wants another four next week. Yeah, yeah.
When I say that Cathy and I are going out together it’s almost like a real date, which would be a step up in our relationship if it wasn’t at the Black Horse in Ellerker. In other words, she wants to check out Harry’s parents’ mansion with suitable cover. I told Roger at the office that I was taking an extended lunch and he said that he didn’t mind as long as I came back clutching a result. Unlikely.
Cathy is in a surprisingly cheerful mood as I pick her up at Priory Grove. She even smiles at me, nicely. I am immediately on my guard. “It’ll be nice to get out of town,” she says. She works from home as a telesales operator (one up or one down from being an estate agent, depending on your point of view) although not much given the amount of money I still have to pay for her and the kids each month.
“So why the Black Horse?” I ask innocently.
“Jill and Bruce were talking about it the other day. They say it is really good, for Hull.”
It will probably be better than most of the pubs I get to go to.
“It’ll certainly make a change from Waterstones.”
“Yeah, I feel that we need to start again somehow.”
How?
Cathy is still smiling when we get to Ellerker. She keeps looking at me in an almost affectionate way, you know, the way man-eating tigers sidle up to you.
“OK, so where do Harry’s parents live?”
“Who cares?”
“You do, probably.”
She is going sour again. “I didn’t come here to look up Harry’s parents. Who do you take me for?”
“You have to admit that it is a bit of a coincidence.”
She relents. “All right. I suppose it is, but honestly that is not why we are here.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” That sounds a bit grudging. “Honestly, Cathy, I believe you.”
Hauled back from the brink. “Blimey, this is a bit posh.” This is the top end of the pub grub market. How on earth am I going to pay? I don’t even need to see the prices on the menu - I can sniff the décor.
Not joking. £6 for a starter, £20 for the main course, and £6 again for dessert. We are talking £100 here just for Tuesday lunch so long as I can steer Cathy away from the Château Calon-Ségur at £69.50 a bottle.
“Don’t worry, Jake. I’m paying.”
Which means I’m paying. Well, maybe not ……..
“Harry’s treat.”
“Why?”
“Guilt money, I think, because his parents won’t have anything to do with me.”
“Really?”
“Come on, Jake. You’ve already said that Harry told you.”
Sancton pigeon? That’s a bit specific isn’t it? Just down the road. They probably race them from the pigeon loft to the restaurant and cancel the return trip, laying them to rest on a bed of black pudding and bacon apparently. Thanks, Harry. I am reconsidering the Château Calon-Ségur.
Remarkably, we manage to avoid throwing either wine or main courses at each other and we even have a few laughs. I keep finding myself wriggling and bouncing in my seat which is always an indication of my enjoying myself. Who’d have thought it?
And, yes, afterwards we get to walk around the village. “Well I am a little curious,” Cathy explains.
And Harry’s parents are a bit rich. Blimey. Walled garden, stately home and electric gates which puts all the rest of us into context. Our doorbell doesn’t even work.
Back at Priory Grove, Cathy invites me in for coffee.
“Better not. Jade is feeling terrible today. I had better get back to her.”
Cathy even endeavours to look disappointed.
Chapter 9
Down the Hessle Road, just past ARCO, in front of Smith & Nephew and next door to the Alexandra Hotel there is an architectural salvage place dominated by a statue of a knight on his horse.
I don’t know who the statue is of but for me he is El Cid, the guy who drove the bad guys out of Spain (except that they were doing just what everybody else was doing at the time).
He strikes an incongruous figure overlooking the Hessle Road
When I say that Cathy and I are going out together it’s almost like a real date, which would be a step up in our relationship if it wasn’t at the Black Horse in Ellerker. In other words, she wants to check out Harry’s parents’ mansion with suitable cover. I told Roger at the office that I was taking an extended lunch and he said that he didn’t mind as long as I came back clutching a result. Unlikely.
Cathy is in a surprisingly cheerful mood as I pick her up at Priory Grove. She even smiles at me, nicely. I am immediately on my guard. “It’ll be nice to get out of town,” she says. She works from home as a telesales operator (one up or one down from being an estate agent, depending on your point of view) although not much given the amount of money I still have to pay for her and the kids each month.
“So why the Black Horse?” I ask innocently.
“Jill and Bruce were talking about it the other day. They say it is really good, for Hull.”
It will probably be better than most of the pubs I get to go to.
“It’ll certainly make a change from Waterstones.”
“Yeah, I feel that we need to start again somehow.”
How?
Cathy is still smiling when we get to Ellerker. She keeps looking at me in an almost affectionate way, you know, the way man-eating tigers sidle up to you.
“OK, so where do Harry’s parents live?”
“Who cares?”
“You do, probably.”
She is going sour again. “I didn’t come here to look up Harry’s parents. Who do you take me for?”
“You have to admit that it is a bit of a coincidence.”
She relents. “All right. I suppose it is, but honestly that is not why we are here.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” That sounds a bit grudging. “Honestly, Cathy, I believe you.”
Hauled back from the brink. “Blimey, this is a bit posh.” This is the top end of the pub grub market. How on earth am I going to pay? I don’t even need to see the prices on the menu - I can sniff the décor.
Not joking. £6 for a starter, £20 for the main course, and £6 again for dessert. We are talking £100 here just for Tuesday lunch so long as I can steer Cathy away from the Château Calon-Ségur at £69.50 a bottle.
“Don’t worry, Jake. I’m paying.”
Which means I’m paying. Well, maybe not ……..
“Harry’s treat.”
“Why?”
“Guilt money, I think, because his parents won’t have anything to do with me.”
“Really?”
“Come on, Jake. You’ve already said that Harry told you.”
Sancton pigeon? That’s a bit specific isn’t it? Just down the road. They probably race them from the pigeon loft to the restaurant and cancel the return trip, laying them to rest on a bed of black pudding and bacon apparently. Thanks, Harry. I am reconsidering the Château Calon-Ségur.
Remarkably, we manage to avoid throwing either wine or main courses at each other and we even have a few laughs. I keep finding myself wriggling and bouncing in my seat which is always an indication of my enjoying myself. Who’d have thought it?
And, yes, afterwards we get to walk around the village. “Well I am a little curious,” Cathy explains.
And Harry’s parents are a bit rich. Blimey. Walled garden, stately home and electric gates which puts all the rest of us into context. Our doorbell doesn’t even work.
Back at Priory Grove, Cathy invites me in for coffee.
“Better not. Jade is feeling terrible today. I had better get back to her.”
Cathy even endeavours to look disappointed.
Chapter 9
Down the Hessle Road, just past ARCO, in front of Smith & Nephew and next door to the Alexandra Hotel there is an architectural salvage place dominated by a statue of a knight on his horse.
I don’t know who the statue is of but for me he is El Cid, the guy who drove the bad guys out of Spain (except that they were doing just what everybody else was doing at the time).
He strikes an incongruous figure overlooking the Hessle Road
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