie was happy and had a good
friend in Debs, as indeed I had found in Jack.
I rang Potter and arranged a meeting at his office in Los Cristianos. I
did not want him coming to the apartment, as the least Maggie knew
about matters the better.
Later that week I met with Potter and again the doubts started nagging
away.
This bloke's face seems to familiar, but know it just would
come.
Told Potter that I was prepared for him to move money for me and
confirmed that if I gave him ?30,000, which would normally attract tax
of ?6,000, he would pay me after 28 days, the original ?30,000 back,
tax free, and I would give him ?600.
"You have it in one, Mr. Grant," he replied.
I asked him how we proceeded.
"I give you an invoice for ?30,000 for professional services, which you
put through your books, thus reducing your tax liability by ?6,000. You
pay me a cheque for ?30,000. At the end of the month I give you back
your cheque, less ?600, my fee for the work, and you are better off to
the tune of ?5,400," he explained.
I gave him a cheque then and there and he produced a receipt from the
vast array of computers he had on display in the office.
"And that's it," I enquired.
"That's it," he replied.
"Right see you in 28 days," I announced, shook his sweaty little palm
and left.
I returned home and filed the receipt for the professional services in
the company accounts feeling quite proud of myself.
It was a feeling that was not to last.
The days come and go in Tenerife.
You wake up, don't ask about the weather, eat, drink and generally
enjoy life to the full.
Midway through the twenty-eight days I received a telephone call from
Jack Tempest, my trusty newspaperman friend.
"Can we meet for lunch Tosh," enquired Jack, "I have something to show
you," he added.
"Let's make it today Jack," I replied knowing that the amiable hack
enjoyed a break from the office.
"Right see you at Cine at 1pm, then," he replied.
Punctual as ever Jack arrived at Cine where I was mid way through an
ice-cold beer.
"Hi Jack, what will it be," I offered.
"Cold beer would go down a treat, he replied.
Jack slumped into his chair as though he had all the cares in the
world.
"How's Debs," I enquired, thinking that the couple may have had a fall
out.
Jack has had several women since his arrival in Tenerife and that was
my first guess.
"Oh Deb's is ok Tosh, its you I am concerned about," he said with an
air of resignation in his voice.
"Me," I laughed, "Concerned about me, I am top of the world Jack," I
added.
He produced a sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to me.
That would wipe the smile off my face.
It was a fax from one of the newspapers Jack freelanced for in England,
the Kidderminster Harrier. It read.

Brian Potter alias Brian Parkinson alias Brian Parkin, date of birth
25.7.67, born Bristol.
Wanted by the Hereford and Worcester Police in connection with
financial frauds in the West Country involving in excess of ?1m.
My heart stopped. I had given this guy ?30,000 of my money.
The fax went on to describe how he had tricked many business people and
members of the public out of their money including old age
pensioners.
Has served several periods of imprisonment and was paroled from
Blackmore Prison in 1997.
"That's where I have seen the bugger, he must have been in the jail
when I was there, " I exploded.
"When did this arrive Jack," I asked impatiently.
"Just today, when I rang you," he said anxiously.
"Why" added Jack.
"Well I took your advice and only gave him a small amount of cash," I
explained.
"When" asked Jack
"Two weeks ago, I am due to collect it within the next fortnight," I
added.
"Well I suggest you go and collect it now Tosh," said Jack.
We left our beers, paid Carlos, and went straight to Potters
office.
"Can I see Brian Potter," I demanded of the young Spanish girl he had
as receptionist.
"I am sorry Mr. Potter is not here today," replied the girl.
"When do you expect him," I said raising my voice.
"He take it easy Tosh, the girl is not to blame," interjected
Jack.
"He is in England and should be back next Tuesday," she replied.
"Do you have a telephone number for him in England," I asked.
"Yes Senor, but I can't give it to you," she apologised.
"Leave it Tosh, we will come back on Tuesday," said Jack
I wanted to raise the roof but Jack was right.
The girl knew nothing and ranting and raving would only alert Potter
that we were on to him.
The next few days dragged.
How could I have been such a fool? A greedy fool at that.
