Justtin

Chapter seven

Not the road to Cairo either


On giving the castle a visual once over, dad thought it would be best to try and find himself a bit more shelter than he’d had the night before. He’d woken up with a stiff neck, due to the lump of concrete he’d made his pillow. And staring up at the statues hadn’t helped.
He picked up his belongings, and packed them all into a carrier bag, then carefully replaced the concrete lump to its original place, leaving no trace of his intrusion.
He made his way gingerly through the statues, to an open space on the far side of the courtyard. Checking his footsteps on the uneven ground, he approached a tall wall, with a large brick door, which he entered.
Inside was a large dark room with very little to focus on. He edged his way in, very slowly, as not to lose his footing, and stayed close to the cold, damp wall.
This feels safe enough, he thought, as he edged away from the wall and moved closer to the centre of the room.
Inch by inch, dad used his feet to feel his way around, as he kicked large rocks that wouldn’t move, and smaller ones that did.
I wish I had a torch, he thought, as he moved further and further into the room.
Then suddenly, he wasn’t moving forward anymore.
He was moving down, and there was nothing there to stop him.
Nothing to put his feet against, nothing to grab with his hands. He was in freefall, and before he finally hit something, which really, really hurt, he wondered if he was ever going to get out, ever again. He never had time to think of an answer.
He was unconscious.

