The Last Catch-Up

Tony pulled into the caravan site. He looked around in astonishment. The place looked exactly the same as it had twenty years ago. His mind went back to holidays with his best friend, Steve, and both sets of parents.

As kids, he and Steve had been inseparable. They would spend their school days together, as well as weekends and holidays. 

Tony pulled up outside the old caravan. He walked slowly, leisurely almost, taking it all in. It felt like he was going back in time. So much had changed since those days. He and Steve had been so close back then. 

Tony had assumed they would be friends forever, but life had taken them in different directions. Looking back, they seemed simpler times, magical almost.

Maybe everyone felt that way about their childhood. Nostalgia wasn’t what it used to be, as his father would joke, whenever anyone started reminiscing. 

He knocked gently on the caravan door. His old friend Steve open up.

Steve had put on a little weight and his hair was greying around the temples but he still had that boyish glint in his eyes.

‘You found it okay then?’ Steve asked.

‘Straight down memory lane. I knew I’d find you here.’ Tony nodded.

Steve laughed and ushered him inside, patting him warmly on the back. 

The caravan seemed so much smaller than Tony remembered. Had they really all crammed inside the living space? Mind you, he and Steve had been boys then, rather than the grown men they were now. He took a seat on the sofa that unfolded to a make-shift bed.

‘Fancy a brew?’ Steve asked.

Tony checked his watch.

‘Yeah, why not?’ he said.

‘Tea, two sugars, isn’t it?’ 

These days he took his tea with one sweetener but for old times’ sake Tony simply nodded. As he made the tea, Steve spoke.

‘Remember playing football on the beach? We’d play all afternoon.’

‘Yeah, until I scored the winner and you booted the ball in the sea!’ Tony said. ‘Do you remember the old funfair?’

Steve handed Tony his tea and joined him at the table.

‘Geez, yeah, that rickety roller-coaster, you’d almost break your ribs on the way down.’

‘And that ghost train. I still have nightmares about that.’ Tony said.

‘Those skulls coming right at you, and all the hands grabbing your shoulders.’

Steve shivered at the thought.

‘The hot-dogs and burgers. I can still smell those fried onions.’ Steve said.

‘Remember that time we won gold-fish, in those little plastic bags?’

‘Oh yeah! They only lasted a few weeks, and then your dad made us-‘

‘Flush them down the toilet!’ Tony agreed.

‘Remember that girl at high-school we both fancied?’ asked Steve.

‘Oh yeah, we spent weeks trying to charm her.’

‘Your attempts at flirting were hilarious.’ 

‘Almost as bad as that cheap aftershave you used to wear.’ Tony said.

‘Do you remember we asked her to choose between us?’ 

‘And she went off with Trevor Collins.’ 

There was a long moment of silence as both men were lost in the memories of their childhood, both smiling at the thoughts of their younger days.

‘So much has changed since those days.’ Tony said.

‘Hasn’t it just?’ Steve said. ‘I’ve done well for myself. And they say crime doesn’t pay.’ 

‘Crime clearly pays very well, judging by your house in Cheshire, and those flash cars. That watch you’re wearing cost more than the car I drive.’ Tony said.

‘I worked hard for it, though. I worked my way up from being a petty thief to where I am now.’ Steve said.

‘The newspapers call you a gangland boss.’ Tony said. ‘They say you’re Manchester’s most wanted.’

Tony knew Steve had committed some awful deeds over the years. There had been gangland executions that Steve had either committed himself, or given the order and may have even been present when the killings had been carried out. When the police had issued a warrant for his arrest six weeks ago, Steve had gone on the run. Nobody had seen the mob boss in the weeks since. 

‘What about you?’ Steve said. ‘You’ve done okay in the years since we were boys.’

‘Yeah, not bad.’ Tony admitted.

‘Not bad? Detective Sergeant now, isn’t it?’

Tony nodded. 

‘Anyway,’ Steve said, finishing the last of his mug of tea, ‘shall we do this?’

Tony swigged the last of his brew.

‘Come on then.’ Tony said.

Both men got to their feet. Steve held out his hands, fists closed.

Tony placed the hand-cuffs on his old friend’s wrists and spoke.

‘Stephen Carter, I am placing you under arrest.’

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom