Deaths Head 4.1

Introduction to a story. I am beginning to like him. I'll find out
what happens to him by the time I'm at 16.8.

In Grimsmouth's "East End" there is a pub which is known by everyone in
Grimsmouth. They talk about this pub with awe, but when you ask them
about it they shy away from talking about it. Very few of the people
who talk about it have ever been across its doors. Most will tell you
of the cellar which is beneath the ordinary beer cellar. Some will tell
you that there are tunnels running from these undercellars which extend
all the way to the Cliff caves at the Dene in Rolden. Others in the
company will laugh knowingly of the old tales that some people still
believe in. Many of them will still stare expectantly at the door of
this pub as they pass, after doing the shopping. The pub I will call
the "Death's Head" but it is no more called that than it is called the
Red Lion.

I first went into the Death's Head when I was seventeen. I was drunk,
it was my seventeenth birthday so it must have been 1965. We stood, the
three of us, at the bar. John Blundings was on my left. He was eighteen
and with hindsight I should have seen the signs of the mental illness
that plagued him till he took his own life in 1987. Rory Wilson was
there as well. He joined the Navy and I only saw him once again in my
life.

We were in a the Greyhound in the Hammersmith. We were tourists looking
for anything that would interest us. At twenty, the only thing that
interested us, about the Tower of London and Tower Bridge, was the
opportunity to meet girls. But that did not prevent us from being
tourists. The Greyhound is a well known pub which, at the time, had a
reputation as being a place where there was a lot of singing of songs
which would later be called "Rugby Songs". I saw Rory come in and I
went over to make myself known. The singing had not begun and the Juke
Box was playing an Al Stewart song.

Hello old friend, what a strange coincidence to find you
It's been fifteen years since we last met, but I still recognised
you
So call the barman over here, and let us fill our glasses
and drink a toast to olden times where all our memories lie,
Where all our memories lie

Do you remember the time we were young?
Lowly, lowly, low
Outside the window the frosty moonlight hung
On the midnight snow
So we pulled our scarves around our faces in the night
Huddled on the doorsteps where the fairylights shone bright
Singing Christmas carols while our breath hung in the light
It all comes back like yesterday
It almost seems like yesterday

Do you remember the changes as we grew?
Slowly, slowly, slow
Sneaking in the back way into movies after school
For the evening show
Chasing skinny blue jean girls across the building-site
Checking out the dance floor while the band played "Hold Me
Tight"
See the blonde one over there - I bet she'd be alright
It all comes back like yesterday
It almost seems like yesterday

While I talked he sat and never made a sound
Staring at the glass beside me
Hey old friend, tell me what's on your mind?
Silence grows on you like ivy

Do you remember the church across the sands?
Holy, holy, ho
You stood outside and planned to travel the lands
Where the pilgrims go
So you packed your world up inside a canvas sack
Set off down the highway with your rings and Kerouac
Someone said they saw you in Nepal a long time back
Tell me why you look away
Don't you have a word to say?

He said, "I don't remember...Don't want to remember
In fact I've heard too much already
I don't want to think, just leave me here to drink
Wrapped up in the warmth of New York City
Oh, oh, it seems you just don't know
And you just don't understand me
I've got no use for the tricks of modern times
They tangle all my thoughts like ivy."

So I left him, and I went out to the street
Lowly, lowly, low
Where the red light girls were coming after me
Forty dollar show
All across the city's heart the lights were coming on
The hotel lift softly hummed a Cole Porter song
If I went to look for him I knew he would be gone
A picture-card of yesterday
A photograph of yesterday and far off in a deserted part of town
The shadows like a silent army
Flooded out the rooms in pools of blue and brown
And stuck to all the walls like ivy
Al Stewart

I said:
"Hello Rory !"
He was startled and it took him some time to recognise me. I was
surprised to see some hostility in his reaction, when he thought that I
was a stranger. In all the years that I had known Rory I had never seen
him display hostility to anyone. He had changed.

We talked some but I could see that he was uncomfortable and eventually
I rejoined the company that I was with, promising to keep in touch. I
heard that he died in an accident at sea. It was years later that I
heard, so I didn't hear any details.

