The Gala

The only hotel available was a motel/pub/Thai restaurant on the Sunderland road. It was outside of the city, but the buses were regular and taxi firms were happy to come out that far. Sid and Nancy sat side by side at the dining table in the glow of the laptop.

‘Should we invite him?’ Sid opened a new tab to check the menu for the Rising Dragon. ‘Tempura. Green curry. Pad Thai. It looks okay.’

‘He won’t want to come. Not that weekend.’

‘It’ll be a laugh, seeing him outside his comfort zone.’

‘What about Fred?’ Nancy slid the mouse from under Sid’s fingers and clicked back to the room tariff. ‘The moment he sees the price he’ll refuse.’

‘Fred’ll be fine. We can put some meals in his fridge if you’re worried.’

‘I’m not. Not really. But Andrew, at the gala?’

‘Exactly. Just what he needs: another dose of reality.’

‘That’s Fred’s department, so it would seem.’

‘We can say it’s our treat. He doesn’t even have to see the hotel before we get there.’

‘And what about Sally?’

‘They’re supposed to be separated.’

‘But working through it.’

Andrew had been up to Durham once since the trio had graduated and gone their not-so-separate ways: an ill-fated trip with Sally which had culminated in an incident in the cloister and a stand-up row on Palace Green. The picnic he had arranged went untouched and was left to the rain which had further sullied the trip. It was another one of those things that they had never spoken of again, but it had rankled and festered and the wound, in Andrew’s case at least, had yet to heal.

‘All I did was look. You would have looked, Sid.’ He kicked off his brogues and stretched out on the sofa.

‘I was never much of a looker.’

‘Ha. You’re right about that.’

‘Nance says we can leave Fred some meals for the freezer.’

‘He can cook when he needs to. Gloria would not have let him get away with that.’

‘What do you think then?’

‘How do you think it will play with Sal?’

‘You tell me.’

‘Going away with you two and to Durham? She won’t be over the moon.’

‘But things were alright the last time we saw her. And it’s going well, isn’t it?’

‘Yes...but Durham...you two.’

‘Come on mate. Think of our old haunts. Past glories and that.’

‘I have been thinking about the house. I’d like to have a look; outside at least.’

He fell asleep within ten minutes of the car hitting the motorway. The Friday afternoon traffic did nothing to dispel the cliché and Nancy and Sid were grateful for their passenger’s torpor. He shouted a name in his sleep and woke with a start a few miles north of Scotch Corner. He checked his phone and dug his spare hand into the pocket of the jacket he had hung behind Sid then thrust a packet of Polos between the front seats. Nancy waved her hand, but took one for her husband. She listened to the men crunch through the mints and settled her head into the space where the seat met the door. An afternoon, it might have been a morning, a long time ago surfaced. She let a long sigh escape her lips and closed her eyes.

It was the end of their second year. The day before had been their final exam, either Criminal or Employment, and they had been up late celebrating and commiserating. Nancy was standing in her slippers at the open French windows, sucking on a cigarette and considering the promise of summer. Behind her, the lounge was the usual student bombsite, but for once there were no unexpected bodies cluttering the floor. She wasn’t sure what time Sid had come to bed, but he was snoring in a way that spoke of a heavy night and he wouldn’t be up, or any use, for hours. She dragged the life out of her cigarette and flicked the filter onto the patch of grass that had been a lawn when they had moved in. It landed among a group of small white circles which looked like

‘Morning Nance,’ Andrew kicked an empty bottle into an ashtray as he shuffled through the detritus.

‘What are those Polos doing in the grass?’ she asked without looking back.

‘We needed the foil.’

‘Jesus Christ, Andy. I’ve told you not to get involved with that and to keep him away from it.’

‘Come on Nance. It’s the end of term. One last blowout before summer’s lease...’

Andrew tapped a text to Sally, words of assurance even though she had reminded him he could do whatever he liked. There had been something in her tone, though: the way she had said ‘free agent’ had given him enough hope to consider cancelling the trip. But Sid had offered to pay and it was only two nights. It was a gamble missing their Saturday morning coffee, but Sal would get over it. He was more worried about Fred, which was all the more reason to get away. He hardly had any time for himself these days, which was odd since he also felt as though he had too much time alone. His best friends would keep him busy and out of trouble.

‘Where are we staying?’

‘Nowhere you know.’ Sid winked at Nancy.

‘Somewhere nice? Luxurious?’ He let the word seep out, as though lowering himself into a warm bath.

‘Put the poor sod out of his misery.’ Nancy looked out of the window, chuckling at something. Andrew felt his shoulders tense.

‘Remember the house in Gilesgate?’ Sid met Andrew’s eyes in the rear view mirror.

‘Of course, we’re going to check it out.’

‘Remember how we used to live?’

‘We were students. Young.’

‘But your life isn’t so perfect now that you’ve forgotten hardship.’ Nancy stuck her head between the seats and raised her eyebrows.

‘You’ve got me worried now.’

‘And you know what weekend it is? All the hotels in the city were booked.’

‘No. Is it graduations? Or just tourists.’

‘It’s the gala.’

‘The fucking miners?’