Malcolm and the Rent Boy - 4. Chapter 4 'A First Time for Everything'

MALCOLM ‘A First Time for Everything’

Malcolm’s friend Roy held the teacup to his lips, paused and gazed into the steaming beverage. He analysed it, as would a wine taster.

Yes, there were notes of dairy, chlorine and damp cloth but strangely nothing suggesting tea.

‘Bloody ‘ell, Malcolm, ‘ow many times ‘ave you used this poor soddin’ tea bag?’

‘Well they make the teabags too strong, don’t they?’ whined Malcolm.

Roy put down the cup in disgust, and looked at his old friend.

‘Anyway, what’s the matter with you, I usually can’t get a word in edgewise but you’ve said nowt this morning?’

Malcolm looked deadly serious, and put down his cup,

‘You know that time we got into trouble outside the charity shop for using the disabled parking disc....?’

‘Eh up, not so much o’ the, we’

‘Well, I’ve got a summons. I’ve to appear at Magistrates Court to answer a charge of fraud, tomorrow as it ‘appens’

Roy put his arm around Malcolm’s shoulder.

‘I’m sorry Malcolm. I thought you’d sorted that out. You admitted the offence so your mother wouldn’t be involved. When I didn’t hear any more I thought they must’ve dropped it’

‘So did I’ agreed Malcolm, pitifully, ‘but they haven’t’

Roy gave these unhappy tidings their few moments of quiet reflection, then, regaining his usual form he took from his pocket a leaflet,

‘I know what’ll cheer you up’ (reading) ‘The pink triangle’s newest club is opening its doors. Club Carnivore – as much meat as you can eat! First 50 through the door get free condoms’.

Come on Malcolm, I’ll pick you up tonight about 10. It might help you forget your troubles’

Malcolm sank back. Weren’t he and Roy just a bit past clubbing? - by about 40 years! It was all too much, finding something to wear, the tiring journey there, expensive door charge, wild drinks prices, drugs, noisy kids dancing, semi naked men..... Oops, wait a minute.

Nothing more needed to be said.

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Baggett Manor was silent. A heavy frost had spread its white cloak over the ancient Jacobean house. Two lights alone relieved the dark, icy gloom.

In her bedroom Freddy Scrope was busy putting the finishing touches to plans for a dinner party in honour of her nephew Rupert.

Reports from her old friend Hermione Bruhme-Handell suggested that daughter Cressida and Rupert had ‘much in common’ and both ladies were keen to develop this liaison between the youngsters.

Along the corridor Rupert had just finished bathing and had decided that a surplus of cheap deodorant would compensate adequately for a week’s abstinence from washing. The scent of all this toxic grooming made its choking way towards Freddy. Putting down her pen, she strode into the hallway.

‘Rupert, darling, are you finished in there? We must talk....’

The door opened, Rupert pulling about him his robe.

‘....I simply have to have this party sorted now. The cards are being printed tomorrow and I must have the list ready tonight, to be perfectly honest….’

But she was interrupted by the telephone ringing in the study.

‘We’ll talk when you’ve dressed. Dinner’s at eight’

But Rupert had another date.

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Malcolm wasn’t feeling like going out, least of all to a club. But ten o’clock came around all too soon. He was just about to visit the loo once more when the phone rang. He prayed that it would be Roy cancelling. The voice, a man’s, seemed familiar but was not Roy’s.

‘If that’s Malcolm Tripp this is a message for you. Don’t try to trace the call. I know what a mix-up you’re in now what with the court case and all, but I can help. I’ll call you again. I have your mobile number as well. You hear’

The trip into town with the excitable Roy was difficult as Malcolm could not stop thinking about that mystery voice and the call he’d just received, though he judged it best not to say anything to Roy. It was nearly eleven o’clock when they reached town. Lurking by the canal’s dank and rat-infested walls was Club Carnivore, its interior ‘glitz’ and warmth contrasting sharply with the dreariness of its location.

A large crowd had gathered outside the premises for the opening night, attracted there by novelty and free contraceptives. Forging his way through the throng was Colin Blenkinsop. He arrived at the door and confronted the doorman showing him a piece of paper. The club’s bouncer had three responses when shown anything: thump it, eat it or screw it. The letter fitted none of these categories, so Colin, sensing the gorilla couldn’t read, announced proudly,

‘I’m staff, I’m working here tonight’

Colin gained access to the club easily but someone who had to queue patiently was Rupert Baggett-Scrope. He knew that his aunt would go wild when she found him missing; he’d thwarted her discussion about the dinner party and her plan to pair him up with a Bruhme-Handell!

