It was Saturday the second of January twenty-twenty-one and in the taproom of the Green Dragon the Grumpy Old Men’s Society was quorate and looking forward to the meeting which though illegal was behind black out curtains and away from all eyes and ears. Gladys had been wrong, there had been an eighteen wheeler delivery. The load had been the timber Alf ordered for the shutters on the Dragon. The pumps drained the flooded road prior to delivery and had been turned off afterwards to allow the road to flood again. A score of men had assisted Alf in his workshop to make the shutters and subsequently fit them to the building.

The village of Bearthwaite had been isolated and a law unto itself for centuries. It was in a valley at the end of an eight mile single track road with passing places that went nowhere other than the village. The road was subject to flooding and a mile and a half of it was in a deep depression often covered in four or five feet of water for anything up to six weeks at a time which meant the inhabitants of Bearthwaite were always provisioned against potential siege and extremely self reliant. Anything less than a foot of water was ignored. It also meant the community was exceedingly tightly knit and all looked after every member of the three thousand or so souls who lived in the village and it’s outlying farms and businesses. The pumps that could drain the flooded road were very expensive to run and were often turned off allowing the water to cover the road till it was inconvenient enough to require pumping away. The numerous unmetalled lonnings,(1) that led out of the village all degenerated into farm tracks. They went up into the hills and served numerous farms though they all terminated in the hills. The only lonning out of the village that could reasonably be referred to as a road was the metalled one that serviced the small Victorian reservoir at the valley head.

There was a millennia old pack pony trail leading out of the valley over Sasha Vetrov’s land and then through Alex Peabody’s farm yard. It had been in use for centuries before the Romans arrived in Britain. It went over a pass and dropped down on a circuitous route that eventually brought one out a few miles from Caldbeck. The trail ran up a steep and dangerous gully to the pass and hadn’t been used for it’s intended purpose for centuries. It was however extensively used in the summer by fell walkers seeking a slightly different experience from what the usual walks offered. The only guide book available for the route was a hand-written and -bound, photo copied one available from the author, Tommy Dowerson, who’d closely followed Alfred Wainwright’s style, though the sketches had been drawn by his wife Sarah from his photographs. The guide book was for sale in the post office of which Tommy and Sarah were the proprietors.

The centre of the village was the large village green which had a children’s playground, a football pitch and various other sporting facilities on it including a running track. Most visitors were surprised to see it also had a large boat shed. The road that circumscribed the green which had been laid and paid for by the villagers in nineteen eighty-three provided an easy turning facility for even modern eighteen wheelers with the longest of trailers. No outsider had been allowed to set foot in any building in the place since long before the first corona virus lock down. All deliveries had been dropped outside on the road and carried in by locals since then, but since the flooding of the road the only delivery had been Alf’s timber intended for the new shutters on the windows of the Green Dragon.

“You mind I’ve been having trouble with my teeth for a while?” Sasha asked not really expecting an answer.

“I recall you saying a year or so back you seemed to be spending a lot of time and money in the dentist’s chair having fillings and the bits of teeth that shattered off patched up,” Alf said. “I lost all mine as a lad playing rugby, falling off motor bikes and messing about with pit ponies. False teeth are bloody dear these days, but at least the bastards don’t hurt.”

There was a round of laughter at that as many of the old men had at least partial dentures.

“Well, some time back in the middle of November I woke up in bed and noticed I seemed to have lost my rear left hand side upper teeth. Or part of them. I’ve had two three tooth bridges, one on each side at the back of my top teeth for best part of fifty-five years. They were over a hundred quid each then which was a lot of money in those days, but I suppose I can’t complain that I didn’t get value for money. The hygienist has been telling me for years they were in bad shape because my gums had receded from them. It turned out she didn’t know the half of it. Initially I assumed I’d swallowed the bridge in my sleep, but I found it in bed when I got up. Half of the back tooth had snapped off and was stuck in the bridge and the cavity where the front tooth located was black and looked pretty minging.(2) The bits of the two teeth left in my mouth hurt my tongue but I couldn’t make myself leave them alone. Pour me me another glass of that anaesthetic, Stan. Anyone else want one?”

There was a dozen or more glasses pushed towards Stan who promptly pulled the cork and started filling them with the eighty percent Polish spirit that Sasha received regular supplies of from a contact who distilled it in a generations old illicit still deep in the backwoods not far from the Ukraine border. Pete stood up and said, “I’ll fetch another couple of bottles from the cellar for you, Sasha. Anybody want me to fetch anything else while I’m at it?”

“Fetch a couple of bottles of Mountain Dew too,” Pat replied. He was referring to the illicitly distilled Irish poteen he brought back when he visited Siobhan’s family in Donegal.

