One end of the terrace overlooked a huge circle of lawn only slightly smaller than Kensington Gardens. From the numbered flag at its centre he deduced it was the eighteenth green. Green was the right word. It was so green it could have played for Ireland. Considering thered been a hosepipe ban in the Luton area for a fortnight, reducing most gardens and public parks to dustbowls that would have made a dromedary cough, Joe couldnt understand why everyone here wasnt under arrest. And it wasnt just the actual green. The undulating crescent of tree-lined fairway stretching into the distance didnt look like it was dying of thirst either. Maybe here at Royal Hoo they had their own special cloud which sprinkled a little rain during the hours of darkness.
Chip Harvey sat him at a table and said, This do you, sir?
Yeah, this is fine, said Joe. You dont have Mr Porphyrys Chriss number, do you? I could give him a bell, see if theres a hold up?
He pulled out his mobile. The young man grimaced and said, No can do, Im afraid, sir. Use of mobiles is strictly forbidden on the course or in the clubhouse. Heavy fine even if it just rings! Youd need to go back to your car to use it, but Im sure Mr Porphyry will be here soon. Relax, have a drink. The steward will be along in a minute. Enjoy your day, sir.
Nice boy, thought Joe, taking in his surroundings. This was OK, this was the real deal. Comfy seat under a parasol, lovely view, four crisp new monkeys in his pocket, steward would be along in a moment, even a breath of what must be the only breeze in the whole county, what more could a man ask? Envy and resentment didnt play a large part in Joes outlook. Social injustices and inequalities had to be personalized before they hit his indignation button. If as he sat here he saw another black, balding, middling aged, vertically challenged, slightly overweight, redundant lathe-operator being given the runaround because of all or any one of these conditions, he would have groaned regretfully, stood up, and taken sides with the guy. But long as these folk didnt mind him, he certainly wasnt going to mind them. Hed learned his Bible the hard way, meaning Aunt Mirabelles way, and that meant it stuck, especially her favourite bits, one of which was what Paul wrote to them Ephesians, whoever they were. For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. Well, that was OK for Paul and Rev Pot, and good luck to them. Let all them preachers and politicians and newspaper columnists and such sort out the principalities and powers. Joe was happy to restrict his wrestling to good old-fashioned flesh and blood.
Out of the corner of his eye, he observed that one of a trio of men sitting a couple of tables away had caught Chip Harveys attention as he passed and seemed to be questioning him closely. Oh shoot, thought Joe. Is good old-fashioned flesh and blood going to get to me before I can order a drink?
It looked like it. The man stood up. He was maybe forty, solidly built but mostly muscle, little flab. He was wearing a pale brown sports shirt and matching tailored shorts which made Joe glad hed grounded the Technicolor parrots. His vigorous dark brown hair was rather becomingly tipped with grey and he had the kind of square open face which gets people buying double glazing or giving cash advances to jobbing builders. He was smiling but Joe didnt let this lull his fears. Places he did most of his drinking in, if a guy came at you with intent to smash your face in, he usually had the decency to look like a guy whose intent this was. Here, he guessed, different conventions might apply.
But it seemed he was wrong.
Mr Sixsmith, I believe? Im Tom Latimer, club vice-captain. Young Chip tells me youre waiting for Chris Porphyry.
Thats right, said Joe, taking the outstretched hand and returning the warm handshake. Nice boy, that Chip.
Yes, we have high hopes of him. Think he might make it on the tour. Hell need backing, of course, but weve got big hearts as well as deep pockets here at the Hoo.
This didnt mean a lot to Joe, who in any case was preoccupied by the fact that the handshake had become a tow rope drawing him out of his seat as Latimer continued, Wonder if youd care to join us? Chris isnt the best of timekeepers, Im afraid. Always hits the first tee at a run!
Unable to think of a good way to say, No, thanks, Id rather sit here by myself, Joe found himself moving towards the other two men who were also brushing up the welcoming smiles.
One was less successful than the other. His name was Arthur Surtees, thirty something, his head close shaven presumably to hide the fact that he was bald anyway, and his deep sunken watchful eyes giving the lie to his wide stretched mouth, like a poorly put-together police photofit.
