Gold shook the hands of his counterparts, nodding to each one.
“Can I introduce everyone quickly?” said Huw.
“Yes that would be great,” answered Gold.
“This is Aled, Bryce, Dai, Evan, Llewellyn, Rhydderch and Merlin.”
Gold nodded again and smiled. “If I remember correctly you’re all Morgans, aren’t you? Except you,”
he said, pointing at Merlin.
“That’s right. I’m the only one that’s not. I’m a Lailoken,” he answered, taking a bite of his moist vegetable pie.
Gold nodded again, taking in the knowledge.
“That’s a great name,” said Bullion. “Are you related to the great Merlin of Arthurian yore?”
Merlin nodded and smiled. “Yes.”
“How come you didn’t mention this last time?” said Bullion.
“You didn’t ask,” answered the director nonchalantly.
“Do you know all the story? I mean was it passed down?” asked Bullion keenly.
“Of course. It’s my heritage,” said Merlin, wiping his hands on his robe.
“I remember from school the Gododdin people,” said Bullion, pleased with his recall of information from his youth.
“They battled with a German mob from Holstein for years until the German mob realized they were fighting a bunch of drunks and sold them their Pils instead. They then occupied until they realized it was a shit hole and headed back home,” said Merlin.
“That’s not the whole story of King Arthur,” said Bullion.
“No David, that is the Gododdin people. King Arthur defeated the Angles on a regular basis and went into Britannic folklore and did all the things you remember after that.”
Bullion nodded like he was on a drip. “Go on.”
“Pendragon was king of the Brits who defeated and established an empire in northern Europe. His main historical background is about his wife Guinevere and his sword Excalibur and his deathbed Avalon.”
“Yes, I know all that. Do you have any more detail than that?”
“He liked to shag sheep,” said Huw.
“And who doesn’t before you eat them?” said Gold, joining in the fun.
Bullion thought his conversation would have received a better response than mockery.
“I’m off down the pitch for a knock about. Anyone interested in three and in while the lights are still on?”
“What’s that then?” asked one of the Morgans.
“You know, whoever scores three goals first it’s their turn to go in goal? No?”
“Oh right,” they all said together.
Gold looked at Bullion like he was bonkers.
“David, what about the goalmouth?”
“What about it?” asked Bullion.
“The grounds man emphatically asked us not to go on the pitch, especially the goalmouths? What did you not understand?”
Bullion gave out a loud tut. “Anyone want to see my frog in my office?”
“No, not I,” the Morgans answered together.
“Right sod you lot, I’ll be next door if you need me.”
Bullion didn’t care a lot about football right at that moment. Winter break had officially started as this was Bitominge’s last game in December and he had other things that concerned him. One was sorting out his winter break. If he did a week in each and the last two weeks in the unfurnished one, allowing him time to furnish it with basics, he was getting a free holiday and that was like staying at Gold’s compound.
The fax had come through and he picked up the sheets of paper and checked all the specs for what was really the first time.
“Well,” he said to Frenchy. “Looking at these pictures, I kind of like Barbados, which is not what I expected.”
Kingson was upside down and gagging. He pointed to his water. Bullion looked at another picture.
“Mustique,” he said, pondering. “Private island in the West Indies, with wild tortoises and a surprise celebrity list.”
“How, Frenchy, do I explain that one to the Mrs.? Oh, by the way contrary to your expressed wishes, we’re going somewhere else for the winter break?”
Kingson kept pointing his webbed fingers to his throat.
“Although this place does look super nice too.”
He peered in at Kingson. “Oh you’re out of water. Bloody hell! Hang on Frenchy, daddy’s coming.”
Bullion went into overdrive and retrieved the bowl and filled it up before splashing it on his amphibian friend. The bullfrog slowly moved and repositioned itself back to a normal posture. He climbed into the bowl of water and sat.
“Sorry about that Frenchy. I guess I overdid it with the mice.”
Bullion thought about his actions last week and dumping the whole bag in was not the most responsible thing to do. He wanted to pick him up and hold him but realized that had been difficult in the past and it was probably wiser just to watch him. He went back to his property list and studied the dispatch.
“Right, where were we? Mustique, beautiful island, beautiful people, and, what matters the most, a beautiful property. I do like the look of that infinity Olympic-size swimming pool. Look at this resident’s owner list. It’s like a royal academy performance gathering. I don’t care what the Mrs. Wants. We’re going here full stop. For the whole four weeks. I can’t stand moving about from one place to the next,” he said to himself and Kingson.
“Mind, it’ll cost a bob or two for the additional weeks’ let but won’t it be great picking up the morning paper and bumping into Phillip and Liz or David and Iman at the general store?”
Gold stuck his head around the door. “What happened to you? Why did you leave so abruptly?”
“I can’t deal with all the fallacious crap that we exchange after a crap match, that if we’d have won would have put us back in an automatic promotion spot.”
“I understand, David, but please, these people are our guests. The least you could have done was be polite and converse for five minutes and then disappeared.”