So the three of us stood at the bar of the Deaths Head in 1965. John,
Rory and I. I am the only one of us still alive but then we were young,
drunk and foolish. I had been drinking pints of beer and I had probably
had about five. We had heard the awe with which people referred to the
Deaths Head and we decided in a drunken fit of bravado that we would
see it for ourselves. John suggested that:
"You're not drinking fast enough. On your birthday you should be
drinking spirits."
There was no malice in the suggestion. It was just that then, we did
not know that the quality of a drink bears little relation to it's
price. Spirits, then, were expensive, so we thought that they must be
better quality.
I replied:
"Let's try the whiskey then !"
It was bravado and I made myself ill with whiskey and we leered at the
girls and pretended that we were "Men of the world", when, in reality,
we were foolish children. We listened and watched as the regulars of
the Deaths Head got on with their nightly project of getting "Shit
faced" and falling over. I had to leave and I was sick in the gutter
outside. I was too drunk to go home and we wandered the streets for a
while before giving in to the tiredness.

Fifteen years later I was licensee of the Swans Neck (Again not it's
real name). This was my first pub and I had not thought about the
Deaths Head in many years. As one evening wore on a woman told a tale
of the ghostly goings on at the Swans Neck that she had witnessed and
she said:
"How do you sleep ? You must have heard the noises."
Of course I had heard the noises. An old building like that contracts
and expands with all the temperature changes, but that night, after I
had locked up, I had to really steel myself to go down those stone
steps with a poor light and turn off the gas. Nevertheless, I did go
down and I did turn off the gas. I was new to the management of bars
and I knew that I couldn't allow fear of creaking noises to bring my
career to a full stop.

Pubs have enough real things to be afraid of without letting imaginary
ghosts to bother you. The real fears are of mad drunken people who are
quite capable of beating you senseless. I had one regular at one time
who was fond of torturing people with a smoothing iron, so who needs
ghosts ?

Years passed and I gained experience and I got to know the various
people in the trade. Perhaps I was unlucky but I was never offered pubs
with a country setting or up market pubs which offered meals and
accommodation. My skills were valued because I could cope with
psychopaths who frequented the big council estates on the edge of
Grimsmouth. I made my living this way and this was not really my
choice. I was not always wise with how I spent the money that I made
and my relationships with bookmakers were at times closer than they
should have been. Investments made in horse races were not always
profitable but I tended to live within my means. I drank more than what
most doctors would recommend but on the other hand I drank a lot less
than most of the customers. There were occasions when the amount that I
had drank affected the amount that I invested with the bookmakers and
for this I have a degree of shame. Such a lifestyle is not good for
family life and I will always regret that I threw away the opportunity
to share a life with Jane and our two children. Many times I feel that
Jane was not blameless either but I know that compared to me she was.
It has taken me some years to face these unpleasant aspects of myself
but truth dawns eventually.

And so it happened that I was asked to manage the Deaths Head at a time
when I could not afford to refuse it. Nine o'clock one winters morning
saw me following a stocktaker, who I knew well, while he noted the
contents of the cellar. When I say I knew him well, I don't want you to
suppose that I trusted him. In his time he had robbed me of more money
than most so I was particularly wary. Most stocktakers are honest and
competent but they share one characteristric with draymen(Brewery
deliverymen). They are more honest if they are being watched.

The Stocktaker left at ten thirty and opening time was at eleven
o'clock so the day was well and truly taken over. If you are new in a
pub then most of your time is taken up watching to see who is robbing
you. Of course you must accept that people are not always honest and
that others view themselves as basically honest but they do not include
stealing from the new manager as a dishonest act. I took a couple of
hours off at four o'clock and I used this opportunity to visit the
local bookmakers and get something to eat at a nearby Macdonalds. I
returned just as the after work rush started so life that day was
fairly hectic. Closing time eventually came and I went to each bar
taking the cash out of the tills and putting it in the safe. I remember
I pretended to count every penny but in reality I was so exhausted that
I just faked it. The money went into the safe and I felt as though a
burden had been lifted. Someone was then asking for take outs and
somehow I kept my patience and somehow there was a further fifty pounds
on top of the till to go in the next day. Slowly the people made their
way to the front door and then the staff started to leave. Quite
suddenly the pub went from fifteen people to one and I was quite
surprised to see that it was me.

I checked the safe again and then I poured myself a pint of beer. I
drank this as I went around the doors and windows checking that all
were locked and I kept thinking that I would have to go down the cellar
to turn the gas off.