***

While they waited for the others to join them, the band had gathered in the bar of the Shakes, along with Pat, their faithful road manager and general skivvy, to discuss what they had been doing over the last few days.
They were also discussing what a good manager Barry was, having got the a gig on a boat, and supplying Mick with his favourite sticks, and solving their sleeping problem, which Pat believed was his fault, for not changing the batteries often enough.
But at the back of Pat’s mind, he couldn’t help but feel that Barry was up to something.
He was conning de band, he thought, in Irish. Oi’ll catch him and make him look loike de eedjit dat he is.
The conversation, and beer, was flowing nicely, when Barry, Zed, Penny, Justtin and Pug, joined them.
“ What’s it gonna be?” asked Ade, offering them all a drink.
“ Make mine a large one,” said Pug.
“ No problem,” said Justtin, inside Pug’s head. “ All I have to do is insert a straw in your arse, and blow hard, and…”
“ Never mind,” said Pug, who curled up and tried to go to sleep, with a vision in his head that wouldn’t allow him to.
A large round of drinks was had by all, and on being presented with the bill, Ade pulled Barry to one side.
“ I ain’t got any cash,” said Ade. “ You’re the manager. You sort it out, and I’ll pay you back.”
“ That would be my pleasure,” said Barry. “ My interest rates are very reasonable. And seeing as I’m paying for the fuel, hotels, and everything else, it’s all tax deductible, so I’m quid’s in.”
“ Huh!” huffed Pat.
“ Hotels?” asked Ade.
“ Well, in your case, it’s a B&B, and you’ll have to stay there until we’ve got everything sorted out. But yes, we are going to a hotel.”
“ We are going to a hotel,” mimicked Pat. “ A loikely story.”
Ade spread the word, and there was much rejoicing.
More beer was had, and there was even more rejoicing.
Barry, Zed, Justtin and Penny were pleased to be going back to Scotland, and the rejoicing started to get a bit silly.
Pat wasn’t rejoicing.
Pat was quietly seething.
He had a problem with Barry, and he was convinced that the ginger top was up to no good. Oi’ll catch him out, Pat thought. Oi’ll get him. Blaming me for de band being out of tune, de bastard. Oi’ll get him good.
Zed, being the smart arse that he was (is?), could sniff trouble at over a hundred paces. Elephant paces. And Pat rhymed with rat.
He tried to like Pat.
Zed tried to like all of Barry’s new friends, but there was something about Pat that was causing him a few sleepless nights.
Then, a chat with Penny got Zed thinking.
She’d reminded him of a certain heckler, he’d once encountered. It wasn’t Pat, but Zed didn’t know that. As far as he was concerned, it bloody looked like him.
So Zed decided to take the matter into his own hands.
And what hands.
These hands did magic. These hands had made him his fortune and fame. And these hands would always come in handy, if you catch my meaning. Picking up cups, picking his nose, scratching his nuts, even holding a phone, Zed’s hands were his living. And he would have given his right arm for another one of the same.
Zed decided, he was going to do his bestest friend, Barry, a huge favour, and leave the Irishman behind.
He’s got to go to the toilet, sooner or later, thought Zed.
And sooner or later, the big Irishman did.
Zed watched him get up from his chair, and without making it too obvious, he slowly rose from his own chair, and followed Pat to the toilet.
Time for some real magic, thought Zed.
As he entered the toilet, Pat had his back to him.
This is going to be easier than I thought, Zed thought, rubbing his hands.
“ Hello,” said Zed, “ remember me.”
“ Oi don’t tink so,” said Pat, as he started to shake, before he’d finished.
“ Sorry,” said Zed. “ Let me try this. We know each other, ok? I bet your favourite colour is green.”
“ Oi’m Irish,” said Pat, “ what d’you expect? And no, we don’t know each’udder.”
“ Mistaken identity then, but let me ask you this,” sad Zed. “ You don’t like Barry Trotter very much, do you?”
“ Oi believe dat’s moy business,” said Pat.
“ Fair enough,” said Zed. “ Not a great fan myself. Just something about him.”
“ Oi hear dat,” said Pat.
Got him, thought Zed. All I’ve got to do now is real him in.
“ Yeah, he’s a bit weird, isn’t he.”
“ Ah, you’d be roight dere,” said Pat. “ Oi just wish he’d go back t’ where he came from. You know. Loike, disappear.”
“ Well, if it’s disappearance you want,” said Zed, rubbing his hands, “ You’ve come to the right place.”
“ What, de toilet?”
“ No, never mind that,” said Zed. “ Just stand there and close your eyes.”
“ What? You havin’ a feckin’ laugh,” said Pat. “ I got stung loike dat before.”
“ Look, you want Barry out of your life, right,” said Zed.
“ Well, yeah,” said Pat.
“ Then trust me. Put your hands over your eyes. Quickly now, I ain’t got all day. And keep them shut. If your eyes open, then all this will be for nothing.”
Pat reluctantly closed his eyes, and hoped that he would leave this toilet, into a world that didn’t have Barry, bloody Trotter.
As Zed rubbed his hands together, Pat could feel the heat in the small room. Then Pat experienced the feeling of getting smaller, but didn’t dare to open his eyes.
Then, as quick as a flash, Pat had a feeling of falling through space, and decided that now, was as good a time as any, to open his eyes.
He tried, but he couldn’t.
Maybe his eyes were open, but somebody had turned the light out. He tried to raise his hands, to wave them in front of his eyes. But he couldn’t do that either. He couldn’t feel anything on his face. He couldn’t feel anything at all.
He was becoming scared and wanted to yell. He tried that too, but nothing happened.
Water. He could sense water. It was getting closer. What the feck is going on, he thought, before he finally realised that the falling had stopped. He could imagine lots of white, surrounding him. Pat still couldn’t open his eyes, and was beginning to wonder what he’d let himself in for. He felt a lot taller, but at the same time, a hell of a lot thinner.
And none of his senses worked.
Nothing.
His brain remained in tack, but the rest of him was useless.
He could sense white surroundings, lots of it. And water, there was water, close by.
He wanted the water to wash his eyes.
He was closer than he imagined.
Only a few minutes had passed, when Barry said it was time to go.
Penny looked at the Gent’s toilet door, just in time to see it open, and Zed emerged, on his own.
As everybody gathered their belongings and made their way to the door, Ade asked if any body had seen Pat.
“ He’s not gonna make it,” said Zed.
“ Why not?” asked Barry, a bit surprised.
“ Just said he had to go,” was all that Zed was offering.
“ Oh well,” said Ade. “ He’ll catch us up. He usually does.”
“ Does he do this often?” asked Barry.
“ All the time,” responded Ade, as he went to join the others.
Zed sniggered, but Barry was already half way out of the door to notice.
These hands, Zed thought. Pure genius.
He thought back to the pubic hair he’d left on the inside of the toilet bowl, and thought, sooner or later, somebody is really going to piss him off.

