Billy Wanderlust

By Leslie Wilkie

Billy Whitehurst, accountant and Sunday League footballer, is faced with a dilemma when his girlfriend of five years leaves him. Billy, named after his father’s favourite Hull City centre forward, decides to resign his post and travel. He begins by flying to Malta where by chance he is employed to seek out a sticky fingered member of the banking fraternity. He then moves on to Gibraltar by working his passage on a yacht. His further adventures, amorous and otherwise, take him by cruise liner to Australia and on to Singapore. After further overseas adventures he finally settles back in his native Yorkshire with the love of his life, Janet, and her mother Rose.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9780244981327

Book preview

Billy Wanderlust

Billy Wanderlust

by

Leslie Wilkie

Other novels by this author

The Kokoda Connection

The Felicity Factor

The Golden Gnome

Jumbonji Blue

The Phoenix Affair

Sergeant Crusoe

The Gillygate Affair

Copyright

Copyright © Leslie Wilkie 2018

eBook Design by Rossendale Books:

www.rossendalebooks.co.uk

eBook ISBN:  978-0-244-98132-7

All rights reserved, Copyright under the Berne Copyright Convention and Pan American Convention. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organisations, events or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

To Joan,

Colette, Alison and Deborah

With Love

Chapter  1

I'll always remember that football match. The fullback marking me was built like a brick outhouse. He must have weighed sixteen or seventeen stone but that didn't stop him moving quickly. He flattened me more than once with flying tackles. In fact that was how I met Sarah - he hit me with one of his tackles sending me on my backside sliding off the pitch. I finished in a tangled heap with one of the spectators. When I realised what had happened I found myself sitting up with a girl in my lap.

Sorry, Miss, I said. Are you okay?

Fine, I'm fine. I was just standing here admiring your legs, she replied.

Mine! Yours are fantastic. I hurriedly removed my hand from her naked thigh.

I'm Billy.

I'm Sarah, shall I wait for you after the match?

Yes, please.

I was going to say more but that was when a shadow fell across us and the captain's voice bawled out.

Never mind your bloody love life, Geordie, we've a match to win.

He always called me Geordie despite my protestations but then he was an Essex lad. To him anyone born north of the Watford Gap had to be a Geordie. It was the accent, any northern accent put him in mind of Tyneside. I was born in Hull, or to give it its proper name, Kingston upon Hull. It's a King's Town because three assorted kings in the middle ages each gave it a royal charter. We lost the match incidentally.

Sarah came into my life then and stayed in it for almost five years. We lived together, loved together, made plans together and eventually parted with a handshake and a chaste kiss on the cheek. We'd been saving for our first house whilst living in a small flat in Leeds. I was working in the lower depths of a large accountancy firm whilst Sarah was advising teenage school kids on how not to get pregnant. I sometimes wondered whose job was the most pointless. Sarah had a degree in micro biology whilst mine was in mathematics.

At the time of parting our joint savings account had grown to just over five thousand pounds. We split it equally between us. Sarah went off to live with her new love, the manager of a large prophylactic factory, whilst I was left in the flat we'd shared together. She took her clothes, a few bits of furniture and our pet cat. Oddly enough after being on my own for about a week I began to realise that I missed the cat more than Sarah.

During those five years that we were together my job at Boston and Beecroft Accountants had begun to bore me. I had handled the business accounts of various people in that time - a butcher from Bradford, a minor Kuwaiti sheikh and a premier league footballer. All of them had considerably more money than I was earning. As a result of my 'outstanding' work on those accounts I had risen from the ground floor to the floor above. Progress was reckoned on how quickly one moved up through the building. The ultimate of course was to reach the seventh floor, that's where the boss presided. I sat down and thought about my progress one day and decided that unless a miracle happened I'd be at retirement age before I reached the seventh floor.

There were forty-eight desks on the first floor each separated from its near neighbour by a two metre high plywood partition. On my promotion from the ground floor I was given a desk in the darkest corner, a corner with no natural window light. I saw little of my direct boss, he resided two floors above me and sent me occasional e-mails about work. I think he forgot about me when I first moved because he didn't allocate me any work for three weeks or so. It was during that time that I met Brian. He was my neighbour over the plywood partition.

