The Stag and Hen Weekend (3 page)

On their first night out at the resort while sitting in a bar near their hotel that overlooked the beach Simon spotted two girls walk in, one of whom he claimed to be the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

‘You should talk to her,’ encouraged Phil. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’

‘I could find out that she’s going to start work at my place and have to sit opposite her in meetings all day,’ replied Simon who had recently had his confidence knocked after after being turned down by someone he fancied at work.

With no other option available Phil did the only thing he could think of and downed the remains of his beer glass, walked over to the girls and making it clear to Yaz that he was interested in her friend, talked the girls into joining him and Simon for a drink at a different bar further along the strip.

Three bars and a visit to a nightclub called the Frisky Palace later and Simon was getting on like a house on fire with Yaz, and things continued in that vein on their return home to England. After five years and a move for Phil from Derby to Nottingham they were getting engaged and throwing a party to celebrate, an event which in itself would change Phil’s life because it was there that he met Helen for the first time.

‘Right,’ said Simon setting his empty mug down in the sink. ‘I think we should probably be getting off. I know it doesn’t take that long to get to the airport but I got caught out a few weeks ago trying to catch a flight to Düsseldorf because of a pile-up two junctions before the motorway exit. Missed the flight, the next one wasn’t until early afternoon and that was fully booked so I ended up having to travel the following day and staying twice as long to reschedule all the meetings I’d missed.’

Phil laughed. ‘To be fair, mate, the way you’ve been talking up this weekend I’d be more than a bit relieved to miss the flight. Right now the idea of being stuck in Nottingham for the weekend is looking pretty attractive.’

Simon shook his head in dismay. ‘You, my friend, are the queen of old ladies. I promise you, sunshine, this’ll be the last time I’m lowering my standards to be your best man.’

‘I should hope so,’ said Helen. She hugged Phil tightly. ‘I mean it Simon,’ she said looking stern. ‘I will hunt you down like a dog if anything . . . and I do mean anything
at all
untoward happens to Phil. He might not look like it on the outside but he’s a sensitive soul so just go easy on him, okay?’

Simon was about to hug Helen goodbye when Phil’s phone rang.

‘Probably work,’ said Phil reaching for his phone.

‘More likely Degsy calling from the wrong airport wondering where we all are.’

Phil glanced down at the screen. ‘Looks like we’re both wrong. It’s my dad.’

It had been weeks since Phil had last spoken to Patrick Hudson, and even that was only because he had dialled the wrong number. It wasn’t so much that Phil and his dad didn’t get on. They got on well enough given that in Phil’s twenties they’d gone the best part of four years without talking. It was more that Phil had long since grown tired of waiting for his sixty-six-year-old frequently absent, philandering, former rock-band roadie of a father to grow up.

‘Dad,’ said Phil making his way into the hallway and sitting on the exact same stair where he had earlier spoken to his sister. ‘What’s up?’

‘All right, son? Just thought I’d check in and see how you are.’

‘I’m fine, Dad. You?’

‘Never better. How’s that fiancée of yours? She good?’

‘She’s great, Dad.’

‘You’ve got a special one there, you know that don’t you? Don’t cock it all up by being Jack the lad now will you?’

It was too good a line to pass up. ‘You mean like you did with Mum?’

‘That was different, son. And you know it.’

Phil sighed and looked at his watch. He didn’t want to have this argument again, especially as the last half dozen times it had ended with one or other of them putting the phone down mid-conversation.

‘Fine,’ said Phil. ‘Look, Dad, I was actually just heading out the door. I got your reply to the wedding invite the other day so I’m assuming you’re still all right to come.’

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world!’

‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

‘So where are you off to in such a rush?’

‘Amsterdam, Dad, it’s my stag do.’