I tried to put it at the back of my mind and get on with life. There
was nothing I could do until Tuesday. I felt like ripping Potter's head
off, but in reality it should be me getting a kick up the
backside.
Thirty grand!
The thought of losing that amount of money was making me ill.
On Friday night Maggie and I dined out with Debbie and Jack at the
Overseas Chinese in San Marino. Tommy and Shelley the owners did us
proud as usual and we had a good night.
After the meal, the four of us walked through the town towards the
Claddagh, as usual for a nightcap.
"We really must do something different," I exclaimed, "its all becoming
a bit boring," I added.
"Well what had you in mind" giggled Maggie
"Well why don't the four of us go somewhere next weekend for a break,
maybe up to Santa Cruz or over to Gran Canaria, you know something
different," I explained.
"That's ok for you multi millionaires," laughed Jack, and then realised
what he had said.
"Oh come on Jack," said Debbie, "lets go it would be fun".
"OK, OK," submitted Jack.
"Santa Cruz or Gran Canaria," asked Jack.
"Gran Canaria," said Debbie and Maggie in unison.
The night went off really well despite the fleeting reference from Jack
to money.
We entered the Claddagh and the dancers were in full flow, many having
just arrived on the afternoon flight.
"Excuse me for a moment," said Jack, "there is someone I want to
see,"
Jack walked over to the corner of the room and shook the hands of an
elderly couple. He engaged if polite conversation and then rejoined our
party.
"Who's that Jack," enquired Debbie.
"Oh you remember that couple who had their luggage stolen at the
airport, I did a story last year, well that's them Val and Peter from
Wales," he explained.
"Never forget a face Jack, eh," I asked. "Just like a copper."
If only I had the same skill I thought Potter would not has disappeared
with my cash.
"Golf tomorrow Tosh," enquired Jack.
"Yes why not, Los Palos?" I asked.
"Shopping girls," enquired Jack.
"Why not" giggled Debbie.
I like Debbie she is full of life just like Maggie. In fact I like our
little foursome as it is even though sometimes it seems
repetitive.
We left the Claddagh and drifted off into the moonlight night.
The African moon shone brightly and the stars twinkled like diamonds in
the sky.
Sounds like a cue for a song.
The old romantic Tosh, aye, the old stupid romantic Tosh.
The next day I met Jack at Los Palos golf course to brush up on the
short game. Los Palos is a pleasant little course, par 3, but
challenging enough t test your short game.
It has a wonderful backdrop of Mt. Teide and an equally inviting 19th
hole.
"Your honour Tosh" invited Jack at the first.
"Cheers mate," I replied placing the ball on the elevated tee.
Whoosh went the ball as it sailed off my seven iron in to the early
morning sky which was as blue as I had ever seen it.
"Great shot Tosh," enthused my newspaper friend, as the ball bounced
once on the short fairway and on to the green coming to rest about ten
feet from the flag.
"Right, your turn," I smiled, knowing that Jack would have to hit a
cracker to do better.
Crack!
Jack's ball flew off the tee and away to the right onto the cinder path
that runs along side the fairway coming to rest after a wicked bounce
just to the right of a bunker.
We picked up our trolleys and proceeded to walk to our respective balls
chatting as we walked.
"Sorry about last night and reference to millionaires Tosh," apologised
Jack.
"That ok mate, no problem" I replied, "get it all sorted on Tuesday
ok."
"Would you like me to come with you," offered Jack probably realising
that if my money had gone missing I would blow a gasket.
"Ok Jack, maybe you can stop me punching the bastard," I replied.
"Right, say no more, lets enjoy the golf," suggested Jack
I two putted for a three and Jack pulled out a great chip shot landing
just a foot from the hole and one putted for all square.
"Great recovery Jack", I congratulated.
The rest of the round was nip and tuck first Jack taking the lead and
then me and as we approached the final hole, the ninth second time
around it was all square.
"Right Tosh, who ever loses this hole buys the ale," laughed my
companion
"Ok Jack, your honour," I invited.
The ninth hole is quite long with heavy bushes on the right and some
considerable water on the left.
Jack hit a sweet drive again with a seven iron and the ball seemed to
bounce forever along the bone hard fairway.