When all had a filled glass and another pint too Sasha resumed. “I rang my dentists. The bloke who owned the place died a couple of years ago on his motorbike in a road accident on the other side of the pond. I think I was only treated by him once. I’d had a tooth that broke up when my usual dentist was extracting it. There were bits left in and he booked me a surgical extraction with the boss, because he didn’t have the experience, or maybe it was the qualifications, to do a surgical extraction. Unfortunately the tooth abscessed. So after the antibiotics sorted the abscess out the boss man took it out. He and I talked old British motor bikes. After his death the surgery became part of a large chain of health care facilities. The Italian lad I used to see, well I think he was Italian, has since moved on, and I see a wee young lassie now. I don’t know, but late twenties to early thirties maybe, but any woman under the age of forty-five looks like a teenager to me these days.”

There was a round of laughter at that and Denis chipped in, “Aye, and just by looking at them they can all make a happy man very old.” For once Alf didn’t have to have the joke explained to him.

“It’s weird now. The door is locked and you have to knock. A space woman unlocks the door, hands you a mask and points to an automatic hand sanitiser dispenser. You do the necessary with the hand stuff which is like a foam and are pointed to a chair. Where there used to be a dozen chairs there are now three. Eventually you go upstairs to see the dentist. Now my dentist is a pretty lass, but I have to say the surgical mask, the welder’s face shield and the astronaut suit do little for her. It’s hardly a flattering outfit. Her name is Samantha, but she goes by the name of Sammi. I like her and her dental nurse too because they both instinctively understand the banter that has been natural to interactions between men and women of all ages since the beginnings of time. It means you don’t have to be scared shitless about some crazy feminist accusations of saying something inappropriate.”

“Aye, and it means life actually has some fun in it for all concerned. That’s why I was glad to retire,” said Denis. “For years I’d got on with teenagers of all ages in class, girls and boys and the banter was a major part of it. It helped them to learn and me to teach. It was a game we all knew the rules to and as the kids got older they learnt about that as just a part of life. A major benefit was the boys learnt how to relate to the girls in a natural and non chauvinistic way. The girls naturally enough didn’t need to learn how to deal with the boys, or if they did they learnt it at the breast. There was nothing in it, kids and teachers want to like each other, why wouldn’t they because it makes life pleasanter easier, but somehow it changed to the point where a harmless, innocent remark enjoyed by kids and teacher alike if overheard by some left wing, feminista idiot could cost you your job. It did cost a lot their jobs.”

Denis was clearly upset by specific memories rather than the general points he’d made, and Pete topped his glass up before passing the bottle round and indicating that Sasha was to continue.

“I was glad I took the bridge with me because she cut the bit that capped the front of the two teeth off it and glued it back and after taking off the sharp corners of what remained of the back tooth made me an appointment for two days later to extract it. Thing is I’ve been thinking about dentures or implants for a few years. I’ve even talked it over with Elle. She just said that it was not as if we hadn’t got the money, so if I wanted to do it just do it. She reminded me her first set of hearing aids had cost us eight grand and I’d had to persuade her it was okay.

“After the bridge dropped out, and it looked pretty gross, I thought that the other bridge would probably be not much different, so I started thinking about dentures or implants again. Problem is I’ve had serious gum disease for years. No matter how well I looked after my teeth I’d been fighting an uphill struggle against the diabetes. Even seeing the hygienist every three months at nearly fifty quid a pop hadn’t really made a difference. No reputable dentist would put implants into diseased gums, but I thought maybe I could use dentures till my gums healed which they would eventually without the tooth gum interface which is where the problem lies and then I could have implants. I talked it all over with Sammi and she said it was possible that I’d suffered so much bone loss that even with bone grafts there would not be enough bone for implants but the dentures would be okay no matter what. I’ve since thought that maybe implants are not a good idea because they could possibly just provide a different type of tooth gum interface.” Sasha shrugged and added, “But who knows.”

“Bone grafts, Sasha. What’s that about?”

“No idea, and I didn’t follow it up, Alf. She was of the opinion we were talking about two or three years before I’d even be in a position to think about implants and wanted to know what I wanted to do. I telt her if she wanted to solve some hard sums I was her man, but I was expecting her to tell me what to do because that was her trade not mine. Sammi reckoned I was probably right regarding the condition of the other bridge and if I were going for dentures have the top teeth out first because without the bridges I only had biting teeth in my upper set. All my upper chewing teeth were bridges. I could see where she was coming from and it made sense. I’d initially thought to have the bottom teeth out first because all the biting teeth were loose, one was wobbling to the point of being useless, and their top surfaces were more ground away than the lower surfaces of my upper biting teeth. They were all worn to the point where they had exposed dentine and I expected that to give me serious pain at some point in the future. Sammi reckoned if I went for lower dentures too to leave the back two teeth at the bottom so they could use them to hook a retaining wire round to stop the teeth moving which she said was a bigger problem with lower teeth than upper ones. I telt her to draw up a plan and we’d talk about it when I came in for her to extract the remains of the rear bridge tooth.”

“You going for a full set, Sasha?”

“I am now, but I didn’t know that then, Alf.”

“What’s it going to cost at the far end of it?”

“Just to get to where I’m using a full set of dentures without considering implants, the thick end of two and a half grand.”

“Christ above,” said John. “I know I’m going to be needing them sometime. I’d better start saving some pennies. What happened next, Sasha?”

