The new academic year began in earnest and optimism reigned. Rama bounced into the little house on Coburn Street with the elasticity of a new ball and Jennie and Jilly added the sparkle and colour of a woman's touch. Rhodri reported dutifully to Jennie and Rama that he had completed all the tasks that had been delegated to him, and was promptly assigned a few more. Seasoned hands made their way in pairs around the great University, watching herds of freshmen wander in search of direction and friendship. Where there had been fifty registered on the joint honors course there were now only five, and Physiology classes had become a very cosy affair with a mere eight in attendance. Biochemistry was the future, and being a strong department had press-ganged some fifty faithful and long suffering students towards the cause of an honors degree. Their faith was important for they were about to be subjected to a sustained heavy bombardment by myriad different metabolic pathways. The sole remnants of the joint honors brigade were the three F2 survivors Mark, Terry and Rhodri, with Wynn to add a little colour and texture to the irregulars. To this potent and heady mix came a transfer from another university; the strong minded and willful young Sally who had arrived to be united with her boyfriend at Cardiff. Together the five formed a strangely cohesive group in the refectory, where Mark philosophized, Sally chatted merrily, Terry performed, Rhodri watched and Wynn teased both of them. Their's was an exclusive little club, as there is nothing in life that bonds more tightly than the reassurance of identity.

No one had told the sun that the harvest was in, and he walked back to Coburn Street bathed in its dying embers. It was good to be alive and the great test of the summer was now but a distant memory. Tea parties were in full swing and Jennie had invited Mikie, Emma and Jilly round for some serious chin wagging. The key turned in its lock without the hesitancy it had known, and he walked in to his bedroom to find that the tea parade had dissolved into a formal session of relaxation in front of the television,

"Oh hello! Do come in sweetie!", purred Jennie momentarily breaking her gaze from Neighbours as a mark of respect, "You don't mind us watching telly in you room do you sweetie?", and her smile was both charming and debilitating and insisted on the proper reply,

"No, of course not Jennie"

"Do come and join us won't you? You know Mikie, Emmie, Jillie"

"Hello. Hello there. Why hello and how are you? You forgot to mention the lovely, the irrepressible Raam", he added kissing her hand in playful humour, but there was no overcoming the hostility he noted from Mikie,

"Oh hello Rod? How are you. I hear that you're bouncing now?", Mikie started. Rhodri pretended not to notice the slight intended, and changed the subject as smoothly as he could,

"How are the Neighbours today? I always seem to feel they have better weather than we do?"

"That's because they're down under silly!", reciprocated Jennie, and the ambience appeared to have been restored. She giggled and became a little carried away,

"Aren't mens' thingies ugly!"

Sniggers erupted and Rhodri remained politely indifferent,

"My dear Jennie, I always thought that ladies were supposed to lie back and think of England"

"But we're in Wales dearie"

Life with the three girls was largely enjoyable, although each led a very different life style. Rama was care free, relaxed and loved all men by the name of Tim. An infrequent visitor to the apartment, Raam had just switched to the study of history, and this afforded her the essential luxury of the three day weekend. Life to Rama was to be enjoyed, and if a problem could not be laughed away then it could be simply avoided altogether. Passages of time with Rama were occasional, fleeting and almost invariably pleasant, and for two such alien spirits there was scarcely a troubled word exchanged between them. Jennie was a born leader, and Jennie attacked life and indeed anything that stopped it from flowing in the direction that it most appropriately should. Charming and polite to a fault, Jennie planned her social life with the devotion and attention to personal detail that would have shamed a Cambridge steward. Of course despite his submissive nature with women, there were tensions with Jennie. Last year she had bared her soul to him, but now that they were too close for comfort. Her eternal search for perfection and her love for perfect people placed him under an uncomfortably fine magnifying glass and put him on best behaviour. He soon found his place however, and his BMW gave way to the chic Peugeot 205 in any symbolic parking spot near the front of the house. Of course other people made the heinous error of parking in the position that was reserved exclusively in her mind, but it was safest not to challenge her preconceptions and to offer support wherever possible. Jilly was, with Jennie, a student of language, that most elusive of British intellectual graces, and whereas the Dutch and the Swiss regarded a second and third language as being as natural an extension to life as tennis is in the Home Counties, the two poured their study time in to become part of that exclusive European Club. Despite Jennie's open door, Jilly felt more comfortable with her friends at the Students' Union and perhaps enjoyed a more conventional approach to student life than her house mates.

