Our Night pt2.

The next instalment of my novelle Our Night.

The full book can be bought online at

thebookdragon.co.uk

Friday night was the big night for going out in our town back then. Usually for going out with friends: lads with lads, lasses with lasses. Rarely couples; that was what Saturday nights were for. The end of a working week, for those lucky enough to have a job. Time to meet friends, let your hair down, have a drink and some fun. Not that everyone was able to do that sensibly. There was then – as now, so the papers and news stories have us believe – the odd idiot who couldn’t control themselves after having a few drinks. Don’t get me wrong – we were no angels, we always had a few – but most of the time we knew when to stop, when enough was enough. Yes, there were times when we did drink too much, but those were rare, and we soon regretted it the next morning – or should I say afternoon – by the time we’d woken and sobered up.

Times have certainly changed since we were young drinkers. For one thing, there was a restriction on pub opening times. They were closed until the late afternoon and shut at eleven o’clock most nights, except Sundays when it was ten thirty. Then towards the end of the decade it changed to allow all day drinking, eleven to eleven, not like now, where it seems as though they’re open all the time. Another difference was that now there’s more awareness of the effects of alcohol on our body, physically and mentally. Back then, it was seen by some as a big thing to go out and drink a lot; thankfully, that side of it has improved. Everybody knows the effects of binge drinking. There are examples nearly every day in the newspapers and footage on news programmes at the weekend, especially during the summer months, of people being affected by drink. I’m not sure how people can afford to drink these days; the price of it, it’s unbelievable. It’s understandable why so many pubs are closing. I saw something on the internet the other day about how pub closures are at their highest level for nearly ten years.

 “Matthew, I’m ready and waiting. What’s the hold up?” Rosie asks croakily.

            “Nothing, my love. I’ll get started,” I answer.

* * *

Sometime in the 1980s, in an industrial town in the North of England …

“Matthew,” Mother shouted up to me, “you’d better hurry up and get ready. Michael and Billy will be here soon. Don’t keep them waiting. You know how Billy likes winding your dad up.”

“Yeah, okay. I won’t be long; just getting dried,” I answered, taking my time. I wasn’t sure why I’d agreed to go out. Mick and Billy said I spent too much time at Uni or in the library and needed to get out more. Maybe they had a point. I knew what they really meant. I finished getting dried and just threw any clothes on. Not worth bothering to get my best clothes out. No reason to. As I went down the stairs, I could hear Mick and Billy talking to Mam and Dad. I was in no hurry to meet them, nor for us to get on our way to the town to meet the other two.

Friday night was always the same in our house: Dad getting ready to go the club and Mam wanting him out as quickly as possible so she could get some peace and quiet and the television to herself. The club was my dad’s thing, only a short walk from our house. He would go there to meet his friends and have a game of snooker and a couple of drinks at the end of his week. Mam would go with him on Saturday nights when there was live music from some of the local groups, along with the Bingo. They would meet their friends from up the road and walk there and back together, occasionally stopping off at each other’s houses for some supper.

Dad had his own painting and decorating business. Don’t get me wrong, it was only a small business. He’d started to be more selective the older he got. Now in his mid-fifties, knowing I wasn’t going to continue with it, and with no other children to follow in his footsteps, he was winding down, choosing the jobs from his regular and long-standing customers, or easy and quick jobs from those who he had been recommended to.

Dad was a similar height to me, Mam just a little bit smaller. He always wore a suit when he went out, his hair combed back with a little bit of grease on it to keep it in place (gel they would call it now), and couldn’t understand the youngsters these days in their jeans and a shirt with no tie. He didn’t smoke, which was a rare thing then, especially as most of his friends did. It wasn’t any big health reason, he said he’d tried it and didn’t like the taste or the smell.

Mam had a couple of part-time house cleaning jobs. She had had other jobs when I was younger, but as I’d grown up and Dad’s business had got a bit busier, she’d cut back, doing the cleaning and sorting the accounts for Dad. Her curly ginger hair was what Dad always said was the first thing that he’d noticed about her, then the striking blue eyes. Mam was the calming influence that kept everything safe and secure. I don’t think I ever saw her really lose her temper, or patience. Come to think of it, I don’t really remember any cross words between the two of them. There were times when they didn’t agree, but they always seemed to sort problems in an easy, calm way.

As I opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, Billy shouted across the room to me, “Here, Mattie, hurry up and get ready. We’re meeting Tom and Jamie at eight o’clock. It’s nearly that now, and we’ve to walk into town yet.”

“What do you mean? I am ready,” I said.

“No way, go up and put something better on. You’re out in town with your mates on Friday night, and you never know your luck. There might be some young lady just waiting for someone like you,” Billy said.

“A lazy layabout,” came Dad’s voice from the front room. “He needs to follow my example and get dressed properly when he goes out,” he added. Dad walked into the kitchen where the rest of us were.

“Hey, looking good, Mr Grey. Proper babe magnet. You’ll get old granny Jones chasing you again. Oops, sorry, Mrs Grey,” Billy teased.

“Babe magnet!” Dad said. “You make it sound as though I should be stuck on the fridge.”

“Come on, Jack, you need to get a move on as well. I’m looking forward to tonight; a bit of peace and quiet for a change,” Mam said.

“That’s right, Mrs Grey. Get rid of these two and get yourself in front of that telly. Is it Dallas or Dynasty tonight?” Mick asked. It was the first time he’d spoken, but that was what he was like.

“None of them,” she said. “It’s Magnum. Love that Tom Selleck, and then Cheers to finish off with.”

“Bit of competition there for you, Mr Grey. Got to match up to Tom Selleck,” Billy teased.

“Cheeky Bugger.”

“Aye,” Billy said, “and you’d better get a move on, or some stranger might be pinching your seat.”

“Your mate’s a cheeky bugger,” Dad said. “There’s no chance of that. Everybody knows it’s my seat, and they won’t let anyone take it.” Dad always rose to Billy’s bait.

While they were discussing the club’s seating arrangements, I went back upstairs, grumbling to myself as I went. There was nothing wrong with the shirt I’d chosen. It suited me. It wasn’t as though I was trying to look my best to attract a girl. I’d had enough of them to last me a lifetime. One in particular I was trying to forget I took the shirt off and threw it on the bed. Then I saw it: the shirt that Tina had bought me. I don’t know why, but I just took it out of the wardrobe and put it on. Maybe it was a revenge thing. ‘I’m out with my mates in town, and just to show you I’m not bothered, I’m going to wear the shirt you bought me!’ Finally dressed, I made my way downstairs. As I opened the door, I heard Mam telling Billy and Mick that she was glad I was going out after what had happened.

“Don’t worry, Mrs Grey, we’ll look after him,” I heard Mick say.

“Mam, I have been out since she left me. I haven’t turned into a hermit yet. I’ve just been busy,” I said.

“Busy avoiding the town on a Friday night,” she replied.         

“You would if the same happened to you,” I said.

“Can’t blame the lass. Came to her senses, realised he was a lazy layabout. I thought she was a lovely lass,” Dad said, winking at Mick and Billy.

“Jack, that’s awful. You know how upset he got,” Mam defended me.

“I suppose you thought she was lovely when she cancelled the wedding and packed me in, then not long after went off with that Geoff from her works. Now, six months later, he’s packed her in, and she wants to come back to me, pick up where we left off. She was waiting for me outside Uni last week to talk about it. She wants me to decide whether to have her back or not, and she’s given me over the weekend to think about it. I’m going to see her on Monday.” I took Dad’s bait and said more than I should have.