The Last Plague (2 page)

     Frank scratched the side of his head. “Shit.”

     Magnus looked back down the road. “Wonder where they’re heading.”

     “They were in a hurry,” Joel said. 

     Frank felt his chest tighten. He fumbled for his asthma inhaler and sucked on it, breathing deeply. His breathing evened out. A rush of relief.

     “You want me to drive?” Joel asked.

     Frank put away the inhaler. “Let’s get going. Try to reach the cottage before late afternoon.”

     He put the car back in gear and left the mirror’s remains on the road.

CHAPTER TWO

Joel pointed ahead and to the left. “There’s the turning.”

     Frank slowed the car and changed gear to negotiate the entrance to the side road. It was more of a dirt track than a road, and the car trembled upon small craters, dips and bumps.

     “There it is,” said Joel, folding the map, pleased with himself. “Been a while since I’ve been here.”

     The cottage was flanked by grasslands, gentle slopes and open fields. A sentinel shape against the clouding sky. Wild flowers were small blooms of colour. The dirt track widened into a gravel driveway. Frank stopped the car at the front of the house. He turned off the engine, savoured the silence. He undid his seatbelt and sat back in his seat.

     “Finally.”

     “Looks like a nice place,” said Magnus.

     “And we’re staying here for free,” Joel said.

     “Nice one,” said Ralph.

     Frank glanced at the plastic stump where the wing-mirror had been. He scowled, exhaled. He’d get it fixed when he returned home.

     The cottage was a relic from the early years of the last century. An arched flagstone roof. Brick walls painted white. A wooden arch over the front door. Tulips idled in flowerbeds either side of the front door, under the downstairs windows.

     Wind-chimes trembled in the breeze.

     The cottage reminded Frank of the house he grew up in. He felt a strange pang of childhood nostalgia; of innocent days before the shadow of adulthood: taxes, dead-end jobs, banks, high blood pressure…

     …Children. A child.

     He pushed that last one away.

     “Sorry about the wing-mirror,” said Joel.

     He looked at Joel. “These things happen.”

     The four men got out.

     Frank leaned against the car, resting his arms on its roof.

     Ralph yawned and arched his back, stretching towards the sky like a mad priest; tattoos on each arm, curlicues of black stretching down to his wrists.  He bent over, barely able to touch his toes, grunting and grimacing like he was performing amazing feats of contortion. His hairy arse crack peeked above the waist of his jeans. 

     “Talk about the dark side of the moon,” Joel said.

     Ralph straightened, raised his middle finger.

     Frank opened the boot and started unloading their bags.

     “Careful with that one,” said Ralph when he saw Frank place his holdall on the ground. “My booze is in there.”

     Magnus was talking on his mobile, his face flustered. “Yes, dear, I’ll call you later, don’t worry. What was that? No, I won’t get too drunk. No, there isn’t going to be a stripper. Joel didn’t want one.” He paused, listened. “What? No, I don’t care if we have a stripper, it doesn’t bother me.” Magnus noticed the others watching him and shook his head.

     Ralph meowed and made a whipping noise.

     “Yes, dear, I won’t forget to call you later. Look, I’ve got to go now, okay? Okay then. Bye.”

     “You might as well have brought your missus with you,” said Ralph.

     “Is everything alright?” said Frank.

     They were supposed to have arrived at the cottage yesterday evening, but Debbie had made Magnus stay an extra night to help look after their sons.

     Magnus slipped the mobile into his jacket. “Same old shit. Nothing new.”

     “Come on, mate,” said Ralph. “Grow some balls. It’s Joel’s stag weekend.”

     Magnus glared at him. “You know the boys are ill. You know what Debbie’s like.” He turned away.

     “Leave it,” Frank told Ralph. “It’s not his fault.”

     Ralph shook his head.

     After the bags had been unloaded Frank locked the car. Joel produced a key from his jeans.

     “So your Uncle Jasper owns a few cottages like this one?” asked Frank.

     Joel swirled the key-ring around one finger. “He owns several holiday cottages up and down the country. He does okay.”

     “Alright for some,” said Ralph, scratching his beard. He picked up his tattered holdall and slung it over his shoulder.  

