The Soldier of Luxury - humorous realistic fiction
It was a new house. New to me anyway. It’s amazing what money can buy. It was a converted old farm house and I had fresh carpets fitted before I moved in. The old carpets were OK, but I wanted to have That Smell when I was moving my stuff in. Everyone loves That Smell.
I laid my mug on the rose-wood stand and willed myself to get up off the sofa. Perhaps I would sit a few minutes longer. No – I had to check on Fred. Blasted Elite corner sofa with custom picked goose feather filling – it was too comfortable for its own good.
I climbed the stairs to my bedroom and opened the door, my bare feet sunk into the thick shag carpet.
“Come on Fred, can’t sleep all day,” I said, drawing back the curtains. Fred looked up and wobbled as if he was about to get up. He let out a huff, then put his head back down to sleep. They told me he was a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel when I bought him. He had all the makings of a brown and white Cava, but he lacked that elegance. I'm sure a pug must have had his fingers in a few pies somewhere up the family tree, but then again that might have been because I fed him too much. When he looked up at me with those cute little bug eyes I just couldn't deprive him of anything. He really did mean the world to me.
“You won't be able to hike up Scafell Pike, will you Fred?” I asked him. Fred only generally did thirty to forty minute jaunts. Anything more was just a little too much for him.
The name’s Lionel, by the way. Lionel's the name, Anti-fraud Team management’s the game. I'm one of the best at what I do.
That day marked thirty days before we did the hike. Unlike Fred, it would be doable for me. I was forty-five years old, and a little round around the middle, but strong as an ox. I had a lion’s heart, it made all the difference.
I was doing it with some of the young guys I managed from the office. A chap called George was organising it, the damn young’un. He sent around an email without consulting me. It would have been polite to at least speak to me about it first, because I'm one of the main senior guys. When I told him I was interested in doing it with his little group, he looked up, surprised, as if he wished I hadn't said so. The cheek of it! Those kids. They didn't know they'd been born some of them. Simple manners.
What was he thinking, I asked? It could be against office health and safety. I better come along to keep an eye on things!
“OK, don't make a big deal out of it,” he said. “Just make sure you do some training before hand.”
As if he went around giving me advice!I was twenty damn years older than him.
I’d show them. They were nice kids and all, but they needed to be taught a lesson. George, and Philip, and Sarah, and all those other fancy-pants graduates. Did they not understand that money could buy you anything? I’d worked hard to get into my position, so I was going to be better prepared than any of them.
#
Fifteen days to go. Fred and I had been out on a few walks to the Queen’s Head and back. How many walks had George had been on? None I bet.
I was about to go gear shopping. In business, a lot of small things can add up to a big difference over time, so I used that principal. The best gear, no expense spared. I even thought I'd get a few survival things. You never know when you're going to need that sort of stuff! If not for me, then for some of the young’uns on the hike. I was going to be the oldest, so naturally I would be the most sensible.
I drove up to Go-Outdoors in my BMW. It was the best mountaineering shop in the whole of Manchester. I pulled into the family parking bay right next to the front door. It was a few metres walk to get inside; I didn’t want to push myself and end up pulling a muscle before the big day. I smiled at the ‘Dog’s Welcome’ sticker on the door and helped little Freddy out. I grabbed a trolley and gently sat him in the front. Fred loved going shopping, and he never did his business in a shop. He just seemed to know it wasn’t the right place to do it. Clever Freddy.
I headed up the escalator and found the walking boots aisle. A freckle faced shop assistant was there to greet me.
“Excuse me sir, can I help you?” He asked.
“Well, I should hope so,” I replied, eying him up. He was another of those fancy young types, that spoke to me like I was just another person, and not one of the big dogs. “I want the best you've got.”
He picked a pair off the shelf. “These may be the perfect pair for you. They’re in the sale at the moment, so very good value, they are-”
“Value? Did I say I wanted value?” I said. Oh yes. I was on fire. “I don't want value!” I barked at him. “I want the top of the line! No expense spared!”
