This is the sixth part of a fiction serial, in 717 words. It may contain some swear-words.
Spain, 2007.
After almost twenty-five years in Spain, Alan was living in a bigger villa. It had a decent-sized pool, and a local woman came in twice a week to do the cleaning, and his washing and ironing. She called him ‘Senor Ricardo’, which always made him think of the old actor, Ricardo Montalban. He had given up the flat in Barcelona some years before. The winters could be cold and wet, making the city feel dismal, and his girlfriend had long since deserted him for someone who had a nice motor yacht.
Of course, she had no idea how wealthy Alan was. Even though he didn’t stint on his very comfortable lifestyle, he continued to pretend that he got by on the income from his hire business. So when she met some East European waving money around and boasting about his yacht, that was her cue to scarper.
For the last three years, he had been seeing an English woman who had worked as a holiday company rep in Tossa, and then settled there. Chrissy was ten years younger than him, and rented a flat in the old town. She helped out in one of the English bars, serving beer and full breakfasts to sunburnt tourists as they watched British football or cricket on large TV screens dotted around the place. Chrissy was very much her own woman, and knew the area like the back of her hand. She had turned down Alan’s suggestion to move in with him, but regularly stopped over a couple of nights a week.
Rosa was still running the business. She was pushing fifty now, but you would never guess.
The truth was, Alan was lonely. Back in London he had known a lot of people, even calling some of them friends. In Spain, he still had to be careful. Live the life of Richard Alexander, never talk about Islington, or what he did before he arrived in Spain. And he was feeling his age. He had been there so long that one of the restaurants saved a table for him, just in case he turned up. The waiters called him ‘Mister Richard’, and they all knew what he liked to drink.
Before Vince died, Gloria and him had taken their holidays in Spain, but never close to Alan. Vince preferred Benidorm, so Gloria said. That was five hundred miles further south, and although Gloria would always phone him to let him know they were there, it was never once suggested that he drive down to visit them. Alan knew Vince didn’t like criminals. He had never made any secret of his disapproval of his brother-in-law’s choice of career, or the fact that he had skipped to Spain, leaving Gloria to care for their mum and dad as they got older.
Vince worked as a market porter at the New Covent Garden Market, in Nine Elms. He had worked in the old market near Charing Cross, before it had moved in seventy-four. Starting in the early hours, Vince lugged around fruit and vegetables for one of the wholesale companies. He was a man who believed in a fair day’s work for a fair day’s pay. A phrase he was often heard to utter. They never had any kids, even though they were married at eighteen, when everyone thought Gloria must be up the duff. Most people presumed Gloria had something wrong that stopped her having babies. But she had told Alan it was Vince who couldn’t father any.
When he died, Gloria took it hard. Alan offered her to live with him in Spain, but she wouldn’t leave the family in north London.
He had always got on well with his sister before he left England, even though there was no love lost beteen him and Vince. He had to admit that he missed Gloria, but he would never have admitted that to her. He hoped she knew.
The phone call saying his mum was seriously ill shouldn’t have been such a surprise, but it was. He didn’t have long to sort things out with Rosa, transfer some money into an account he could access easily, and book a one-way flight to London.
On the plane going over, he felt anxious, and not just about his mum.
Thank you, Michael 🙂 xx
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I’m married to Alan..East London bred and born and straight as a dye, not so some of his friends…I love where this story is going, Pete
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A similar background to mine in South London. I knew a lot of the ‘Faces’, and it was ironic that I ended up working fot the Police. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Just as I was reading this episode, I was thinking of you, Carol. 😉 Alternatively to Sally! :-)) Michael
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Just an observation, but he seems to get along with the women in his life much better than the men? Of course women are ever so easy to get on with! His hometown has changed so much, I believe he misses the past more than the present? He’s in a tough spot as he ages. Interested in where this is going? Intrigued, C
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He can’t trust any man. Being grassed up is always an underlying fear. He has a lot of money, and is not bad looking. Women are attracted to him, but sense he is not one for commitment. As he gets older, he is starting to miss his roots.
As for where it is going, it is leading up to ‘The Job’, a very ‘big money’ armed robbery. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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A one-way ticket. He was thinking of staying before he ever left Spain. And of course reading that he’s nervous leaves us wanting to read more. Great episode, Pete.
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They never buy a return ticket, as they never know when or if they will be returning, Jennie. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Ah ha! Best to you, Pete.
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Aaah, great to have the back story….
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Yes, I think it helps. Back to London in 2007 tomorrow. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Great! I’m really enjoying this one, Pete
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I’m very pleased to hear that, Sue.
Best wishes, Pete.
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😊😊
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I’ve met quite a few Alans too in my time…
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‘Good old days’ in the East End, Stevie. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Dodging and diving. Now they’re all dead and it’s not the East End that I remember anymore.
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No, big changes all over London. I found that too.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Don’t know about you, but I’m rather glad I live out in the country now.
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Me too. I would hate to be getting old in Camden Town.
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Is old age catching up to our lad? Warmest regards, Theo
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He’s is not that old, but certainly past his best as an armed robber. And his home town no longer feels familiar.
Not that he knew about the job before he got back to London of course. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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You make him sound more like a man in search of a purpose of identity. Warmest regards, Theo
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I think he is ‘lost’, Theo. Life in the sun in Spain was not what he expected, is my guess. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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People often forget that they are there in the places to which they escaped. Warmest regards, Theo
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(1) The cleaning woman’s name was Lucía. Alan liked sex and Lucía was sexy. She reminded him of Paz Vega, and he reminded her of Ricky Ricardo.
(2) While the Eastern European was “boasting about his yacht,” some local fisherman were boating about his yacht.
(3) Chrissy knew the area like the back of her hand. Left hand or right hand?
(4) To avoid being suspected of wealth, Alan always carried around a copy of “Poor Richard’s Almanack.”
(5) Vince didn’t like the fact that Alan skipped to Spain. He also didn’t like the way Alan sang his farewell to Gloria.
♬ Skip, skip, skip to Molló ♬
♬ Skip, skip, skip to Molló ♬
♬ Skip, skip, skip to Molló ♬
♬ Skip to Molló, my darlin’ ♬
(6) Vince worked as a market porter in Nine Elms. That was more lucrative than being a palm reader in Twentynine Palms.
(7) Oberon believed in a fairy day’s work for a fairy day’s pay.
(8) When Alan returned to England, he greeted Gloria with a jubilant “Hallelujah!”
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1) You got a Spanish film in.
7) And Shakespeare!
Best wishes, Pete.
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Good background set up!
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I’ve met a few Alan’s here in Spain.
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I am sure you have, Darlene. I knew a few who moved there. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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It’s nice to see he has some love for family members.
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Definitely for his mum and his sister, Kim.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Nice setting up episode Pete. I’m quite liking this smooth criminal!
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Back to London tomorrow. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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