“I went in for the extraction and Sammi gave me a list of dates for the various appointments I’d need though later she managed to cancel one and did the work in one of the other appointments. My teeth are big and I telt her that much bigger dentists than her had struggled to extract my teeth in the past. She said her other half was a dentist and she reckoned you were better off with a lass for an extraction because not having the raw strength of a man they had to make up with improved technique. I have to say she was damned good and I suspect right because there didn’t seem to be as much bruising as I had suffered from previous extractions. After the extraction she put some wadding in the hole and telt me to leave it in for an hour and to rinse my mouth with salt water after that. I knew that was not going to happen. A hundred yards away from the dentist’s is Gregg’s pie and pasty shop. Conveniently it’s on the way to where I’d parked the truck. Even more conveniently, outside is a waste bin for spitting dentist’s wadding into. I’d eaten my steak bake before I reached the truck and I rinsed my mouth with Highland Park which is a decent malt when I reached home. It’s far tastier and more efficacious than salt water though it does seem outrageous to use it for mouth wash at thirty five quid a bottle. Still I suppose medical anaesthetic probably costs a lot more than that.

“Funny, I suppose I’d been resisting the pain for years, but once I knew I was going to have away with it I couldn’t fight it the same. I don’t believe the pain was that much worse in so short a time period but it certainly felt like it was. I went in for the impressions to be taken. They use an alginate material which is derived from seaweed, but it feels, smells and tastes like a mix of papier mâché, wallpaper paste and window putty complete with linseed oil.

“The following day I lost a filling, it was in one of the two teeth that were supposed to be eventually acting as anchors for my potential lower denture, if of course I decided on that. It wasn’t causing any pain but was a heavily filled tooth that had already been repaired several times. I rang the surgery and the receptionist had a word with Sammi who’d said as long as it wasn’t hurting she’d sort it out on my next appointment. Two days later I shattered one of my upper biting teeth. It wasn’t causing me any pain and was due to come out in a few days, so I left it till then.

“The morning of my afternoon appointment for the extractions I was psyched up for it, I’d had little sleep, mostly due to pain, but certainly due to an element of apprehension as well. I’m no coward and I can take a lot more pain than most, so having decided on it I would see it through, but I wasn’t looking forward to it. Then the phone rang to tell me the appointment had been set back two days because my ‘work’ hadn’t yet been received from the lab. A reasonable translation of that is the denture plate had not yet been made. As you can imagine I was angry enough at that to kill some bastard, any bastard really, who crossed me, but there’s no point in wasted reactions, and by that I means reactions that can’t possibly effect any positive result. So I said ‘Sure that’s fine. I’ll be there.’ Over the next couple of days I drank two litres of high octane jungle juice. Sometimes it doesn’t take much alcohol to take you over the edge, but those two litres had done absolutely nothing, I was as sober as a man could be. I never use the expression as a judge because most are clearly pissed even when they are sober. I was on time for my appointment having left the truck in a one hour parking spot on the old bus station. Perhaps not the wisest of parking places, but what the hell, parking was difficult, it was a short walk which would possibly matter on the way back, and at worst it could only cost me fifty quid which as a fraction of the dentist’s bill was bugger all really.

“I brought Sammi up to speed regards the filling and the shattered tooth and most importantly the pain situation and why I considered it to be the way it was. I telt her I wanted the treatment plan extending to complete extraction including the two ‘anchor teeth’. I’d not been happy at the idea of leaving the two teeth because I saw them as potential infection reservoirs. She looked at the teeth and agreed with me. So there it was, all to be coming out. Top me up, Pete. Poteen this time if that’s okay, Pat?”

“Surely, Sasha, and this looks like a good time for a refill. Shall I do the honours behind the bar, Pete?”

“Aye. There are some clean glasses on top of the washer, Pat. Gladys will be serving supper in forty minutes, Sasha. If that’s not time enough to finish I suggest you break it at a convenient point. I’ll just round up the empties for Pat if you’ll pass them along, Lads.”

When all was readied Sasha resumed. “Like I said I can take more pain than most, but those injections took me to the edge. There’s not much to inject into in the roof of your mouth and there were tears in my eyes and I’d crushed the padding in the arms of the chair I was in by the time she finished. I had a few minutes rest before Sammi asked me if I was ready to continue with the injections into the gums on the outside of my teeth. There’s no good pain and I’m no bloody macho man and telt her I needed another couple of minutes. I didn’t care if the two of them were girls, pain has to be respected. It’s there for a reason. When I telt her to continue I’d thought it wouldn’t be as bad as the stuff I’d already had should numb it a bit. Not so, it was every bit as bad. I later reckoned it was a different set of nerves they were working on. She telt me she was going to start on the left with the remaining bridge tooth she’d glued back together a few days before and then work her way forward to the middle before starting at the back with the bridge on the other side and working her way forward again. It took her a while to remove the bridge tooth and she was good. I worked out the strategy, keep loosening it from various angles, don’t try to force anything and when it’s good and ready it’ll come out. It worked and I was glad she kept talking to me and the dental nurse because though it couldn’t be described as painful it certainly wasn’t pleasant and her voice gave me something to focus on other than my teeth. The other three teeth on the left came out, they took time, but were I suspect from her point of view easier than the first tooth she extracted.