Once inside Rupert surveyed the scene lustily. This was like loosing a fox in a hen run. Girls were O.K, but......

Hardly had he hung his coat in the cloaks area when Colin came up to him and said,

‘Hi. You must be Hunter. I’m Stryker’

Both young men stared blankly at one another. They recognised each other from the Internet, but their choice of names had proved a problem.

Well, I’m Colin, actually, but I use Stryker when I’m dancing’

They laughed.

‘I’m Rupert, not Hunter. Don’t know why I used that. It’s a bit silly.

Let’s get a drink’

As Colin approached the bar his new friend took stock of him. Rupert noted, a little enviously that Colin was even better in the flesh than his profile pic. Sure, he had the close crop, great jaw line and near perfect nose, but it was those eyes, hazel going green. How they sparkled when he greeted him, like sea shells and pebbles in sunlit, dappled water.

Meanwhile, at the club door, Malcolm and Roy were wrestling with the concept of paying £15 to get in. The free contraceptives had long since been handed out, and many of them used; not that the two silver clubbers would be needing those!

‘And I’m keeping me anorak on’ huffed Malcolm. ‘I an’t paying no cloakroom fees’

With that both men shuffled to the bar and awaited the inevitable stand-off to see who’d buy the first round. They stood, backs to the counter and surveyed the room.

‘Do you know him?’ Roy asked Malcolm

‘Know who?’

‘The guy over there who’s just winked at you’

‘Oooh, give over, Roy. You’re just winding me up tonight’

‘I just thought you might know him. He looks familiar’

Malcolm didn’t recognise the guy but he continued staring till the stranger turned away.

Elsewhere in the club Rupert and Colin were getting along fine. So much so that Colin thought it a good time to introduce his aristocratic friend to the mysteries of the dark room in the basement.

‘There are no lights, guys just go in there and do what comes unnaturally’ explained Colin, with a grin.

‘But you can’t see who’s in there?’ Rupert suggested.

‘Well, erm, that’s kind of the whole point, really’ added Colin, a bit mystified. ‘Look, just stick close to me and you’ll be O.K’

Both young men went down the steps. As they approached the bottom Colin pointed to the toilet and said,

‘I’m just popping in here a sec. Don’t go too far into the room and I’ll find you’

Someone else who needed a toilet at that moment was Malcolm. Using the oldest trick in the book as a means of dodging paying for a round of drinks he asked Roy,

‘Any idea where toilets are? I’m bursting’

‘Well the sign’s pointing downstairs’

Malcolm threaded through the crowd towards the stairs and headed down into the depths. At the bottom of the steps he saw the toilet to his right and to his left the utter blackness of the dark room. Now at this point we should mention that Malcolm was no stranger to such places. But he was desperate for the loo and so he turned right. On entering he saw just one other person, Colin Blenkinsop.

Malcolm shuddered. Oh God, wasn’t that the rent boy he’d recently met? The young man was busy zipping himself up and was about to turn around. Malcolm retreated at once, aware that if he used the stairs Colin would see him as they both ascended. That he emphatically did not want. So in a moment of folly he blundered into what he considered the safer haven of the dark room.

Malcolm had hardly taken two or three steps when he thudded into someone. He quickly recovered his composure and decided to make the best of things. His practised hands conducted a lightning grope and discovered to their satisfaction that the body in hand was in fact a rather young one. Malcolm had hardly proceeded further when there was an urgent whisper in his ear.

‘Is that you Colin?’

The old man reflected that discretion and restraint had never served him well in the past, so he hissed back,

‘Yes’

Malcolm grabbed vaguely at Rupert’s groin area; finding it all zipped up he began rubbing it vigorously while moving in for a bit of face action.

It’s best to draw a veil over what happened during the next few seconds, suffice to say that Rupert was concerned enough to take from his pocket a lighter and fire it up in the face of his groper. And what a surprise he got!

‘Oh God! OH GOD!! This is... Oh God, I’m gonna be sick...’

Pulling away from his ancient seducer he stumbled towards the hazy light of the entrance, and fled into the toilet where Colin was washing his hands and checking himself out in the mirror.

Malcolm returned upstairs, drank up the half of bitter that Roy had been forced into buying and glared at his friend.