In early October Mikhael returned with his brother to Coburn Street to reclaim his beloved Alice and the possessions he had stored with Rhodri. To say that he was given a hostile reception by the girls might be as to say that the British overstayed their welcome in the American colonies. Jennie was furious that he had stayed in Jill's room without her permission, and no one cared to mention that fifty pounds had been received for the privilege.

"I can't believe his arrogance he stays here without permission and then leaves that broken down old heap in front of my house!"

Poor Mikhael had only just arrived at the front doorstep.

"Come in Mikhael! Welcome!", Rhodri added with a smile as Mikhael shrugged his broad and wiry shoulders. Unfortunately for Mikhael the girls had already seen fit to assist him in clearing his belongings from the house, which Rhodri had unilaterally agreed to store over the summer,

"And here are your things!", cried Jennie as various items rolled down the steep stairs to join those that had already collected at the bottom. Mikhael looked concerned as he leant forward to reclaim his possessions and return them to their boxes. Rama added her voice to the cats' chorus,

"Yes you're not welcome here and take your things with you".

Rhodri was not entirely aware as to what sins against polite society Mikhael had committed, or even at whom they were alleged to have been directed, but even he recognized animosity in its purest form. Mikhael, looking somewhat upset and mildly harassed, put his hands on his hips and stared at the growing pile of valued possessions,

"You know Rhodri, I do believe that I'm being hounded out of Cardiff", and then he laughed weakly at the absurdity of his statement.

"Yes they do seem a little upset, don't they", Rhodri agreed as if rationally assessing the situation. Mikhael laughed again as Rhodri helped him refill his boxes and carry them to the waiting and willing Alice.

"How did you get on with your exams Mikhael?"

"Failed most of them again I'm afraid", he sighed and then burst into a smile as though he had decided that Cardiff wasn't really him after all, "I can't resit so I'm afraid it's off to Luxembourg to plan my next move. My brother tells me that Alice won't start. Are you sure that looked after her?"

"I'm sorry Mikhael, but I haven't ridden her since you left. I'm afraid her engine has been left idle and I haven't run her regularly to keep her exercised".

"Oh Rhodri, how could you!", Mikhael seemed upset and agitated.

"I'm sorry Mikhael, but I've been working all the hours God sends, but thanks for lending her to me all the same"

A noisy shudder came from behind and a familiar if hoarse voice sounded,

"Ah, he's got her started at last ! She does sound a little chesty! Still keep in touch Rhodri and if you ever want to open that little record shop with me!", Mikhael smiled as his sense of humour returned.

"Somehow I don't think so. Good luck!", and he waved Alice and Mikhael goodbye and his heart sank softly as it knew what a good friend and companion he had lost.

Alwyn called him at about eleven on a restful Saturday morning,

"Can you get to the Boardwalk by one o'clock?"

"Where is it?"

"Penarth Road, about five miles"

"Sorry no. My car's being re-sprayed, I have no transportation"

"It's an afternoon party until four, we'll pay your taxi fare"

"Okay then", Rhodri conceded reluctantly, concerned not to upset his new employers.

The Boardwalk was as dull and synthetic as the customers, and Rhodri stood without conversation for four hours, an hour longer than he was to be paid for, and he spent much of the time clearing tables away and setting them up to pass the time. At least the manager was a kindly soul and fed the two of them, but it was scant consolation for a lost Saturday and a day that thrust into his mind a realization of how far he had fallen in a long two years. After paying the return leg of his taxi journey he found that he was already some five pounds out of pocket and disappointed at squandering such a sunny day.

Floyds was the centre of operations for Wyvern security. With a central location and the political advantage of being both a black and a white club, it was the centre of Alwyn and John's activities and he and all the other Wyvern door men congregated there between eleven and three on Sunday morning to receive their wages. After another long five hour night at Floyds he descended the stairs to receive his pay packet from Alwyn in his customary imperious fashion. Nonchalantly he placed his taxi receipts next to Alwyn's register,

"Here are my receipts from the taxi to and from the Boardwalk"

"I don't want those", sneered Alwyn dismissively.

"The taxi fare was five pounds"

"We don't pay for you to get to and from work"

Rhodri raised his eyebrows. A deliberate paused occupied the space where a reply had been anticipated, and the cool Alwyn even raised his head from his ledger to look down at him. Rhodri raised the receipts to eye level and screwed them up into a little ball in his fingers as though they were a contract, tossing them apathetically into the corner. Pretending that there was nothing more to be said on the issue, Rhodri signed for his wages whilst Alwyn continued to stare at him, with even a hint of surprise in his expression.

