Part One
Billy Bamford was a simple lad with a big heart.
Born and raised in the Yorkshire town of Huddersfax, he left school at sixteen with no qualifications. Since then he'd been a paper boy, a milkman, a rag and bone man and now an apprentice mechanic. He lived in a flat above the garage with a single bed, a small colour TV, a microwave and a carefully curated selection of Page 3 clippings stuck to the wall. It was a happy, uneventful life.
He had been eighteen at Easter and now the first summer of his adult life stretched ahead of him. His work was easy and he spent his weekends walking the moors and dales.
This Saturday's walk was going particularly well. The tip of his tongue poked out of the side of his mouth as he ticked off the hen harrier in his battered notebook. Feeling like he was unlikely to top this achievement, he started the descent back down to town. As he did so, he was surprised to find two of his old classmates - Liam and Stew - striding across the moor, perpendicular to the path.
"Alright, lads, what are you up to?"
"Same as you," Liam said with a smirk. "Birdwatching."
Billy frowned. They'd never shown any interest in birdwatching at school - they had in fact bullied him for it until he'd become too big for them to bully and they'd moved on to easier targets. Nor did they seem to have any binoculars.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," confirmed Stew with a broad smile. "We've found a great new spot. Loads of exotic birds. Do you want to have a look?"
Billy hesitated. He was done for the day and he didn't like Liam and Stew... but it was nice that they shared his hobby.
"Okay. So what are you looking for, particular like?"
"Tits," said Liam which caused Stew to explode into laughter for some reason.
Billy frowned. "No need to come out here for those. There's plenty of tits in town."
"Sure," said Liam. He looked like he was struggling to keep a straight face. "We're just tired of all the tits in town. Aren't we, Stew?"
"Oh aye," Stew agreed.
Billy just shrugged and followed after them. He couldn't work out where they were going - nowhere near the best spots for birding - but they seemed to have a clear destination in mind. They dropped down and the gorse and bracken gave way to trees and thickets of rhododendrons.
"Woodland birds, is it?" he asked.
"Yeah, summat like that," said Liam. "In fact, we'll probably be able to see them from up that tree."
Billy frowned. "Really?"
"Oh yeah. Now, give us a leg up mate."
Billy obliged first Liam and then Stew.
"Right, now pass your binoculars up to us." Stew hung down from a branch and waggled his hand insistently.
Billy's frown deepened. "I'm not giving you my noccers."
"It's not your fucking knockers I'm after. Just pass them up."
Billy wasn't going to pass them up but he'd followed them this far. He sighed. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. He swung himself up and then clambered onto the same branch as the other two. From up here you could see that the rhododendrons formed a line along the outside of a chain link fence.
"Gonna have to get further up and along," Stew muttered to himself. "That one'll hold, I reckon." He moved up higher and the other two followed, the branch starting to creak alarmingly under its unusual load.
"If I get on the end here, I can balance myself here and then I just need them."
Stew grabbed for the binoculars, Billy snatched them back while grabbing onto Liam to steady himself, Liam lost his balance and took a fist full of Stew's jumper. The three lads looked at each other, their eyes correspondingly wide and then they fell.
* * *
Billy blearily opened his eyes. He was staring up into the irate face of a bearded man.
"What are you fucking jokers up to?"
"We were birdwatching," said Billy, blinking and shaking his head.
The man snorted. "I'll bet you fucking were. Well, you're lucky you didn't snap your necks. Now, get up the lot of you and come with me."
"Or what?" asked Liam with a sneer. A slightly wobbly sneer, it had to be said.
"Or I set my fucking dog on you."
The three lads sat up sharply. The man interrogating them was wearing the classic navy blue jumper of a security guard and was indeed holding the leash of a dog. One that was staring intently at the three young men.
"Does he bite?" Billy asked nervously.
"Not if you do as I fucking say."
The security guard clearly didn't feel the need to introduce himself. He just marched them straight into the nearest building, tying up his dog outside. He then propelled them through a series of corridors with none too gentle shoves until they reached a door. He rapped sharply.