‘I should’ve never come. If I get me skates on I should just make the last train’ and with that he hurried out.

Roy was perplexed. He didn’t know what had happened to make Malcolm so upset. However, having paid a king’s ransom himself to get in the club he was going to get his money’s worth.

After a few minutes a middle aged man came up to Roy.

‘Your friend didn’t stay long, did he?’

‘No, he didn’t’

‘Can I buy you a drink?’ continued the stranger.

That was music to Roy’s ears. And before long the guy who’d winked at them from across the room was discovering all he had ever wanted to know about Malcolm.

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Glancing down at her court lists the following day magistrate Miss Felicity Scrope saw that her first case was an alleged fraudulent misuse of a parking disc. Something about this seemed to ring a bell. She glanced at her folder….yes. Yes! That was it. It was that demented old man who had mistakenly appropriated her folder and left her facing the Vat Tribunal armed only with his pornography. But was it appropriate for her to hear this case?

‘Yes’ she said to herself, firmly. ‘It’s a statutory offence. Open and shut. He’s pleading guilty and besides, I’ll look forward to the sentencing the old.....’

Things looked very bad for Malcolm who, at that moment was sitting in the cold, draughty waiting room of the court.

His lawyer studied the lists on the wall then strode over to him, smirking,

‘Oh Lor’ he gasped. ‘Court 6.You’ve got her’

‘Who?’

‘Miss Scrope. Well, I’ll do my best. You do have age on your side. I can’t see her sending down someone as old as you.’

Sending down! Malcolm was aghast.

They got up to make their way to Court 6. As they threaded through the crowd Malcolm’s eyes met those of the parking control officer who’d set in motion this whole sorry business. What was he doing here? But in a trice the officer was gone, lost in the melée. They got to the door of the court as Malcolm’s mobile rang.

‘No phones in court! She’ll tear you apart for that!’ the lawyer lisped.

Malcolm was beginning to get tired of this character.

‘I’m taking this call’ he said stubbornly.

The caller’s voice was vaguely familiar.

‘Look. No time to talk now. Withdraw your plea. They didn’t contact your mother about the disc to get her statement. That can’t stand up. You hear. The case has to be dropped. Do it. You hear’

Malcolm was breathless. Could this be correct? He’d not wanted his mother to know about the parking disc, true. But had failure to contact her been unlawful?

The court assembled.

‘All stand’ boomed the usher as Miss Scrope, JP swept in and sat down. Malcolm remained standing as the clerk read out the charge.

‘How do you plead?’ she enquired.

‘Not guilty’ said Malcolm.

Silence, then Malcolm turned to his lawyer and with some abruptness said,

‘I wish to make a statement in my own defence and my own words’

The lawyer, seizing the chance to do nothing, sank back.

Malcolm spoke. His voice was remarkably steady and clear.

‘There is no case to answer here. The procedures demand that the disc’s owner be contacted to explain their account of things. That was not done. I respectfully request that the court accept my change of plea and drop the charge’

‘Can he do this?’ rasped the magistrate to the clerk

The clerk picked up her books and, signalling to Miss Scrope to announce an adjournment, they took their leave. Malcolm and his solicitor sat silently as the minutes passed. Then the door burst open and both women re-entered. The redoubtable Miss Scrope put on her specs, looked down at her papers then uttered the words,

‘Case dismissed. You are free to leave’

Malcolm stood motionless for a moment or two hoping to catch the eye of his tormentor, but she refused to raise her head.

The old gentleman then picked up his anorak and made a stately progress through the court to the exit.

Outside the sun was shining. The forecourt was busy, people coming and going. And he was there again, that parking control officer!

‘How’d it go, then?’ he asked, catching Malcolm’s eye.

‘No case to answer’ Malcolm replied, not without some satisfaction.

‘Ah. I see’

Malcolm raised his head and savoured the air. He was a free man.

Behind him the parking control officer had spotted an illegally parked car and was advancing towards it. The motorist protested, claiming he had only to drop off someone.

‘I’m afraid it’s not quite as easy as that’ the officer replied.

‘You’ve got to move on. You hear!’

And in a split second Malcolm knew. He knew that voice.

He turned to look at the Parking Control Officer who now met his eyes. How different he looked in his uniform. He winked at Malcolm then made his way up the steps and into court 6 where he was due to give evidence for the Crown, and in the presence of a magistrate who’d once told him that she’d forgotten more about the law than he ever knew.