Dead Like You

for the aged. His Swedish wife, Ulla, had become heavily involved in animal rights in recent years and not long ago had led a blockade of Shoreham Harbour – Brighton’s main harbour – to stop what she considered to be the inhumane way that sheep were exported. Garry had noticed, particularly in the past couple of years, that the two of them had less and less in common.
    Garry had been Maurice’s best man. He’d secretly lusted after Ulla in those days. She had been the classic flaxen-haired, leggy Swedish blonde. In fact he’d continued to lust after her until quite recently, when she had begun to let her looks go. She too had put on weight, and had taken to dressing like an Earth Mother, in shapeless smocks, sandals and hippy jewellery. Her hair was wild and she seemed to apply make-up as if it was warpaint.
    ‘Do you know about the Coolidge effect?’ Garry said.
    ‘What’s that?’ Maurice asked.
    ‘When Calvin Coolidge was president of the United States he and his wife were being taken around a chicken farm. The farmer got embarrassed when a rooster began shagging a hen right in front of Mrs Coolidge. When he apologized the President’s wife asked him how many times a day the rooster did this and the farmer replied that it was dozens. She turned to him and whispered, “Would you mind telling my husband?”’
    Garry paused while Maurice and Ulla laughed. Denise, who had heard it before, remained stony-faced.
    He continued, ‘Then a little later Coolidge asked the farmer more about the rooster. “Tell me, does it always screw the same hen?” The farmer replied, “No, Mr President, always a different one.” Coolidge whispered to the man, “Would you mind telling my wife?”’
    Maurice and Ulla were still laughing when crispy duck and pancakes arrived.
    ‘I like that one!’ Maurice said, then winced as Ulla kicked him under the table.
    ‘A bit close to home for you,’ she said acidly.
    Maurice had confided to Garry, over the years, about a string off affairs. Ulla had found out about more than one of them.
    ‘At least the rooster has proper sex,’ Denise said to her husband. ‘Not the weird stuff you get off on.’
    Garry’s mask smiled implacably at her, humouring her. They sat in awkward silence as the pancakes and spring onions and hoisin sauce appeared, and while the waiter shredded the duck before retreating.
    Helping himself to a pancake and rapidly changing the subject, Maurice asked, ‘So, how’s business looking going into the New Year, Garry? Think people are going to cut down?’
    ‘How would he know?’ Denise butted in. ‘He’s always on the sodding golf course.’
    ‘Of course I am, my darling!’ Garry retorted. ‘That’s where I get my new leads. That’s how I built my business. I got the police as customers through playing golf with an officer one day.’
    Garry Starling had started in life as an electrician, working for Chubb Alarms, doing installations. Then he had left and taken the gamble of forming his own company, operating at first from a tiny office in central Brighton. His timing had been perfect, as it was just when the security business began to boom.
    It was a winning formula. He used his membership of his golf club, of the Round Table and then the Rotary Club to work on everyone he met. Within a few years of opening his doors, he had built up Sussex Security Systems and its sister company, Sussex Remote Monitoring Services, into one of the major security businesses in the Brighton area for home and commercial premises.
    Turning back to Maurice, he said, ‘Actually, business is OK. We’re holding our own. How about you?’
    ‘Booming!’ Maurice said. ‘Incredible, but it is!’ He raised his glass. ‘Well, cheers, everyone! Here’s to a brilliant year! Never actually got to toast you on New Year’s Eve, did we, Denise?’
    ‘Yep, well, sorry about that. Don’t know what came over me. Must be the bottle of champagne we had in our room while we were getting changed!’
    ‘That you had,’ Garry corrected her.
    ‘Poor thing!’ Ulla said.
    ‘Still,’ Maurice said, ‘Garry did his best to make up for you by drinking your share, didn’t you, old son?’
    Garry smiled. ‘I made a sterling effort.’
    ‘He did,’ Ulla said. ‘He was well away!’
    ‘Hey, did you see the Argus today?’ Maurice said with an abrupt change of tone.
    ‘No,’ Garry said. ‘Haven’t read it yet. Why?’
    ‘A woman was raped in the hotel! Right while we