The boy hesitated and smiled. “OK,” he said, nodding. He pulled out a step ladder and plucked a pair off the top shelf. “How about these? At three hundred pounds, they’re our most expensive.” He handed them to me.
“That’s more like it!” I said, slapping him on the back.
I checked the size on the tongue. Size ten, same as me. I sat down on his step ladder and slipped them on. The soft gel insoles moulded to my foot arches. I would be flying up the mountain in those things, so those kids would have no chance! They had an insulated Gortex lining, Carbon support sole to minimise weight and wire reinforced tri-zone lacing. They came with triple layered socks – two layers to reduce rub, and one layer for cooling! The boots or socks separately would give me an advantage, but combined? Winning!
I decided to save them.They would stay firmly in a box under my bed until the walk - I didn't want to ruin them by wearing them before then. George better be impressed! Some gator waders ended up in my trolley too. Whatever they were. I think they were for walking through deep water, and I wasn’t going to do any of that, but I when I looked at them, I got this feeling that they were going to be useful. Best to go with the gut on these things, if in doubt – buy! On my way to the coat section I went past a stand of battery powered electric air pumps. Better pick one up. I wasn’t sure what they were for, but you never know what you're gunna need. They were on sale, but I hoped it would still be a decent pump.
The coat section would have sat way above the boot section on an Excel chart. They had coats for heavy rain. Coats for gale-force winds. Coats for thick snow, or desert-trekking. I picked a soft shell, Teflon-stretch, all-weather jacket off the rail. It rustled and Freddy barked. I slipped it on and found two perfect thumb holes cut in the cuffs. It wasn’t too tight around the middle, and the fabric felt sweet against my skin. I looked at the price tag and nodded. It must be good quality. I tossed it in the trolley, alongside a pair of XL Outdoor Life Cargo trousers. They had UV protection for desert trekking, natural insect repellent woven into the material, and you could zip the bottoms off to turn them into shorts. Decent.
Fred whimpered and looked up at me. His eyes sparkled in the bright lights of the shop like black glass marbles. “You OK, my boy?” I said and stroked the matted fur on his ears. He whimpered again. Perhaps I’d better go to the checkout, it wasn’t fair to keep him there long – I didn’t want him to poop in the trolley. I could pop back and get more stuff another time if I needed to.
#
Five days until the hike. The orange afternoon sun leaked through the dusty office blinds. I stood up from my desk, stretched, and cast my eyes across the department. George was sat in his swivel chair, hands behind his head, creased shirt hanging from his thin frame. Typical of the newest batch of grads, he didn’t know how to dress. I never understood why a little effort wasn’t put in.
“Hey George!” I called over. “Are you prepared for the walk then?” I had a couple of lines ready in the chamber about all the gear I’d got. Locked and loaded.
“Yes Lionel,” he said, smiling. “Feeling pretty prepared after the training walk thanks.”
Errrrrrrrm excuse me. “What training walk?”
“You know,” he said, flicking his hand like he was brushing crumbs off the table. “The one up the Mam Tor with all the other folks that we're doing the walk with. Did you not get the email about it? I did send one round.”
Nice move George. Let me guess, he must have sent it to the wrong email address, or perhaps the dog ate it. “Well there's no way in hell you emailed me about it.”
He looked at me, hummed, and clicked his mouse. Yeah, I've got you now, you little bugger, I thought.
“Well you are on the recipient list,” he said. “Sorry, I was going to come over and speak to you about it, but you looked really busy. I didn't want to disturb you.”
Well he was right, I was busy last week. What did he expect? I was one of the most senior guys! Heavy is the crown that's on the head, or whatever they say. I began to feel resentful towards this young upstart with his laid-back mannerisms. He probably had an easy way with women and sailed through university.
It was too late to do any training, so better to concentrate on what I could do – go out and buy more top flight gear.Fail to prepare, and prepare to fail, as they say. Surely if I geared up another level, they would have no chance. None of those kids would be anywhere near as well equipped as I would be.