"Alea iacta est", he muttered under his breath as he walked towards the stairs.

It was a quite Thursday night at Floyds, and quite often he would be asked by Obi to work the magical corridor that separated whites from blacks, and denims from threads. His task was straight forward, he merely maintained dress standards and stopped the flow of drunkenness down the stairs. This was no great chore, the club was warm and with the exception of the occasional Somali or West Indian whose pupils had been dilated by inhalation of cocaine, life and work was not unduly stressful. Despite his icy and impassioned manner he was always apprehensive dealing with the young crack addicts, as the merest reflection of hostility in facial expression or movement could trigger a violent response. Communicating the simplest idea or rule to the young and mentally infirm whose staple diet was crack and speed was near impossible. To assert that they could not be allowed entry into the club because they were wearing trainers, and not shoes, one might have been forgiven for thinking that they had been threatened with a knife for they were on another plane of perception altogether. This mundane evening however was to prove to be the turning point in his awareness and of the forces that govern it. Tonight the portal between the material plane, from which he had derived his way of thought and approach to life and the spiritual world was to be opened, a threshold which once crossed, could never again be closed.

Flamboyant was perhaps not quite the word. The most elegantly dressed black man he had remembered seeing in Cardiff strolled confidently down the stairs and emerged through the tunnel between the two worlds. A most confident gentlemen, he wore a brilliant blue suit over a white shirt, with patent leather shoes. Flair was added in the form of a red bow tie and a red kerchief tucked neatly into his breast pocket. To finish the effect, he carried a pair of white velvet gloves which lent him an air of sophistication that went so well with his smile. Short and muscular he clearly kept himself in good shape, a strong physical presence that was amplified by the V of his jacket. What had struck Rhodri immediately as strange was the manner of his entry into Floyds. Rather than walking past the drab character to his left he had walked directly towards Rhodri, as if it had always been his intention to.

"Hallo there!", his words flowed positively through his smile as he radiated self-esteem. The gentleman laughed in a broad gesture and thrust out his right hand. Grasping a surprised hand he shook it vigorously and introduced himself boldly as though they had previously arranged a business meeting,

"My name is Nobby!", he laughed again, and then exhaled joyfully as if he had found what he had been looking for. The drab figure recovered to find his manners,

"Good evening, Rhodri"

"Aha!", he cried followed by a ritual laugh and grin, "He told me about you!"

"Oh? And who was that?"

"Do you train?", and he thrust out a snap punch which cut the air crisply to show that he did. Rhodri shook his head slowly from side to side. Nobby peered into the distance, then exhaled with satisfaction through his smile,

"Then it is spiritual!"

Rhodri looked at him curiously.

"I'll see you later!", he said without making eye contact, and then strode off to carry on his business in the club.

A clear sky allowed the rays of the cold sun to shine down the centre of St.Mary Street. It was two thirty in the afternoon and Rhodri strolled in his black denims and pullover, insulated from the cool blast of the wind by his great green coat. Barely glancing at the oncoming traffic he cantered across the street towards the National Westminster Bank where he had an appointment at three to discuss the management of his overdraft. Half an hour early, he stopped outside the bank to watch the city life roll by. A silver-grey Mercedes glided to a halt alongside the pavement opposite. Five youths, three Somali and two West Indian, moved their heads rhythmically to the rap music that echoed through the tinted glass. All were immaculately dressed in white and cream suits and decorated with extravagant gold chains and necklaces. A thin Somali youth slipped out from the front passenger seat towards a man in a black trench coat and Trilby standing in a doorway. After a brief exchange, with little evidence of a discussion or passing pleasantries the youth he now recognized from Floyds skipped back into the car. Five straight faces slowly pulled away in the silent grace and smoothness of the powerful limousine. He had seen them several times before, each time in a different car, whether it was a silver-grey Mercedes, a white BMW or a red Bentley. It was invariably the same group of youths, barely twenty at a guess, who suggested no evidence of education or graft to justify their affluence. Some he had seen dealing in the club, others just around. A tip of the iceberg came across his mind as he turned to settle his overdraft facility in the bank.

