Chapter Twenty Four: On the square. We were up town, playing pool and having a beer; the plan was to calm the nerves and then hit the blackjack tables. Jeff’s brother Paul was with us, he was always hard work if you know what I mean, but did not give out any vibes that he was about to pan my head in; so I took up the tactic of ignoring him and letting the beer do its work. We were in a bar located just off Tower Bridge called ‘Memories’, it was about 10pm and the place was packed. After our game, Jeff beckoned to one of the tables, moved some coats out of the way and sat down; whoever was trying to save the table for themselves, would be solely disappointed. I put my beer down and followed suit. Paul came out of the gents, politely worked his way through the busy bar and sat down also. Jeff asked me how I was feeling and I am quite sincere when I tell him. ‘Not too bad mate, not too bad at all. If I puke just ignore me’. Paul’s silence finally breaks when he offers to get the beers in. Jeff then proceeds to inform me that he knew I was at the yard! It was him that tipped off the cops. It’s only now that things have settled down, that he’s found time to tell me. Well that’s fair enough, I can handle that. But what comes next is a surprise to say the least. I have asked him straight out before, looked him straight in the eye and I asked him if he was a Mason; he flatly denied it, but now after recent events has decided that this is the time to come clean. He informs me that he and his 3 brothers are all in the same lodge, and are settled, even successful members. I don’t act surprised and just give it the ‘Oh really, blimey and all that’. Paul comes back with the beers and I take two large swallows of ale, nearly drinking half a pint in the first attempt. Paul gives a slight grin and sits to my left, Jeff is opposite, but some distance from me, as the table is low and his stomach won’t let him get any nearer. I ask him how long he’s been with the lodge.
‘A good ten years, my brother’s the same.’ I had my suspicions Jeff was ‘On the square’. At least once a month he would give me a call and always with a happy mood: inform me of his need to stay in a hotel as he had to work late and would be having a beer and a meal with the lads. This had to be his lodge night; many a Mason has told me of the ‘once a month meeting followed by a meal’ that they must attend. I wasn’t surprised, he had amassed a serious amount of ‘standing’ if you like, especially for a bloody handyman: house, car, motorbikes, and all in good order too. It can’t be luck, he must have had help. If I am honest, I wanted some of the action too and for once I would try to keep my mouth shut. He gives me a few little appetizers of information that are designed to capture my interest. All this and some serious back slapping; also: the mother lodge is seriously thankful for the independent thinking that allowed the proper authorities to apprehend a known criminal such as Trevor McGowan, especially as he was already proven to be of an unsuitable character and had been expelled from the brotherhood. And as for Ray Mead: well what goes around, comes around; he received his reward for his criminal ways and the good lord took his life. I can’t help but soak it all up; but if I am honest, we were fighting for our lives, a life that Catriona lost. We had to win, or we would both die, and die Catriona did. But again: no mention of Brule or Bramley. Brule’s incessant recruitment tactics just did not register with my persona and hence I never crossed the line, asking him what it was all about, muttering the immortal words: ‘can I join, would you consider proposing me’. The rules of Freemasonry are quite clear, the recruiter may not ask a gentleman to join; the gentlemen must do the asking of his own free will. He must believe in a god of any religion, or a supreme being, be married and of a sound character. So there I was, seriously considering taking the first step. The recent adventures had seriously brought our friendship to a new level and I was enjoying comradeship that I had not experience since my army days. It did cross my mind though, how Jeff knew I was being taken to the lockup. He did tip off the cops to our location which definitely saved my life; but I still have some nagging thoughts as to what was really going on. ‘WAY HAY’ is an urban expression of delight, ecstasy, satisfaction and self-achievement, all in one short phrase. Or as in this case: a grand, unashamed announcement of arrival, right across the bar of this busy central London pub. It was Jeff’s other brother Kevin, the younger, more confident and loud one. I swear his shoulders get physically wider as he swaggers through the bar. The crowd parts as he makes his way towards us. The brothers are all big guys of over six foot, with the poundage to match. Other guys in the bar look away and the girls are not quite sure what to do, they are not handsome guys, not ugly guys, but big, just damned big. We are now a formidable group, and I am the smallest of the lot at only five foot nine; slim and better looking though! The beer lifts my inhibitions and the company I keep lifts my confidence, I am starting to walk tall again and before I know it, I am starting to chill out big time as the new arrival makes a point of grabbing my shoulder and giving it the ‘alright Steve, how ya doing’. And only then, acknowledging his brothers after talking to me first. Jeff and Paul look on with approval. I stand up and offer to get the beers in. ‘No not now Steve, I’ll get these’. ‘Oh cheers.’ ’what can I get you’? ’no more ale please, get us a larger’. ‘No problem my son; Jeff, Paul, do you want the same?’ ‘Yeh go on then’. After some good old fashioned chit chat and at least 6 beers each we are all feeling the worst for wear and for once we end the evening on a sensible note and head for home, the blackjack can wait for another night and we’ll save some money.