     Joel unlocked the door, opened it, and stepped inside. Magnus followed him.

     “What do you reckon?” Ralph asked. “Good place for a piss up?”

     Frank patted him on the shoulder. “You told me once that anywhere is good for a piss up as long as you’ve got booze and good company.”

     “Did I?”

     “Yeah, but you won’t remember because you were drunk when you said it.”

     “I do have my moments of wisdom.”

     “Occasionally.”

     Ralph grinned. They listened to the wind dance around the eaves.

     Frank lifted his bag.

     Ralph said, “Listen, mate, I know the last year’s been shit for you and Catherine…”

     “I don’t need pity.”

     “I know, but I see the anger and frustration in your eyes sometimes. I don’t blame you for feeling that way. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve both been through.”

     “I’m fine, Ralph. Really.”

     “I’m just saying, boss, that if you need someone to talk to, don’t feel embarrassed to ask.”

     “You’re just a big softy, aren’t you?”

     Ralph glanced around like he was about to impart a secret. “Just don’t tell anyone, mate. I’ve got a reputation to protect. Shall we go inside?”

     “Good idea.”

CHAPTER THREE

Frank put the pizzas in the oven. Joel emptied bags of crisps and snacks into large bowls.

     “Have you booked a stripper?” asked Joel. “I specifically said no strippers. I said no strippers.”

     “Joel, I didn’t order a stripper.”

     “Are you sure?”

     “Of course I’m sure.”

     “Do you know if Ralph did? That’s the sort of thing he’d do.”

     “Ralph hasn’t booked a stripper.”

     “I haven’t done what?” Ralph walked into the kitchen, sipping a bottle of German beer. He had changed into a Cradle of Filth t-shirt.

     Frank looked from Joel to Ralph. “You didn’t order a stripper for tonight, did you?”

     Ralph gasped in mock surprise. “Sir, I am offended. Order a stripper? On Joel’s stag night? Who’d have thought of such an idea?”

     Frank folded his arms. “Did you?”

     Ralph smiled. “I didn’t order a stripper. Wish I had done, though.”

     “Good,” said Joel. “Where’s Magnus?”

     Ralph took a gulp of beer. “He’s in the living room playing on the Xbox. Poor bloke needs a break from that wife of his. She sent him a text a minute ago saying he was neglecting his
marital duties
.”

     Frank shook his head. “Bloody hell, that’s harsh.”

     “Is she back on medication?” Joel asked.

     “She should be.”

     “She’s always had problems, even before she married Magnus,” said Ralph. “Everyone knows she’s crazy.”

     “She’s bipolar, not crazy,” said Frank.

     “Not to mention she weighs about twenty stone.”

     Frank opened two beers, handed one to Joel.

     Ralph scratched his beard. “Did you bring any toilet roll?” 

* * *

They downed a round of shots, grimacing as the vodka burned in their throats. Frank welcomed the buzz from the alcohol. He had sent a text to Catherine; a simple message of affection. He touched his wedding ring with his thumb; it had dulled slightly over six years.

     Being the groom, Joel would have the master bedroom with its king-sized bed; the others had to pull straws for the remaining two bedrooms.

     Ralph pulled the short straw.

     “Unlucky, mate,” said Magnus, smirking.

     “Yeah, bad luck, bud.” Frank swigged a beer.

     Ralph shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take the sofa. Slept in worse places.”

* * *

They formed a circle in the living room. More shots of vodka.

     Frank raised his glass. “To Joel: may he be a brave man in the years ahead. May he have the strength to fight the good fight.”

     “May he rest in peace,” said Ralph.

     “May the Lord have mercy on his soul,” said Magnus.

     “Amen,” they said together, heads bowed.

     Then they laughed.

     They downed their shots. Joel was last to finish. He patted his chest, screwed up his face.

     Frank handed out the beers. Ralph offered cigars, and only Frank refused one, due to his asthma.

     Joel swayed on his feet as he lit his cigar. “How many years have we been friends for?”

     “Don’t get soppy, mate,” said Ralph. “You always do this when you’re drunk.”

     “I’m not drunk,” Joel protested.

     Magnus laughed. His cigar plumed a tiny streak of smoke.