Brian had a wife, two children and a mortgage to support. He confessed to me during my second week of idleness that he was worried about being made redundant. Apparently two years earlier during a major reshuffle his accounts had been transferred to the Birmingham branch while he was on holiday. He hadn't been given any work since. He filled his time when not worrying about redundancy by making himself irreplaceable. Whenever anyone on our floor was ill or on holiday Brian covered for them. If anyone was swamped with work there was Brian to lend a helping hand. He even helped me with my work if he'd nothing else to do. In a way it was Brian who made me decide what to do when Sarah left.

Those first couple of years with Sarah were great. We had plans for our future together that included saving for the deposit on our first real home. We toured the local estate agents at weekends hoping to find something that we could not only afford but liked as well. Some weekends we visited car boot sales buying small bits and pieces to furnish our future home. Then gradually without either of us really noticing it things began to change.

I suppose the change really began when Sarah got her first promotion. Her work pattern altered so that she was not home every evening. That was largely because of the distances she was required to travel. Sometimes she would be away for a couple of days at a time. I began to fill my evenings with eating out or leaning on the bar in the sports club. Invariably I would finish up chatting to other women though I must confess that I didn't stray at that time.

Her second promotion came in our fourth year. Her work became more and more nationwide and at times international. It was while she was at a four day conference in Brussels that I strayed for the first time. I met a young lady at the club and after consuming more alcohol than usual I spent the night in her flat and her bed. The following day I felt thoroughly ashamed of myself for about an hour. After that I realised that I'd enjoyed the experience and I found myself telling the cat all about it. I knew he would understand because he'd spent the night out on the tiles himself.

The only other time I wandered off the straight and narrow was during our fifth year. I was at home concocting some sort of mishmash of a meal when the doorbell rang. I answered the door to find Sarah's sister, Julie, standing there.

I promised Sarah I'd look after you while she's away, she said.

I stepped aside and waved her in.

She said you might need cheering up so I brought you something you might like.

There was nothing in her hands so I must have looked puzzled.

Aren't you going to ask what I've brought you?

Yes, what?

Me, she replied. She dropped the coat she was wearing to reveal that she had nothing on underneath it.

I must have been standing there some time with my mouth open because she grabbed my hand and led me towards the bedroom.

I didn't tell her how I was going to look after you, she said.

We shared my mishmash of a meal about two or three the next morning and washed it down with a bottle of Shiraz. I told the cat all about it later that day after Julie had gone.

It must have been about a month later that Sarah told me that she was moving on. I never met the prophylactic man but I did see him from the window when he came to collect her. His car must have cost more than my annual salary and his suit more than my monthly one. I know it's odd but I didn't feel disappointed by our parting, in fact I experienced more of a feeling of relief than anything else.

I used Brian at work as a sounding board for the next week about my situation. In the end I asked him if he wanted my job. The relief on his face was a joy to see. The next week I handed in my notice, Brian took my desk and work and I walked away without looking back. I had twenty-eight days holiday due and that covered my notice period.

In one of the early days with Sarah she bought me a small teddy-bear that I christened Marmaduke. For the next few days I talked to him instead of the cat. He helped me to decide what to do next. The lease on the flat was due for renewal and with Marmaduke's help I decided to give the flat up and go travelling. For the next day or so I gave away the few contents of the flat that were mine to my immediate neighbours. Brian and his wife agreed to store a suitcase of effects for me. Then, with a rucksack on my back and having checked that my passport was in date, Marmaduke and I left for pastures new.

I hadn't a clue where I was going so I walked to the nearest bus stop and boarded the first bus to arrive. It took me to Leeds/Bradford airport. Once there I studied the departure board trying to decide just where to go. I decided on a flight to Amsterdam but when I got to the desk that one was fully booked. The lady there suggested that I try the Malta flight because she'd heard that there were a few seats available on that. I was just in time to secure a seat to a place that I had never been to before.

Once onboard I started to settle into my seat when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning to look back I was faced by a middle aged man who asked if I was travelling alone.

Yes I am, I said.

