Preparations for the trip had gone well and Tullen was feeling pleased with himself. ‘Four days away from this shit heap is just what the doctor ordered,’ he enthused, grinning at the thought. ‘Auld Gerry wouldn’t be too pleased at Erin being described as a shit heap.’ Still chuckling, he continued with his task. Packing, as with every undertaking, was approached with meticulous detail. Each item had a place and this was adhered to with a precision bordering on obsession. He committed to memory the exact location of each garment or toiletry. Tullen was a suspicious man and by his own admission a loner, affording few an insight to his personal life. He was a mirthless individual whom, to the casual observer, remained aloof. To many of his acquaintances he was, by all intents and purposes, a snob. His one real passion was football, secondary only to the ultimate cause. Tullen was determined to see Ireland united under democratic rule. His goal was to see the people of Ireland integrated as one nation. He held no truck with the Catholic Church and determined that its influence would wane once independence was achieved. The British could call it what they liked, to Connor Tullen it was war and a war that would be won in his lifetime. If he were to die bringing about that aim so be it but he would not be compromised by the mistakes of a third party. Hence the attitude of mistrust toward his peers. Connor was a planner, involved in decision making. He was aware that his life belonged to the movement therefore, unlike Clements, he had informed the supreme council of his travel plans well in advance. Clearing his overseas trip was a priority to Tullen, who left nothing to chance.
As if by clockwork, Maurice Scott tramped into the lounge positioned himself at his usual seat and ordered his usual drink. As always, he opened the daily at the small ads section. Scanning the column dedicated to computers he barely acknowledged Black’s greeting, grudgingly returning it with a disinterested nod. Christ this isn’t going to be easy, thought Black. This has got to be one of the most obnoxious creatures that I have ever had the misfortune to deal with.
‘Sorry to be a nuisance but I could not help noticing that you have opened your newspaper at the small ads section.’
‘Yes,’ answered Scott dryly, dismissing the Englishman as if he was a fly whose sole purpose in life was to annoy the paying public. Ignoring the other man’s off handed reply, Nathan ploughed on. He was not about to be outdone by this unreceptive oaf. ‘I don’t mean to be rude but I am in a bit of a quandary.’
‘Oh,’ replied Scott, showing slightly more interest, he was a public servant after all. Encouraged Black forged on. ‘You see,’ he continued. ‘I’m in the computer business and I have to visit the province on a regular basis. Scott’s ears pricked and he rose to the bait like a demented trout. ‘Computers you say?’ bubbled Scott, at last giving Black his full attention.
‘Well yes,’ answered Nathan, in mock agitation. ‘But it is accommodation I wish to ask you about old man. It appears that I’ll be commuting between here and the mainland on a regular basis. Staying three or four days at a time. To tell you the truth I’m a little old fashioned and although this is a beautiful hotel,’ he went on, smiling apologetically at the barman. ‘It is just that, an hotel. I like to prepare my own cuisine on occasion, as well as preferring a modicum of privacy.’
‘Yes I appreciate your dilemma but I fail to see what it has to do with me,’ Scott informed him, losing interest and returning to his paper.
‘Please excuse my persistence but I really am in a bind. What I am trying so inadequately to ascertain is how well you know the area?’
‘I was brought up here. Know it like the back of my hand?’
‘Splendid, Carven, Nicholas Carven,’ lied the Englishman, extending his hand.
‘Maurice Scott,’ proffered his warily.
‘If you will please bear with me, I have a few addresses of private houses and I was wondering if you could steer me in the right direction.’
‘ Oh I see,’ said Scott, beginning to understand what was being asked of him.
‘Look, let my buy you another and perhaps we could browse through my list. I’d be awfully grateful,’ pleaded Black..
‘I don’t usually stay here long, I’m not really a drinker, if you know what I mean,’ replied Scott uncomfortably. Unused to being solicited by strangers, he wanted to terminate the discussion as soon as civility would permit.
‘Of course, of course Maurice. May I call you Maurice?
‘That’s all right, Mr. Carven.’
‘No please my name is Nicholas. At the risk of being too familiar, could you please call me Nick. My friends call me Nick and I do hope we shall be friends,’ pressed Black, sensing the Irishman begin to waver. In spite of himself Maurice Scott was flattered. He was unused to people treating him in this manner and he was actually beginning to enjoy the attention.
‘All right then,’ he agreed, dropping his guard with a reasonable attempt at a smile. ‘I’ll have another pint if you don’t mind.’ The young barman was flabbergasted. This guy must be the world’s greatest salesman, he mused, confining his thoughts to silence, although he did permit himself a wry smile, as he continued with his chores in the usual practised manner. Today had been the first occasion that he could recall Scott pass the time of day with anyone and here he was actually being, for want of a better word, friendly. The policeman took a long swallow and holding out his large hand asked to see the list of possible addresses. ‘Now let me see,’ he began. ‘Hmm Ladas Drive that’s a bit noisy. Tends to be a busy sort of a road, car showrooms and the like. I don’t think you would want to stay there. One question, what kind of place did you have in mind? I mean are you going to stay in digs or is it a flat that you require. There are a few good guesthouses around this area.