It left him with a simple chip shot on to the green.
"Balls" I exclaimed as my first tee shot whipped viciously left and
into the water.
"Oh I am not taking that, I will have a second ball Jack OK," I
asked
"You carry on mate," he smiled knowing full well the beers where likely
to be on me.
"Can you believe it?" I exclaimed as I hit the second almost in the
same spot.
The water boys will have another extra ball tonight
My third attempt was much better. I had lost and I relaxed whipping a
great shot almost level with Jack's first.
As expected he chipped on in one and although he two putted I was well
beaten.
"Good game Jack," I said as I offered my hand on the final green.
"Now for that beer," he smiled.
Jack is a good lad and I only wish there where more people like him on
Tenerife instead of the likes of Potter.
"Two beers Senor," I ordered as we entered the nineteenth hole.
As we sat on the terrace looking across towards the banana plantation I
pondered how many people in England would swop their miserable
existence for the life we have on Tenerife.
Little did I know that my ponderings would soon become a reality for my
golf partner but alas not his beloved Debbie.
As we finished our beers I reminded Jack of my meeting with Potter on
Tuesday, but of course we would see each other before then. The girls
would have had a wonderful day shopping and tonight we would meet in
the Claddagh or even venture further afield.
"Fancy going to Princess Di's tonight Jack, or the Drunken Duck, or
somewhere else on the Patch," I asked.
"Good idea Tosh," replied Jack, "that will be a welcome change."
We had already planned our weekend in Gran Canaria and now we looked
for opportunities to do something different.
"I am playing tenpin bowling with Katy Kennedy on Sunday in one of her
charity events at Harleys Superbowl if you and Maggie would like to
join us," invited Jack.
"Tenpin bowling, yes why not," I conceded.
Jack and I went our separate ways and arranged to meet in The
Claddagh.
I arrived home to be shortly followed by Maggie.
"Hi pet," I said rising out of my chair to embrace her.
Maggie was not her bouncy self and had a worried look on her
face.
"What's wrong Maggie?" I asked.
"It's Debbie, Tosh," she has cancer.
"What!" I exclaimed.
Maggie told me that during the visit to Santa Cruz with Debbie, Debbie
had confided that she had been to see Dr. Johnson, one of the English
doctors on Tenerife as she was feel a little run down.
A full examination not only revealed a lump in her breast, but a
hospital visit discovered lung cancer.
I was gutted.
Maggie eyes filled.
Debbie was her best friend on the island and the thought of Debbie
having cancer. It just stunned us both.
Maggie went on to explain that Debbie had not told Jack. He thought she
had been to see the doctor about her periods, which were
irregular.
Jack would be distraught.
Maggie and I discussed at some length whether Debbie should tell Jack
as he was bound to find out sooner or later, but Debbie had sworn
Maggie to secrecy.
I told Maggie we had arranged to meet our friends in Princess Di's that
evening and I was not sure whether I would be able to say
nothing.
"Look Tosh, if you say anything that will destroy Debbie's trust in me
and she is going to need all the help she can get over the months
ahead," explained Maggie.
I tried to put it out of my mind.
We arrived at Princess Di's and received our usual warm welcome from
Les Styles. Les thinks he is a ladies man, and who can blame him.
However I don't like him kissing Maggie and he knows it. I think he
does it all the more to wind me up.
No sign of Jack and Debs.
We chatted with Jackie Peters and her husband who were stood at the
bar. Jackie is a brilliant singer, another David Alexander Award
winner. She does a lovely Shirley Bassey. Her hubby Paul is a builder.
Big lad but as gentle as a lamb.
Jack and Debs arrived and we took one of the table away from the
stage.
Debs looked drawn or was it my imagination?
The evening was subdued and when it eventually came to end and we
parted and went into the night on our separate ways.
"Maggie, the next time you are talking to Debbie, get her to tell Jack,
now before it's too late," I suggested.
"Ok Tosh, if that will make you feel better," smiled Maggie.
"I know Jack Tempest and I think he would like to hear it from Debbie
himself," I added.

Jack and I met on the Tuesday as arranged but Potter's Office was
lacked and a simple notice said "all communications regarding this
business should be directed to &;#8230;.an address in
Manchester".
