Elvin and Wayne brought beers outside. Elvin heard the part of Steves conversation when they approached and sighed. He looked at Wayne in his silent bliss, nudged him, nodded to his pubic region, and shrugged. Wayne, realising Steve must be on the J-cloth story, smiled, while Elvin groaned. They had heard the hernia story many times. They put the drinks down and Steve and Charles took a drink, as Steve continued. A few weeks later the embassy contacted me and told me they had traced my daughter, Steve looked proud as he announced. Doctor Lucy Fossdyke M.D., a general practitioner with a practice in Cleethorpes. Lucy and her accountant husband, Bernard, came to visit me in Angeles. It was great to see them, especially my little girl. Bernards a bonehead, but a nice bloke.
I bet you were overjoyed, said Charles. Did you come home with them?
Nah, said Steve, they kept trying to persuade me, but I was too happy in the Philippines, so they went home without me.
Steve took another slurp of beer. About a month after theyd left, I got the same excruciating pain in my gut and they rushed me to the local hospital where a quack opened me up. They found a large mass that they thought was a malignant tumour... I shit myself when they told me.
Charles looked concerned, Elvin yawned, and Wayne smiled, unable to hear Steves tale, as he went on, The embassy contacted Lucy, who became distraught. She arranged for me to be medivaced to England. I got flown back and rushed into surgery when I arrived in Manchester.
Steve unbuttoned his shirt, showed Charles a large scar down the centre of his abdomen, and pointed to a smaller hernia scar on his right-hand side. The operation was a success and the surgeon removed a filthy old J-cloth from my abdominal cavity, festering there from my back-street hernia operation. He laughed and said, I made a full recovery, but now have an irritable and uncontrollable bowel, which gives me moments of embarrassment. I let rip pungent-smelling gas, which escapes at the most inappropriate moments when Im nervous or excited.
Pungent, interrupted Elvin, It smelled like a rat ate a pile of cow dung, before crawling up yer arse and dying... wait until you smell it Nobby, it will make your eyes water.
Steve chuckled and said, As I said, pungent. Anyhow, I was eager to return to the Philippines, but after lengthy conversations with my exasperated daughter, who kept telling me to grow up. I eventually heeded her advice and stayed in England. Lucy and Bernard Fossdyke are successful in their respective fields and bought several investment properties, including a guesthouse in Cleethorpes, which theyd converted into Fossdyke residential home. They told me I could stay there for as long as I wanted and Ive been there ever since.
Elvin knew Steve had almost finished his tale and thought. Charles got away lightly. He didnt mention his Filipina sexual encounters as usual.
So Charlie boy, my roaming, carefree days were over, and I am now settled into a boring life in Fossdyke, he sighed. Im seventy-one now, so I cant ever see me ever making it back to the Philippines, he gazed into his glass, took another drink, and said. Fossdyke was crap at first, but I entertained myself by thrashing out tunes on my beat-up old Stratocaster to annoy the other wrinklies and the old dragon, Chewy, said Steve, and pointed at Elvin. My dreary life took a turn for the better when he moved in.
Elvin, seizing upon the moment to interject, said, Yes, that was both memorable and amusing, he chuckled. However, that story will have to wait. He looked at his watch. We had better get back before Chewy locks us out.
They agreed, finished their drinks, and made their way back to Fossdyke.
Charles went to his room. The past few hours had been fun, but now he was alone in his room the pain of being without Mary gnawed away at him. He smelt the eggy musty aroma; he chuckled and thought. That must be Steve.
He drew the curtains, leant back in his chair, closed his eyes, and told Mary.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, the four met at breakfast. Charles noticed the old folks seemed subdued compared to the chatter from the previous evening and kept glancing at the four as they ate.
A woman put a full English breakfast in front of Charles. He looked at the plate of greasy offerings and tucked in.
Glad to see you found your appetite, Charles, said Mrs Chew, who hovered around the table.
Charles nodded and shovelled a sausage into his mouth.
Right, whispered Steve. When Chewy buggers off we can plan what to do today.
He sneered at the other terrified looking old folk and played his imaginary air guitar. They cringed and put their heads down, rushing to finish their food.
So Elvin, how did you end up here? asked Charles, while cutting up a runny egg.
Elvin was the eldest of the four at seventy-five-years-old. A small solid built man who remained fit and active throughout his life. He had lived at Fossdyke since his wife passed away. Bald as a baboons botty, his dry sense of humour made people laugh with his witty off-the-cuff remarks.
Elvin took a slurp of tea and said. After me missus died, I didnt want to be alone, so I looked for a residential home and I liked Fossdyke. It was close to the sea, with a well-equipped leisure centre and swimming pool nearby, with other seaside amenities within walking distance. It appeared clean, efficient, and well run. I arranged an interview with Mrs Chew, who told me that there was a room available. She showed me around the residents quarters and while showing me the dining room, a woman came over and pulled er to one side. Chewy apologised, saying that she needed to sort out a problem, and she directed me to the recreation room, suggesting that I should check it out. I went along to the room and as I approached, I heard a guitar playing. He pointed to Steve, who chuckled as Elvin continued. So I went into the room and he stopped playing and asked me if I was lost... No, I said, Just aving a gander. Elvin smiled at Steve and continued. A gander, he said and taking the mickey out of my cockney accent, asked. Wot part of London are you from me old cock sparra? The Grimsby part, I told im.
He laughed, unplugged his Stratocaster from the amp, walked over, and said his name was Steve Baker... or I could call him, Strat. I told im, Im Elvin Stanley... or he could call me, Elvin Stanley, he chuckled and continued. I told him I knew the song he was playing, County Jail Blues and said it was a great song and I could play it. He asked if I was a guitarist. I told him I wasnt, but a dab hand on the old double bass. He must have got the ump, because he couldnt take his eyes off me Bobby Charlton comb-over, and said I looked like a twat. Elvin rubbed his bald head. He said he had Braun clippers and would give me a solar panel for a sex machine.
Well I did, but you still look like a twat, interrupted Steve chuckling and rubbing his head.
Hmm, grumbled Elvin. Then the cheeky git said, Elvin, thats a stupid name for a rock star. I didnt understand what he meant, so I said, Im not a rock star... I'm a geriatric.
Steve interrupted. I wanted to liven the place up, so I wanted to tell everyone he was a rock star. I knew it would give old Elsie an orgasm. Her tubes won't have been lubed since her old man snuffed it. She's probably got moss growing from her flaps, said Steve and chortled.