***

Aunt B had done her best to chat up the desk Sergeant, but was told he was a happily married man, and two bits on the side would be a real financial strain. She made a mental note to get that selfish bastard next.
Aunt B had only been in the cell for an hour, and had resigned herself to the fact that she was going to spend the rest of her life behind bars, when suddenly the cell door opened, and a young officer came in and told her that all charges had been dropped.
“ Why?” she asked.
“ What you asking me for?” said the rookie. “ I’m new, and I’m just doing my job.”
She’d enjoyed her brief spell in the cell, and seriously considered hitting the new recruit over the head with something heavy, just so she could stay there. But the heaviest thing in the cell was the light bulb, and she couldn’t even reach that, so she collected her belongings, and left the Police station almost as quickly as she had arrived.
“ Hello deary,” said Hilda, who’d been waiting for her. “ You don’t want to be seen hanging around places like that. You’d be much better off staying at home, know what I mean?”
“ I can’t believe you did that,” said B.
“ Did what exactly?”
“ Put me in there,” said B.
“ Got you out again, didn’t I? There’s a lot you don’t know about me, or this area,” said Hilda.
As they walked through the market, toward Barry’s flat, Hilda explained that the market was run by people who had looked after their own for years, and seeing as B was a newcomer, she was easy meat.
“ What do you mean, easy meat?” asked B.
“ You have spent the last eleven days following me around. Am I right?” asked Hilda.
“ Well, yeah. And?” said B, trying to be defensive.
“ These people in the market have known me for many years, and when somebody turns up, and starts to follow me around, do you really think they won’t notice?”
“ Not really thought about it,” said B.
“ That’s right,” said Hilda. “ You haven’t. This is my manor. I run this manor. And you have to stay out of the way. Do you understand?”
“ Not really deary,” said B, trying very hard to comprehend what she was being told.
“ Look, it’s very simple,” said Hilda. “ This is my turf. I don’t know where you’re from, but if you go back there, I don’t have a problem. But if you stay, then you abide by the rules, capiche?”
B thought as fast as she could, but not very clearly.
“ Yeah, whatever,” she said.
“ There’s a good girl,” said Hilda. “ Now, if you want anything, you know, anything, here’s my number. All you’ve got to do is call.”
“ Like what?” asked B, innocently.
“ Anything at all,” said Hilda. “ Just ask.”
“ I quite like the desk Sergeant,” said B, licking her lips.
“ Sorry, he’s spoken for,” said Hilda, licking her own.