The very next weekend Alwyn drafted him to serve at the Wine Press. Arriving on Friday at nine, dressed in black jumper, trousers and tie, he saw Paul and Nobby standing in front of the hole in St.Mary Street with a third man, large and heavy carrying a moustache. He introduced himself to Nobby, who he guessed was the head door man. To his surprise Nobby wore the same contrasting red, white and blue that he had worn at Floyds. But it was not the same Nobby he had met a week earlier. Wearing a frown and staring ahead as if in willful ignorance, he seemed disinterested in the new arrival. Undeterred Rhodri introduced himself,

"Good evening Nobby! I've been summoned to help you boys tonight".

Nobby ignored him, and after a polite pause Rhodri persisted,

"Where shall I station myself?"

Again there was no reply.

"I was sent here by Alwyn for the weekend to work the door with you".

"Do not speak with me!", Nobby replied abruptly. Rhodri looked at him in bemused silence.

"He has warned me about you"

Rhodri stared at him as if to insinuate some manner of madness. Once again he looked at the three in turn searching for clues to explain their state of mind. Nobby clutched a walkie-talkie, an expensive one at that. Surely this was not standard issue on the door? Tired of the intransigence of his new colleagues, he turned towards the entrance intending to search for the more friendly and rational manager. His move was not necessary as a stern faced Paul made his way purposefully to the top of the stairs,

"Ah! Good evening Paul. Do you want me to work upstairs or downstairs?"

"Good evening Rhodri", replied Paul. However his eyes reflected no interest in his words, "We've been having an on going problem here. Can you take care of downstairs for me? Paul is there any sign of them yet?"

"Nah"

As usual the Wine Press was a tiny and crowded affair, and it was all he could do to squeeze himself in against a bar. He resigned himself to his lack of visibility and did his best to ignore the taunts from the larger men who brushed past him. Some thirty minutes later he relaxed, bored and uncomfortable with the sticky heat and his lack of visibility and focused on a pretty brunette by the wall. The next moment someone was tugging vigorously on his jumper sleeve, and he looked around. One of the bar girls pointed upstairs with a worried expression, and sensing the urgency he pushed through the crowd and flew up the two flights of stairs. A moment later he found himself in the middle of a brawl, the three door men locked in battle with three strange men. Paul was pinned against the door post by a stocky Italianate youth, who in exchange for punches to the back of his head had Paul by the throat with his left hand and was biting his ear. A second stocky youth was standing off against Nobby, alternating probing kicks and punches seeking the first advantage, whilst a giant of a man had seized the third door man and was striking him at will. In an instant he hooked his arms under Paul's attacker and yanked him backwards, turning him and spinning him back into the street.

"Watch out! Back off! He's dangerous!", yelled Nobby's assailant. The other two disengaged whilst the dark haired giant, a man Rhodri figured at three hundred pounds and six and a half feet, proceeded back towards Paul grinning eagerly. Rhodri stepped between them and moved from side to side as the giant tried to make his way around towards Paul. Snarling now Rhodri leapt towards him forcing him to lurch backwards, his eyes now trained on his more immediate threat. Rhodri edged him backwards towards his two friends who were by now retreating slowly back down St.Mary Street. The Italianate youth wearing his stubble shouted back to the giant,

"Let's get outta here!"

With one mind Nobby and Rhodri advanced in parallel in pursuit of the vanquished, flushed with the heat of confrontation.

"Oi! Nobby! Rhodri! Come back here!"

Paul the manager called the two back to heel from that most auspicious of moments.

Meanwhile tensions had grown between Michael Kouros and the girls. Michael was an owner of substantial property, and for the most part regarded his student tenants as sweet smelling moth balls whom he replaced every year or so. By the standards of most student landlords Michael was a saint, he bent over backwards to fit shelves, install high quality kitchen appliances and to keep the water where it was meant to go. Rhodri had often helped him out over the summer at the house, and in small doses the playful Michael quite enjoyed his company. In turn Rhodri enjoyed Michael's impish sense of humour and admired his gifted business touch, and would enjoy the laughter of Michael's catch phrases. Unfortunately in Jennie and Rama, Michael had inherited two altogether more discerning individuals. Complaints varied from small vents without grills in the walls to the standard of the decor, and after a few short weeks Michael had commented that they thought the place was a hotel. Michael had been upset that they had come and gone over the summer without contributing towards the bills and Rhodri just shrugged his shoulders and ignored the issue as trifling. Mistrust found a new breeding ground and before long Rhodri's familiarity with the landlord bred suspicion, and before long Jennie and Rama felt uncomfortable. One evening Rhodri and Michael found themselves discussing Ron Gillman after Michael had popped by to collect the rent, a subject of mutual interest and fascination,

"How are the hotel guests then Rod?"

