Copyright Oggbashan August 2017
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
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Back in the 1960s English Licensing Laws for public houses insisted that on Sundays the premises could be open for lunch from 12 noon to 2 pm and then close until the evening. Many parts of Wales were even worse with public houses shut ALL DAY on Sundays.
All serious drinkers knew the loopholes. If you were travelling, say on a train, the bar in the Restaurant Car didn't shut. But there was another way to continue drinking on Sunday afternoons. Unfortunately my friends and I didn't know about it. That turned our encounter with four delightful young ladies into something to forget.
+++
It started on Saturday evening at a very decorous dance at the YMCA. It wasn't run by the YMCA, but by a young people's club for those over 18. There was no alcohol, only soft drinks and tea or coffee. But the pop group playing were competent and had a reasonable local following. My friends and I decided, despite the venue being dry, that it could be an opportunity to meet women. We were right.
We had arrived early and had claimed a large table in the corner of the hall from where we could watch everyone else. The dancing hadn't started when four young women arrived to find that all the tables had been claimed by those who had come earlier. I looked at the four and recognised Anne, the slightly older sister of Dave, one of my friends. Dave wasn't there tonight.
I stood up, waved and shouted "Anne!".
She saw me, waved back and made her way towards me. Her friends followed her.
"Like to join us?" I asked as they arrived.
My friends, being young gentlemen, or at least pretending to be young gentlemen, had stood up as the women approached. Anne looked at her three friends.
"OK?" she asked.
To our relief the other three nodded. They sat at our table, somehow sorting out which man they would sit next to. Anne sat herself beside me. The others were introducing each other. My friends had stunned expressions. The four women were attractive.
"Thank you, Colin," Anne said. "I hadn't thought this dance would be so crowded."
"Nor had I," I replied.
I might have said more, but I was startled as Anne kissed me.
"Thank you," I spluttered as our lips parted, "but why?"
"Why? I just felt like it. Dave thinks you're a good bloke. So do I. So..."
Anne kissed me again.
That was the start of a wonderful evening for the eight of us. We sometimes changed partners for one or two dances but the pairs that had started the evening ended it together.
Before the dance started I had discussed with my friends something we could do together on Sunday. A local company ran tourist boats for trips around the bay and harbour during the week. On Sundays they advertised a longer trip from Plymouth to Looe in Cornwall and back. The price of that trip was very reasonable and it could be an interesting day out.
While the women had all gone together to the Ladies room I suggested that we should invite the four women to join us on the boat trip tomorrow. A whole day together might establish whether there was any chance of building a relationship. We would have time together when we could talk, unlike at this noisy dance. My friends agreed that it was worth trying but for all four women, or none.
When the women returned I took Anne on to the dance floor for a slow number. As we danced I asked her whether she would be willing to join me on the boat trip to Looe tomorrow. I explained that my friends wanted all four women to go. I would be happy to take Anne, by herself, anytime except tomorrow but we four men wanted to go as a group this time.
After that dance, Anne gathered her friends and they all retreated to the Ladies again. When they returned our invitation had been accepted. We agreed details of where each couple would meet. Despite today's balmy weather we would bring warm clothing. We would get to the quayside half an hour earlier than the scheduled departure. A group of eight might be difficult to book if we arrived just before sailing. All eight of us had been on the local short boat trips if only as children with our parents.
For the last dance we were together as the couples that had begun the evening. Four couples set off in different directions to the women's homes. As we walked out of the venue Anne grabbed my hand and held it. A hundred yards further on she wrapped my arm around her shoulder. Her arm went round my waist. I was happy, unusually sober for a Saturday night, and had a delightful woman hugging me. It was bliss.
It got better. As we got further away from the brightly lit town centre Anne pulled me to a stop between street lights for a long kiss. We kissed between every set of street lights until we were in sight of her parents' house.
Anne climbed a few of the steps leading to the front door. I was slightly disappointed. Although she had kissed me many times on the walk to her house, it looked as if she wasn't going to give me a final goodnight kiss.