The other was Colin Rowe, in his fifties, grey-haired, with a lean intelligent face which would have looked well on a college professor. His smile was perfectly natural, nothing exaggerated about it, the kind of wryly sympathetic expression which would, Joe imagined, encourage an errant student to admit he hadnt done his homework.
But why do I get the feeling these guys know exactly who I am? thought Joe. That was impossible. Had to be his own sense of being out of place talking.
The steward, wearing a linen jacket as white and crisp as a hoar-frost, appeared as Joe sat down. Thinking that maybe a pint of cold Guinness might strike a wrong note, Joe asked for coffee.
Hot or iced, sir? the steward enquired. He had a lovely voice, like an old-fashioned actors. You probably needed a public school education just to get a job keeping bar at places like Royal Hoo.
Joe hesitated. Cold coffee? You got that down at Dots Diner, you sent it back to be put in the microwave.
Iced, I think, Bert, said Latimer. And the same again for the rest of us. Well, Joe all right if I call you Joe? We dont stand on ceremony here how do you like the look of us so far?
Joe had no natural talent to deceive, which could be a bit of a drawback in his chosen profession. He was working on it, but on the whole he made do in most situations by looking for straws of truth to get a firm hold of.
Im impressed, he said. Weather like this, it beats sitting in my office.
We all know the feeling, said Surtees. So where do you play, Joe?
Why the shoot cant folk make conversation without asking direct questions? Joe wondered, as he marshalled the few facts he knew about golf to ascertain if there was an answer like left wing or in goal. Didnt seem likely, so presumably they were into geography. Could tell them Luton Municipal PitchnPutt and watch their faces, but that two hundred nestling against his left buttock was beginning to feel very much at home there.
He said, I travel around a lot, so anywhere I can, really.
And welcome wherever you go, Im sure, said Latimer heartily.
A silence. With a bit of luck, thought Joe, it might turn into a siesta and stretch to fill the minutes till Porphyry appeared.
But luck wasnt on offer.
So hows your game, Joe? said Colin Rowe.
Well, you know what its like, up and down, said Joe.
Rowe laughed and said, Part of its charm, eh? Pity they didnt build its fluctuations into the handicap system. Doesnt matter if I feel like crap, when I step on that first tee, Im playing off 5. Arthur heres a bandit 7. And Toms 9.
And welcome wherever you go, Im sure, said Latimer heartily.
A silence. With a bit of luck, thought Joe, it might turn into a siesta and stretch to fill the minutes till Porphyry appeared.
But luck wasnt on offer.
So hows your game, Joe? said Colin Rowe.
Well, you know what its like, up and down, said Joe.
Rowe laughed and said, Part of its charm, eh? Pity they didnt build its fluctuations into the handicap system. Doesnt matter if I feel like crap, when I step on that first tee, Im playing off 5. Arthur heres a bandit 7. And Toms 9.
On a good day with the wind behind me, said Latimer lightly. So how about you, Joe?
Sorry? said Joe.
Just wondering what your handicap was, said Latimer.
Joe found a dozen smart answers crowding his tongue. He guessed a couple of them might be floating around Latimers mind too. So dont give him the satisfaction, just play it straight. Which sounded a lot easier than it was. That golf had a handicap system he knew, but how it worked he had no idea. The only other game he knew that used handicaps was polo, and that was only because it had come up on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? Joe, who was quite keen to be a millionaire, had been trying to improve his general knowledge by making a note of all the correct answers till Beryl had screamed with laughter and said, Joe, this stuff youre trying to learn is exactly the stuff you dont need to know, cos theyve asked it already! But the polo question had stuck.
What is the best handicap a top-class polo player can have?
The four alternatives had been 0, 10, 24, 36.
The answer had been 10. Seemed that beginners started at 0 or even minus something, and 24 and 36 didnt exist.
Which fitted very well here. Rowe had said he was 7 and Surtees was 5 while Latimer, the club vice-captain and therefore presumably one of its best players, was 9.
So play it safe.
Oh pretty low, you know, he said vaguely.
Pretty low? Come on, Joe, dont be modest! said Surtees with just the hint of a sneer.