“They started it, with the sheep shagging comment.”
“That was me, and it was a little light-hearted repartee.”
“Well, you view it one way, I view it another, and I don’t plan on seeing them anytime soon again after tonight, okay?”
Gold looked at the sheets Bullion was holding.
“Are those the properties?”
“Yes, they are. Do you want a look?”
“I’ll say. I’ll have a bit of that thank you very much.”
“The Mustique one is no longer available, as I am taking it.”
“Oh. What’s this one then?” asked Gold.
“That’s Barbados. Sweet pool overlooking the ocean.”
“Yes, I can see the posse having a dub party for a week there.”
“Here,” Bullion offered, handing Gold the rest of the list. “It’s all yours.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
ASK ME SWAMI
Bullion had come back from his winter break refreshed, tanned, healthy, and happy. The family had behaved impeccably in Mustique, and Bullion had made countless contacts in the music and film industry, plus one or two Royals. It had been, as he said on the phone to Gold last night, “Bloody Marvelous.”
The only downside to the trip was he’d inadvertently picked up a swami by way of proxy. To buy property on the island, you have to be approved by the Board Of Trustees Of The Mystic Island Company. Part of the acceptance and initiation rite was to have the resident swami give you guidance for one full week after you leave the Island, a sort of enlightenment process to a better life and understanding of how lucky you were in this life. The swami was with Bullion at all times, except bedtime when he slept outside of Bullion’s bedroom on the floor.
It was an invasive ceremony, but Bullion had fallen in love with the island, his new friends, and what was to be his new property.
“Who’s this then?” asked Gold.
“This is my swami,” said Bullion.
“What?” asked Gold.
“He is part of the rite of passage to the purchase and graduation into the island life.”
“What gibberish are you on about now? I think you’ve had a little too much island sun, David.”
The swami nodded and smiled.
“And how long will the swami be our guest?” asked Gold.
“I don’t know, ask me swami?” answered Bullion beginning to tire of his constant shadow, now Gold had confirmed his thoughts.
“You know, Dee, I can’t have a shit without him standing by the door, it’s a bit ridiculous.”
“I’ll say,” said Gold in agreement.
“Why does he need to follow you around and for how long?”
“It’s supposed to be a week of abstinence in desire and suffering.”
“Well, he hasn’t seen us play yet, so we’ll see how that affects his psycho spirituality.”
Bullion nodded looking at his swami. “Do you know what he’s on about?”
The swami smiled and nodded again.
Bitominge City 0 Dogheads 2
It was four days into the swami thing with three days to go. Bullion was at the end of his tether and was close to freeing his inner spirituality. He’d enjoyed his stay on the Island of Mustique, but was it really worth all this hassle? He filled his coffee mug.
“No Babba, that is not good for the soul,” said the swami.
“Nothing’s bloody good for the soul with you. Seriously, what’s your gig? Do you really believe all this stuff?”
“Of course.”
“Then, why, if you are non-materialistic, do you live on Mustique?”
“Because I have been asked by my angels to guide the Island people.”
“They’re not Island people. They’re rich and famous influential people that vacation there a couple of times there a year.”
The swami smiled and nodded again.
“So how is that detachment?” asked Bullion.
The swami smiled and nodded. “Detachment is in the mind. What I offer to the Island people is a seeking of fulfillment and righteous knowledge.”
Bullion looked him up and down. “You what?”
The swami smiled. “Philosophy and principle are intertwined in their purity of seeking spirituality.”
Bullion looked out over the Quattro Fianco stadium as the lights came on. He was impressed with what he’d done. It was a cool stadium—a 500,000-seat stadium, pitching high and tight. You were over the pitch from Bullion’s view.
“See this, Swami? What man can ignore this for a higher source?”
The swami came up to the front of the glass and admired the atmosphere. “Nice.”
Bullion nodded. “Yes, it is. I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished considering our whelping birth.”
The swami smiled like he was getting to know the real David.
“So, are you really into yoga?” asked Bullion, offering him some nuts.
“Yes, but no nuts, thank you. I do yoga all the time.”
Bullion popped a peanut quickly followed by a cashew then an almond. “Have you ever been to a game before?” asked Bullion.
“No,” said the swami.
“I dare you to sit here tonight and find true inner peace while the game is on without opening your eyes and looking.”
“You question my Sri?”
“I question realization of intense matter not being a present force.”
The swami nodded. “Perhaps divinity will guide us tonight.”
Bullion nodded. “Perhaps.”
The game did not happen. It was over as soon as the whistle blew. The canine visitors went one up just before halftime then added another straight after the interval to sew the un-intense affair up. The swami was sitting cross-legged in a trance as Bullion came back into his office.
“I’d forgot about you. What do I owe you?” asked Bullion, pouring himself a Conyak.
The swami didn’t move and kept his yoga. “Baba, no alcohol please. You are close to blessedness.”
Bullion went about his business, talking to his frog and changing his substrate.
“The team lacked chemistry tonight. It was a dull game, dull team,” he said to his pet.
“On the contrary,” answered the swami.
Bullion looked around excited. “Did you watch it?”
The swami smiled. “Please Baba,” he said, pulling on his elephant ears.
“I listened to a good game.”
“Good game?” asked Bullion.
The swami nodded.
“It sounded exciting,” he answered.
“Only if you’re a Doghead,” answered Bullion.
“What is that?” asked the swami.
“The other team.”
The swami thought for a moment. “Your team did not win?”
“Do I look happy?”
“No. Not yet this week, no,” said the swami.
“Who were you supporting?” asked Bullion.
“I follow only the path of spirituality.”
“Sounds to me you’re more than merry with the Doghead’s win. I should have known something was amuck when you turned up wearing your gold sari with a number nine on your back this morning.”
Bullion put some chicken nuggets in his office microwave and went back to his frog.
The swami raised himself off the floor and moved closer to the microwave and watched it in action. The bell beeped three times.
“Can you check on my chicken?” asked Bullion with his hands full of substrate.
“I don’t check on chicken,” said the swami.
The microwave beeped again.
“Can you just lend me a hand?” asked Bullion.
“Neither a borrower nor a lender be,” said the swami peering into the oven.
Bullion wiped his hands on a towel and retrieved his food.
“Thank you. You have been a lot of help.”
The swami nodded and smiled.
Bitominge City 1 C-diff City 1
“Another get out of jail card?” said Bullion to Gold.
“Where’s your Swami?” asked Gold.
“Oh him? I fucked him off after the Dogheads game. He seemed way too pleased we got a mauling. So I said bye-bye.”
“How does that affect your purchase?”
“Oh it’s gone. I called up the chairman and his Mrs. of The Mystic Island Company and told them I couldn’t go through with it any longer and I was sending Bagman back.”
“So what happens now?” asked Gold.
“Nothing. It’s done. I probably won’t be going back to the Island again, but in all honesty if that’s what you have to put up with to be part of the clique, you can stick it up where the Caribbean sun don’t shine.”
Gold looked at his partner and admired his constitutional strength. “David, I’m proud of you. If you must be an island man, be a Yawdie not a Yogi.”
Bullion rubbed his head in his hands. “This season is doing my nut. I believe, but then I don’t after a couple of performances like the last two. He asked for new blood? We give it to him and they don’t do anything different than the old blood? The winter break computer didn’t change anything. What am I supposed to believe?”
“Sounds like a bad transfusion,” said Gold. “Relax, we have time. We are still hanging in there and might nick second spot, if not, it’s the play-offs.”
“That’s what worries me,” said Bullion.
“Not me, David. Our squad if fit is too strong for any team bar the champions.”
“The champions?” asked Bullion.
“Yes, the Social Predators have run away with this league from the get go and nothing suggests that they won’t finish on top.”
“Are you admitting defeat of the championship already?” asked Bullion.
“Yelp.” said Gold.
Blakpul 2 Bitominge City 0
“Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside, oh, I do like to be beside the sea! Oh I do like to stroll upon the prom,
prom, prom, where the brass bands play fuck off…”
“David. Stop that!” interrupted Gold. “While I am chairman of this club, I will not have you behaving like a hooligan and singing disgusting and loathsome songs about our neighbours.”
“But Dee, out of all the fixtures this year I was looking forward to, this one was the most.”
“And we can all enjoy it without the crass, overpowering, juvenile loud singing. We are in a car for goodness sake.”
“Yes, and it’s my car.”
“Please, David, we are in a limo going to the game. You happened to offer your transportation with Ingot driving. I do have my own service.”
“Then why didn’t you take it?” asked Bullion.
“Because you offered.”
“So?”
“Is that your answer to everything? You offered, David, please be reasonable. It’s a long drive, and I think you’ll find it a little less exciting when you get there. Things change.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the Prom might not be what it used to be when you were little.”
“The Prom will be lit up for miles and then when I get bored I’ll go ballroom dancing in the Tower.”
“David it’s called the golden mile for that reason—it’s a mile at best and the Tower ball room dancing has long gone.”
“Who said?”
“David I’m not sure it will be even open. Why don’t you put your headphones on and listen to your music and relax till we get there.”
Ingot smiled in his rear mirror at Gold and nodded a thank you. The weather was atrocious when they got to the coastal hamlet, bitterly cold and wet—blowing a gale at times—but Bullion had a shopping list of things to pick up. The obvious Blakpul Rock and a luminous lime green mankini, he also wanted to take the time to mingle with the fans in the Pub, as he hadn’t done it since he took over and wanted to touch base.
The game was another non-event and was over by half time. Bullion was disgusted and stuck his nose in the dressing room to try and rouse the troops.
“Cmon on you lot! Let’s be having you! Forty-five minutes is a long time in football, and we can turn this around,” he said, and with that he was gone.
The game never turned around, and Bullion could tell after five minutes, he was wasting his time watching this junk. He went down into the away supporters’ uncovered end and started a conga and a few choice chants directed at the manager.