She turned around. She grabbed my head and pulled it hard against her clothed breasts. My nose was buried in her cleavage.
"That's to keep you thinking about me until tomorrow," she said as I breathed in her perfume.
She let me go before running up the rest of the steps, leaving me stunned. I hadn't expected that from Anne.
+++
Anne was right about the thinking. I dreamed of Anne and woke with a wet patch on my pyjamas. Why hadn't I considered Anne as a possible girlfriend before now? As I shaved, showered and dressed I started to work out my previous reluctance. Anne was a year or so older than me. She seemed much more mature than many of my friends. But the most important reason had been Jake, her boyfriend that we thought would be her fiancΓ©. She and Jake had been an item for over a year, but the last time I had seen Anne before yesterday had been six months ago.
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The four men were on the quayside at an hour we didn't normally see on a Sunday morning. This morning we weren't recovering from our usual Saturday night hangovers. We booked for eight people on the return trip from Plymouth to Looe. The woman taking our money looked at us and asked whether we knew the length of the trip. As it was written in chalk on a blackboard by the kiosk we agreed that we knew. From departure to return would be a minimum of twelve hours and could be longer depending on wind and tide. We would have just over two hours ashore in Looe -- long enough to have lunch.
The boat was the oldest and largest in the tourist boat fleet. There were other trips on the notice board for one hour, two hour, cream tea trips etc. Yet the price for the long return trip to Looe was lower than any of the other trips. We didn't think why that should be. We just appreciated that we could afford it.
As we waited for the women we watched as the crewmen loaded the boat with several barrels of beer and many crates of bottles. For such a short trip the quantities seemed large. Perhaps they were using the trip to supply a public house in Looe?
Anne arrived first. She hugged and kissed me as if we had met after weeks apart. I could see my friends getting jealous until the other women arrived. They weren't as demonstrative as Anne but they made sure the men knew they had willing partners. All eight of us were carrying some sort of bag with outer layer clothing.
We boarded the boat about half an hour before the sailing time. We looked around. Most of the passenger accommodation was covered with a surprisingly large bar. The number of toilets was unusual. There were eight cubicles off the bar area, two forward under the raised bow, and four more above the stern next to the open deck.
After discussion we decided to sit in the open deck area close to the bow. We could face forward and watch the boat's course. While we waited for the sailing time we were standing up watching other passengers coming on board.
Everyone else seemed to be carrying bags of bottles that clinked as they boarded. Most of them were middle-aged or older men with bulbous red noses. The few women looked almost like over-aged whores. I recognised a couple of them who frequented Union Street picking up sailors who were too drunk to notice the unattractiveness of the women.
Apart from the eight of us there were no passengers under the age of forty and most were much older. They all went into the covered area. No one joined us out in the open.
When I had been on boat trips with my parents there had been a continuous commentary as we sailed around Plymouth and Devonport. This time there was nothing except a five minute warning before the sailing time. It seemed an anticlimax as the boat was cast off and headed out past Drake's Island heading for the breakwater. The four couples were close together, heads almost touching, as we pointed out to each other some of the interesting shoreline and the moored shipping.
I decided to ask Anne, first about her brother Dave who I hadn't seen for some time.
"Dave? He's in Hong Kong. He decided to join the Hong Kong Police force for three years."
I was surprised. It must have shown. Anne continued.
"He was disappointed with the results of his Civil Service examination. He failed by a few marks. He can resit, even in Hong Kong, but with experience there he might be able to get into a Police Force here. He is an Inspector in Hong Kong. The pay is good. He gets free accommodation and food so he could save most of his salary. Other people who have come back from Hong Kong have been able to buy a small local house outright."
"Any disadvantages?"
"The risk of death or injury," Anne said. "The statistics aren't that bad but several Hong Kong policemen die on duty every year. The gangs are very aggressive, fighting each other for territory, and they can turn on the Police. I'm worried. So are my parents. Dave's letters home have been reassuring but I'm not convinced he's telling the whole story."