The next day, I told everyone I was working from home. In the afternoon, I signed off my computer, stuffed a handful of Turkey treats in my pocket to keep Fred happy, then he and I hopped in my car.
I walked into Go Outdoors and looked down at Freddy. He looked up at me expectantly. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a turkey treat. His tongue lolled out and the loose, salivating jowls of his bottom jaw hung away from his teeth. I held it out to him and he gobbled it up, his warm tongue rough against my skin. “Good boy Freddy,” I said. I stroked his soft fur to dry my hand. Fred panted happily; we’d be good for a couple of hours.
“Excuse me Sir,” someone said behind me. I turned. It was the freckle faced shop assistant from my last visit. “Can I help you by picking out a few things for your trip?”
I looked him up and down. Finally, someone who knew how to respect their elders. I nodded, grinning. “But remember,” I said, “I only want the best of the best.”
An hour later, I walked out of there with a large shopping sack slung over my shoulder. In it, was a survival bracelet with an emergency whistle, like a friendship bracelet but you could untangle it into a foot of florescent rope to use to mark your way. The whistle could be heard up to two hundred metres away in high winds. There was a survival bag – a big luminous bin bag which I could wrap around myself to keep warm in case I was really in the crap, a fire fork to attach to the end of a stick for roasting food over the fire and a collapsible three-shelf camping cupboard. There was a weather proof notebook usable in rain and snow, a foldable wash basin with travel detergent, a solar camp shower which heated up water using solar energy, wrap around shades with changeable lenses (I looked so fast in them), and a multi-mode long beam outdoor head lamp with a one hundred and five metre beam distance.
I unlocked my car, curved my mouth into a smile and patted myself on the back. Hopefully it would be enough. I chuckled to myself; there weren’t many people in the world like me, I was special. Come hike-day, George and Co. wouldn’t know what had hit them.
#
I spent Wednesday and Thursday evening resting up on the sofa, with Fred snoring beside me. I ate as much food as I could, to build up an energy reserve, and then it was Friday, the day before the hike!
At work, I went out for lunch with George and the gang, to get together and go through last minute details. I wore my survival bracelet, to test it out before the big day.
“What's that?” Philip asked, pointing to it.
“Oh that's just my survival bracelet,” I said.
“What exactly is a survival bracelet?”
Wow. These kids really did know nothing. “You haven't heard of them?” I asked. “It's basically a charm bracelet made out of a foot of thin fluorescent rope, for use in survival situations.”
One or two of the other graduates laughed, then somebody snorted. They thought it was OK to laugh at me, did they? “Well you won't be laughing when I use it to save your life,” I said, fuming. Stupid young fancy pants. Someone had to be responsible.
Anyway, we'd see how the kids got on tomorrow. It was a good thing I was going. They needed a responsible adult there. Hopefully there wouldn't be any accidents.
I left little Freddy with a neighbour for a few nights. I hoped the little munchkin would be OK without his king. Leaving him and stepping out alone for the weekend felt like stepping out into a storm without a coat.
#
After work, I set off to the Lake District in my shiny black BMW, my second favourite thing after Fred. I clicked the boot button on my key and it glided open, the gel suspension rods extending noiselessly. I scooted my posterior across the cool New Zealand calf’s leather and pushed my key fob into the slot. The other folks were driving up in the morning so that they didn't have to pay for a hotel for both nights, the cheapskates. They'd surely regret that. I was going to see if any of them wanted a lift, but I preferred having the car to myself. I didn’t want any stinky young’uns making the place look untidy. Ha!
I headed up the lane to the motorway. The engine hummed gently as my 'How to Make a Billion Pounds' audio book played over my Bose surround sound system. I pulled into a service station and was instantly faced with a dilemma: McDonalds or Burger King. Not the worst dilemma in the world. The burgers from Burger King were bigger, more expensive, and I preferred the taste, but McDonalds had a drive through. To get Burger King I would have to park up, get out, and walk into the place. Screw that, I wasn’t goingto strain myself before the next day.
