Three Tales Out of Time Read online

first visit to Hartlepool they should show me “a good time” in the town and proposed for the evening's entertainment one of its exclusive clubs that apparently one reads about in celebrity magazines. As my experience of a 'good time' had recently been limited to the fashionable set in Chichester who normally retired by the hour of ten I thanked him and said I looked forward to broadening my horizons. It was agreed that Twins, better known amongst the posh as “The Gemini Club”, should be the place of choice. I had not come across any reviews of this fashionable place even though I had been trying to keep up with 'modern' society by reading Jill's magazines and listening to "Woman's Hour' on the radio which for some reason lasted from ten o'clock in the morning to four in the afternoon and informed me about a lot of things I didn't know I should be worried about.

  So with no more ado and a quick change of dress we were off.

  Well actually we did not dress quickly as I am afraid to say there was much discussion between Jill and I on what to wear or to put it more succinctly, what not to wear. It seems to gain a passport to Hartlepool for an evening just wearing one's undergarments was regarded as overdressed. I was not to be persuaded though and insisted on wearing enough that would leave sufficient for the imagination.

  J.

  The streets were quite empty as the usual gaggle of young ladies who had passed out earlier on the pavements due to misjudgement of the quantity of alcohol in a bottle of gin had been carefully removed by the local constabulary.

  We arrived eventually at Club Gemini and after receiving a cursory inspection at the door by the concierge, who looked surprisingly like the French monkey and distinctly gave me the impression that I had personally hanged his great great grandfather, we were allowed in.

  What a sight greeted us. If there is a God and I’m allowed a glimpse of heaven I think his work would be cut out to improve on the view before us.

  E.

  I have never been in bordello but if you asked me to describe one I think the sight before me would have provided an adequate impression. I can only say that as we passed through a heavy curtain I was greeted by a sea of semi-naked gyrating ladies of various sizes wearing clothing that would have brought a blush to a dollymop. They seemed to be dancing to a fast, loud and rather repetitive form of African music emanating from the ceiling. I say seemed to be dancing for I saw no one who understood the correlation between the musical tempo and the movement of their bodies. In my time in order to be able to dance at a ball or soiree it was customary to wait until asked by a gentleman. Here no such requirement was needed. In fact I saw groups of men, shirtless I should add, gavotting by themselves with no regard to the half-naked doxies around them! I could not begin to imagine how much consternation not to mention disappointment amongst the mothers of debutantes who having prepared their daughters for a ball for over a year in the hope of attracting or palming them off to the men of their choice found themselves confronted by these dancing monkeys. James has told me that it is a well-known fact that there is a high correlation between how much clothing with which a woman will cover herself and the availability of men in her town. When I tell you that apparently most of the men in the town either worked at sea or spent their evenings in their clubs you may get an indication of the vision that met our eyes.

  I noticed James was quite enjoying the scenery though when questioned he insisted that he much preferred me to be dressed the way I was. Sean, however, who had lived in the country for some time where in general women wore more sober attire, looked distinctly unsteady on his feet.

  J.

  At some point there was a general announcement by what looked like the door monkey’s cousin that there would now be a “Sussies” Competition. This was met by screams of delight and a general rush to the stage by dozens of ladies.

  A group of the more attractive and less inebriated ones managed to clamber on to the stage and to the whistles and roars of the mainly female audience proceeded to lift up their skirts and dresses to reveal a surprising variety of stocking tops and suspenders.

  Well I realised now what is meant by the seven steps to heaven. Up to now I had obviously only been on the first rung!

  E.

  Well words fail me! Not least because James and Sean suggested that we should join in this competition. When I questioned them about being asked to join a line of drunken strumpets showing my ALL as though I was on display in a brothel for the whim of its customers James said it would have no effect on my reputation as we would not be coming back the next evening. Realising by my look that he had now overstepped the mark by some distance he then tried to mollify me by saying that if I had worn my red embroidered stockings, which I have come to suspect a vision of me wearing such items and nothing else occupies a significant part of his brain, I would have won the competition hands down. I thanked him for thinking I would do well in this line of work but said I regarded a bottle of cheap champagne as not sufficient incentive to join those trollops on the stage. I was also pleased that Jill declined their suggestion to join me in a rendering of that infamous interlude from Offenbach's operetta. Though, when I questioned them on why they thought I should do this to my horror James said he had 'heard' from my cousin Henry that I had performed quite a remarkable rendition of it while at Girton. How that story got out beyond the walls I have no idea but I will interrogate my sister Flory very closely next time I have the opportunity to meet her.

  J.

  By now Sean needed to be propped up by Elizabeth and me. She told me later that he didn’t blink his eyes for almost 20 minutes and was unable to answer even the simplest questions such as “would you like a drink?” or “Can I take that dead cigarette hanging out of your open mouth?”

  Eventually when the display of fine legs and lingerie had finished our girls suggested we leave before our eye lids became permanently attached to our foreheads. They guided us reluctantly back to the exit and out in to the fresh air. When we arrived back home and recounted the evening in detail less we forgot anything Jill sent Sean upstairs and told him not to come back down until he had thoroughly washed himself in bleach and carbolic soap, for it seems that the reputation and habits of the ladies of Hartlepool had travelled far.

  E.

  The following morning after this exceedingly late evening Sean decided we should all go off to Whitby, the well-known fishing village on the Yorkshire coast to taste what he called the heart stopping cuisine of a famous Fish and Chips Emporium and look for vampires. I thought he was still a little light headed from the previous evening’s excesses for my only knowledge of such creatures were in the laudanum filled minds of Byron and his friends but never the less he seemed to be quite in earnest so we agreed. James also thought Sean looked a little peaky and eventually persuaded him that he should take control of the car. Though I must admit he did not look much better.

  J.

  We were driving along towards Middlesbrough, a town whose only claim to fame was that it had been voted second worst place to live in England, and were admiring the view of the billowing clouds emanating from the cooling towers of Europe’s largest chemical works and enjoying the fragrance from the local incinerator and river Tees at low tide, when Sean suddenly announced he was feeling a bit queasy. With quick dexterity he managed to wind down the window in time to give one of the best projectile vomits I have ever seen. Unfortunately the back windows were already open. Personally I was never very good at fluid dynamics at college but I expected better of Sean who had trained to be a meteorologist and should have understood the subtle nature of wind, vortices and laminar flow. Instead of spraying and improving the surrounding countryside of Teesside, the substance travelled in a backward direction. To be fair some did go out of the window but inexplicably returned through the back window.

  I was conscious of a deafening silence from the rear compartment where Jill and Elizabeth were sitting. I pulled over and slowly turned round to see if they were alright. I don’t know whether you have seen one those machines w
hich spray pebble dash on to houses in England but the apparition before me reminded me of the effect that one of these machines could have on human beings. Though where the diced carrots came from I don’t know as I did not remember our eating them at dinner the previous evening.

  For some reason the girls just stared at us without a word which continued for quite some time while we endeavoured to clean their clothes and the car.

  E.

  After we had returned to Sean's apartment in silence, washed ourselves and changed our clothes we were persuaded to return to Whitby for this Jill and I agreed was by far preferable to experiencing another 'good time' in Hartlepool. As it was getting late James said we should book overnight accommodation there and reserved a place by phone. I am pleased to say that the second journey to Whitby that day was uneventful and the fish and chip supper supplemented by endless quantities of buttered bread and tea went some way to remove the odour of that mornings exploits which for some reason followed us across the moors.

  Once refreshed Sean said we should go and look for vampires. Apparently a certain Count Dracula who was of this ilk had landed here by sea in a coffin