“That was the point at which from my point of view it all went pear shaped. She was attempting to take both of the right hand side bridge teeth out together and it didn’t work. At one point I nearly suggested that she cut the bridge in half in situ and tackle em one at a time, but I didn’t. I don’t appreciate amateurs telling me how to do my craft and I respect that others probably won’t like it any more than I do. However, that was what she decided to do and I think she used up three carbide burrs doing it. Getting the rear bridge tooth out took a considerable amount of time and she said it was huge and severely infected. She struggled with the remaining teeth moving from one to the other at various angles as she moved her chair around behind me. With I think four teeth to go the anaesthetic had started to wear off and I couldn’t take it, so she gave me more. God knows how much I’d had, but it did the trick. She telt me the teeth sockets were all seriously infected, at which point my residual reservations concerning having them out disappeared because I reckoned I’d never have got the infection under control and all I would have looked forward to was more pain forever. At least the pain was now only going to be an acute pain not a chronic pain.”

“What do you mean, Sasha?”

“Bad, but only lasting a fixed amount of time, Alf, as opposed to perhaps not as bad but going on for ever.”

“Okay. I get it.”

“The teeth on the right were all big and she eventually telt me were so long they were embedded in my skull behind my nose. They were much bigger than my left hand side teeth. I telt her I’d tried to keep my head still but it had been difficult. She telt me I’d done well to which I’d said, ‘Elle always said I’ve a lot of neck.’

“The last half hour in the chair was spent by my dentist adjusting the upper plate to fit my mouth. Eventually it was over. I was so tired even the delicious smell coming from Gregg’s couldn’t temp me to fancy a steak bake. If I’d not been so tired I’d have sucked one to death, teeth or no damned teeth. Fortunately I’d had the presence of mind to go in early and call in at Lidl before my appointment. The Lidl supermarket chain sells Queen Margot their own proprietary blended scotch that has come number one in the Scottish retailers’ independent whisky taste tests for years now. More to the point, although I usually stick to single malts, I like the stuff and as pain killers go it’s very tasty, especially at fifteen quid a litre. I’d had the sense to realise that with Christmas coming up and me likely to be not fancying driving it would be a good idea to buy a couple of cases of litre bottles, so with twenty-four litres of cheap anaesthetic in the back after a three hour dental appointment I went home. Only good thing about the day was I didn’t get a parking ticket.

“I was on a regime of two co-codamol thirty / five hundreds and two ibuprofen two hundreds every six hours. The first a pain killer I was already on for unlimited use for my carpel tunnel and the second an anti inflammatory no longer prescribed by the NHS that I bought on the internet. However, the pain did not decrease, it increased. There was no chance of me putting the upper plate into my mouth the pain was too severe. As for a toothbrush, forget it. I presumed that the problem was bruising which given the size of my teeth, some had appeared to me to be nigh to two inches long though I had only had a brief glance at them, did not seem to be unreasonable. As a result I put up with it till it became clear to me it was infection not bruising that was the problem. That brief glance I’d had of my teeth had been a surprise, I’d expected them to be red with blood, but they’d appeared to be a yellowy orange which thinking about it afterwards was probably a mix of a bit of blood and a lot of pus.

“I rang the surgery and was given an appointment for the following day. My dentist agreed with me and gave me amoxillin, a penicillin, three tablets a day for seven days and telt me if I had serious problems to ring the surgery number and even over the Christmas period a message would get to her and she would ring me back. If need be she could arrange an emergency appointment. The worst I could imagine is maybe I’d need the amoxillin for another seven days which surely doesn’t need to spoil her Christmas, but God love the girl she’s doing her best. I’ve been on call twenty-four seven in the past, and that’s okay, but no one should have to work and be on call twenty-four seven for three hundred and sixty-five days a year. Any company that can’t or won’t arrange time sharing over family days has no right to exist. That was on the twenty-second.

“The penicillin did the trick and gradually the inflammation went down and the pain decreased. I don’t like taking any more pain killers than strictly necessary. I reckon if you take too many your body gets used to them and they become less effective. I want them to work when I need them so I’d been cutting back on them and I was okay. I took the last penicillin at seven one evening and when I woke up the following morning I was concerned the inflammation was coming back. When I woke up the day after I knew it was. It was inflammation due to infection not residual bruising. Don’t ask me how I could tell the difference because I can’t explain it, but I knew.

“I spent a little time wondering what to do but decided to ring the surgery. I didn’t know whether another course of penicillin would do anything since the first one had not entirely sorted the matter out, but I suspected it would because the first course had vanya(3) done the trick. My dentist was on holiday till the fourth of January and there were no other dentists on the premises, but the lass I spoke to said she’d ring the duty dentists’ at Denholm and get them to give me a bell. Someone rang me from Denholm who clearly wasn’t a dentist. She started talking about me going in to their surgery at Denholm or A&E Carlisle.” [US ER at nearest major hospital with an A&E, Accident and Emergency, department.]

