S.I.R chapter 3

In The Pursuit of Happiness and Assistance

Happiness is the person who finds wisdom from understanding. Ancient proverb

Stanley walked to his car. The streets surrounding these select number of houses weren’t as cramped as the city in general, but Stanley could never park right outside his own property. The banker next door used Stanley’s frontage to park two of his four BMW’s, leaving Stanley to park around the corner and when in the company of his beautiful wife, to receive a pointed comment as sharp as any dagger, each time about how a real man would do more than apologise every time for broaching the subject of parking outside his own property.

It was a safe area, the neighbourhood watch were very strict around here. Patrolling the Collective, the streets already signed up to the Watch, throughout the day and night. Even so, he worried about leaving his passenger door open even though he knew he couldn’t carry the weight of his wife and get her into the car without doing so first. He was sure if he sat her on the cold pavement he would hear about it forthwith.

Busying himself with adjusting the seat, Stanley moved it as far back as it could go on its runners and tinkered around reclining it but stopped himself as he didn’t think it safe to transport his very pretty wife laid down for the trip.

“Good evening, Sir.” the voice came over his shoulder stamping the Sir, not into a word or title but as a sheer underlining in that he, the person who had been addressed, had been identified as something a lot less than a Sir or maybe even a person as a whole but that the addressee couldn’t use the terms they really meant. Stanley unfolded his tartan camping rug over the seat to help keep Cassandra’s legs warm.

“Good afternoon, Maurice. How’s the green grocery business going?” Stanley replied backing away from his car and straightening up. He winced as his sore knee protested at all the activity it was being asked to undertake. Writers normally don't partake in this level of exercise.

“So, so. The customers are idiots who can’t identify perfectly ripe produce, its always sweeter when its a few days old. Not to mention them touching and squeezing my produce with their dirty hands. And the word business, Sir. Is it being good to you?” asked the warden staring suspiciously at Stanley left ankle.

“Not really, I’m stuck for new ideas so having to get by on scraps of essays, but they pay the bills.”

“And your wife, Sir. I’ve not seen her out jogging in a while. Does she still wear those tight leggings and sports top?”

“She’s not too good right now, she’s a little under the weather. I’m just getting the car ready to take her to find some help.”

“Right you are, Sir, pass without barrier. Oh, and watch out for a real unsavoury character or characters unknown operating in the area. They mean us all no good.”

“Are we experiencing trouble Maurice? A burglar or someone with less morals than the average fresh fruit and veg consumers?” Stanley asked not really wanting an answer. Stanley placed his hand on the car door to close it, rethinking his strategy.

“No, the opposite, Sir. A vigilante group is going around overzealously upholding the laws and ordinances. They cleared out that gang of graffiti artists that were down on Bridge Street and they’re making inroads into creating a totalitarian police state in the five streets coalition.”

“Oh Maurice, we thought that’s what your lot were trying to do.”

The neighbourhood Warden adjusted his black sash emblazoned with his rank and motto; without us you are not safe, that was tightly stropped across one shoulder in a manner that aided to keep most of his gut into his grey warden jacket. “We are here to protect and serve and the people trust us to fulfil our role. This new lot are just in it for the power.”

“Right you are Maurice. Now if you will excuse me, Cassandra really needs to get to somewhere that can help her. If I don’t take her and get back the champagne will really soak into the wood floor and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Stanley hurried around the corner, through his front door and stopped before the body of Cassandra who looked very pale now but still had the aloof beauty she always had, like a fine porcelain statue, although Stanley had never seen a single work of art with such perfectly displayed buttocks or any displayed quite so graphically in any art show or museum.

There had passed a fleeting moment of hope that he was about to walk into another polite monologue of all his failings that she had to put up with for the sake of her marriage. Or to instructions to swiftly mop the floor, while she changed from her now terminally ruined clothes, so she may shop to replace them at his expense. It was almost pleasant to be faced with silence. Her raised buttocks aimed squarely at him seemed to mock him in his inability to quickly resolve her current situation.

Stanley pulled his beautiful wife onto her back. Her clothed state bothered him and he searched for her underwear which he realised had somehow been looped over his ankle. He removed them, unfurled them and wondered how such a tiny strip of material could tie itself up so intricately or to that matter how they provided any protection or support to their wearer. Stanley placed Cassandra's legs side by side and opened the holes over her feet and tried to pull them up. The thin panties just twisted up around her knees. An activity that she operated so well in reverse at pretty much any opportunity proved to be ever so difficult now.

