Brian closes the car door, checks the coast is clear and opens up the boot. It was stinking hot when they left, but the southerly change came through around six o’clock so it’s cooled off a bit now. The sun’s going down and it’ll be dark in a few minutes.
He and Harry take out a green bag each, slam the boot shut and hurry through the park gates towards the public toilets. The easterly breeze wafts the smell of the sea towards them, along with the sound of the waves hitting the beach below the cliff. A quick dip in the surf wouldn’t go amiss, Brian thinks, but not to worry. Once it’s all over he can go home and cool off in the pool with a cold stubby.
“Get inside and change,” whispers Harry. “I’ll stay outside with the gear till you’re ready, make sure nobody sees you.”
Brian gives him a thumbs-up and pushes open the door to the men’s. It’s hot inside and the stink makes his eyes smart. The ladies’ would smell better, but Harry won’t let him go in there.
“Seriously? What if some woman comes in and catches you,” he hisses. “Or a kid? That’ll be great on the local news. Not.”
The sink probably isn’t too clean, but it has to be better than the sticky floor under Brian’s thongs. He dumps the bag on there and rummages around for the stuff Harry says he has to wear. The belt barely reaches around his belly and is far too tight for comfort. Sucking in his stomach, he resolves yet again that if he gets through tonight in one piece he will start those exercises the doctor recommended, get himself back into shape. No doubt his old lady would appreciate that too.
There’s no light in here so using his mobile phone as a mirror, he attaches the loops over his ears and adjusts the mask so he can breathe. They’ll need to hear what he’s saying too, of course, so he doesn’t want his mouth covered in fluff. Satisfied, he puts on the hat and tugs it down to cover as much of his face as possible. He’s already starting to sweat. The itchy material will probably give him a rash too. Well, there’ll be time to worry about that tomorrow. If he gets through tonight.
The door opens a crack and Harry slips inside, his face flushed. “Get a wriggle on,” he mutters. “They’re coming.”
Twisting his head from side to side, Brian checks his appearance for the last time. Not bad, he thinks. His own mother wouldn’t recognise him now, let alone those kids he can hear squealing as they scramble out of the bus and head for the picnic tables. He turns off his phone and hands it to Harry. Can’t have it ringing in his pocket and giving the game away.
When he reaches for the door handle the reality of what he’s about to do hits him with such force he feels his knees weaken. Can he pull it off? He’ll never live it down if someone recognises him and tells his kids … or Harry has a couple of beers and gives the game away. But it’s too late to worry about that now. He is committed, can’t back out this late in the day. As soon as he let his mates badger him into saying yes, he had to go through with it. He just hopes his kids never find out.
It’s almost dark now, but he decides to let them have a few more minutes of fun. And give himself a bit of time to gather his courage, he thinks, feeling a trickle of perspiration slither down his ribs. He could really do with a drink.
As if he’s heard Brian’s thoughts, Harry produces a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag, takes a quick swig and hands it to him.
“Bundy,” he murmurs. “Steady your nerves.”
Brian takes a large swallow of the strong spirit, coughs and hands the flask back. “Couple of Minties would have been useful,” he says, with a nervous snigger.
“Too late now,” replies Harry, slipping it in the pocket of his baggy shorts with Brian’s phone. “You good to go?” He takes the bag from Brian and hands him the rest of the gear. “You’ll be right, mate,” he says, giving Brian an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “They’ll never know it was you.”
Brian opens the door, steps out and takes a deep breath. He can smell the sausages and onions sizzling on the barbie and, now the lights are on, he can see the children lining up, bread rolls at the ready. He sees Harry sneak around the side, mobile phone ready to record the scene. Because, in Harry’s world, if it’s not on Facebook it didn’t happen.
“Lights, camera, action…” Brian mutters to himself as, with the sack over his shoulder, he strides across the grass, swinging the bell back and forth, ding dong, ding dong, to announce his arrival.
The children turn, startled, as he emerges from the gloom. Hands clap, gasps of shock turn to squeals of delight and Brian knows everything is going to be alright after all.