“You’ve got to be joking, Sasha? Had she any bloody idea how far either place is from here?”

“Probably not, Bill. Anyway I telt her the pain I was in meant I probably wasn’t fit to drive that far and if I were stopped by the police they’d threw the book at me. Presumptuously and insensitively she asked why couldn’t my wife drive me, after all I may not have been married or more likely at my age I was a widower. I nearly lost it at that, yet I kept cool and merely said Elle didn’t drive. Yeah, I know she’s got a license, Lads, but she hasn’t been behind the wheel for going on ten years. I also telt her I know the coast road well and it’s dangerous at high tide in good weather which doesn’t include this time of year, so me going to Denholm wasn’t on. I asked if she could book an ambulance. I knew the cost of that and the paperwork too would back her off.

Then she started going on about me having to be seen by a dentist because they hadn’t got my records. I said to ring my dentists and I’d authorise it. The usual bullshit ensued. Can you bloody believe it? Two offices in the same company with incompatible computer systems. Actually it’s only too believable. In any case she said there were no dentists on site at my practice at the time and only a dentist could authorise it or even access the records. In addition I would have to sign my permission. She didn’t seem to know how all that could be dealt with in minutes over a computer. Christ, I’ve authorised payment of a quarter of a million quid several times by secure computer transfer before now, when the kids were buying houses. It’s fifteen year old technology. Anyway, she said she’d get back to my practice and see where we went from there. She said she’d get back to me.

Stan asked, “Why were they so bothered about the ambulance cost, Sasha. You’d have had to pay it.”

“Probably just bureaucratic officiousness. You know what some folk in those kind of jobs are like, given the tiniest trace of power they turn into a Hitler clone, the world’s full of em. Every one of them has the power to say no, if you actually want to achieve anything you need to find one of the really scarce folk who have the authority to say yes. That’s because saying no is always safe, saying yes can get you a serious arse kicking, so folk won’t do the job unless there’s a lot more money in it, and I don’t blame them.

“As regards what I’d have had to pay. No, it wouldn’t have cost me any thing, but she wouldn’t have known that. My health insurance policy means the company pays for any and every cost for me, Elle, and my children no matter how old any of us are. When I took it out the health insurance company were desperate for a regular source of income, and the further in advance you were prepared to pay for the better the deal they offered. I bought into the whole life long family package decades ago and though the initial payments were heavy in time they became derisory. Now we have virtually free private health care. Medical, dental, chiropody and a whole lot more. No matter who any of us get treated by I just pass all bills onto the umbrella insurance company that owns the health insurance company for payment or if I’ve already paid the bill I pass the receipt on for reimbursement. One of the girls had a double radical mastectomy due to breast cancer when she was thirty something. Private room in a private hospital and full breast reconstruction, the works all on the policy. Elle says they did that good a job you can’t tell she’s had anything done.

“Elle said, ‘It’s a decent road to Carlisle Infirmary, Sasha. Maybe if it comes to it we could do that?’ I asked, ‘And how long do you think we’d be there before I’m seen, four hours, ten, thirty, forty, half a bloody week? When you needed emergency treatment for your dislocated elbow it was thirty hours before anything was done because they wanted to do it in an operating theatre because of your heart condition and they hadn’t got one available. It was only sorted then because I lost it and asked Keith to pull some strings to get you sorted out.’ Keith has a private Harley Street practice. I added that I could have dimorph, [pharmaceutical quality heroin] delivered in less than two hours to combat the pain, and I knew how to use it. Elle said, ‘Okay, Love. Do what you need to just don’t tell me about it.’ Elle’s a lot brighter than most folk realise.”

“What you had a bloke up from London, Sasha?”

“No. I’ve known Keith for years and I knew he and Penelope were staying at one of his daughters in Keswick for a couple of weeks. The four of us had been going out to dinner the following week, it had been arranged months before, but lock down screwed that up. If I’d had any idea how long it would be before Elle got sorted I’d have rung a private hospital for an ambulance and had her treated there, but as they say hind sight is twenty twenty vision. I’d been telling my self before the phone call from Denholm, ‘Sasha you can do nice, so keep your temper, be nice. Be fucking nice. Be really fucking nice.’ Tell you it was hard, I don’t suffer fools gladly, and I was hurting and bad tempered. However, when the call was over, Elle said. ‘I’ll get you a bottle of Yuri’s vodka, Love. You deserve it. I know what that cost you.’ Yuri is a cousin of some sort and his vodka is a secret family receipt and damned expensive. He sends me a case from time to time in gratitude for past favours and I save it for special occasions. The last time we drank it was when he came over, Natalia his wife had died and he needed someone to get drunk with in the way that would put her to rest properly. He joined us one Saturday.”

“I remember that night, Sasha. It was a damned good night. I didn’t realise that it was his dead wife Yuri telt the tales of. I wish I’d known.” Denis had tears in his eyes as he spoke and many moist eyed nodded in agreement.

