Curiosity

Curiosity

Peter Jones was curious, his friends Jacko and Charley were up to something and he couldn’t fathom out what it was. It all began at lunchtime when he went to meet them at the Swan. They had been meeting in the Swan every Tuesday at lunchtime for a pie and a pint ever since Peter had retired from the council. – Gloria, the manageress served a homemade steak and kidney pie that brought old jaded taste buds back to life and she pulled a mean pint of Best Scotch too.

 He had walked into the bar, ordered a pint, and while he was waiting for it to be drawn, had glanced into the mirror. Jacko and Charley had their heads together talking about something and taking surreptitious glances in his direction. He wondered what they were up too and his curiosity only intensified when he carried his pint to the table and they jerked apart as if he had caught them kissing. For the moment the thought caught him off guard, then he pulled himself together. No don’t be daft, never in a million years, not those two.

Placing his pint on the table he said, ‘what’s up Jacko? You look a bit flushed.’

Jacko gave nervous smile and said, ‘Nar not me Peter, it’s just a bit warm in here today.’

‘What about you Charley, heard anything new?’

‘Eh, What?’ Charley said, looking as if he had been caught with his hand in the sweetie jar.

That did it. As far as Peter was concerned they were definitely up to something and he decided that the only way he would find out was to asked them outright, ‘OK, what was all the whispering about.’

‘Whispering? When?’ asked Jacko, his face crumpling like brown paper bag as he frowned.

Oh, he’s good, thought Peter, ‘When I was at the bar getting my pint,’ he said.

‘We weren’t whispering, only talking,’ said Charley.

‘Of course you were whispering, you had your heads together, like a pair of kids swapping nits.’

‘Nar, Charley was telling me about this bloke down by his.’

‘What bloke was that then Charley?’ asked Peter.

Charlie’s face went blank and then brightened, ‘It was Bob, Bob Whatsit from Thingamy Street, around the corner, he had a massive heart attack and they whipped him off to the Queen Elizabeth.’

Bob Whatsit, thought Peter, Thingamy Street, God what a load of old guff. The pair of them couldn’t tell a decent lie if their lives depended on it. But no matter how he tried, they stuck stubbornly to their story and since they were his best friends and he didn’t want to fall out with them, he eventually decided to let the argument drop.

His curiosity however wasn’t satisfied and he decided to follow them when they left the pub. Which was going to be pretty awkward, since they all went home on different busses from the same bus stop.  Jacko and Charley took the Nº 49 to the other end of the town and Peter the Nº 16 up to The Leam. Any worries he might have entertained about tailing them on the bus disappeared when the Nº 49 arrived. He simply waited until his friends were making their way to the back of the bus and then he flashed his pass and nipped up the stairs. It was a bit trickier when they got off at the High Street, there he had to wait until they got off, then dash down the stairs and jump off before the driver could close the doors.

He barely made it onto the pavement before the bus pulled away and he got a dirty look and a two fingered salute from driver. Like a detective in cheap magazine, he tailed them from afar, always keeping several people between his quarries and himself. Hiding in doorways and behind a newspaper that he bought, he followed them to dozens of places. But since there was no way that he could follow them inside without being spotted, he was no wiser at the end of the day than he had been at the beginning. He did however gain one piece of information, he overheard them arranging to meet at one thirty the next day outside the library.

The next morning he was having a late breakfast when the phone rang. It was Gloria, ‘Good morning Peter, how are you?’

‘Good morning, how are you?’ he said wondering why on earth she was ringing him.

‘You used to work in accounts, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, for the council.’ 

‘I was wondering if you could help me out?’

‘Yes…If I can,’ he said, a little hesitantly.

Gloria laughed at the hesitation and said, ‘Great, I’ve just done the management accounts for the brewery and since I’ve got to hand them in this afternoon, I wondered if you give them a quick once over.’

‘No problem, but I have be to somewhere else at half one.’

‘It’ll not take more that half an hour, so if you come around at eleven, you can check the accounts and we can have an early lunch afterwards – It’s roast beef and Yorkshire puddings today – and you will still be in plenty time for your meeting.’

‘OK, see you at eleven,’ he said and rang off. Great, he thought, in exchange for half an hours work he would get a free meal with a couple of pints thrown in and he would still have time to get back on the trail of those secretive friends of his.

He reached the pub a little before eleven to find the door still locked so he banged on the door and a moment later the bolts were drawn. Gloria ushered him in, ‘Go straight through to the lounge Peter, I’ve set up the accounts on one of the tables.’

He opened the door, stepped into the lounge and nearly jumped out of his skin, when there was a roar from a crowd led by Jackie and Charley of, ‘Happy Birthday Peter!’