Hannah and Gretchen
by Mark Henson
Part 2
Before continuing, please read PART ONE if you have not already!
“I'm getting pretty pissed off waiting around here, when there's still several hours of daylight left,” stated an unsatisfied Andy, “why don't we just go out and explore; I am sure we can find one of those cosy old British pubs, to hand around in this evening.
Jim had to admit, Andy had a point. Anything had to be better than spending the next few hours locked up within their rooms.
“Okay, just so long as you promise not to get too hammered on booze this time,” requested Jim.
“Sure...anything, let's just get out of here for a few hours.”
Jim checked the guest house rules, pinned to a notice board, regarding lock out times. Luckily they could stay out until pretty late in the evening.
Pinned to the board were also directions to a few places of local interest, including the local bar, 'The Rat Catcher's Retreat Inn'. Jim made a mental note and grabbed his jacket off the bed, following Andy who had already made a bee-line for the stairs.
Outside it felt like a different world, it was a beautiful hazy evening, the kind that made you feel glad to be alive. The Rose Guest House was deceptively deserted from the front, but behind the building, you could clearly see a small village or hamlet. Within walking distance, 'The Rat Catcher's Retreat Inn' was clearly visible from the bottom of the guest house back garden.
Jim could not resist taking one last look, behind him at the ground floor guest house rooms; where he thought the strange murmurs had been emanating from. There was nothing to see, the windows were clearly covered by thick curtains; actually, this did nothing to calm his mood, he decided to walk into the evening sunshine and clear his slightly distressed mind.
A handy path conveniently carried on from the gate at the end of the garden and in just a few minutes took them down a small sloping hill towards the Inn. A lime stone wall separated the hamlet village from the footpath and the guys easily ambled over this mild obstacle, ignoring the nearby gate with their newly recharged cavalier attitude.
The crossed a barely noticeable road just beyond the wall and approached the inn building. There was a friendly noise of local patrons inside the Inn, which got louder as the boys reached the entrance.
Jim pushed open the door and the noise inside appeared to lower as they entered. A few of the inn's customer's turned around to face the newcomers.
“This kind of reminds me of a scene from an old horror movie,” softly remarked Andy ironically.
In contrast to his customer's cold reception, the bar man's attitude was much more jovial, “Hello there boys, what can I do for yer?”
“Two pints of your finest ale, please sir”, asked Andy, in a slightly mocking tone.
“You'll be wanting a taste of our local tipple then,” replied the bar man, “we got a fine micro brewery based in this very village. Yer won't find anything like it back in the States.”
“Actually we're Canadian” cheekily lied Andy.
This time around Jim gave Andy a quick nudge in the ribs.
“Please forgive my friend, sir, his acts like a total ass sometimes.”
“Nay problem,” replied the bar man, “we have our own share of jokers around here too.”
“The name's Malcolm, by the way,” said the barman as he poured out two pints of a richly brown coloured ale.
“I'm Jim and this is my friend Andy.”
“Pleased to meet yer lads,” said the barman in his strong local accent, “you both around here for a holiday or something.”
“I'm here visiting relatives,” answered Jim, “Andy here has just kinda tagged along for the ride.”
“So, will you be needing rooms tonight then?”
“We already have rooms booked at the Rose Guest House.”
At the mention of this establishment, there was a low but noticeable murmur from several of the guests sitting close by. The barman had a look of mild concern on his face, but then shrugged it off.
“So; I see yer will be in safe hands tonight. Rose runs a fine guest house and no mistake.”
“That's great news, sir.”
“Names Malcolm lad, we don't go in for formalities around here.”
“Okay; Malcolm.”
“If I were you, I'd want to get away from all these old bastards in this bar. I suggest taking yer drinks out into the beer garden, just through that door.”
Jim saw the way a few of the punters were now looking at himself and Andy. The look in their eyes was kind of saying, 'we don't like strangers around here.' So he decided to take Malcolm's advice and gestured Andy to follow him outside.
“Real ale from the 'Rat Catchers Retreat' and made with real rat's piss by the taste of it,” said Andy; embarrassingly a little too loud.
“Cut it out, just for once in your life, dude.”
The boys sat down on one of the wooden benches in the beer garden, relaxed for a while and drank while chilling out to the hazy evening's summer sun, and the subtle reddening sky above.
It was not long until they were interrupted.
“How ya doin' lads,” shouted out a dishevelled man in a croaky voice, “Yer look like you're new around here, I'm old man Pete Meadowkin, by the way.”
“Looks like one of the 'local jokers' has arrived on the scene,” quietly mused Andy.
Pete gave Andy a split-second scornful look, that froze him to the spot.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr Meadowkin, I'm Jim Schroeder and this is my friend Andy Wagner” greeted Jim.
“Nice to meet you,” repeated Andy in a pseudo cheerful voice.
“Now what brings yer both to these parts,” enquired Pete.
“I'm my visiting relatives in Whitby; eventually,” answered Jim. At the moment we are just backpacking around your pleasant isle.”
“Ah...this sceptred isle indeed,” said Pete whimsically to himself.
There was an uncomfortable moment before Pete broke the ice, “yer be wanting to know more about the local history then lads?”
“Well; why not?” answered Jim trying to sound polite.
“Lot's of ancient history around this place,” yer see, many years ago this place was the grounds of an Ancient Roman Fort. Just where you are sitting is the spot where many an Ancient Roman Soldier would park their bicycle.”
“Had bicycles, even been invented back then,” retorted Andy.
“No,” said Pete with a brief chuckle, “Aye yer quick lad, most Yanks normally fall for that one.”
Pete paused for a moment, before continuing.
“But seriously,” many strange things have happened here over the years, “even being a quick man, you need to keep your wits about you at all times...”
“Is this old duffer bothering you,” interrupted Malcolm the Pub Landlord, “any minute now he will be fleecing you both with his, 'three card trick'.”
“I had best be on my way now,” said Pete, “I will surely be seeing you around here again soon.”
The boys watched Pete ramble away to the hamlet village.
“Take no notice of that old git” advised Malcolm, “nowt but a senile old devil if you ask me.”
“Thanks for the advice, I guess,” replied Andy.
Malcolm removed the ale glasses from the wooden bench, “Old Pete does nothing but scares off the new customers, one day I should get an ASBO put on him.”
Two full ale glasses were put on the table, “seeing as you are both new around here, have these pints on the house”
“Thank you, very generous,” said Jim.
As Malcolm returned back to the pub, Jim noticed that the sky was turning an unusually darker shade of red. It made him feel more uneasy.
Almost out of nowhere the two young ladies, Hannah and Gretchen, suddenly arrived in the pub garden.
To be continued...