"Oh you mean the girls. As spirited and fiery as ever I suppose".

"Have they reimbursed you for their summer visits Rod?"

"They were only here occasionally"

"They can still help you out with the bills"

Rhodri felt uncomfortable thinking about the triviality of the amounts involved and hastily changed the subject,

"So how's old Ron, Michael?"

"Oh same old devil"

"Got an old rust heap off him after all the time I worked over the summer. I probably made little more than a pound an hour after all was said and done".

"You got screwed Rod".

Rhodri sighed,

"Yes I know, Ron's quite a character and one can't help but becoming fond of him, but he's a born devil".

Michael's face darkened and he leant forward over the bed and whispered,

"That's right Rod. I told him at the end of the summer, I said I don't want you working for me anymore Ron, because you're a thief".

Rhodri shook his head slowly from side to side and looked at the floor. At that moment Rama came in abruptly and sat down on the bed, after finishing an agitated conversation with Jennie in the living room,

"We want to know what you two have been talking about"

Michael turned his head and stared at her for a brief moment as though the crown jewels were being discussed by dignitaries,

"We're discussing BMW's. His BMW. Do you mind?".

Rama then got up and left as suddenly as she had entered, and Rhodri closed the order of business,

"Yes, I suppose you're right it is a BMW".

The irrepressible Terry came past Coburn Street from time to time. Of course the rips in the denims had become wider and more numerous and a few safety pins had been added, but generally he was still the same entertaining and friendly Terry. Inevitably, living with bachelors of the arts, Terry had strayed from the nine to seven path of science. Moving from conversations over Van Halen and Guns'n'Roses to Auberon Waugh and Johann Sebastian had been a bit of a struggle, but he was largely cheerful in his new found proximity to the Students' Union. When his former partner in crime walked through the door of the living room in Coburn Street he was sitting next to Jennie on the couch, but the conversation appeared to have been far from light-hearted.

"Hello Terry! Good afternoon Jennie!"

"Hello Terry, blah, blah, blah! How are you, you greasy punk!", Jennie sat quietly, clearly upset, "So where the fuck have you been lately?"

"Studying, working"

"I hear you're never home, and that you never go out to have fun you mother!"

"I have a lot to get done"

"Sure you do! What about your friends? Don't you see them any more?"

"Once a fortnight, when I can snatch the time"

"Don't you ever get worried about what might happen to you?"

"No not really, if anything happens then so be it"

"So be it! So be it! Listen to the stupid fuck!"

"Want a cup of tea Terry?"

"And why not you stupid mother!", and his lips curled upwards slightly.

Floyds buzzed with energy and heaved with the life force of Cardiff's thriving black culture. After a time he found his niche by the back doors of the well furnished basement club. Perched high up on the steps by the fire exit he stood watching, waiting and absorbing the energies. The rich black and blues of the people created a world that seemed distant from any with which he was familiar, and he watched the black heart of the City beating to the bass of black soul and dance music. Trouble at Floyds was graciously rare as long as no white boys dared to destroy the uniformity and harmony by their presence. Rhodri paid his hosts due respect and as long as he played by the rules nobody was hurt. There was little need for the doormen in Floyds, and when trouble appeared they tended to sort the problems out amongst themselves. There was an unwritten law that he and Alwyn, the only two white men tolerated in the club did not intercede in confrontations between blacks; that was the exclusive privilege of Obi, Alvin and the other black door men. But in turn the young blacks paid a healthy respect for Alwyn. Alwyn was John's partner and Wyvern Security's front man, a legend on the Streets of Cardiff. The Docks' boys feared and respected Alwyn, whose mind was as sharp as his axe-like jaw and penetrating eyes. Blessed with a keen business acumen, Alwyn was also a demi-god in the hard physical world of survival of the Docks' and their social environs. A mere five feet ten inches, Alwyn's back and shoulders cast a broad and mighty shadow before him, and his chiseled, powerful musculature stood out beneath even his winter cardigan. Rhodri had often mused in his time over how animal sprits would appear in human form, and in his imagination Alwyn's fierce tone and expression captured the image of a wolverine. Few challenged his fighting prowess. A third degree black belt in Shotokan, a member of the Welsh national karate team and a running back for the Cardiff Cobras American football team, his lifestyle advertised the spartan physical and mental approach that he projected to those whom he met. But despite his hard mind and hard life Alwyn had a soft spot for Rhodri, a feeling almost bordering on the paternal. Why Alwyn had decided that Rhodri's place lay on the steps overlooking Floyds he wasn't sure, but he observed the rules strictly and enforced them impartially. In their turn the blacks paid Rhodri a healthy respect. Whether it was because he lent no aura of racism or because he was known from his times at the Glitzy, the young West Indians and Somalis who frequented the club were always cautious in his presence.