"Well I suppose that's my thirty grand up the swanny Jack" I
muttered.
We went our separate ways. I was not in the mood for company. I had
lost a fortune, but because of Jack's advice only 10\% of what I could
have lost.

A few days later I received a call from Jack, simple message, "lunch at
El Cine".
When I arrived and received the usual warm welcome from Carlos I order
a beer and sat and waited for my friend.
"Hi Tosh" said Jack extending his hand.
"Another beer Carlos please," I ordered.
"Well my friend what would you like the good news or the bad news?"
enquired Jack.
Was he about to tell me about Debbie or had he some news about that
villain Potter who had gone off with my ?30,000.
"Oh I think I will have the good news," I replied.
"Well Potter has been arrested in England and is on remand for fraud,
something in the region of one and a half million pounds," said
Jack.
He went on to explain that Potter had been advertising in the British
Press and apparently the Spanish authorities had been alerted and
that's why he left Tenerife.
The British Police arrested him as he landed at Manchester
Airport.
"What about my money?" I asked impatiently.
"Well apparently he had more than ?250,000 in his suitcase when he was
picked up," said Jack.
"Well at least I might have some chance of getting my cash back," I
said trying to convince myself.
"So what's the bad news Jack," I asked.
He paused for a while took a big swig of his beer followed by an even
deeper breath.
"Debbie's got cancer Tosh," he said.
His eyes filled and he momentarily looked away from my gaze.
"Oh Jack, I am so very very sorry mate" I replied.
He sat for a moment to compose himself, took another deep breath and
wiped his eyes with a handkerchief he produced from his pocket.
"It will be alright Jack," I said reassuringly.
"No Tosh, I am going to lose her," he replied pulling himself
together.
"You know," he went on, "I have covered death, road crashes, murders
you name it and very rarely batted an eyelid, but this has cut me in
two Tosh," he explained.
He told me that Debbie had seen Doctor Johnson, a local English
practitioner who had settled in Los Cristianos, who had referred her
initially to the Green Hospital in Playa de las Americas. Three trips
north to Santa Cruz and the worst was revealed.
"They have told her she can have therapy, and as usual she will lose
her hair, but in the end they have given her less than six months,""he
struggled to tell me.
At least he had told somebody and I have always believed that a problem
shared was a problem halved.
"Will you tell Maggie, Tosh?" he asked, "I could not go through it
again at the moment".
"Of course I will Jack," I replied, knowing that my beloved Maggie
already knew.
We did not eat at El Cine, and as we left I just winked at Carlos and
said I would see him later.
Carlos must have thought it was very strange as Jack and I usually
polished off a mountain of food.

The next few weeks passed and Jack and Debbie tried to get on with what
was left of their time together and we helped seeing as much of our
dear friends as possible. It was hard to grasp that in a very short
space of time, the happy smiling Debbie would no longer be with
us.
Maggie and Debbie carried on as normal but whenever I saw the poor lass
she was visibly getting weaker.
Another call from Jack signalled a return to El Cine.
This time we did eat.
"Tosh, as you know Debbie is not getting any better and she has decided
she wants to return home, to see her friends and family, before," Jack
stopped not being able to say the obvious.
"I understand Jack, have you made any plans?" I asked.
"Well we are going sooner rather than later and if it is ok with you,
with the apartment and all, we were thinking about next Friday," he
explained.
"Look Jack don't you worry about a thing, the apartment is not
important" I replied.
"I knew you would say that Tosh, you are a good mate, I told Debbie you
would understand," he gabbled.
"Another thing Tosh, we want to leave the island without any fuss, no
farewell party, just quietly slip away if that's ok with you," he
asked.
"No problem Jack, but can we take you to the airport," I pleaded
"I think Debbie would like that," replied Jack
"Aye and Maggie too", I concluded.
I wanted to ask Jack about his job but felt so uncomfortable I recall I
talked about the weather and my latest fund raising project.
"I know I have explained about the apartment Tosh, and you had better
let it to someone else. But the newspaper have said I can have my job
back anytime if I decide to return," he went on.