***

The van trundled nicely up the motorway, with its crew of band members, manager, magician and sidekick, a seven-foot high robot, a dog, and a sleeping brewery.
But how did Bert get there? I shall explain.
It was earlier that day, that Pat parked the van at the back of the pub, and got out to check the tyres had enough air in them. Once satisfied, he went into the pub to find the rest of the band. As Pat went through the back door, he passed an old man in the corridor, by the Gents toilet door, who was obviously a little worse for wear.
“ Are you alroight?” the Irishman asked.
“ Blish miggosh,” said the old man in his best English.
“ Please yourself,” said Pat, who carried on with what he was doing.
That was our Bert, heading in the opposite direction, which is the route he had to take to get to his flat, above the pub.
Now, for as far as Bert could remember, he hadn’t been sober for many moons, so he couldn’t remember much at all. He knew his flat was in this direction, somewhere, but exactly where, was anybody’s guess.
As Bert stumbled through the door into the outside world, he took a deep breath of fresh air, and instantly sat down, so his body could get the full benefit. As his eyes began to focus, in front of him was a huge white door.
I don’t remember getting up the stairs, he thought, as he fumbled in his pockets for his front door key. He found his key and tried to insert it in the lock, but to his amazement, it didn’t fit.
Somebody must have changed the locks, he thought.
He gave the door another go, but again, nothing happened.
So then he tried the handle, and the door clicked open.
What a silly arse, he thought. I must have left it open, all the time.
He opened the door wide enough to get inside, but couldn’t remember the high step being there.
Bert crawled inside the van, and closed the door behind him.
Somebody’s stolen my sofa, he thought. Serves me right for leaving the door unlocked. And with that, he curled up in a corner, pulled a blanket over his head, and fell into a deep, deep sleep.
The band didn’t notice anything unusual when they all piled into the back of the van. They were all too busy with their bags of beer, which Jeff the landlord had let them have for more than the normal price•.
The blanket on the van floor was always being moved to accommodate the band themselves, and their equipment, so seeing it crumpled up in the corner came as no surprise.
With Zed at the wheel, and Barry navigating, they set off toward Scotland, once again.
It was more than two hours into the journey, before anyone realised they had a stowaway. It was the smell of warm Brussels sprouts that gave Bert away.
“ Open a window,” Ade said to Barry, with a large amount of ‘hurry up’ attached to it. “ Somebody’s farted back here, and it stinks.”
Barry obliged, and opened the window as far as it would go.
Mick, the drummer man, said he felt like throwing up, as he started to gag on the fumes.
Even Pug told Justtin, that that was the worst thing he’d ever smelt, and he’d been near enough to other dog’s bottom’s to know.
As luck would have it , they approached a service station, and Barry decided that they could all do with a breather, being the clever band manager and everything, so he told Zed to do the best thing, and pull in.
“ Stroke of genius,” said Ade.
“ Watch it buster,” said Justtin, protecting Barry, “ or I’ll give you a really nasty pinch.”
“ You don’t have many friends, do you?” said Pug.
“ Actually, I prefer to have more enemies than friends,” said Justtin. “ It helps to keep my mind occupied, while the rest of this body does the more mundane things.”
“ Such as?” asked Pug.
“ Navigating this van, for starters.”
“ I thought grumpy nuts was navigating,” said Pug, who had thought that, along with the rest of us.
“ Are you serious?” said Justtin. “ If it wasn’t for me, we’d be south of the Thames by now. Barry doesn’t know the way around his own flat, without the aid of an atlas.”
“ So, what else are you doing?” asked the dog.
“ Listening to the van complaining about the smell,” said Justtin. “ We machines have feelings too, you know.”
“ Can you smell it then?” Pug asked.
“ Fortunately, no,” said Justtin. “ I have the ability to switch off my nasal sensors. It’s a fault in the human make up. If they could do the same, we wouldn’t be stopping now.”
The van slowed to a stop, in the car park of Watford Gap service station.
“ Why’s it called Watford Gap?” asked Pug.
“ Have you ever seen Watford?” Justtin answered.
“ No, why?”
“ It should have stayed a gap.”•
“ Oh,” said Pug.
The rear doors of the van flew open, and Mick stumbled out with a hand to his mouth, quickly followed by Ade, whose hand it was.
The rest of the troupe followed suit, and soon only Bert was left to fester in his own stench.
“ Jesus Christ,” said Ade. “ What’s he eaten?”
“ You know,” said Barry, “ I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bert eat.”
He looked at Zed for reassurance. Zed nodded.
“ Spot on, mate,” said Zed. “ I’ve certainly never seen him eat.”
“ So what the hell is that smell?” asked Ade.
“ That my friend,” said Justtin, “ is alcohol-fuelled methane. Highly explosive. The worst kind. So I would suggest, that until Bert gets rid of this little problem, nobody lights a match. In fact, don’t even think about it.”
“ How’s he supposed to get rid of his ‘ little problem’?” asked Barry.
“ Let nature takes its course,” suggested Justtin.
“ But that could take ages,” said Barry. “ And in the mean time, if he goes bang, we could all go with him.”
“ We’ll have to get him out of the van,” said Ade. “ He’ll rot it from the inside.”
“ We’ll have to be very careful about moving him,” said Justtin. “ One slight jolt, and its goodnight paella.”
“ Vienna,” Barry corrected him.
“ Sorry,” said Justtin.
“ I have a plan,” said Zed.
“ Go on then,” said Barry.
“ Levitation,” said Zed.
“ Levitation?” said Ade. “ What’s that?”
“ It’s something that I specialised in during my last series,” said Zed. “ If you all stand back. That’s it, give me some room.”
The other’s all stood back, making a small circle around the rear of the van, and Zed started to rub his hands.
He closed his eyes and raised his arms toward the back of the van, and quietly started to mutter something.
Only Pug and Justtin could hear what Zed was saying.
“ What’s all that bollocks he’s talking now then?” asked Pug.
“ I think its Urdu,” said Justtin. “ But don’t quote me on it.”
“ What’s an Urdu?” asked Pug.
“ Same as a dukdu,” said Justtin.
“ Which is what?”
“ Sorry?” said Justtin.
“ What’s a dukdu?” asked Pug.
“ Quack quack,” said Justtin. “ Her her.”
“ Ha bloody ha,” said Pug.
Justtin was still laughing to himself, while the others watched Bert floating out of the van.
A small gap appeared at the side of the group, and Bert slowly descended into it. Then, just as gently as he had been raised, Bert was laid at the side of the van, still fast asleep.
“ That was brilliant,” said Ade, patting Zed on the back. “ When we become rich and famous, you can come and open for us.”
“ Can’t wait,” said the magician.
“ Now what do we do?” asked Barry.
“ Wait until he sobers up a bit, I suppose,” said Justtin.
“ We can’t have him back in the van, smelling like that,” said Ade.
“ He’s right,” said Mick. “ There’s only one thing that smells worse than that, and that’s puke. And if he farts like that again, then believe me, I will throw up.”
“ Is it ok if we leave him on the outside of the van?” asked Barry.
“ Yeah, why?” asked Ade.
“ Justtin. Tie Bert to the roof rack.”
“ That would be my pleasure,” said Justtin. “ When I think it’s safe to do so.”
“ You the man,” said Barry.
“ You the tin man,” said Ade.
“ You the dustbin man,” said Pug.