‘Amsterdam! Now there’s a city that knows how to party. I remember being there back in the early seventies for a European tour with this American rock band who were tipped to be the next Iron Butterfly. The night after their first gig I fell asleep in a hotel room and woke up in a tree in a park! A tree! No idea how I’d got there and even less of an idea how I’d managed to sleep. Nearly missed the coach taking us on to Belgium too!’ He chuckled, a deep throaty laugh of the variety that sounded more insincere than heart-warming. ‘Those were the days, I tell you. What I wouldn’t give to be twenty-five again.’

‘Yeah well,’ said Phil, who had heard the story many times before, ‘when you find a way of doing that, let me know and I’ll do the marketing for you.’

‘And we’ll make a fortune,’ said Patrick wistfully.

Phil ran out of patience. ‘And so the thing that you called me up for was . . .’

‘Do you have to be so brutal?’

‘I’m not, Dad, I just want you to get to the point that’s all. I’ve got a plane to catch.’

‘Fine,’ snapped Patrick. ‘I could do with a little extra help this month.’

‘Don’t tell me you’ve got through it already?’

‘I was a bit short last month – couple of unexpected bills – and it’s had a knock-on effect that’s all. I’ll pay you back, every last cent, on that you have my word. Haven’t checked last week’s lottery numbers yet but I’ve got a good feeling about them.’

‘How much?’

‘Five hundred would take the edge off.’

‘Fine.’

‘But if you could make it six that would be even better. And you’ll get it back. Scout’s honours and all that.’

‘Fine,’ said Phil. ‘I’ll get the money moved to your account first thing Monday, okay?’

‘That’s brilliant son,’ said Patrick. ‘You’re a good boy, you know that?’

‘Yeah,’ sighed Phil. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m the best.’

Phil returned his phone to his pocket and picked up his bag from the floor in the hallway. ‘Come on then, Si,’ he called into the kitchen. ‘Let’s go if we’re going.’

‘You seem annoyed,’ said Helen as they made their way to the front door. ‘What did your dad want?’

‘The usual.’

Helen squeezed his hand. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know he can be a pain sometimes but you shouldn’t let him get you down. This is your weekend and you need to make the most of it.’

‘And I will,’ said Phil. He kissed her one last time. ‘You take care, okay? Have a great time and I’ll see you back here on Sunday night.’

3.

It was quarter to eleven as Phil and Simon disembarked from the airport shuttle bus in front of the large revolving doors at the entrance to East Midlands Airport. The last time Phil had been here, he and Helen had flown to Madrid for a long weekend over the May Day bank holiday and getting Helen to marry him seemed about as unlikely as him learning to speak Spanish. Some three years later he was back, about to fly to Amsterdam for his own stag do.

Once through the revolving doors, the boys looked up at the screens above their heads for flight information.

‘That’s us,’ said Simon pointing. ‘Flight 368 to Amsterdam checking in at desks 16 to 18.’

Phil nodded but didn’t say anything, which was no great change since he’d barely spoken since Helen had waved them off from the house. Reasoning that whatever was bothering him would come out sooner or later, Simon had left his friend to his brooding, content to allow the radio to keep him company.

Taking the lead Simon scanned their surroundings and parked Phil at the end of the queue for the check-in desk. Simon checked the queue and then double-checked the surrounding areas for the boys in case (though this would be a highly unlikely scenario) any of them had arrived on time. No sign.

‘You okay?’ asked Simon as a trendy looking couple joined the queue behind them. ‘You hardly said a word on the way over.’

Suddenly conscious of his own reticence, Phil sighed, rubbing his eyes as though he’d just woken from a deep sleep. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, mate, really. It’s just I’ve got a few things on my mind that’s all.’

‘Your dad?’

‘He’s one of them.’

‘What’s he up to now?’

‘Nothing new. I just wish . . . I don’t know . . . I just wish he was like other dads, that’s all. Why couldn’t he be more like your old man?’

‘You wouldn’t want my old man for a father believe me,’ said Simon warily. ‘Never had a decent conversation with him in my life. At least your old man’s lived a little and you can have a laugh with him. I’m not even sure I’ve seen my dad smile.’

Phil wasn’t convinced. ‘He’s not that bad. A bit reserved maybe but at least he was always around.’