“That is our way. I suppose it is our version of what Pat would call a wake. The dead are spoken of as though still living for only that way may they be laid at peace. It is not a peace for the dead, but a peace for the living to reconcile the things they wish they had said and the resolutions they wish they had achieved. Yuri was glad to have been here and with you all, and has many times written of you and the comradeship he found here when he laid Natalia to rest, comradeship which because of his politics he would never have managed to achieve back home because some of what he telt you would have been dangerous to speak of at home. He’s always said that because of that night he was able to go home a whole man, and that was what enabled him to marry again three years later. I’ll bring some of his letters to read the relevant parts of for you if you wish?” There was a subdued murmur of assent and Sasha nodded in agreement before continuing.

“Now Elle’s not entirely crazy and she does have a delicate sense of the appropriate, so drinking Yuri’s vodka was not inappropriate. I was on my third or fourth glass when the phone call arrived. It was a bit difficult because I didn’t recognise the voice and erroneously I assumed it was someone from Denholm as I had been telt would be the case. However it all became clear when I asked ‘To whom am I talking and where are you?’ It was the newish lass from my practice whom I’d had little dealings with in the past. She telt me they’d rung up Sammi and explained the situation, and she’d said to issue some more antibiotics, the same as what I’d had. All I had to do was go in and pick them up. A twenty mile round trip on easy roads as opposed to a seventy or eighty mile round trip on nightmare roads. All very easy in the end. I’m not sure why Denholm had to be involved at all, still I suppose the company have protocols that the troops have to follow. I went in and asked for a glass of water to take the first one with when I was there.”

“How is it now, Sasha?”

“It still hurts like hell to blow my nose probably because there’ll be bloody great bruised holes in the bone behind it where there used to be teeth. I’m sick of frigging soup. To start with I had to sieve the croutons out of cup-a-soup, but it did get better. Obviously I can’t chew anything but I gradually reached the point where I could suck spaghetti or rice off a spoon. I had to try something because I was fading away from starvation. A tin of stewed steak with another of mushy peas in it and some instant mashed potato is a pretty grim meal really, but when you’re starving anything you can slurp becomes bloody wonderful. I’m working my way up to tonight’s steak puddings, mash and peas. The second set of antibiotics are working. The areas of inflammation are smaller and less severe, though there seem to be tiny hard areas that stick up. I suspect they’re where the anaesthetic needles went in, but who knows. I’m thinking about trying my teeth soon. I feel a lot better, Dave. Good enough to indulge in some serious anaesthetic quality control. Anyone fancy a drop of that absinthe I got from Czechoslovakia last year. It’s only marginally toxic, honestly.”

“I’ll get it,” said Geoff.

After the corked green liquid in unmarked bottles that came in via a very complicated route expressly designed to perplex the customs officials of just about every country in Europe had been poured, Gladys said, “Steak puddings, mash and peas in twenty minutes, Gentlemen. It’s mash not chips [US fries] on account of Sasha’s mouth, so don’t complain.”

“So what’s next at the dentist’s, Sasha?” asked Tommy.

“Impressions taken for my lower teeth on the twenty-eighth of January, and teeth out on February the eleventh. Not sure what the score is on the road, but we can always turn the pumps on so I can get my rover out. Turn em off as soon as I’m through. If I ring Elle on my way back someone can row across and then drive me home. I’ll leave the rover on the far side of the water. After that it’s just a question of using the boat and anyone can use the rover as required. This time I’m going to ask for antibiotics then and there when she takes the teeth out.”

“What if she says no?”

“I’ll get them from a friend who imports British manufactured drugs from abroad and pick em up from the post office drop box on the other side of the flood.”

“Is that legal, Sasha?”

“No, but as has already been said, ‘There’s no good pain.’ So who gives a damn.”

To prevent further discussion of the matter Pete said, “Okay, Lads, lets give Gladys a hand with supper.”

Unusually there was a desert after the steak puddings, Spotted Dick(4) and Vanilla Custard. “If the raisins are too much, Sasha, just leave them, but you should be able to manage the rest.”

Sasha knew Gladys was doing her best to help him and knew Elle must have had a word with her regards his mouth. That the two women both loved him in their different ways he knew, Elle was his wife and Gladys was the wife of Pete his close friend whom he regarded as a daughter, but he would never have embarrassed either Gladys or Pete by publicly acknowledging the matter. “Thanks, Gladys. Any chance of a flaming brandy sauce on the pudding?”

“Good idea, Cossack. I’ll get some organised for the ladies too.”

“Damned good idea, Sasha. What made you think of that?” Pete asked.

When he was sure none could hear other than Pete Sasha replied, “Gladys was a little embarrassed at being seen to care about me, so it was something I could say to distract attention away from that.”

“You’re a bloody decent bloke, Sasha. You know that?”

“Yes. But like your good lady I don’t like it widely mooted about. Life’s infinitely easier if folk think you’re a callous bastard.”

After supper there were no more tales and as usual the men played dominoes till it was time to go home.