"Listen I told you don't even give a second thought to the apartment. I
will let it easily and if, when you come back, there is always another
one for you Jack, you know that," I replied.
"Thanks mate," he said, "But you will appreciate I don't know whether I
am on my arse or my elbow at present, and coming back to Tenerife is
not part of the equation," he added.
We concluded our lunch and Jack said he had to go to another
meeting.
He left and I hung around El Cine hoping to catch Carlos. In between
feeding the many customers I told Carlos, swearing him to secrecy that
Jack and Debbie were leaving the island because Debbie was very ill.
Carlos was as gutted as I was and asked if there was anything he could
do.
"The only thing we can do Carlos, is let them go and pray for them" I
replied.

On my return home I told Maggie of my meeting with Jack and she had
more than a few tears that day. Her best mate Debbie not only was
returning to England but she was going home to die. Once again the
bottom had fallen out of our world and the only consolation we had was
that we still had each other.

We kept our promise to Jack and Debbie and said nothing. Friday came
all too soon and we met Debbie and Jack at their apartment for final
farewells.
Debbie was exceptionally brave and put her arms around Maggie.
"Don't cry Maggie, you will have me at it too and I need all my
strength for the flight home," she said in a controlled voice.
"Oh Debbie," cried Maggie, " I will miss you."
"Well you will have to come and visit, Hartlepool is wonderful in the
summer," laughed Debbie.
"Oh could we Tosh" enquired Maggie.
"Of course we can," I replied.
Little did we realise at the time Debbie would never see the summer sun
in England again.
We sat in silence on the journey to the airport, none us knowing what
to say.
Jack and I unloaded the car and pushed the trolley load of luggage into
the departure area.
"That's far enough Tosh," said Jack with arresting firmness.
"Let us say our farewell's here" he pleaded,
"Ok mate," I said extending my hand and then wrapping my arms around
this great guy.
Tears flooded to my eyes, yes this villain, almost crying at the
thought of losing out friends, and one of them forever.
Maggie and Debs were hugging each other and then we exchanged partners,
Maggie hugging Jack and me saying my final farewells to the lovely
Debbie.
My heart was aching and it could not have hurt more if it was Maggie
who was going.
The sad couple walked away and we returned to our car.
The drive back to Los Cristianos was as sad as the journey to the
airport.
I could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks and the salt water
going into my mouth.
I sniffed to fight them back and that signalled a flood of tears from
Maggie.
"Oh Tosh, why oh why does something like this happen to a lovely women
like Debbie," she sobbed.
"I know pet," I replied, reaching across to squeeze her hand.
We arrived home and Maggie asked" would you like a drink Tosh".
"No I don't think so but I will have a coffee, here let me do it," I
replied.
We sat almost in silence and drank our coffee.
It was a bad day on Fantasy Island and once again reality had jumped
up and bitten us.
Although I was not feeling like eating I persuaded Maggie that we
should try and get out of the apartment and do something.
"Jack and Debbie would want us to get on with our lives," I said even
though I did not even convince myself.
Maggie agreed but a meal was out of the question, but we had to get
out.
We walked along the promenade in Los Cristianos, past Royston Jones
singing to the tourists, passed El Cine arriving as we usually did at
the Claddagh.
Maggie said "oh not tonight Tosh" but I insisted.
I felt if we did not go in tonight then we would never return. Stupid I
know but we did need to tell people that Jack and Debbie had
gone.
"His Tosh" said Eddie, the owner as we entered our local, the Irish Bar
in which all four of us had enjoyed so many nights. "Hi Maggie"
repeated Eddie plonking a kiss on her tanned cheek.
We sat with out beers but really after a while Maggie was proved right
this was neither the time nor the place to be enjoying ourselves.
I took Eddie to one side and told him about Jack and Debbie leaving and
Debbie's medical situation. He would tell his wife Bobby and our other
friends in The Claddagh.
We only had the one and then made our excuses and left.
As we walked into the night, back along our original route I did wonder
when the next tragedy would cross our lives.
People who visit the island in search of sun, sea and whatever are
never disappointed
For those of us who live here all year round, life has to go on. The
trials and tribulations are no different than back in the UK. Aye life
is a big wheel. Sometimes you are on top and other times on the
bottom.

