Writing for Fun
May 2015
The First Time - Peter Rogers
'Good Lord, it's Ben Martin, isn't it?' the voice called out from the other end of the pub's garden.
'Well, yes it is,' said Martin puzzledly. 'But I'm sorry, I don't think I . . .'
'Yes, you must remember me. It's Tom Hastings, I was with you at Heathfield Grammar in Form 4L. Do you remember me now?' said the rather strongly athletic man facing him.
'Oh yes, of course, Tom Hastings. It must be about fifteen years ago, mustn't it? Fancy seeing you here. I've rather lost touch with the old crowd. Do you ever see any of them?'
'No,' said Tom, my parents decided to move away not long after we came here actually. I just happened to be holidaying here. Funnily enough, I was idly wondering if I'd run into any of the old crowd.'
'As I remember,' said Martin, fumbling for a match, 'you preferred to hang around with the Form 4M mob , didn't you?'
'Well I suppose they were more my sort of background,' Tom replied, as he produced an elegant cigarette lighter for Ben Martin's cigarette. 'Did you ever get married, by the way? I see there's no ring on your finger.'
'I did a few years ago, old boy, but it didn't last. We were both too young really. You know how it is.'
Interesting, thought Tom.
'How about you?'
'I've recently got engaged. This is my last fling before we get married. Look, Martin, while I'm in the area I wondered whether you'd like to meet up later in the week?'
'Sorry, old boy, I'm rather busy the rest of the week. Besides, to be perfectly honest, I don't think we had an awful lot in common, did we?'
'No, I suppose you're right,' said Tom with a brief rueful smile. The two then parted, without exchanging phone numbers or addresses.
Less than an hour later, Ben Martin heard a knock on his cottage door and was slightly bewildered to see Tom Hastings on his doorstep. 'Sorry about this, but I realised just after you left that I didn't have my cigarette lighter. Only, it was a present from my fiancé and she'll be so upset if I've lost it. I assumed you must have absent-mindedly kept it after you lit your smoke.'
'Sorry, old boy, I definitely remember giving it back to you. Look,' he said, awkwardly, 'Do you want to come in for a minute, after you've driven all this way? Incidentally, how did you know where I lived?'
'Oh, I didn't,' said Tom. 'When I realised the lighter was missing, I just followed you home. It's quite a deserted place, this cottage, isn't it?'
'Yes, yes. I like the serenity of the place. Look, are you sure you won't come in?'
'No, I'll be on my way, I think, before it gets dark. That's a terrific motor you've got there, isn't it?'
'Yes,' said Martin, proudly. 'Like to take a look?'
'Yes, please,' said Tom, promptly.
Martin showed him the interior of the classic Jaguar and then opened the bonnet. As he was pointing out the finer points of the workings of the car, which meant almost nothing to Tom, suddenly he felt as if a brick wall was falling on top of him. In fact it was the bonnet being smashed on his skull, not once but three times.
He lay in a heap, dazed – dazed and astonished.
'You look surprised, Old Boy!' said Tom mockingly, 'You shouldn't be, you know. You and your gang made my life hell, didn't you? Just because I was on a different syllabus at my other school and I couldn't keep up and I preferred more down-to-earth pupils to you stuck-up scumbags,' he added, aiming a kick at Martin.
'Look here,' gasped Ben Martin painfully, 'All that was a long time ago. We were just kids. Can't we just let bygones be bygones?'
'Oh, yes, and I suppose you won't call the police as soon as I've gone?' sneered Tom.
'No, of course not. I'm content to bury the past. Can't you?'
'Exactly! I fully intend to bury the past, as soon as I'm ready to leave.'
Tom's words held an ominous meaning for Martin.
'As I remember, you lot ridiculed me 'cos I was no good a games,' he continued. 'Anyway, I think you'll find I'm a lot sturdier than I was then,' he added as his hands squeezed the life out of his old enemy.
'There, that's the first one,' he said to himself. 'By my reckoning I've only got another six or seven to find.'