***

The last thing Pat can honestly say he remembered, was a sense of being rained on. But now, as he finally opened his eyes, he found himself floating down a sewer pipe, with a bright light coming toward him.
“ What now,” he said to himself, as he popped out of the pipe, and into the Thames, surrounded by poo.

***

Several hours later, with Bert lashed to the roof of the van, the group headed yet again for the Scottish Border. As night fell, they all decided it was only fair that Bert be allowed back in the vehicle, on the condition that he didn’t fart.
Bert said he couldn’t make any promises, so he stayed on the roof until the next morning. Thankfully it had only rained heavily for a couple of hours, and Bert said he felt like a new man. He just hadn’t decided which one.
They were getting close to their destination now, and Barry had some quick thinking to do. He’d already phoned ahead and booked some rooms at a hotel in Newcastle, and thought that it would be best to head there first. Zed and Penny agreed, so that’s what they did.
On arriving at the hotel, Barry asked the others to wait in the van while he went to reception, and made some enquiries about local B & B’s. He hastily made some phone calls, got the directions he needed, and went back to the van.
“ We’ve got to go to Jesmond,” he said. “ It’s about ten miles from here.”
“ Why Jesmond?” asked Zed.
“ I had a quick look at the map,” said Barry. “ It’s on the way.”
“ But I thought we needed to get to Berwick Upon Tweed?” said Zed. “ That’s in the other direction.”
“ I know what I’m doing,” said Barry. “ Trust me.”
“ If you say so,” said Zed, while he listened to Barry’s directions out of Newcastle, as they headed slightly north and left a bit.
Twenty minutes later, they entered the outskirts of Jesmond.
“ We’re looking for the High Street,” said Barry.
“ We’re probably in it,” said Zed.
“ We are,” said Justtin. “ And the bed and breakfast you’re looking for is…there.”
Zed applied the brake and the van stopped.
“ Here we go boys,” said Barry. “ This will be home for a few days, while we get this gig sorted out.”
“ Cool,” said Ade. “ It’s got a bar, and everything.”
“ Nothing but the best for my boys,” said Barry.
The band members got out of their van, and took their belongings to the B & B, where Barry was waiting to check them in. He made sure they were settled in their rooms, and explained to them, that they should stay put until the gig details were sorted out.
“ Can’t have you running off all over the place,” said Barry. “ Just in case the call comes.”
The band all agreed that this was a good idea, and promised to stay in the bar. No matter what.
Barry gave Ade £200 out of his wallet.
“ I want receipts for everything,” said Barry.
“ Ok,” said Ade. “ What do we do about food?”
“ I think they invented curry around here somewhere,” said Barry, “ so I don’t think that will be a problem, do you?”
“ I s’pose not,” said Ade.
“ Right, well if that’s everything, we’ll be off,” said Barry. “ I’ll call you later. As soon as I know anything, ok?”
“ Ok,” said Ade, “ See you later.”
Barry jumped back in the van, and with Zed, Penny, Justtin, Pug, and Bert still strapped to the roof rack, they left Jesmond, and headed for a derelict castle, somewhere near Scotland.