A loose skirt was hastily located from the laundry basket. It appeared serviceable so he wrapped it around her waist where she sat and used a broach to fastening it.  He pushed the thick metal pin, which until now was only used on the finest cashmere scarves, through the wool skirt and into the soft white skin of his wife’s hip.”

“Oh how clumsy, do forgive me my Dear.” he said replacing the pin and locking it closed.

Stanley raised his beautiful wife, who smelled as aromatic as a country club wine cellar after a twenty first birthday party riot, and holding her as if guiding her home after that party Stanley escorted his wife onto the street,.

The initial attempt to close the front door did not prove successful,  what with Cassandra headbutting the door as he reached for his keys. Stanley had to drop Cassandra to adequately achieve his task. She fell to her knees causing her half raised knickers to catch on the ornamental boot scrape sat to the side of the steps. He changed tack and  propped her up against the porch wall and closed the door listening to the triple click of the added security clicking into place. He turned back to his wife only to see her rolling down the short flight of marble steps onto the pavement below, she was more awkward to carry than a carpet bag full of bowling balls.

Stanley apologised to anyone that could hear and scurried after her, his painful knee causing him to hop straight legged to her side. Cassandra’s hair was a mess, hanging as it was in champagne matted clumps across her face. Stanley used a finger to brush hair from his wife’s beautiful face to give her back some dignity. The eyes he exposed looked cold outwardly as if criticising every decision he had ever made since saying ‘I do’ so he let the weighted hair drop down once more.

The walk to the car was difficult, without her moving feet he found he had to drag her along the wall just to maintain any resemblance of his verticality. But at least with the fading light the path was empty.

“Good evening again, Sir.”

Shit, it was that bloody Warden again, patrolling around as if he owned the streets. There was only five of them, surely he would have finished his stroll and gone home by now. Stanley remembered the man’s wife, he tried to never say ill of anyone, but he thought Maurice would have been better served as a fishmonger than a green grocer to have attracted such an old trout. If he were him, he wouldn’t have hurried back to her either.

“Good afternoon Maurice. You haven’t finished for the night then?”

“No, a careless citizen left his vehicular door open and I was fulfilling my duty to protect it from harm.”

And not casually look for any exposed private correspondence or anything remotely valuable I’m sure, thought Stanley as Maurice continued.

“And what is your business at such a late hour, Sir?”

”It’s not even six o’clock, and you already know. I’m taking Cassandra out so I can get her some help.”

“Ah, the fair Cassandra. Phew, smells like you’ve had a few lass, paralytic before sundown. Good going I say if you can afford it. Do you need a hand Sir?”

Maurice stooped slightly to take hold of the lady’s weight, placing his hands around her to assist. Stanley tried not to notice exactly where the Warden’s hands had trailed before taking up their positions under her arm and brazenly over her left breast. But the help was appreciated and Cassandra showed no signs of annoyance or dissatisfaction in the arrangement. They got to the car and Stanley carefully placed his wife inside. He went to walk around but Cassandra had other ideas and slid sideways leaning dangerously over the path. Maurice assisted once more and pushed her back upright, holding her there while Stanley got into the driver’s seat and reached across her to fasten her seatbelt.

“You two have a lovely evening and don’t worry about your empty property. We, the Neighbourhood Safety Watch or Community Coalition Patrol, which is a name I’ve come up with myself, do you like it? Will ensure its safety.” Maurice moved to step away but bobbed back down to fill the open doorway. “ And Cassandra, try to stay off the sauce will you, this is a respectable community.”

Stanley heard the word respectable just as Maurice ran his hand along his wife’s perfectly thigh. He noticed the Warden’s fingers slow at the knees as Cassandra’s knickers touched his fingertips and then delve quickly into the void caused by her scrunched up skirt. A moment or two passed as Stanley sat there uncomfortably considering saying something but Maurice removed his hand, casually saluted and closed the door to continue his watch.

As Stanley drove away Stanley checked his rear view mirror and saw the Warden sniffing his fingers.

Stanley’s car travelled along at 3 mph under the stated speed limit, which people though matched his cautious nature and philosophy on life. They were wrong, it had more to do with the nine points his wife had passed on to him after being caught by static cameras when out shopping or visiting friends. As the vehicle drew up to a junction a silver streak overtook dangerously, curving around and cutting in as an oncoming car blasted its horn.