Officially no one entered through or left via the back doors at Floyds, and that was why he was there. But in any society rules must be relaxed so as to preserve balance and interpreted so as to maintain the spirit of the law. From time to time he let the younger Somali 'warriors' leave by the back door. It was a simple ploy. To them it was a mark of great respect to be given privileged egress through the large wooden doors. As symbolism went it showed the young and fierce that they were always welcome in the club just so long as they behaved. For his part it was a pressure valve, when the gangs of Somalis were frustrated because the women showed little interest in their brash immaturity they would become agitated and seek other, undesirable outlets to prove their embryonic manhood. The simplest and most accessible were other men from rival black tribes. However, fearing reciprocation from the black community, stray whites and white door men were a more suitable outlet for their war-like spirits, fueled by the heady mix of testosterone and narcotics. Communication, however was not their strength and they often pushed against the limits of their privileges. After they had exited through the back door Rhodri always insisted that they could not come back in, sometimes forcibly. As every healthy majority carries an unhealthy minority, so the Somalis were no exception. He recognized a few of them from the Glitzy and knew that others had been there the night the Glitzy closed down. Most of the Somalis were tall and thin, a genetic hallmark, possessing that sinewy quality of lean strength. In combat their speed was their main asset and they fought in frenzied groups, and one could never fight one Somali without fighting them all.

Alwyn had instructed him to open the back doors because the air in the club was becoming thick with the heat, the smoke and the humidity. Friday nights at Floyds were often like that, an atmosphere saturated with life and love and he felt privileged to bask in the radiation of the black soul. It wasn't much past ten when he sensed a dark shadow grow behind him from the unlit street. Feeling the darkness he turned around slowly and cautiously to identify the threat. Two Somalis and a white friend walked towards the open door and marched through the entrance onto the plateau before the steps. Calvin was the lead man, a lean man some way short of six feet in height who proudly carried a reputation for his unbalanced mind and aggression. The white he did not recognize, but the other Somali cleared seven feet and was as muscular as he was broad. His description matched the terrified account of one of the invaders who closed the Glitzy down and his eyes were as pure black as his ebony skin. The three carried forward as though it was their prerogative and he a trifling insignificance. Rhodri stood full forward and blocked their path, as if he needed to demonstrate that this was not the entrance to the club. Calvin reacted with a sneer of contempt as he attempted to continue walking through with his company. Rhodri fell back into an attacking stance and checked Calvin's advance with his outstretched fingers, whilst his right hand hovered by his right trouser pocket. Calvin tested his resolve by pushing forward. Rhodri's fingers pushed him back. The ebony giant then thrust forward and Rhodri reached into his pocket for a knuckle-duster as he turned his stance to his left to repel the attack. Sensing his intent the giant stepped backwards, surprised at the audacity. At the back the white youth stood arms folded, laughing at the stand off. Refusing to back down Calvin turned to dialogue,

"Yo bro'! Reaching for a knife, yo's gonna be sorry for that bro', ya hear me! I's gonna serve you!"

Rhodri stared fiercely into his eyes,

"Nobody comes in through this door you know that!"

"Yo bro'! I's only comin' in ta meet some friends".

"It's four pounds at the front door! You know that!"

"Look bro' we's pays you a pound each ta com'in!"

Switching tactics to make matters impersonal, he seized the opportunity he was given to wind the situation down,

"Look bro' Alwyn's going to sack me if I take money at the door, and I'm not going to lose my job for nobody's money!"

"Can I com in bro' or no?"

"Through the front door!"

Sensing the presence and interest of Alwyn moving towards the back door Calvin retreated nervously, but not before Alwyn had seen him,

"What's the problem Rhodri?"