Sasha waited till all the others had left and indicated he wanted a word with Pete. “This seems like a good time to tell you something else, Pete. Those mortgages I hold on the Green Dragon will be returning to you via the solicitors this month some time in order to have the paperwork started to arrange the eventual termination of the mortgages when they are deemed to be paid up in full which will I hope be long before the mortgage term is completed. The only condition is that you can’t sell the place till after I’m dead. I’m not going to hold you to it in writing, but I’d like it if you’d train Delia to take over or failing that you and your good lady either have a child or adopt one to inherit the place and rear the child to appreciate the value to the area of a decent inn.”

Pete’s face was a picture. A mix of shock, horror and pure joy. “I understand exactly what you mean, Sasha, but Delia isn’t interested. When she left for London it wasn’t an amicable parting and she accused her mum of being a doormat that I walked all over. Gladys didn’t even bother replying. Delia doesn’t know about the mortgages, but as she left she said the next time she’d be back would be for the reading of the will and she’d sell the place to the highest bidder. Despite trying we’ve never managed another after Delia.”

“So? What about adoption? I’m not going to leave my stake in the place to some mercenary bastard who’ll sell it to a brewery to turn it into a chromium plated gin palace that locals won’t patronise. Got any ideas? We need to have this sorted out and soon, Pete.”

Pete looked seriously uncomfortable, but steeling himself said, “I’ve an older brother, Bert, who’s fourteen up on me. He’s the eldest of the nine of us. I’m the youngest. To be honest, Sasha, he’s a complete bastard. He left here for the northeast when I was just a kid, maybe six or seven, and from all accounts all were glad to see him go. He owns a scrapyard, but he’s no better than a potter.(5) He’s a few daughters and sons by I think three different mothers who are little different from him. Their mothers didn’t stay with Bert long, talk was he knocked them about, and when they took off it seems they all left the kids with him. Most are still living at home working at the yard. However, his youngest left home as soon as he could because Bert treated him like shite and knocked him about pretty regularly. He’d only have been fourteen at the time. I lost touch with him for a couple of years and found out afterwards he’d been living rough on the streets. Daft bugger should have contacted me. I’d have taken him in. We keep in irregular contact by mail now. Alex is nineteen and living in Chorlton cum Hardy, Manchester right now. I’ve not seen him since he left home five years ago, but he always was a decent kid, not at all like any of the others, and what I know of him now I still like though he’s changed after leaving home. He could be a possibility. He’s certainly the only possibility in both my family and Gladys’.”

Sasha looked hard at Pete and said, “Stop bullshitting me, Pete, what’s the problem? And why would you keep in touch with just one of Bert’s kids? What’s different about Alex?”

“Bert’s other kids were just like him, chancers on the make constantly looking out for what they could gouge out of me because I was earning good money over there. I met them all when I was working over there and had digs(6) in Newcastle during the week. Alex wasn’t like that, and despite him being the youngest or may just because he was the youngest the others gave him a hard time. When Alex turned sixteen he needed help. He wrote to me explaining what had happened and asked me if there was anything I could do. He was working and all he wanted was a character reference to shew a landlord so he could put a roof over his head. He never asked for money, so I sent him the reference and a couple of hundred to give him a start.”

“And?” Asked Sasha in a tone of voice that demanded the truth and all of it. “And what do you mean by he changed after leaving home?”

“He says he’s trans and goes by the name of Harriet. I suspect that’s why Bert treated him so badly. He never was much of a lad and as a boy he was a natural victim just waiting to be picked on. When he told me he was trans it all kind of made sense. He seems to be doing all right. He says he doesn’t get bullied now he’s living as a girl and he is much happier. He’s waiting on doing silver service in a big hotel in Didsbury as a waitress.”

“Bollocks! You need to start understanding how these sorts of things work, Pete. Her name is Harriet, and your niece is a waitress. Start thinking Harriet, female, she, her, hers and all that goes with that, and just forget everything before that. There is no Alex. Get her up here. Is that going to cause any problems between you and Gladys? Or do I have to have a word with her, Pete?”

“No. Gladys knows about Alex and is sympathetic.” Pete paused and after a few seconds, during which Sasha could see Pete was making efforts to change his thinking, he continued “I think she’d have asked Harriet to come up here a while back, but she was bothered about how I would cope.”

“You’re supposed to be a man, so you’ll stiffen your spine, and behave, act and cope like a man. Which means if necessary you’ll tell those who cause Harriet problems to fuck off and drink somewhere else. Write to her, Pete. Get her up here to speak to me and we’ll go from there. Send her enough to cover the train fare and be generous.”

Later that night when Pete telt Gladys what Sasha had said she said, “Sasha is the most decent man I have ever met, and I’m including you, Pete, much as I love you. I suggest you do as he telt you. I would love a daughter. Much as it grieves me to say it Delia has decided to become no daughter of ours and since she wanted to find her own way in the world I suggest we leave her to find it, but the way she left and what she said mean we owe her nothing. All we are and all we own is tied up in the Green Dragon, but the Dragon has many stake holders who may not own a share in it but surely because of their support in hard times and the help they freely gave during the extension and refurbishment they are morally owed a say in its future. If Harriet sees it that way too then surely she has a right to inherit not just all our wealth but all our obligations to those who have supported us too. Get her up here and leave it to Sasha.”

