Chapter 45 in the serialisation of the book 'Insurrection' 4th book in the 'Corpalism' series

45

Age is an issue of mind over matter.
If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.
Mark Twain

At exactly 10 pm Wilf stepped off the train.

He was in his Sunday best; fawn slacks, red waistcoat and a dark brown corduroy jacket with leather patches on each elbow. Incongruously he was swinging a plastic carrier bag in his hand. Behind him followed the usual gang; Ron, Bill, Johnno and Pete and, swelling their ranks, Sticky and Dave. Wilf had been surprised when, without any explanation they'd both expressed their wish to be in on his plan. He would have put money on Sticky preferring to be with Alb for the Big Show, and he had assumed Dave would be with Harry, but then there's no telling what folk will do.

All of them had dressed for the occasion; Bill looking rather sharp in an expensive looking silver-grey suit. Privately Wilf thought the strong smell of mothballs somewhat spoiled the effect.

"Where we going, Wilf?" asked Ron, piteously, shuffling alongside.

In Ron's case dressing for the occasion meant a tight-fitting navy suit and highly polished brown brogues. Wilf had demanded they bring cash and lots of it; Ron had his in a money belt and this was one reason for the tightness of the suit.

"Come on, Wilf," said Johnno, "you promised you’d tell us where we were going when we got to Victoria."

Wilf ignored them, whistling to himself, knowing they had no choice but to follow as he strode out of the station and grabbed one of the larger taxis. Ron was hard on his heels, struggling into the taxi to sit beside him, muttering profanities. The others followed, cramming themselves in with great and obvious difficulty.

"Where to guv?" asked the taxi driver. Looking in his mirror, it occurred to him he should take payment up front in case the occupants keeled over before they reached their destination.

Wilf reached into his pocket and handed the driver a piece of paper. The driver frowned, read the address, shrugged and set off. After 30 minutes of what felt like an unnecessarily convoluted journey he pulled up outside an ordinary house, one of many in an row of innocuous terraces.

Wilf paid up; he’d promised them it would be his treat, the taxi, that is, not the evening’s entertainment. Dave arched his back; he could do with a good night’s sleep on a decent mattress. Pete was already regretting the whole escapade; he could have spent his last night on earth with Fiona but hadn’t wanted to look like he was under the thumb.

“Where are we, Wilf?" demanded Ron.

Wilf turned to face his companions, looking each in the eye solemnly, his own eyes sparkling with anticipation, "Gentlemen, we are about to undertake a mission from which we do not intend to return, this is in fact one of our few remaining days on earth, alive that is."

"Thanks for reminding me," said Bill.

"Could've put it better, Wilf," said Johnno.

He ignored them and waved his hand towards the front door of the unassuming house, “This, gentlemen is the finest whorehouse in London and, needless to say, the most expensive."

"Whorehouse?" They spoke in unison; all displaying varied degrees of shock and horror. Pete's head filled immediately with Fiona's face, disapproval etched across every line.

Wilf beamed, "It will set you all back a good few hundred but believe me it will be well worth it.” He sighed deeply, reminiscently, and then bucked himself up with a sudden scrabble in his inside jacket pocket, “Who wants one?" he said, flourishing out a small white bottle.

"What’s that?" asked Dave, wishing fervently he’d opted to come up with Alb.

"Viagra, of course," said Wilf, shaking several small blue tablets into his palm.

Bill blinked. Ron shushed Wilf, darting furtive glances up and down the road. Johnno’s head was shaking of its own volition, he looked like he was about to expire.

"You're gonna need 'em," said Wilf, handing them out, pushing one into each unsteady hand and folding the arthritic fingers closed round them.

He popped one into his mouth and took a long glug of water from the bottle he’d had in the carrier bag. He passed the bottle to Dave, shoved it into his unresponsive hands and then he was up the stairs and ringing the bell. Nothing. He looked back at them, grinning from ear to ear. He turned back, rang it again. Still nothing.

“It’s closed,” Johnno said, hopefully. “Come away, Wilf.”

Ron and Sticky had taken their pills and the magic was beginning. “Ring again,” Sticky urged.