     “Let him speak,” said Frank.

     “We’ve been friends since playgroup. How old were we then? Four? Five?”

     “More or less,” said Frank.

     Joel smiled with the idiotic charm of inebriation. “And we were mates all the way through school.”

     “The Fearsome Four,” said Frank.    

     “Yeah, four idiots,” said Magnus.

     Ralph studied his cigar. “We left school sixteen years ago. Fucking hell. Seems like such a long time ago. Dumb, spotty teenagers.”

     “But look at us now,” Joel said. “Older and a little wiser. My best man, Frank, and my two ushers. We’ve got responsibilities…”

     “Apart from Ralph,” said Frank.

     Ralph glowered. “I’ve got responsibilities.”

     “You live with your parents,” said Magnus.

     “It’s cheap. Mum does my laundry. Fuck off.”

     “Like I was saying,” said Joel. “We’ve all got responsibilities and commitments, but we’ve still remained close.”

     “Gay,” said Ralph, shaking his head.

     “Fair point,” said Frank.

     Magnus laughed.

     Joel raised his bottle. “Cheers, lads.”

     “Cheers.”

     They drank.

     Frank looked down the neck of his beer bottle. “Where did the time go?”

     “Not down there,” Magnus said.

     “Tell me about it,” said Ralph. He looked at the floor. “You remember when we used to go out clubbing every weekend? I miss those days. I miss the nights when we would go out and anything was possible.”

     “Great nights,” Frank said.

     “They certainly were,” said Magnus.

     Joel finished his beer. “When you reach a certain age, clubbing loses its appeal. Seems a little desperate somehow. That’s why I wanted to spend the weekend here. I didn’t want to go to a nightclub or a big city. I know it’s a bit crap, but I wanted to be here with my real, oldest friends.”

     “Joel’s going gay again,” muttered Ralph. “He’ll be wearing a gimp suit and stilettos any minute now.”

     “We’re certainly getting old,” Frank said. “I’ve started to wear cardigans at home. I’m growing man-boobs.”

     “How do you think I feel then?” said Ralph, patting his stomach.

     “That’s because you eat too much, not old age,” said Magnus, adjusting his glasses. “Anyway, you think you’re got it bad? My pubes are going grey.”

     “And you’ve got the muscle tone of a crack addict,” said Ralph.

     Joel laughed.

     “That is bad,” said Frank.

     “Better wiry than curvy,” Magnus said.

     Ralph shrugged, downed his beer until it was empty. “Fuck it. Put on the DVD. I want to drink until my eyes fall out.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Hours passed in a haze of alcoholic fog. They watched
Star Wars IV: A New Hope
, laughing at Joel’s attempts to critique every iconic scene. He was a big Harrison Ford fan, and Han Solo was his favourite character.

     Ralph kept calling him ‘Hand Solo’ and making a masturbation gesture with one hand.

     Magnus said he preferred the Ewoks. Joel argued with Ralph when Ralph said horror was a superior genre to science fiction. Magnus performed his party trick of balancing a pen on his nose while Ralph poured beer down his throat. He managed to keep it balanced until Ralph swapped the beer for whiskey.

     They played
Guitar Hero
on the Xbox. Magnus was surprisingly good, hitting each note perfectly, despite being steaming drunk.

     Frank downed enough shots to numb his extremities. He laughed when Joel began slurring his words. He laughed when Ralph tried to light his own farts and only succeeded in burning his arse. He laughed for no reason.

     Then there was a knock at the door.

     Joel froze with a bottle at his mouth. “Who’s that?”

     “What’s the time?” said Ralph, scratching his head.

     Frank checked his watch. “Almost midnight.”

     Magnus burped, gagged a little. His eyes were watery.

     “We expecting any visitors?” said Joel. The last word came out as ‘vishitors’.

     Ralph looked at Magnus. They both grinned. Ralph turned to Frank and winked.

     Frank stifled a laugh.

     Joel looked puzzled. Glazed eyes.

     “I’ll see who it is,” said Ralph. He struggled to rise from the sofa. He stumbled into the hallway, giggling like a schoolboy high on sugar. His shoulder grazed the wall, knocking askew a framed painting of a riverside cottage.