‘As I was saying earlier, I was looking for a place with a kitchen facility, perhaps a one bedroom apartment.’
‘Well you need look no further, for right in this very vicinity there are numerous flats to let. As a matter of fact, you could take a walk with me right now and I’ll show you a few. That is if you have nothing on at the moment.’ Black feigned self-scrutiny.
‘Why I’m fully dressed,’ he chuckled.
‘No I meant if you weren’t doing anything,’ stuttered Scott, in obvious embarrassment.
‘Only joking Maurice, I know what you meant.’
‘Oh sorry, I’m not used to the English sense of humour.’ Black’s attempt at levity sailed inexorably over the policeman’s head.
‘On the contrary, it is I who should apologise. Here you are a complete stranger, willing to give up your time to assist me and what thanks do you receive, flippancy. Of course I’ll come with you and I can’t thank you enough for the offer. Lead on McDuff!’ he exclaimed jovially, before downing the last of his lager.
‘Yes right,’ said Scott obediently, beginning to enjoy himself. ‘I thought we could go to Pimms Avenue, it’s just around the corner from my place. There are numerous flats and bed-sits there. I’m sure you’ll find something that meets your requirements.’
‘Excellent Maurice,’ said Black. ‘I think my fortunes have taken a turn for the better. Do you know something Maurice, I do believe you are going to be my lucky talisman, I am truly glad to have met you.’
‘I hope so Nick,’ said Scott, warming to his newly acquired compatriot. They strolled along the Upper Newtownards Road finally arriving at Pimms Avenue. Nathan noticed how a few people nodded acknowledgement toward Scott but none spoke. It was patently obvious that Mr. Scott was very much a loner. Things were getting better and better. Bearing in mind his latest discovery, he concluded that he could take as much time as he wanted to cultivate the relationship. He decided to play his hand at a much more sedate pace. Scott’s friendship must be nurtured, it required time to develop and blossom. The man was, after all, a member of the police force, it would take a while to gain Maurice’s trust but he had all the time in the world. Perhaps at a later date he could ascertain Scott’s sexual leanings but for the time being he would remain a polite stranger.
‘Here we are, Pimms Avenue,’ he was advised, with an expansive sweep of the policeman’s colossal hand.
‘Ah,’ enthused Nathan, ‘just perfect. It really is aptly named. There is no doubting the fact that this is an avenue in every sense of the word,’ observed Black gleefully. ‘Some of these trees must be thirty foot tall.’
‘I suppose they are,’ agreed the other. ‘You know I must have walked down this street, sorry avenue, a thousand times and never gave it a second thought. Amazing that it should take a stranger to point out how pretty it is. Perhaps you have taught me a valuable lesson Nick. We tend to take things too much for granted as we scurry around in the daily grind.’
‘Very profound Maurice but I know exactly what you mean.’ Just as the sergeant had predicted, there was a large amount of accommodation available, mostly Victorian Style houses converted into flats. The two men sauntered down the avenue, stopping occasionally in order for Black to record phone numbers of estate agencies advertised on the, to let, notices outside a few of the vacant dwellings. They reached the end of the avenue where Scott pointed to his right at the intersection.
‘I live just around the corner, you’re welcome to come in for a cuppa if you wish,’ offered Scott.
‘No, no I couldn’t possibly impose Maurice, perhaps another time. We can discuss it over a drink tomorrow evening if you like.’
‘Yes I’d like that very much. Well see you tomorrow then Nick.’
‘Looking forward to it my friend. I’ll be in around six forty five, traffic permitting of course.’
Scott was ecstatic. Looking forward to it my friend. He smiled warmly as he recounted the Englishman’s parting words. My friend, now there was a turn up for the books. Scott wrecked his brain trying to recall the last person who had uttered anything remotely civil in his direction. The big man had never met anyone quite like Nathan Black in his entire miserable existence. Here he was arranging to have a drink with this man, a stranger really, and it felt marvellous. A niggling doubt crept in to cast a shadow on his revelry. My friend was just a figure of speech. What if Nick had simply meant, see you later pal or even worse, mate? People said friend all the time but they did not really mean, friend, not in the real sense. The big policeman shrugged, ‘What the hell,’ but he was inwardly praying that Nick had been genuine with his offer of friendship. The man had impressed him and he fervently hoped that Nick had meant what he said. No matter what the outcome, this had been a new and pleasant experience and one he intended to relish. For the first time in years, Maurice Scott looked forward to the dawning of a new day.