Two of the three cars stopped in a nose diving halt but not the silver menace. The drivers regained their composure as they looked around for the perpetrator of their sudden onset terror but of him there was no sign. Stanley waved at the other driver, it seemed fitting as the other man was performing hand gestures of his own.

Stanley tapped the small dash mounted camera grateful that if anything had happened he would have had a very grainy grayscale image of the incident which may, if the police officer who viewed the video had excellent eyesight and imagination, could identify the silver menace as a motor vehicle.

Cassandra had slid forward in her chair during the rapid deceleration and was now bent over as if intensely studying her own shoes. Stanley rearranged her and pulled at her, cursing as her wayward clothing caught in the folds of the seat belt. Satisfied she was comfortable if not fully decent in appearance, Stanley restarted the car and set off with all due caution to find help in the woods.

Portisdown Copse was signposted only by a hand carved wood sign which did not show up well in broad Summer’s daylight and impossibly hard at night offering a privacy to all who didn't already know it as there or travelling here specifically. Secluded to the point of private it was perfect for dog walkers during the day who wanted the reassurance their car and its contents will be safely still there upon return. It was a place that during the day attracted a special kind of person other than dog walkers and pre-school visits. It captivated an anorak clad character who would either possess a metal detector and dream of finding lost Roman gold or an identification book with equally impressive dreams of locating an undiscovered fungi or spot a rare bird. At night, when the adventurous discoverers were safely in their beds, another and equally specialised community of people ventured into the verdant space. They did not wear anoraks, they did not wear a lot at all.

The entrance way was found only because another vehicle turned into it mere moments before Stanley unknowingly passed it. He carefully followed the leading car rigorously observing the two second rule, only a fool breaks the two second rule, but as he was a terrible time keeper, especially the five minutes his wife told him she would be ready in, so Stanley ensured a good ten to fifteen second gap just to be on the safe side. Friends who had led whilst going on multi car journeys used to say the extra distance made them feel like they were being stalked or had feelings that were creepy in nature and much prefered the tailgating aggressive drivers who’d squeeze unceremoniously into any gap wider than their own arse cheeks.

Stanley parked in a deserted part of the carpark, as spread out as it was between clumps of trees  - do you call them clumps? Stanley wasn’t sure, maybe they grew in patches or beds. What he did know was how hard, even at this hour, it was to find a quiet space to stop. Must be a popular time to walk the dogs, he thought turning off the engine and resetting radio, lights and heater to zero so they wouldn’t drain the battery when he restarted the car later.

Stanley held onto his seat belt buckle and gently depressed the button to release it, he hated it when others just thumbed the thing allowing the metal plate to whizz up and hit into the housing or the door. As he twisted to escape the restraints, fumbling and snatching at the lock he knew was there but unable to locate and operate - like the first time Cassandra presented him with the opportunity to remove her bra - he jumped gasping. Against the glass was a endarkened figure.

The figure had its hands in its trouser pockets and Stanley assumed he must have been cold as the man outside was vigorously rubbing his unseen hands them to keep them warm.

“I’m sorry.” said Stanley winding down the window after a few moments of the man not backing away. “Can I help you?”

“Oh no Squire, just carry on and I’ll please myself.” came the jovial reply.

Stanley wasn’t sure what to say to this so sat there thinking for a moment.

“Pretty, isn’t she.” said the man peering through the window so closely he was almost inside the car with them.

“My wife thought so when she bought it, I prefer the older model.”

The man looked puzzled as he worked through the statement. “Ah, understanding is she, to pay for this treat?”

“No, I bought it on HP.”

This again resulted in a puzzled expression as both men replayed the conversation.

The man pushed on regardless onto familiar territory.

“Secretary, friend or a new acquaintance, mate?” he said pointing at Cassandra to make sure his meaning was understood.

“Uh, no. She’s my wife if you must know.”

“Lucky man, bet she’s a rocket when you get her going.”

This struck a chord within Stanley’s consciousness and he asked. “Um, yes, she can be a bit of a spitfire when she’s pushed. Look, this is a bit embarrassing but I need a little help.”

“Say no more Squire, say no more. Plenty of people come here looking for ‘help’ from time to time. Looking for a little pep, some courage with which to overcome stage fright or maybe something to help people forget?” it was said in such a way you could hear the apostrophes and italics dropping around his words.

“Oh no, nothing like that, I just have a little problem. You see she’s not moving which is very unusual….” replied Stanley before he was cut short.

Oh, Squire. I get you, say no more about it. You want to get the blood flowing, raise the dead, bring the old thing back to life and give the good woman something to boast about to her friends in the morning.”

“Yes, but I don’t think you understand.” hesitantly added Stanley a tad confused, which was his normal operating position for most things outside the realms of his own literatic creations.

“No confusion at all, Squire. What you want to do is pop along to the upper clearing, right near the center of the woods. When you see no one around you'll know he's there. Then you just need to call out to see if the Pharmacist’s in. If you’ve got the right place the man you didn’t see will see you. If he can’t help you then I very much doubt anyone else here will.” the strange stranger sniffed before continuing.

“So, you won’t be doing anything for a while? Unless she’s going to be very animated in your absence.” he said hopefully.

“Can’t I take her with me?” enquired Stanley placing a hand on his pretty wife’s leg companionably.

“Nah, the Pharmacist gets very jumpy in a crowd. Take my advice and leave your ‘wife’ here. She’ll be safe till you come back. Being as pretty as she is there will be a lot of eyes on her, if you know what I mean, especially if she’s a soloist.”

Confused by the encounter but buoyed up on a rising tide of confidence the morning would not only see his wife talking to him once more, but talking happily in a way that wouldn’t cost him too much financially or mentally, Stanley thanked the man happily and added that yes his wife often spent many hours entertaining herself while he was busy writing. Which greatly energised the man who said he would definitely stay around to watch over her.

Satisfied that his wife was in good care, Stanley took himself out into the aromatic, forest scented night. As an afterthought, Stanley stopped to inform the beautifully resting Cassandra that he would leave the car unlocked so she wouldn’t accidentally set off the alarm and to explain his intentions. He stopped one last time to collect a small, petrol station acquired, torch.

At first it was hard going. Not only were there tree roots which sprang up offering numerous opportunities to become acquainted with the woodland floor but to Stanley's dismay, none of what should have been secluded openings were empty. Each had some small gathering of people in or around cars. Stanley gave each of these a wide berth as he tried to find what he was searching for. Then there is was, a moonlit glade lined on all it's circle-ish sides by tall trees. Stanley stood between two large trunks that stretched heavenwards and marked the entrance to the clearing lit by dappled silvery beams.

As Stanley strode in he cleared his breath preparing to call out for the Pharmacist. Initially he felt foolish over performing such simple yet public task. He cleared his throat  with a grumbling cough but stopped as a splat like sound came from over his left shoulder. Reaching around with his right hand to the soft material of his coat his fingers came back wet with a soft, salty warm sticky liquid. Birds, thought Stanley looking up into the trees. There was definitely movement going on up in the higher boughs. From the energetically moving shadows it must have been large birds - do they get really big owls around here or something similar? Judging from the falling leaves, they were fighting.

Stanley turned to the tree housing the developing incident and aimed his torch skywards. Another large splat fell and covered the highly polished surface of his shoe. He initially looked down at it wondering how hard avian droppings were to clean away from brogued leather before looking back up at the source.

“Bird watching?” called Stanley as the thin trail of light landed on a face within the branches.

The face looked momentarily perplexed but rapidly rallied and broke into a smile. “In a way.” the male voice called down. “You can see plenty of birds from up here.”

“Oi.” came a female voice from the tree. “You’re only supposed to be looking at me.”

“Um.” said Stanley taking a second to collect his thoughts as in his experience people up trees very rarely extended beyond children playing or scrumping apples. Finding two fully grown adults in one and at night was a radical idea right up there with performing self portraits whilst handstanding on tall cranes, jumping out of hot air balloons at the edge of space or eating sushi.

“I’m very sorry to disturb you but I’m looking for the Pharmacist. Would you happen to know of his whereabouts? And sorry, but are you bird watching? As I don’t think there are many about unless you’ve located an owl.”

“Owl would be a fine thing.” called the female voice. The tree top couple were in darkness once more as Stanley refocused the weak torch beam to scan the treetops for more nocturnal twitchers. “Just a seagull. Sorry about that by the way I pulled when I should have pushed and it kind of plopped out. It should brush off nicely once it dries.”

“Only thing up here now is a Greater Crested Brown Woodpecker. Its been banging away all night.” added her gentleman friend.

“Greater Crested? More like tiny tit. I’m Sally by the way and this oik here is… sorry what was your name again?”

“It’s Matt, Big Matt to my friends and you bloody well know it”

There was a slapping sound followed by a titter of female laughter.

“Anyway, Matt and I will be down later and you look like a good strong boy, fancy helping out at the bottom?”