I drove into the McDonalds drive-through and ordered a Big Mac meal. Best to supersize it, I thought. It would be awful to run out of energy on the walk.They passed it through the hatch and I devoured it with ease. Hopefully the young-uns were somewhere loading in some calories.
From the service station, it was two more hours of driving to get to my hotel. I checked in, hopped into my bed, and drifted off to sleep wrapped in thick, high-thread-count sheets.
I woke at six-thirty the next morning. I swaggered down to the hotel reception and wolfed down a toppling plate of corn-fed chicken eggs and organic bacon. That should be enough to see me through.
I turned up at the meeting place half an hour early and strained to lift my backpack over my shoulders. It was like trying to give a morbidly obese ten-year old a piggy back. I rested it on the boot of the car, slipped my arms through the straps, and walked forward. The weight of it tipped me over backwards, and I fell back against the car. Super-light gear and it weighed this much. I dreaded to think what some of the young’uns backpacks would weigh, with their budget equipment. Nonetheless, perhaps I’d packed too much stuff. What the hell, I shrugged, always best to over prepare.
I looked towards the mountain; much of it was covered in mist. It rose out of the ground in front of me, like an iceberg out of water. The green grasses covering the bottom of it had an effervescent glow. A soft breeze stroked my cheek.
I thumped my bag back down on the boot and watched a car roll by. Half an hour passed. These kids obviously didn't know it was best to turn up to places early! Didn't their parents teach them anything? I waited another five minutes. Then another. Unbelievable. Why set a time then turn up late. Always better to be early than late. But I couldn’t hold it against them. It’s something you learn with age.
They rolled up in a Vauxhall Corsa with one wing-mirror. I couldn't believe my eyes. That thing must have been at least five years old! And worse still, there was four of them packed into it. I held back a laugh as it parked up next to my polished BMW. Beauty and the beast. Man, these kids don't know anything,I thought.
Sarah, Philip, and another fancy young grad called Ed got out. Then George got out of the driver's seat. I should have known it was George's car! The git.
They pulled their packs from the boot. They were a lot smaller than mine. It was clear they weren’t prepared. Someone had to be responsible. George was wearing scuffed walking boots with frayed laces. They looked like they had been on a hundred walks already! He must have got them second hand or something. This was a sure win for me. None of their gear could compete with mine.
We said good morning as they ogled at my car, then set off up the hill. Straight out the gate I was flying, step, after step, after step. I churned that ground up. Pow! The path started off muddy but turned to rubble and boulders after a few minutes. I clambered over the rocks, leading out the group, not looking back. A true leader.
Then, halfway up the hill my thighs started to ache. The burning sensation ran down to my calves and my steps were heavy. A film of sweat formed between my bag and back, and the straps rubbed red strips into my shoulders. Thank goodness I had a brand new, top-of-the-range pack; it would be far worse if I had an older one like the young guys. Poor kids. I was young and naïve once too. I reached the top of the hill.
Wow, that was tough,I thought. My chest heaved, and filled my lungs with wet air. Hopefully the other guys were OK. I peeled off my pack. My back instantly felt cool, like it could breathe again. I turned and saw George’s slovenly outline loping through the mist, a few minutes behind me.
Wheezing like an accordion, I sat and pulled out a salted caramel to chew on until they caught up. Thank goodness the climb was over.
“Are you having a break?” Asked George.
“Yeah. Seemed like a good time before we go back down again,” I said.
George smiled. “Are you not coming up the big one with us?”
I laughed. He was a cheeky one that George. Always trying to wind people up. “Yeah very funny.”
“No, I'm serious. This is just the first ascent. The smaller one. The next one is over there.” He pointed towards the mist.
Shit. He wasn't joking around. My cheeks glowed red. George relayed the story to the rest of the group to great amusement. Their guffaws cut through me, grating on my ears like nails down a chalk board. No manners, these kids, they obviously hadn’t managed large teams like me, where you had loads of people under you, so they hadn’t learnt how to treat people.