It was over four weeks before Sasha could put his plate in his mouth and it needed fixative. Most of the bone bruising had subsided but the roof of his mouth was still swollen. Poligrip from Dave’s general groceries store was all that was easily available, so on the eighteenth of January he followed the instructions and decided he’d keep the plate in for an hour. It didn’t feel like it fit properly and he said to Elle “I’m sure these are some bugger else’s teeth.” After half an hour he couldn’t stand it any more and removed the plate. At which point he swore and retching at the taste and sensation of the Poligrip stuck to the roof of his mouth he dived for the kitchen sink expecting to be sick. Warm water wouldn’t remove the stuff so he dived into the bathroom and spent a painful five minutes scrubbing the roof of his mouth with a toothbrush and warm water which due to the soft condition of his gums was exceedingly painful. After brushing the plate clean of the Poligrip he returned to Elle and telt her that that was the worst experience he’d had for many years and he threw the tube of Poligrip into the fire. He searched on ebay for an alternative and was awaiting the delivery of a different brand described as tasting refreshingly minty from an ebay vendor. Tommy who with his wife Sarah ran the village post office went to the post office drop box on the far side of the flood every day after lunch to collect the mail and Sasha was expecting the new product to arrive within the week.

On the twenty-eighth Sasha went to the dentist’s. He told her of his experiences. Sasha explained, “That Copydex was the worst thing I’ve ever had in my mouth including the time I hit a dog turd with a strimmer [weed wacker] not wearing a face shield.”

“What do you mean Copydex?” Sammi asked him. “That’s a latex rubber solution glue isn’t it?”

He said, “I can’t remember what it’s called. You know that denture fixative?”

“You mean Poligrip?”

“Yeah that’s it.”

“But Poligrip and Copydex are nothing like each other.”

Sasha asked, “You ever tried tasting either?” Sasha continued explaining of his internet searches on ebay for something better. “I’m also considering trying a product that’s a sealant. It’s supposed to prevent food getting under the plate or lower denture but I decided to ask you about it first.”

“I’ve never heard of the product nor anything like it. Do you know anything more about it?”

“I came across it on a German site that offered maybe a couple of dozen denture and dental products. I’ll find out more.”

Sammi explained, “The reason your plate doesn’t fit is because other than at left hand side there is still considerable infection remaining.” That surprised Sasha because he had no serious pain for a couple of weeks. “The infection is causing inflammation which is preventing the plate from fitting properly.” She prescribed a six day course of Clindamycin which she referred to as a second level antibiotic.

Sasha said, “I’ve two bits of bone or tooth sticking down through my gums and they’re painful.”

After examining his gums again she said, “I believed they will remodel(7) with time, but I’m reluctant to numb the gums, cut in and remove them because of the infection, though I’d have been reluctant to do anything even had that not been present. I’ll alter your next appointment from the eleventh of February to the first of March and that will be a review.”

They agreed he should not to try the plate till at least the end of the antibiotic course and that his lower teeth would not be extracted till his upper jaw had healed completely. During the conversation he’d told her of his conversations with Denholm asking, “Why do I always get a YOPS(8) kid even if they do sound like they’re fifty?”

The speaking look the dentist exchanged with the nurse provoked a questioning look from Sasha and Sammi explained, “We pray that the on call surgery is Waynburn and not Denholm because they upset so many patients and are difficult to deal with.” Sasha concluded the appointment by telling her of his writing up of the tale and promised her a copy.

When he reached home Sasha read the leaflet out of the antibiotics box and told Elle, “This is the first time I’ve ever seen a warning concerning an antibiotic overdose. It says if you take too many to go to your doctor at once or go to the local casualty department. [ER] Tell you it seems like dodgy stuff. There are any number of possible rather unpleasant side effects, but at least I’m not pregnant nor breast feeding and unlikely to suffer from inflammation of my vagina.”

1 Lonning, lane.
2 Minging, disgusting.
3 Vanya, nearly or almost.
4 Spotted Dick, (also known as ‘Spotted Dog’ or ‘Railway Cake’) is a traditional British baked pudding, historically made with suet and dried fruit (usually Zante currants or raisins) and often served with custard. Zante currants are actually a Greek raisin.
5 Potter, a pejorative term of opprobrium used in the north of England. The word has connections to travelling folk and has implications of theft and sharp dealing.
6 Digs, English term for temporary accommodation. Often used in the context of working away from home.
7 Remodel, term used for the change in gums that takes place as they heal and change shape after an extraction. Here indicating the bone will be eventually be covered by the new gum growth.
8 YOPS, Youth Opportunities Programme, a UK government scheme for helping 16-18 year olds into employment. It ran from 1978 till 1983 when it was replaced by the Youth Training Scheme. Often such kids were not over bright and the term ‘a yops kid’ became a pejorative expression implying stupidity and unhelpfulness.