"These gentleman want access through the back door, I refused their money. I said you'd sack me if I did"

"Yes and that's right an' all !", Alwyn raised a menacing finger to Calvin and his giant friend, causing their eyes to fall to the floor like a pair of admonished school boys,

"I would sack him! And don't let me catch you boys bothering my door man again!"

The two slouched off with tails between their legs, but the white spirit had long since vanished.

"And Rhodri, may be if you didn't keep the back door open you wouldn't have these problems".

Duly closing the doors he rested against the bannisters on the stairs, for he had been standing there for over three hours and his legs were tired.

Stealthily the figure slipped along the ebony side rail leading towards the stairs as he received an object behind his back from a friend. Rhodri stared intently at the wall ahead of him, his buttocks resting upon his hands as he sat against the rail at the top of the stairs. In his mind's eye appeared a switchblade. His arm behind his back the dark figure crept up the stairs and alongside Rhodri, inches from his kidneys. Giving no indication of awareness or movement Rhodri looked ahead into space, watching Calvin's mind and body fixedly within his mind's eye. Calvin made the final smooth step, pinning him against the bannisters, but Rhodri did not react or even look at him. Calvin sneered with delight through his sharp features that his stealth had been successful,

"Yo' I warned you bro' I was gonna serve you", he spoke quietly and assertively, "Now's time to pay for yo' mistake"

Rhodri shot his hand into the air above Calvin's head, fingers spread and then turned his head rapidly and burned into Calvin's eyes with his own,

"Do you want to face me!", came a menacing voice from within, "Do you want to dance with me bro'!"

Calvin started to shake and he continued moving his head closer until Calvin could feel his breath,

"Do you want trouble with me bro'? Do you dare to pull a knife out on me bro'?"

Calvin looked an image of fear as he backed down the stairs under the torrent of Rhodri's gaze and outstretched hand. Rejoining the group Calvin discretely returned the knife and the little band of Somalis started to disperse as Alwyn approached,

"You having a problem Rhodri?"

"Calvin wants to serve me, I think he means he wants to..."

"Yes I know what it means!", and he turned towards the dance floor and descended a step,

"Where is he the little shit I'll teach him some manners!"

Rhodri swiftly descended and caught him by the shoulder and spoke softly,

"It's okay Alwyn. Let it go".

For two hapless white youths lady fortune was not so kind. It was another Saturday night at Floyds in late October, his last in fact, and at some time after eleven he stood at his usual station by the back door when he sensed an explosion of energy and movement behind him. Turning his gaze and then his body he saw an intense flurry of activity at the far end of the dance floor. Obi was already forcing his way through the crowd with uncharacteristic haste and urgency, and Rhodri reacted, hurtling down the flight of steps, weaving furiously through the throng. He was afforded only a glimpse of five or so figures repeatedly kicking two white youths on the dance floor and Obi and Rhodri swooped upon the now empty dance floor and swept the two unfortunate boys to safety through the back door. Their faces were both badly cut and bruised and blood dripped from open gashes. Groggy his young charge struggled to recognize his rescuer and smiled at him as though he were an oasis of security.

"Where's am I?"

"You're alright my little friend, alright"

"What happened to me?"

"You were attacked. Did you see who they were?"

"No s'all a blur. Where's my friend?"

"He's alright Obi's taking care of him"

"That's...what shall I do now?"

"Take a taxi to the Infirmary and then go home"

The owner came down from the Harmonica after he had heard the commotion and looked at Rhodri in disgust before he returned upstairs. Rhodri returned to the dance floor to search for the individuals responsible, but they had evaporated. There was no sign of Obi or the Somalis he had seen out of the corner of his mind's eye and he spat out in disgust at the fury and the blood and at the evil taste in his mouth. Some of the younger Somalis, barely seventeen by appearance, approached him at the foot of the stairs and touched the toes of his boots.

"These your's panther bro'!"

Leaning down the stairs he raised a finger in warning,

"Yes and then he pointed at his boots"

The two boys smiled at him and left in hurried excitement.

After the closing hour of two thirty the owner had private words with Alwyn by the reception. The two white youths who had been assaulted had by now returned and stood fiercely under the bright lights of the club dance floor. Still furious and agitated they appeared to be waiting for something to happen, and as Rhodri approached they began to discuss events with Alwyn.,

"He didn't do nothing! We got our fucking heads kicked in and he didn't do nothing! They're fucking scum! All of them fucking scum!", tears of frustrated anger rolled down his cheeks as he swung an angry fist at the ghosts in the air. Rhodri stood next to Alwyn and looked impassively at the two slightly built youths, who were barely eighteen. The curly haired boy turned towards him now to voice his humiliation,

"Why didn't you take care of them! You're the bleedin' bouncer ain't you!"