Well, check mate George,I thought. If he wanted to play, then I could beat him at that game too. I stood and hauled my pack onto my shoulders, pulling the straps tight. George, Sarah, Philip and Ed had sat down, and were tearing open a pack of roasted cashews.
“Come on then you lot,” I bellowed. “This isn't the top of the hill you know. Best get going. It's not a time to stop.”
Ahead the path petered out to a pool of long grass then ascended out the other side. I motored off, chopping my legs. I'd beaten them up the last slope, and although this one may turn out to be a longer, as everyone probably knows by now, I'm a winner. If I attacked this one the same, I should beat them to the top of it too.
I reached the bottom of the slope and once again my back was drenched in sweat. The inside edges of the straps cut the blood supply off to my arms, turning my hands pale and making my fingertips tingle. I ascended the next section of the path, and it descended into rubble and boulders again, so I leant forward and used my hands to scrabble up on all fours. My back ached and my legs were spent. Perhaps I should rest for a bit, I thought. I turned around and the rest of the group weren't far behind me. No, I had to beat them. My determination turned to a rush of hot energy, and I clambered forward at full speed, putting some distance between me and the others.
The energy was quickly depleted. I reached a knee-height rock and parked my bottom.
“You need to pace yourself,” George called over. “Otherwise you won't make it to the top. Especially with that massive pack on your back.”
“You’re just jealous,” I called back and winked. “Yeah that's right. Two can play at that banter game George.”
When they were within a few feet, I got up and started walking again. My pack felt like it was stacked with bricks.It didn't feel that heavy when I first put it on. My muscles ached like hell. The air had a musky, smoky smell to it, and felt thicker and more wholesome halfway up the mountain. I was expecting it to be thinner. As we continued, the grey rocks and rubble turned green and wet to the touch.
My legs wobbled as I walked. I had reserved little energy. I heard the careless chatter of the rabble behind, but I had to catch my breath. I moved to the side so they could pass.
Damn kids, I thought as they strolled past. I set off at the back of them. It was because they weren’t carrying as much stuff, that was why. And because they were younger. If I was carrying the same amount, and was the same age as them, I would have been at the top already. Losers.
I looked down at my Gore Tex Lining Carbon Support Gel Sole Tri Lacing Hiking Boots. They had great grip, but felt a little stiff, and gave me sore spots on my heels. Looking at my boots, then looking at George's, you'd have thought I would be way ahead. But I wasn't. I'd failed myself.
“Hey George, how are those boots you're wearing holding up?” I asked.
“These are my trusty old ones,” he smiled. “I've worn them a lot, so they're well broken in now. They do me OK. How are yours?”
“They're starting to rub a little.”
Perhaps I should have paid somebody to wear them in for me. Now that was a good business idea. Before long, I had to rest again, so I stopped and sat. The kids had gained a decent lead on me, and I couldn't go on without having a little rest.
I decided to do my own thing. Going at my own pace, I would make it, but if I kept pushing, I probably wouldn't. I drank mango juice, ate some jelly babies, and stretched. After half an hour, I had recouped a bit of energy, so got up and walked up the path at a steady pace.
The fresh air and exercise made my chest feel like an old room that had the windows thrown open and the cobwebs cleared away. But I was alone, and my heart felt like a ship without an anchor without little Freddy by my side. I wished I had people to fit in with. It was tiring always leading out the pack.
After five minutes of walking through the mist, I could see the shape of a group of people sitting down. I didn’t know who they were. The fresh-uns would be way ahead. I walked closer.
“Ahhh, here he is,” said one of the shapes. It was George.
Were they waiting for me?
“We were wondering if we could help you with any of your stuff,” said Philip. “We thought we could make the rest of the way up together as a group.”
“We could unpack the heavy items you're carrying and split them out between us,” said George.
