Away Day – Bentley 16

[For back story go here: Story so far at 12 June 2020 and more recent Bentley episodes]

The physical scars, such as they were, had healed now and Bentley told himself he no longer needed the walking frame to get out and about anywhere. It was just a question of perseverance and faith. He didn’t need to seek advice on what to do – not health wise or in any other part of his life. He was his own man and he’d do as he liked. As far as he could anyway. And with further lifting of restrictions on vulnerable groups on the cards it was time for Bentley to truly step up and step out.

As a marker of the first step to his new independence, to reclaim the life he had before, he decided to walk to the pub and see if there was anyone there he might be able to chat to at a distance. He wasn’t certain if he needed to book in to do this or not – his local being so very, well, local – and he didn’t have a phone number for them or know whether the establishment or anyone who ran it actually had a phone any way.

The lift juddered its way down to ground level. Bentley studiously avoided touching any of the surfaces and made sure his mask was on correctly. He didn’t tend to touch any of the surfaces in the lift anyway, for somewhat obvious reasons, but the current climate made this particularly important. 

The single lift door carefully slid open, stopping half way as usual as if to double check it had made the full journey successfully. Bentley did his customary nod to the door and stepped out.

It was a sunny day and he felt sunny with it. There had been no further threats made to him or his financial situation, nor had there been any phonecall, ominous or friendly, to trouble him. He knew he still needed to get south somehow and follow the trail he had begun to establish online, if only to ensure he could speak with Natalie again and perhaps ensure she felt she had her place as his granddaughter. People got back in touch with other people at times of stress, he reflected, and if he played everything right then maybe he and Shiela would achieve a measure of reconciliation and even shared experience again if this came out right. Of course, he admitted, he’d not exactly done very well on this score as yet, but there was time and as restrictions were lifted he could perhaps do more good in person than he could over the phone.

His perambulation brought him to the doorway of the Dog and Whistle, a rather shambolic attempt at a pub which had certainly seen better days, probably those when a man with a dog and the ability to whistle used to stop by for refreshment. That would have been before the tower blocks came, and before the slums which the tower blocks replaced.

Bentley stood outside, looking in through the front door, uncertain of whether he could actually enter. Maybe if he attracted the attention of the landlord he’d get an idea.

This proved harder than he first thought. From his point of view outside the pub he had sight of about a metre, maybe a metre and a half of the bar. Every now and then someone apparently serving behind the bar would shift across this space, getting drinks, approaching customers and so on. Bentley couldn’t always see who this was and sometimes couldn’t see anyone at all as someone else would stand to obscure the small view he had.

Bentley realised he’d have to do something else besides this, so he shouted.

“Norman!” He yelled through his mask. “Norman it’s me. Outside! Can you hear us?”

There was no response from anyone in the pub. So he shouted again, casting his eyes around and lifting his mask this time.

“Norm! It’s..”

A man, not Norman or anyone else Bentley recognised came to the doorway having seen and heard him. “Who d’ya want?” he asked.

“Norman. Tell him it’s Bentley. I want a drink.”

“Come to the right place,” smiled the man.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

The man disappeared for a moment. Bentley relaxed, and waited. He saw Norman behind the bar fleetingly. He waved and shouted.

“Norman! It’s me!”

Norman definitely looked up and definitely saw him.

Three men, including the man who said he’d tell Norman came out of the pub. This man, who called himself Flint, had found being a ‘heavy’ to be a varied job over the past three years. Different tasks were set for you, some easy, some hard, some legal and some… not so.

The current job would go down in his personal history as one of the easiest in his professional life. He’d been told about the pub, and he knew where Bentley lived, but to have him actually stand outside the pub and announce himself while Flint and his associates had a swift half before storming his gaff was extremely fortunate. Not only that, but Bentley was clearly not the kind of person who was going to put up much resistance to the idea of coming with them. Not physically anyway.

And so within the space of two minutes tops Bentley was physically taken from where he stood, bundled into the back of a transit van and driven away.

At the end of those two minutes, Norman came outside his own pub. He stood and scratched his head. He felt sure he’d seen Bentley out here. Felt sure he’d heard his voice. But there again, maybe not.