The next few weeks dragged by.
We had a letter from Jack and Debbie and she had been receiving
treatment at the local General Hospital and The Royal Victoria Hospital
in Newcastle upon Tyne.
According to Jack's letter she was putting on a brave face but getting
weaker by the day.
The weather did not help as the clocks had gone back and it was cold,
wet and miserable and that came over very strongly in Jack's
letter.
He was working freelance for a local paper who were only too keen to
use his vast experience and via the Internet he was sending a column
each week entitled Across the Pond to an American newsletter.
Maggie replied to the letter and I told her to make it as light hearted
as possible and tell them about all the goings on here on Fantasy
Island.
Maggie and Debbie exchanged three or four letters.
One November morning I was messing about on the computer when the
telephone rang.
"Hello Tosh Grant speaking," I announced.
"Oh hello Tosh, its Jack Tempest here," he replied.
"Oh hi Jack great to hear from you," I said.
"Bad news I am afraid Tosh, Debbie was admitted to the Hospice
yesterday," he said in a sombre tone.
"Oh Jack, I am so very sorry," I replied.
At that Maggie came into the room from the balcony where she had been
soaking up the African winter sunshine.
"It's Jack on the phone," I told her.
"Would you like to speak to Maggie Jack," I enquired.
"That would be good" replied my friend in the UK.
Jack then told Maggie about Debbie's worsening condition.
She handed the phone back to me when she had concluded her
conversation.
"Hi old mate" I said assuming the conversation, not really knowing what
to say.
"Right Tosh, I will go now, but I knew you and Maggie especially would
want to know" he concluded.
"Look Jack ring me everyday if you need to, that's why we are here" I
replied.
He rang off.
"It does not look good Maggie," I said placing my hand on Maggie's
shoulder.
She was visibly shaken and once again I realised how helpless we are in
the overall pattern of things.
"Tosh, I want to go and see Debbie," announced Maggie.
"But," I started to respond.
"No but's Tosh, I want to see Debbie before she goes," said Maggie in
that firm voice that means do it, and do it now.
"Ok love, I will ring the Travel Shop now," I conceded.
I rang the Travel Shop and we could fly to Teesside the nearest airport
to Hartlepool in two days time, Tuesday.
"Is Tuesday OK, Maggie," I enquired, interrupting my conversation with
the girl at the Travel Shop.
Maggie nodded.
"Yes Tuesday's ok, I will call in today to pay you and collect tickets
ok," I said.
I replaced the receiver not knowing why I had responded to Maggie's
demands.
It was something she wanted to do.
"Right," I said better get organised.
Old Tosh is a great organiser.

Jack Tempest rang on Monday evening and told us that Debbie was stable.
I told him Maggie had decided she wanted to come and see Debbie and I
needed some help with accommodation.
Jack wanted us to stay with him but I resisted that we stayed in a
hotel and opted for a week in the West Quay, a new hotel Jack
recommended on the Marina. He gave us details of car hire and I faxed
the people direct to have a car at the airport.
Maggie packed and I went to town to collect the tickets. Coming out of
the travel shop I bumped into Eddie Walsh from the Claddagh and told
him chapter and verse about Jack and Debbie.
"Give them our love," said Eddie
Tuesday arrived and our taxi to the airport was on time.
I secured the apartment and the local Stirling Moss taxi driver sped
off to the airport at break neck speed.
"Would passengers for Flying Colours flight FCL142 to Teesside please
check in at gate 19" the tannoy announced.
Maggie and I were only too glad to get rid of our bags.
I don't mind waiting at the airport, as I am a people watcher. We
browsed through the duty free and we bought a bottle of Glenmorangie
for Jack and some of Debbie's favourite perfume Allure.
I know it was only a gesture but it was what Maggie wanted to do and
probably need to do.
The flight was uneventful and we eventually arrived at Teesside. It was
raining and large puddles had formed in the car park.
As promised our hire car was there and we drove in silence and pouring
rain the thirteen or so miles to Hartlepool. Jack had faxed us a small
map and true to his usual efficiency we arrived at the West Quay on the
Marina.