Would you mind changing seats with me then I can sit next to my wife.

We duly changed seats and whilst I was doing that I saw others doing the same.

What's happening, why all the seat changes?

If you want to sit together you have to pay extra when you book, he replied.

That's ridiculous.

Yes, we know it is. We call this airline Ransomair because of things like that.

A few seconds later he turned back and spoke to me again.

Before this flight's over they'll try to sell you everything from a cup of coffee to the crown jewels. You mark my words.

The engine note changed and the plane moved towards the runway. I sat back and wondered just where I would be spending the night, I hadn't had time to book a hotel. As if reading my mind the guy I'd changed seats with turned back to me.

Where are you staying? he asked.

I haven't got a hotel booked yet, do you know of one with a sea view.

He chuckled. Lordy, they are everywhere. I tell you what, stick with me and Irene. We've a car booked to take us home and we can drop you off at a hotel on the way. He stuck out his hand, I'm Jim, by the way.

I shook his hand. Thanks, Jim, I'm Billy.

It was about four hours later when they dropped me off outside the Preluna Hotel, a hotel positioned on Sliema seafront. They left me with their card and an offer for drinks and dinner if I joined them the following evening - I had willingly agreed to that. It would give me time to pick their brains about the Island's various attractions.

After almost fifteen minutes of going through all the various room sizes, room types, sea view or land view, and daily, weekly or monthly rates I finally settled on a room. I got the key to a room on the sixth floor with one week at a reduced rate and the other three days at a daily rate. Then there was a form to fill in and I had to briefly surrender my passport before I received my room key.

Once I had dropped my bag in my room I went straight back downstairs. I crossed the road, walked a short way along the seafront and found a bench overlooking the sea. It was beautiful. I leant back, took a deep breath and thought to myself -'that's a damn sight better view than a plywood partition and a bloody computer'. I dined at a restaurant on that same seafront.

Chapter  2

After breakfast the following day I found a holiday rep plying his wares. Actually he couldn't do a great deal of plying because he had no customers. He looked relieved when I stopped and wished him good morning. His face fell somewhat when he found out I wasn't with his company but he gave a map and some advice.

Everybody starts with a harbour cruise and it can be a great trip. My advice is to ignore the big vessels and go for the smaller locally built ones.

Why?

He laughed briefly. Because people like me take our tour groups to the big ships - we know that we can get them all on.

Thanks.

I wish I could work with individuals like you instead of some of the mobs I get lumbered with occasionally.

At that point I had to leave him because the group he was waiting for turned up. As I left I heard him address the group of mainly young men and women in German and English. I heard him mention the town of Mdina and some catacombs. Since most of the group appeared to be dressed for the beach (and some of them barely dressed for it) I felt there might be a few frozen bodies in the catacombs.

Following his directions and advice I walked down to where the harbour cruisers sailed from. I think I had a choice of seven different companies. In the end I chatted to a young lady selling tickets for Luzu cruises. She smiled nicely, gave me a discount and sold me a ticket. If that discount was a come on it was worth it. It was a wonderful cruise.

I don't know who labelled Grand Harbour originally but he certainly got the name right. Traces of the Phoenicians, the Knights of Malta, the French and the British are everywhere. So are reminders of the Axis forces who tried (and failed) to bomb it into submission during WWII. It's a living and breathing history book. It is magnificent. Mind you there was a damned great cruise liner alongside one jetty and it blocked the view of some of things the boat's commentary was about.

That evening I rang the doorbell of the Brady's flat at precisely six pm. The door opened almost immediately and Jim welcomed me in. Irene appeared then, and gave me a peck on the cheek and told me that dinner would be about fifteen minutes.

Give him a drink, Jim. Tell him about our adventure. No ships mind.

I've got to explain why we were there, Jim protested.

Okay, but save your ships till later.

Jim waved towards a magnificent looking cabinet. What will you have?

May I have something small and simple?

Alcoholic?

Gin and tonic?

No problem.

We sat at chairs positioned in a window overlooking the same magnificent view that I had from my hotel room.

This same view cost me a fortune, do you own this place?

"I inherited it some time ago. I'll tell you about it