"Come in."
He opened the door and pushed the three of them through into some sort of office.
"I went to investigate that disturbance, Mrs Fletcher. Found these three peeping Toms."
"Excellent work, Mr Burnside. I'll take it from here."
The man didn't look too happy about this. "You sure?" he said with a frown. "I could stay until the police arrive."
Billy's stomach felt funny at the mention of the police. Then Mrs Fletcher smiled and he felt better again. She was sat behind a large desk and had lowered a pair of glasses onto the paperwork in front of her as they'd entered. Billy wasn't very good with ages but she was older than his big sister and younger than his mum. She wore a white blouse with more than one button undone and a beaded necklace that rested on a prominent bust. She looked a bit like Billy's favourite teacher from primary school, Miss Brown.
"No, I'll be quite alright, Mr Burnside," she said.
Mr Burnside grumbled as he let himself out.
"Well, boys," said Mrs Fletcher as she stood up and walked round the desk towards them. She wore a grey pencil skirt that contained a bum every bit as prominent as her bust. "Trespass at the very least. Likely criminal damage. I'm not sure what the offence of being a voyeur is called in law but I know it is frowned on. Do you have anything to say for yourselves before I call the police?"
Billy didn't. He was still trying to puzzle out how he'd ended up in this situation and what the word 'voyeur' meant.
Luckily - or otherwise - Liam was more quick witted. Or perhaps more conniving. Or really just a seasoned liar.
"It's like this, see," he said. "Well, we wanted to join the club, didn't we?"
Mrs Fletcher rested her well upholstered rump on the edge of her desk and raised one eyebrow. "I see."
"Yeah," said Stew, emboldened. "We're like naturalists and that."
Billy nodded enthusiastically. He wasn't sure why this was helpful but he was indeed a naturalist and if that stopped him from getting into trouble then all the better.
"And are you all over eighteen?"
They all nodded.
"And are you all blind?"
They all stopped nodding.
"Er," said Liam, demonstrating that perhaps he wasn't so quick witted after all.
"Most prospective members walk through the front gate and into the main reception."
"Oh right. Yeah," said Liam. You could almost see the cogs turning behind his eyes.
"Yeah, we came over the back way. Across the moors and that. Got a bit lost."
"Got a bit lost, found the perimeter of our fine establishment and, rather than walking round to the front, jumped over the fence?"
Billy didn't really follow what was going on but he knew this was a mistake he could correct.
"Oh no," he said. "We didn't jump the fence. We climbed up a tree to look at the birds."
Despite this being the honest truth, both Liam and Stew elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
Mrs Fletcher smiled, unperturbed. "Well," she said, clapping her hands together. "I am delighted to hear that this has all been a big misunderstanding. I'm sure we don't need to get the police involved."
Beside Billy, Liam let out a small sigh of relief. But this was short lived.
"Right, boys, if you just want to pop your clothes on the chairs behind you then we can start processing your applications. Let me just grab three membership forms."
"You what?" said Stew. It was a sentiment echoed by the other two.
"Your clothes," repeated Mrs Fletcher, a puzzled note entering her voice. "Take them off and we can get started. Oh," she said, as if a realisation was dawning. "Don't worry, they'll be perfectly safe; I'll have someone come through and take them to a locker."
"Why the bloody hell would we take our clothes off?" exploded Liam.
Mrs Fletcher frowned. Her pleasant demeanour disappeared and a steely glint entered her eye.
"I thought you were - in your own words - 'like naturalists and that'. You did, of course, mean naturists and this is, of course, a naturist club. A club you wish to join. A club for which being naked is a prerequisite for entry. So please, do remove your clothes, boys. Unless..." Her facial expression became even more dangerous. "You are not naturists at all. That everything you have just told me was, in fact, a lie. In which case I'm afraid I would have to call the police after all."
"I'm not fucking having this," spat Liam. "Stupid fucking weirdos." He strode to the door and yanked it open. But his exit was impeded by the not inconsequential figure of Mr Burnside blocking his way.