Hes trying to provoke me! thought Joe. Wants me to claim Im a top gun, then hell look for a way to show me up. Well, hard luck, mate. One thing Ive learned is if you have to lie, keep it in bounds of reason.
No, really, he said. My handicaps nothing. A big 0.
In other words Im a rank beginner. Put that in your pipe!
Scratch, eh? Thought as much, said Rowe. Soon as I set eyes on you, I thought, theres a scratch man if ever I saw one!
Scratch man. Now that sounded really offensive, but Rowe didnt say it in a particularly offensive way, and in any case a guy who was actually boasting when he said he was a lousy golfer didnt ought to get hot and bothered when he was told thats just what he looked like.
Yeah? Well, like the man said, what you see is what you get, said Joe pleasantly.
Rowe smiled but the other two were looking at him speculatively and he began to wonder if maybe Porphyry had told Chip Harvey something different and hed passed it on to these guys. Well, if he had, that was Porphyrys problem. Where was the man anyway? He didnt like to look at his own watch but he managed to cop a glance at the chunky gold Rolex on Latimers wrist and saw that it was after ten thirty.
Bert, the steward, materialized at the table bearing a laden tray. He set it down and began distributing the drinks.
Your iced coffee, Mr Sixsmith, he said.
Right, said Joe, thinking, Im only here five minutes and already the staff know my name.
He sipped the coffee. It was delicious. This was the sort of thing people who joined the Royal Hoo knew from birth, he guessed. Luke-warm coffee tastes like ditchwater but, lose a few more degrees and you get this nectar.
Latimer glanced at his watch.
What time are you meeting Chris? he asked.
Ten thirty.
Passed that now. Bad form keeping a guest waiting, but Chris is always a bit of a law unto himself.
In more ways than one, said Surtees shortly.
Now, now, Arthur, reproved Latimer. But not to worry, Joe. Even if Chris does stand you up, well see you dont have a wasted journey. We were just trying to work up enough energy to play a couple of holes before lunch. We could do with a fourth. What do you say, fellows? Shall we persuade Joe to join us and show us his style?
Only if he gives us half a dozen gotchas, said Surtees.
This was evidently a joke. They all laughed immoderately and Joe joined in, partly to give the impression he knew what they were laughing about, but also because, as a naturally sociable man, he always found mirth infectious.
But when the laughs died away, Latimer returned to the attack, So thats agreed. Youll do us the honour then, Joe? If Chris doesnt show?
They were all regarding him expectantly.
Love to, said Joe. Only I havent brought my gear.
His long experience of trying to get out of Aunt Mirabelles arrangements, which usually involved meeting homely spinsters whod reached the age where hopes allegedly eternal springs were drying to a trickle, should have taught him that any excuse that wasnt rock solid was tissue paper to a determined arranger.
No problem. Young Chip will fit you up in two minutes in the pros shop.
The rock-solid excuse produced after the sandy-based one has collapsed rarely sounds totally convincing, but Joe didnt let such a consideration bother him. He hesitated only to decide between the urgent hospital appointment to discover if his recently diagnosed brain tumour was operable and the need to meet his wife and seven children who were arriving at Heathrow from Barbados mid afternoon.
Then over Latimers shoulder he saw the air shimmer as if at the flutter of an angels wings and a moment later salvation appeared in the form of a YFG.
Thats most kind of you, he said. Id really love to play with you guys
He paused to enjoy the shadow of surprise which ran across each of their faces, then he said, But, hey, it will have to be some other time. Sorry. Heres Chris now. Thanks for your hospitality.
He stood up as Porphyry reached the table.
Joe, he said. So sorry Im late.
No problem, said Joe. Your friends have been making me really welcome.
Thats kind of them. Were a welcoming club. Catch you later, Tom.
Why dont you and Joe join us? said Latimer pleasantly.
Thanks, but no. Were a bit pressed for time and I wanted to show Joe round.
Well, I hope you like what you see, Joe. And dont forget. Youve promised us a game so we can see your style.
Joe gave him the big grin.
No problem, Tom, he said. Thats one promise I definitely wont forget.
Meaning, if ever I come here again which at this moment dont feel likely, Im going to buy me a plaster cast from the Plastic Poo Joke Shop and wrap it round my leg!