“Ho, Ho, Ho,” he bellows as he emerges from the darkness. “Merry Christmas everybody.”
He and Harry take out a green bag each, slam the boot shut and hurry through the park gates towards the public toilets. The easterly breeze wafts the smell of the sea towards them, along with the sound of the waves hitting the beach below the cliff. A quick dip in the surf wouldn’t go amiss, Brian thinks, but not to worry. Once it’s all over he can go home and cool off in the pool with a cold stubby.
“Get inside and change,” whispers Harry. “I’ll stay outside with the gear till you’re ready, make sure nobody sees you.”
Brian gives him a thumbs-up and pushes open the door to the men’s. It’s hot inside and the stink makes his eyes smart. The ladies’ would smell better, but Harry won’t let him go in there.
“Seriously? What if some woman comes in and catches you,” he hisses. “Or a kid? That’ll be great on the local news. Not.”
The sink probably isn’t too clean, but it has to be better than the sticky floor under Brian’s thongs. He dumps the bag on there and rummages around for the stuff Harry says he has to wear. The belt barely reaches around his belly and is far too tight for comfort. Sucking in his stomach, he resolves yet again that if he gets through tonight in one piece he will start those exercises the doctor recommended, get himself back into shape. No doubt his old lady would appreciate that too.
There’s no light in here so using his mobile phone as a mirror, he attaches the loops over his ears and adjusts the mask so he can breathe. They’ll need to hear what he’s saying too, of course, so he doesn’t want his mouth covered in fluff. Satisfied, he puts on the hat and tugs it down to cover as much of his face as possible. He’s already starting to sweat. The itchy material will probably give him a rash too. Well, there’ll be time to worry about that tomorrow. If he gets through tonight.
The door opens a crack and Harry slips inside, his face flushed. “Get a wriggle on,” he mutters. “They’re coming.”
Twisting his head from side to side, Brian checks his appearance for the last time. Not bad, he thinks. His own mother wouldn’t recognise him now, let alone those kids he can hear squealing as they scramble out of the bus and head for the picnic tables. He turns off his phone and hands it to Harry. Can’t have it ringing in his pocket and giving the game away.
When he reaches for the door handle the reality of what he’s about to do hits him with such force he feels his knees weaken. Can he pull it off? He’ll never live it down if someone recognises him and tells his kids … or Harry has a couple of beers and gives the game away. But it’s too late to worry about that now. He is committed, can’t back out this late in the day. As soon as he let his mates badger him into saying yes, he had to go through with it. He just hopes his kids never find out.
It’s almost dark now, but he decides to let them have a few more minutes of fun. And give himself a bit of time to gather his courage, he thinks, feeling a trickle of perspiration slither down his ribs. He could really do with a drink.
As if he’s heard Brian’s thoughts, Harry produces a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag, takes a quick swig and hands it to him.
“Bundy,” he murmurs. “Steady your nerves.”
Brian takes a large swallow of the strong spirit, coughs and hands the flask back. “Couple of Minties would have been useful,” he says, with a nervous snigger.
“Too late now,” replies Harry, slipping it in the pocket of his baggy shorts with Brian’s phone. “You good to go?” He takes the bag from Brian and hands him the rest of the gear. “You’ll be right, mate,” he says, giving Brian an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “They’ll never know it was you.”
Brian opens the door, steps out and takes a deep breath. He can smell the sausages and onions sizzling on the barbie and, now the lights are on, he can see the children lining up, bread rolls at the ready. He sees Harry sneak around the side, mobile phone ready to record the scene. Because, in Harry’s world, if it’s not on Facebook it didn’t happen.
“Lights, camera, action…” Brian mutters to himself as, with the sack over his shoulder, he strides across the grass, swinging the bell back and forth, ding dong, ding dong, to announce his arrival.
The children turn, startled, as he emerges from the gloom. Hands clap, gasps of shock turn to squeals of delight and Brian knows everything is going to be alright after all.
“Ho, Ho, Ho,” he bellows as he emerges from the darkness. “Merry Christmas everybody.”