The rain was lashing down as we walked the few yards from the car park
to reception.
It was freezing.
As soon as we signed in, and took our bags to the room, I phoned
Jack.
"Hi Jack its Tosh we have arrived, how is Debbie," I asked.
"Oh she is failing fast Tosh, let me speak to Maggie" he asked.
"Maggie - Jack" I said passing the receiver to Maggie.
Jack told Maggie that if she wanted to see Debbie it better be soon.
Arrangements were made and Jack arrived within the half-hour.
"Hello mate" I greeted him and he flung his arms around Maggie.
"Oh its great to see you both, thanks for coming," he said tears
filling his eyes.
"Let's go," he suggested, "I would not want for you to have come all
this way and.." he stopped abruptly.
We understood.
Back into the driving rain, we made the short journey in Jack's car
past the town centre, to a street with large Victorian houses on either
side.
Alice House said the sign as we pulled up outside.
This was the Hospice.
Jack led the way and was greeted by a blue uniformed Macmillan
nurse.
"Hello Mr. Tempest," she greeted, "oh and these must be your friends
from Tenerife," she added.
We were taken along a corridor to a small private room were Debbie
was.
What awaited Maggie and I well we shall never forget.
Our dear friend Debbie, that beautiful lady that had arrived in
Tenerife those few months ago, was a mere shadow of her former self,
thin, draw, lying there waiting to die.
"Oh Debbie, its lovely to see you," said Maggie as she approached the
bed.
Debbie smiled and whispered "Oh Maggie, Oh Maggie, thank you for
coming".
Debbie was obviously so very weak but nevertheless perked up at the
sight of her friend Maggie.
We did not stay too long as the energy Debbie used to talk quickly
weakened her.
Maggie had her wish and had seen Debbie once again.
We left and Jack took us back to the Quay.
"Are we eating tonight Jack," enquired Maggie, obviously concerned that
our reporter friend was neglecting himself as he struggled to care for
Debbie.
"Oh I don't think so Maggie," replied Jack.
"But you have to eat Jack, please join us," insisted Maggie.
Maggie is insistent and our friend finally agreed.
"I will pick you up at 8.00 o' clock" replied Jack.
We returned to our room and said little.
Maggie had visited Debbie and although very upset at the state of her
friend was satisfied she had made the effort.
Jack arrived on time and took us to a little restaurant called Krimo's
at Seaton Carew.
We had a pleasant evening, the food was as good as any we had tasted on
Tenerife but the only thing that was missing was obviously
Debbie.
Maggie and I tried to avoid talking about her and asked about his
exploits since he came back from Tenerife.
It was difficult as Debbie had become more than a part of his life, she
was his life.
How he would cope when she eventually passed on was anybody's
guess.
It was a question we would not have to wait long to have
answered.
Maggie and I thanked Jack for a splendid meal and he took us back to
the Quay.
Maggie went straight to bed but Jack and I went into the bar for a
nightcap.
"Two brandies please," I ordered from the bar.
"Well Jack, old mate, how are you really coping," I said detecting that
my friend needed to unburden as he had in El Cine those few weeks
ago.
"Oh I am ok Tosh, but thanks for asking. When the end comes as it
surely must, well we shall see how strong I am then," he
explained.
We finished our nightcap and I hugged my mate and watched as he drove
off into the dark, wet night.
Maggie was asleep when I returned to the room.
I lay there wondering how I would cope if my constant companion, my
partner, my lover, died before I did. Morbidity set in and I did not
sleep.
The constant patter of the driving rain, thoughts about Jack and Debbie
filled my head and sleep evaded me. I just lay there watching over my
Maggie.
I was relieved the next morning when Maggie finally awoke from her deep
sleep.
She smiled; she smiled as only she can.
"I love you Anthony Grant," she said putting her arms around me. "I
just love you to bits,"
"I love you too Maggie," I replied and we just held each other, safe in
the knowledge that we were together.
We said nothing for what seemed an age and just looked at each
other.
I can't imagine what Maggie was thinking but my thoughts were with
Jack and how he would be once again alone.
Our silence was interrupted by the telephone.