Wilf duly rang again, and to his delight, heard movement inside the house. A pretty brunette in her dressing gown opened the door. Her hair was tousled, and she was pink-cheeked, a bit young for Wilf even with the Viagra but attractive in her own way. Wilf beamed at her, turned and grinned at the others. The girl’s expression was by now slightly bemused. There was nothing threatening about the visitors; although seven elderly gentlemen standing all together on the front steps was a trifle odd.

Wilf winked lasciviously at his companions, then winked even more leeringly at the girl as he squeezed past her and strode into the hallway.

The girl gave a squeal of protest, made to follow Wilf, and then turned to signal the other old gentlemen to remain where they were but they were already walking into the house. They stopped at the doorway of what looked like a through lounge/diner. Wilf stood in the middle of the room, staring with disapproval at the décor; magnolia walls, cream carpet, brown sofas, a ‘stag at bay’ painting on the wall, a large dining table at one end.

“I don't think this is at all appropriate," he said, turning to the girl, "this is a mood killer, what happened to the old atmosphere? Where’s Madame Fifi?"

"Err.......Wilf," said Ron, pulling at his arm, "I don't think...."

Just then an old woman entered the room from the dining table end; she was speaking as she entered, she had two mugs in her hands. She froze.

"Madame Fifi?" said Wilf extending his arms.

"Nan?" said the girl.

"Nan?" whispered Dave to Sticky, "I think we're in the wrong house."

"Who are all these people, Janice?" asked the woman calmly, ignoring Wilf’s outstretched arms.

"I'm not sure, Nan," said Janice, "they sort of pushed their way in."

"Pushed our way in?" Wilf was indignant. "We most certainly did not. There is always a welcome at Madame Fifi's.”

"Would you like a cup of cocoa?" the woman said, directing her gaze and a mug at Wilf.

"I would not," he said, huffing as he spoke, "we're here for a bloody good...."

"Wilf!" said Bill and Johnno in unison.

"Wilf, this isn’t the right place," said Pete.

"I think your friend might be right," said the woman, still maintaining her direct gaze, "Perhaps we could help you find where you're looking for?"

"Oh, that won't be necessary, Mrs....Mrs...." stammered Dave, moving towards the door, desperate to put as much distance between him and this awkward predicament as possible.

"Edith, please" said Janice's Nan.

"Fifi, it's me, Wilf," said Wilf, opening his arms, “you remember, Mad Dog and the Butcher?"

"Wilf," said Sticky, firmly, "this is the wrong house.”

Bill groaned. By now Dave had the front door open. Johnno signalled to Ron and they both began to creep slowly up alongside Wilf, ready to each grab a flailing arm and man handle him out.

Edith bent down with obvious difficulty, placing the mugs down on the coffee table and signalled Janice to her side. Janice edged her way over, very slowly.

"I'd know this place anywhere,” protested Wilf, “I should, I spent a good few nights between the sheets of this particular palace, I can tell you."

"That's it," said Edith, a definite shade of puce, "all of you, out, now."

"What?" demanded Wilf, "You're throwing me out, after all this time?"

"Out!" said Edith. "Or I'm calling the police."

Dave was out the door as fast as his legs would carry him, followed by Sticky and Pete. Johnno grabbed Wilf by one arm whilst Ron grabbed the other; together they hustled him into the street. Bill brought up the rear only just clearing the top step as Edith slammed the door behind them.

"I don't understand," said Wilf. He’d stopped struggling and was leaning up against a wall, a picture of perplexed disappointment. "Why would Madame Fifi throw me out like that?"

"Christ, he's lost it," said Bill.

"Gone barking mad," said Sticky.

"I tell you, she’s Madame Fifi," stated Wilf, "and you won't believe the things she can do with....."

Just then Edith appeared, pushed past Bill, grabbed Wilf and gave him a long passionate kiss, surfacing only to murmur, "Mad Dog, oh I've missed you."

Bill fell back, mouth agape. Sticky and Ron, still up to the eyeballs in Viagra, were visibly panting. Dave and Johnno simply gawped at the passionate scene unfolding in front of them on the quiet suburban street.

"Madam Fifi," said Wilf, when he could draw breath.

"I haven't been Madam Fifi for over twenty years, Wilf," she said, her head nestled into his shoulder, her cheeks pink, "that's my home now."

"And Janice? Your granddaughter?" said Wilf catching on.

Edith slipped him a small card, "Try this address," she said, cheeks even redder now, "I think you'll find what you're looking for there," then she was gone.

Cheers

Arun






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