“Um.” said Stanley returning to dither mode. “I have my wife waiting in the car and I really need to find the Pharmacist and get back to her.”

“Lucky girl, we might be over later to say hello. The Pharmacist is over there.” she indicated over to the left which Stanley caught by flicking the beam back across to the couple and he quickly shined it away.

“Oh I am sorry.” said Stanley surprised at how much of them he saw in the poor yellow light.

“Don’t be mate, we’re not.” called Matt from their darkness as Stanley offered his thanks to the sky above and shuffled away.

This time there was no one but Stanley subconsciously knew he wasn’t alone. Coughing, from the unseen depth of darkness behind the treeline, alerted him to someone who didn’t want to be seen. Stanley moved the torch in front of him. It was small, plastic and yellow, bought for £2.99 with £20’s worth of fuel, but Stanley hoped it would appear to be one of those big metal ones that people on films use to knock burglars unconscious.

“Excuse me.” Stanley called. “But are you the Pharmacist?”

A big hacking cough followed by a ‘snnittt’ kind of noise came from the depth filled darkness, then something that sounded very wet was spat out to assist fertilise the undergrowth.

“I’m not anyone if you’re the police, and you have to tell me if you are. None of this sneaky weaky crap you lot pull.”

“No, I’m not a police officer, although I once applied to join but I have a bad chest and….”

“You look like a police officer. You sure don’t look like the people I normally get coming to me. Not that they come to me for anything in particular, or come to me at all for that matter, Officer.”

Stanley thought for a moment before he replied. “Do you have registered opening hours? It’s just my wife and I have come here because my father told me someone here could help me. You see she’s not moving and hasn’t done for a while and I’m getting a little worried that something is wrong with her.”

There was more coughing from the darkness and then a skinny man with bedraggled greasy hair and an equally bedraggled and greasy coat emerged into the radiant moonlit glade. He stayed on the far side so he could more easily become one with nature once more if this new customer suddenly pulled out a badge or worse still didn’t pull out a thick enough wallet.

“Ah, the old woman playing you up is she? Not giving you the response you want from her? Or is it the old woman? Because I have stuff that will work on both. In fact if you take one of these.”

The Pharmacist extended his left arm and with it opened one side of his long coat. A series of pockets inexpertly sewn onto the material held an apothecary's hallucinogenic dream of substances. One was selected within a little plastic bag.

“Give one of these to your real old lady, I guarantee she will be up and about and begging you to take her home, or anywhere else she thinks she could get it.”

The Pharmacist extended his other arm to reveal another Aladdin's cave of mystery items. Another bag was located and withdrawn from its pocket. “£30 for the both, but if you want a few spares I can do 4 of each for a Ton. And that offer is open only for tonight for new customers.”

“Um,” said Stanley rifling through his pockets. He had come out in a hurry and hadn’t stopped to collect his usual accoutrements. Within a pocket he found a crumpled ten pound note and in his trousers what he hoped the scrunched up note was a twenty. “Just the one of each please. Do I need a prescription?”

There was a laugh from The Pharmacist who loved a virgin in business dealings and made a mental note to review his pricing if this bumbling fool happened into his web again.

“Now stay just there where I can see you friend.” called the Pharmacist as Stanley started to walk across the gap that separated them. “You see, I don’t know if I can trust you do I? So as this is our first little meeting I’m going to put these right here.”

There was a tree stump with a weathered hole in the centre. “And you can leave the money over there.”

To Stanley’s side, and unseen until it was pointed out, was a handkerchief tied on all four corners by a thin string which disappeared up into the canopy. It reminded Stanley of the small parachute toys he spent hours playing with as a child, tying his toy soldiers up and throwing them into the air to watch them float down to the ground. He had spent a couple of days in hospital that Summer after he’d fallen out of a tree, onto his head, with his Mother’s best white table cloth tied to his waist by old washing line, but he couldn’t remember it clearly.

Money was deposited and it quickly ascended heavensward, through means unseen until it was delivered straight onto the Pharmacist's outstretched hand. He counted his prize and with a poorly executed bow stepped backwards into the night.

It took Stanley half a minute to workout what had happened before he hurried forward and inspected the tree stump. Within the small recess he found and collected the two small bags and their tiny round contents. The first was a green colour, the other blue. Damn, thought Stanley as he reverently placed them into his breast pocket, I should have asked which was which.

With torch beam held steadily in front and definitely not straying up into any tree, Stanley proceeded back to his wife. When he got there he received a rather unpleasant surprise.