‘A bit too much if you ask me,’ replied Simon, ‘but I get what you’re saying. Still, for all his faults no one can tell a story like your old man, can they? Only last week I was telling a couple of guys from work that story about him going to bed in a hotel in Amsterdam and waking up in a tree in a park. Don’t you think he’d be great to have on the stag weekend?’

‘My dad? Are you mental? He’d be a nightmare.’

Simon looked crestfallen. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really’ replied Phil. ‘You’d never know what hare-brained scheme he’d be working on. I’d never relax. And as for that ridiculous anecdote – which I’m pretty sure he made up – he told it to me again less than an hour ago.’ Exhausted at the very thought of his dad Phil rubbed his eyes with his fists. ‘I’m just sick of bailing him out that’s all. If he hadn’t been waking up in trees or running off to the Far East with whichever band he was working for at the time then maybe he wouldn’t have to come to me for handouts every five minutes.’

Simon placed a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘It must be tough mate but I’m sure he appreciates it.’

Yeah,’ said Phil, ‘I’m sure he does in his own way.’ He looked at Simon. ‘This weekend: it’s not going to be just drinking and dodgy clubs is it?’

Simon laughed. ‘You make it sound so sordid when you say it like that.’

‘You know what I mean,’ said Phil. ‘I’m as up for a laugh as the next man but it seems a bit of a waste coming all the way out here just to drink beer and watch bored couples have soulless sex for public consumption.’ Phil laughed. ‘If that’s what you’re after we could save ourselves the airfare, nip into town at throwing out time and stand outside the Ritzy.’

Simon eyed his friend suspiciously. ‘Are you saying you want to visit an art gallery or two while we’re out there? It’s a stag do, not a school trip!’

‘And don’t I know it! All I’m saying is, given that I’ve never been there before, I wouldn’t mind actually seeing some of it if the opportunity comes up.’

‘Well if it does I’ll let you know, okay?’ said Simon, ‘But I’m pretty sure there won’t be enough time. Anyway, to be honest mate you’re not missing much. I went there when I was a student and it wasn’t all that. Okay, so there’s Van Gogh and his Sunflowers, Anne Frank’s house, tulips, clogs, Edam and a bunch of canals. But let’s face it, even back when pretending to be “into” culture might have got you the girl, the best thing about the place was getting off your face and checking out the red-light area. Say what you like about Amsterdam as a city of culture, but any place where you can smoke pot
and
drink world class beer has got to be the number one destination for a stag do. It’s the Las Vegas of Europe, only without any annoying Yanks to take the edge off things.’

Phil laughed. ‘I’ve known you way too long to think for a minute that you’re that ignorant.’

‘People change,’ said Simon shrugging. ‘You might not like it. They might not like it. But it happens all the time.’

The queue surged forward as a large extended family featuring at least four different generations was beckoned to the check-in desk. Phil and Simon picked up their bags and moved forwards to take up the slack and yet another silence descended.

Simon nudged his friend in the overly jocular fashion that a schoolboy might try to coax another schoolboy out of a black mood. ‘So, come on then, what else is on your mind?’

Phil frowned. He was sure that he’d snap out of his mood soon but all this attention really wasn’t helping matters. ‘How do you mean?’

‘You said you had a few things on your mind. Unless I’ve miscounted your dad is only one.’

‘Well, the other is my kid sister.’

‘Caitlin? What’s she done?’

‘Nothing
yet
,’ replied Phil, ‘but that could have changed by Monday morning. Helen invited her to the hen weekend.’

‘Oh that,’ said Simon. ‘I thought she was winding you up with something new. That spat with Helen’s been going on for ages hasn’t it? Why are you suddenly worried about it now?’

‘Because this is different,’ said Phil. ‘Normally I’m around to referee before the claws come out but who knows what’ll happen without me there? I can feel it in my gut. Trouble is brewing. Caitlin can be pretty bitchy when she wants to be and Helen . . . well once she gets her back up . . .’