Don't Start Me Talking by Radcliffe Charles;

Author:Radcliffe, Charles; [Charles Radcliffe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 5597241
Publisher: Bread and Circuses
Published: 2018-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

PART FIVE

SCAMMER

CHAPTER 38

TO BRING THE PLACE ALIVE: TINA, 1971

When Alan and Jill went to Ireland, I took over their flat. I finally found Tina’s phone number and rang her. We agreed to meet at Parsons in the Fulham Road, Tuesday at eight. My old Fulham Road stomping ground, following the example of the Baghdad House and the Hungry Horse, had become an area of eateries, spill-overs from the Kings Road. The Great American Disaster, the first London restaurant to sell edible ‘real American hamburgers’, was next door. I sat at the table drinking water as eight passed. Expectant, then dazed, finally disappointed, I still waited. At half past I put a face-saving tip on the table, large but scarcely equal to my embarassment. Stood up! It had never happened before. (I’ve never waited more than ten minutes since.)

I should have acted on my first thought – to phone and ask what happened. My second was to think about it. (Pondering trivial ‘sleights’ usually reveals their capacity to cause pain, even when it isn’t intended!) Three days later I finally called. She’d forgotten to ask me again for my phone number, which she’d lost. Why hadn’t I phoned before? (There was no immediate answer.) She’d thought of coming round to Alan’s flat but, unaware that he was in Ireland with Jill, had decided it might be embarrassing. She wasn’t even sure I was still there. She’d turned up at Parsons and, after consulting bookings with the manager, discovered the mistake. The manager remembered me. (I bet he did!) She’d thought Parsons was Thursday. “Can we do it again?”

I stood up as she walked in. Eyes turned. Her tanned olive skin, salacious grin and twinkling green eyes were showcased by a figure-hugging, white cotton jump suit, a long, bottle-green velvet coat, and Afghan tribal jewellery; I couldn’t believe this beautiful young woman was eating with me. In reality I knew next to nothing about her. Who cared? We made each other laugh with tall stories about dope, and much shorter ones about ourselves. Amazingly, she did not have a boy friend. My suggestion of a film was reluctantly refused; she had to get home before London Transport ceased tube operations for the day. However, we had phone numbers and addresses and agreed we had to meet again very soon. We kissed warmly. I got the bus home but I could as well have danced to Belsize Park Gardens. Tina called. She was now flat-sitting for the McNabs, in Albany Mansions. Did I know a New Zealander called Lange? (I didn’t think so.) He was in town, with “his whole tribe”, staying in Lavender Hill. She was meeting him in Battersea Park just opposite where she was. Could I come out to play too?

When I met Jim we both had flashes of recognition. I’d definitely bought Nepalese hash from him in London before, with Charlie. Neither of us could remember exactly where or when. We spent time at the funfair in Battersea Park with Jim.

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