I reached the Bull car park at Bramcliffe and pulled in among vehicles that were glittering from a light drizzle. I was five minutes early. In the Bull's front porch lights I saw Tony and Rita trot up the steps, giggling to each other with a carefree couldn't-care-less spontaneity that somehow I envied. I got out and searched for Samantha's Jaguar but I couldn't see it. Maybe they had arrived by taxi and gone inside.

     My left temple ached. I rubbed it gently, hoping to smooth away the dull throb. Music and laughter came from the Bull. It sounded to me that a circuit comedian was on stage. I had not been here since I had broken my leg. At one time I had been a regular, drinking with the lads, eyeing the girls - all the things you did when you were young and unattached. But now things were different. I sure was not single but I was playing the game as though I was. I dawdled at the entrance and wondered what to do. A stiff breeze got up. That settled it - I went inside. The pub had not changed much since my last visit. The four-foot high stage had the same gold and maroon curtains and sure enough, a raucous voiced comedian, dressed in a ridiculous black and yellow chequered suit, was yapping corny jokes into a mike.

     I glanced round the pub but couldn't see Natalie. Then it hit me - she might not be coming. I had not thought of that. I turned to go back outside and bumped into Mickey Davis coming in. "Hello, Al," he said briskly. "That Natalie bird is waiting for you outside. Looks like she's lost."

     I said thanks to him and shoved through the door. She was standing against a wall sheltering from the wind. "We must talk," she said. I could tell there was something amiss. I asked her where was Samantha. "She couldn't come. Could we go inside - I'm freezing." I sat her well away from the bar in a small alcove and went to the bar to buy her a soft drink.

     All-seeing Tony grinned. "I see you've brought the wife then."

     Pop Dawson came in complaining about the weather, his grey hair sticking up in angled tufts. He said something but it was lost in laughter as the audience responded to the comedian.

     Rita tapped my shoulder and asked if she could sit with Natalie while I was in the meeting. "Don't worry," she said. "I won't say anything."

     "That's okay," I said, returning to Natalie with a large glass of lemon and lime. She was looking uncomfortable. "What's bothering you?" I said.

     She sipped her drink. "It's my brother, John. He says if I don't end our affair he will fire me from my job." Her hands reached out across the table. I enclosed them in mine. "He can sack me if he likes. If you want to, we can go some place else together. I'm tired of working at Schaeffers. John's even told Samantha he will sack her if she helps me see you. She's not brought me tonight because of that - she wants to keep her job." Her grip tightened round my hands. "Would you go away with me? I have a very good bank account and money would be no problem."

     "It's not money, Natalie. Leaving your home and job to go with someone you hardly know is a tough call."

     Tony came over and told me the meeting was starting. He grinned at Natalie. "You look a bit lost, darlin'. Don't worry, my Rita's coming over in a minute to keep you company." He gripped my arm. "Come on, mate, shake yourself."

     Pop Dawson opened the meeting with a short discussion on subscriptions. I hardly heard a word of what he said. I had to end this affair with Natalie. I reached out in front of me for a drink that was not there. The meeting did not last long, but Pop Dawson told me of Phiz Norris, the Chilton Magna centre-half. "He's hard," said Pop, "and he loves dishing out a bit of Timpsons, so watch out for him."

     "Norris ain't hard," scoffed Mickey, grinning at me. "Don't worry about him, Al. I sorted him when I played for Littleton Nomads - busted a couple of his ribs. If he tries any rough stuff - I'll have him."

     Pop made sure we knew how to get to the Chilton Magna ground and then closed the meeting. Most of the lads settled to listen to a jazz quartet but I joined Natalie. Rita smiled at me and got up. "Have a nice evening," she said. She joined Tony and Mickey at the bar. "I've seen Rita before," Natalie said.

     I said I wasn't surprised. How could you forget anyone with green hair? There are times when you sense someone is looking at you. You get a prickly feeling behind your ears; the back of your neck becomes stiff. I looked at the people sitting near us. The bar was almost full and the jazz group was in full swing, so why the feeling I was being watched? I searched along the bar, then at the seats and tables close to us on our left.

     Then I saw him - average build with an insignificant face. Pince-nez glasses, pale blue eyes and a grey raincoat. The raincoat was the same colour as was my own. He didn't smile at me or show recognition. Then he looked away. I shrugged to myself. There were plenty of people here I did not know. I was looking now at a couple at the next table. They were in whispered conversation. The man laughed, looked up at me, looked back at the girl. He did not know me: I did not know him. I looked again for the man wearing Pince-nez. He had gone. Again, I shrugged. I was seeing trouble at every quarter.

     Natalie said she fancied a late meal - but not in Shefton. I said cheerio to the lads and escorted Natalie across the car park to my vehicle. I had heard of a decent cafe near the centre of Bramcliffe and we found it set back from a water fountain next the Bramcliffe Hotel. The cafe tables had grey coverings and sported a single blue candle in a pewter candle holder. The cafe was small and most tables were taken but we found a corner table next the kitchen. We both settled for Hungarian Goulash.

