Free Plender by Ted Lewis Page B

Knott.”
    Now I knew I was in hell. Staring into the car was a face I hadn’t seen for fifteen years. The face of Brian Plender.
    A car swept past us, it’s headlights turning Plender’s face chalk white, blurring the features, and then bringing them back into focus.
    Brian Plender. My Christ.
    “Christ,” he said. “Peter. Peter Knott.”
    He stepped back. I was expected to get out of the car. Somehow I managed to do what was expected of me. We shook hands and I found it in me to say his name out loud and smile and gabble a few meaningless phrases.
    “I don’t believe it,” he said again. “I really don’t. Here. What’re you doing on this side of the river, anyway? You don’t live over here, do you?”
    “Well, actually, yes . . .”
    “What a coincidence. Me and you. Neighbours for years and now we’re neighbours again. In a manner of speaking.”
    He punched me lightly on the upper arm.
    “Do you live near here?” he said.
    “Yes. Yes, I do.”
    “Whereabouts?”
    I told him. He whistled.
    “You must be doing all right. I live in Henderson Street. Do you know it? It’s off Carr Road.”
    I shook my head.
    “Not surprising,” he said, as though it was a joke. Then his face became serious. “Anyway, look, about your car. I’m sorry. I really am. But, I know someone in the trade. He owes me a favour. Let me have it now and I can have it back to you by Monday.”
    I opened my mouth but I was sure I wasn’t going to be able to speak.
    “No, that’s all right,” I heard myself say. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it seen to myself.”
    “You sure? Look, honestly, let me . . .”
    “No. My own garage’ll do it,” I said. I managed a smile. “They specialise in Mercedes.”
    “Well, have it your way,” he said. “I say, if you live in Ingham, you must know the Ferry Boat.”
    I nodded. I knew what he was going to suggest. Sickness welled up in my chest. I had to get away from him. My previous plan was useless now. I had to be on my own and think of something else instead of standing in the flicking rain acting out this bloody farce. But I daren’t be too abrupt in case at a later date my abruptness was remembered.
    “Yes, I do,” I said. “I . . .”
    “Well then, this calls for a drink.” He looked at his watch. “We’ve over half an hour. Hell, we’ve fifteen years to fill in. What about it?”
    “Look, Brian I’d love to,” I said. “But I told the wife . . .”
    “The wife? You, married?” He punched me on the arm again. “You old son of a gun. You’re the last of the old gang I’d expect to be married. Still, knowing you, she’s worth the ball and chain, eh?”
    I forced my mouth to work again and managed to nod my head at the same time.
    “The thing is,” I said, “I’ve been working all day and she’s been expecting me since six . . .”
    “Phone her up,” he said. “This kind of thing doesn’t happen every day. She’s bound to understand. Better still, why don’t we go straight round there? I’m dying to meet the lass that put a dog collar on old Peter Knott. How about it?”
    There was no way out of it. I had to go and have a drink with him. Anything rather than take him home with me. That was unthinkable. Once home I’d never get out of the house again; there’d be nothing plausible enough I could tell Kate. A couple of drinks now and I’d be able to get rid of him at closing time.
    “Well, we’d better not do that,” I said. “But I suppose I’ve got time for a quick jar.” I forced a smile. “As you say, it’s not every day of the week this kind of thing happens.”
    PLENDER
    The Ferry Boat was full of Hoo-ray Henrys. It always was and it always would be. The kind of local the Hoo-rays referred to as Their Little Pub on the River. As we pushed our way through the mass in the saloon to get to the snug it appeared that quite a few of the Hoo-rays were on terms with Knott. It didn’t surprise me. Knott was the type to aspire to that