We both looked at each other.
"Hello" I said,
"Oh Hello Tosh, its Jack here," said the voice on the other end of the
phone.
"She's gone Tosh, Debbie passed away during the night," he
sobbed.
"Oh Jack, where are you?" I enquired.
"I am still at the hospice, waiting for the undertakers to arrive," he
wept.
"Oh Jack, Maggie and I will be there as soon as possible" I
replied.
"Bye" replied Jack.
"I am sorry Maggie, but Debbie's gone" I said my eyes filling with
tears.
Maggie burst into tears and kept repeating "Oh no, Oh No."
I tried to console her but it was for the best that she cried.
"I told Jack be would go to the hospice in half an hour" I
explained.
"Look Maggie, we need to be strong for Jack," I said in an effort to
stop her crying.
My heart was aching and a pain in my chest was as acute as ever I had
felt it.
"Go and have a shower love," I suggested, picking Maggie up from the
bed and putting my arms around her.
"Ok" she conceded and made her way to the bathroom.
I followed suit and we arrived at the Hospice just after 10 am.
The same nurse we had seen the previous day greeted us.
"I am so sorry about your friend," she said placing her hand on
Maggie's arm
"Thank you" replied Maggie.
I saw Jack at the end of the corridor and Maggie ran towards him.
"Oh Jack, I am so very very sorry," Maggie sobbed as she put her arms
around our friend.
That was the signal for Jack to release his tears and I stood by and
watched them both break their hearts.
Jack looked up.
I extended my hand and whispered, "I am sorry Jack".
I did not know what else to say.
Jack composed himself and said the undertakers had been and Debbie was
now in the Chapel of Rest. He had anticipated that the end was very
near and had spoken to an old friend, the vicar of St. Oswald's and the
funeral was arranged for Monday morning, the following week.
Fortunately we would be still in the UK and that would please
Maggie.
The rest of the week we tried to keep out of Jack's way as he went
about visiting his relations, Debbie's family and making sure his
beloved would have an appropriate send off.
He did dine with us once again this time at Joe Rigatoni's an Italian
in Church Street.
Debbie would have approved. She loved Italian food.
At the end of the meal, which we all struggled to eat, Jack ordered
three brandies and proposed a toast.
"Absent friends" he said.
Maggie and I were gutted, as indeed was Jack.
We drank the toast in silence.
The local paper which both Jack and Debbie worked for before coming to
Tenerife carried a wonderful tribute to our friend, which Maggie and I
kept to take back to the island.
The day of the funeral was difficult and I cannot explain the feelings
we had.
St. Oswald's Church was packed to capacity and some people had to stand
at the rear of the church.
People remarked it was a beautiful service, but I am afraid I can
recall little as I tried to support my distraught Maggie.
Jack gave an address which signalled me joining Maggie sobbing
openly.
"My friend, my constant companion farewell. No longer will we walk
barefoot along a sun-drenched beach, or swim with the dolphins. No
longer will we hear the sound of your infectious laughter or listen to
your voice. But I will remember the kindness and light you brought into
our miserable lives, lives that will be empty because you are no longer
here to share them.
Goodbye my love, sleep well." Said Jack.
His voice never quivered throughout, even though all around people wept
openly.
The final hymn, "Abide with Me" was played as the cortege slowly made
its way out of the church.
We sat quietly in the church until Debbie's coffin had disappeared from
view for the private ceremony at the crematorium.
As we left the church the organist began to play "Island in the
Sun".
I could not control my weeping and Maggie and I emerged from the church
into the pouring rain that had been with us since our arrival in the
northeast.
We did not see Jack again that day.
The next morning we packed in almost complete silence.
Jack came to take us to the airport.
"Well Tosh," he said as we said our farewells at the airport, adding,
"you take care."
"Aye and you too Jack" I replied.
Jack embraced Maggie and we left our mourning friend to return to our
island in the sun.
Would Jack Tempest get over the loss of his beloved Debbie?
I doubt it.
But whether or not he would return to Tenerife remains to be
seen.
Maggie and I said little on the homeward flight but my love had
fulfilled her wish and said farewell to her friend.
Goodbye Debbie and God bless.