     During the meal Natalie relaxed and told me of her upbringing. There was an older brother, Ronnie, who had gone to London in the 30s and somehow, became involved in that underworld. Upon the outbreak of World War 11, John had joined the Forces. Her father was wrapped up in the family business and this left the mother with Angela and Natalie "Mother never had initiative," said Natalie. "It's her nerves, I think. Angela started going into Shefton and getting into scrapes - was experimenting with drugs before she was fifteen. I've no idea where she got them from. Father couldn't sort things out because he was too busy, and me - I was thrust into a side room - with the door locked on the outside." She smiled, looking absolutely beautiful and I felt myself being drawn ever closer to her. "Tell me about yourself," she said.

     "There's not much to tell. I'm twenty-three. I work in a factory and I play football. That's about it."

     "Have you much experience with women?"

     I smiled. "Nothing exceptional - until now." I didn't want the conversation to turn to me so I asked why she had not come in her own car.

     "Angela borrowed it. At that time I thought Samantha would bring me but that changed when John had words with her. That's why I came tonight by taxi."

     "We're playing at Chilton Magna on Saturday," I said. "It's near Leskam, which is near Schaeffer Hall. Will you be coming?"

     "Of course I will."

     "How? Shall I pick you up in town, or...?

     "I'll make my own way there." We finished the meal with coffee and I drove her back to Shefton. We spoke hardly at all. I pulled up in a small blind alley close to West Street. She turned to me and said abruptly. "Do you want to see me again, or are you not bothered?"

     The engine was throbbing, its vibrations pulsing through both of us. Yet again I had a chance to end it. Almost any negative answer would have ended the affair but John Schaeffer was niggling me. I couldn't allow some smart city big shot to push us around and so I said what I knew I should not have said. "I'd love to see you again - because I want to be with you."

     "Right." She flung open the passenger door. "See you Saturday at Chilton Magna."  She got out and turned left along West Street, fading in the gloom under the street lights. I drove off toward Shatley.


Up to now, November had been a lousy month weather wise and it didn't look tonight as though it would improve. I took my time driving home and didn't get in until ten-thirty. Laura was huddled on the carpet next the fire staring at the television. "You're late," she said. She got up and stretched. I put my arms round her. "You're late," she said again, "and you're cold."

     I nuzzled her neck. "Warm me up then."

     She took off my raincoat and hung it at the bottom of the stairs. "The wind's getting up," she said. "It's coming through a crack in the wall by the front window. I would have sealed it but I have nothing to seal it with."

     "I'll sort that out tomorrow night," I said.

     "Don't forget you're taking me to the Horse tomorrow."

     "I won't forget."

     She kissed my neck. "Are you playing on Saturday?"

     "Yes - at Chilton Magna."

     "Mind if I come with you?"

     It felt as though she had hit me in the stomach. I tried to maintain a casual voice. "Don't even think about it," I said. "I hear they've got a miserable little ground and if it rains you're right out in the open with no cover."

     "I could sit in the car and watch."

     It was time to lie again. "There's nowhere to park the car for you to see us play. Tony Ross told me tonight about it. He says Chilton are a new team in our league. Says they should not have been allowed to join because their ground and their facilities aren't good enough."

     My answer seemed to satisfy her, although Tony Ross could not have seen a ground which did not exist until this season. I fixed us both hot chocolate drinks and carried them upstairs to bed. I undressed. Switched off the bedroom light.

     Laura reached out for me in the darkness.


On Friday night the Horse concert room was crowded with jazz enthusiasts, choking with cigarette smoke and smelling of beer. Lucky Needham punched out a drum solo. Technically, he was not much of a drummer but he believed that shattering power overcame his lack of musical skill. The stage lights suspended above him shook to his crashing rhythms. "Christ!" yelled Joe Hillian to me above the racket. "Yer don't need an 'earin' aid to listen to 'im, do yer? He's louder than all the Byfield factory trip hammers put together."

     Needham ended his solo and glared at the crowd. "Do you want some more of that?" There was silence. Needham took that for a 'yes' and stormed into another barrage of pounding drums and crashing cymbals. After a further minute, Needham appeared tired and the pianist came in to take a chorus, followed by Bobby Patterson on clarinet. I listened carefully to him, he was improving rapidly and gaining confidence.

     Laura and I stayed within our usual group of friends. I sat back in the smoke-filled racket and thought of Natalie, knowing that this kind of existence would not suit her. Surely there was no way our affair could succeed. Laura was sitting directly opposite me, sparkle showing in her eyes. She had on a maroon dress, which she knew I liked to see her wearing. A grey slide held back her black hair. She looked fabulous. Her eyes flicked to me. She saw that I was watching her, and held my gaze for seconds longer than she normally would have done. Whatever was in her mind at that moment - I had no idea.

     I sipped my glass of Rundle's beer. Women - beautiful priceless women - who would be without them?