It wasn't much. Just a small gesture. But in the bit of my chest behind where my ribs parted I felt the shard of ice there melt away and become bubbly bath water.
“Kids. Kids you don't have to,” I said, taking my pack off my back. “Thanks kids.”
I opened my bag. The first item I pulled out was my collapsible three shelf camping cupboard.
“What’s this?” said George, grinning.
I didn't answer; it was obvious what it was – it was labelled in its packaging. They all fell about laughing. I didn't get the joke, and my face went red again. I was so pleased with it until they laughed at it, but they stopped laughing when they saw my face, which made me feel a little better.
We distributed half of the contents of my bag between everyone, then I picked up my bag one handed and slung it across my shoulders. I felt light as a feather in comparison to before.
They insisted I walk in the middle of the group, with two people in front and two people behind. It felt strange not leading for once, but we set off at a gentle pace, and settled into a steady rhythm.
“So, what do you like to do in your spare time Lionel?” asked Sarah. She was behind me. Her voice was warm and chirpy. It was the first time someone had asked me this for a while, which made me feel nice, but a little uncomfortable. The only friend I normally talked to about things was little Freddy. He was a great listener.
I stalled. What could I say that was remotely interesting? I didn’t have anything. “Well, I've just moved into a new place,” I said. “It's pretty cool. Freddy has his own room. He seems to really like it, but he still prefers to sleep in my bedroom.”
“Ah great,” she said. I couldn't see her face, but I'll bet you she was smiling. I could feel it in her voice. “Is Freddy your son?”
“Kind of. He's my dog. He's my little buddy.” I said, shyly. Was she going to laugh? People seem to find unexpected stuff funny sometimes. I wasn’t used to opening up.
“Awwwwww,” she said. “That's so nice.”
We continued talking. The walk went quicker that way. My muscles hurt though. I tried to grin and bear it, but eventually I could barely lift them. I slowed down, almost to a standstill.
“Hey guys, shall we stop for a bit?” called Sarah. The guys in front turned and nodded.
“Yeah, we can stop if you guys want a rest,” I said, feeling secretly glad Sarah had wanted to.
I looked up. The rubbly mass of the hill stretched out above us. The top seemed a long way off. I looked down. The mist cloaked our view but the bottom was surely a longer way off. Another thirty minutes of walking and we would be at the top.
We sat. George opened a Kendal Mint cake, broke it into pieces, and shared it between us. I took some deep breaths. My eyelids were heavy. I drunk the rest of my water, and hauled myself to my feet.
“Were you in a team of grads when you started working?” asked Sarah.
“Yeah,” I shrugged. “We used to sometimes do stuff.”
“Are you still in touch with them?”
“Barely. They all have families now. They don’t have much time.”
“But I guess you’ve made new friends.”
“Not really,” I said. “I’m out of practice with that stuff. I just work now.”
We scrambled the remaining way up the rocks and reached the top of the pike. The top of the mountain was covered in boulders and there was a tower of rocks someone had made in the middle. We had a group hug.
#
The next day my joints felt creaky and my muscles tender. I got home and had a long bath. After, I put on my thick dressing gown, snuggled up to Fred on the sofa and tickled his soft belly. I could hardly stand my legs ached so much, but sleep came like a black curtain.
On Monday morning, I went into the office building, called the lift, and got into it alone. Normally on such a rare occasion I would practice my posture in the mirror, pull back my shoulders and raise my chin, like a pigeon puffing out its chest. But this time I leant up against the wall, took a deep breath and looked up at the liquid stain spread out across the ceiling like a Rorschach test, wondering how it got there. When the lift pinged and the doors opened I didn’t stride out past the desk row of grads like they weren’t there as usual, but strolled past, smiled, and gave George a knowing nod.
This story is from the short story collection 'A Beautiful Place to Die' by Samuel Bigglesworth, available on amazon. For a free review copy, please contact the author at: [sbigglesworthauthor@gmail.com](mailto:sbigglesworthauthor@gmail.com)
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