"I didn't see who they were and by the time I got there all I could do was take you to safety" he replied to the charge and Obi was not available to authenticate his account.

"Why didn't you ask who they were and take them outside and fuck 'em up!"

"If you take one on you take them all on", replied Rhodri unapologetically, "I'm sorry about what happened to you, but there was really nothing I could do".

The youth snapped and lunged in exasperation at Rhodri, raising his fist as if to strike. Alwyn calmly raised his hand to the boy's chest to halt his advance.

"Yes that's right", Alwyn nodded, throwing a wry little smile towards Rhodri.

"Why didn't you call the police!"

"And arrest who?", Rhodri replied, "I didn't see them. Why don't you go home and get some rest both of you", Rhodri then added in a more conciliatory tone, "And I'm sorry we can't help you or do anything about it". Alwyn signaled that the discussion was at an end, and the two youths stole off through the back door cursing under their breath.

No reason was given but when he turned up at Lloyd's the following Thursday he was told that he was now working at the Golden Cross. After enquiring where he might find such an establishment, he was informed by Alwyn that it lay on Bridge Street between the Holiday Inn and the ice rink. Walking along without great enthusiasm he found the establishment, a public house with an exterior made from green woodwork and an intricate stone mosaic and entered. As pubs went this house was no plain and dowdy watering hole, and he set of in search of the head door man. Angel was a Docks' boy and wore his badge with pride. Plump, cheerful and loquacious the two spent most of their hour's conversation reliving blow by blow accounts of Angel's most recent and heroic encounters. Many of the Docks' boys he had met were generally pleasant, and is true of any broad society with its elements of darkness and light. If one followed the simple rules of civility and respect, then no antagonism was generated and one could readily be accepted as part of the furniture. Angel and a somewhat less than communicative associate took charge of the front door and collected the admissions, while he was instructed to go inside the inn and stand in the corner.

After an uninspiring weekend at the Golden Cross where his highlight was a crab stick from a salesman, he was transferred across as sole door man of the Duke of Wellington. The Duke was, as ever, a noble and somewhat imperiously dressed man who had grown old with dignity and his war chest and scenes adorned the walls of the quiet little pub. Rhodri quite enjoyed his long discussions with the manager Andrew, a quiet intellectual man with glasses. Only regulars tended to frequent such establishments and hence Rhodri's only role was to keep one sleepy eye open for scuffles and to maintain as low key a presence as could possibly be maintained in a place where regulars liked to feel comfortable. Generally this meant that he spent most of his time chatting to Andrew over a broad selection of subjects ranging from chess to the difficulty in obtaining honest bar staff. Following two trouble free and relaxed weekends in the Duke's company he began to feel settled, despite the two day working week and his ever thinning wage packet. November's chill winds blasted by closed doors and the feeling of protection by the Duke relaxed him and left him feeling cosy inside his old pullover.

The following week he was called by Alwyn and driven to the Boardwalk as part of a makeshift team of four to supervise the fireworks display on November. Rockets exploded a myriad colours, Catherine wheels traced the eternal circle in white fire and sparklers danced the uninhibited freedoms of childrens' tiny hands. The flames roared high on the funeral pyre as the British celebrated their freedoms from the Catholic church and the Monarchy in that most abstract of ceremonies, the burning of Guy Fawkes. Whilst the Americans and the French chose to celebrate their independence from the Monarchies of the Old World with the pomp, ceremony and regal displays of their new presidential kings, every year around Britain communities formed cosy little gatherings under the cold night sky by the warmth of the fire. Huddled together with friends and family with a hot dog and a baked potato, they celebrated those most quintessential of British qualities, understatement and respect for the privilege of seven centuries of freedom.

A dark, dank tunnel disappeared under the Great Western Railway Line as it wandered across the centre of Cardiff towards his heartland of Neath and Swansea. He gazed deep into its black heart as he rounded the corner of St.Mary Street and trundled into Great Western Lane clad in his green leather coat and black uniform. The Railway bordered the southerly limits of Cardiff's thriving centre, forming the dividing line between the two territories. To the south lay the harsh poverty of the Docklands and to the north the affluence and energy of the heart of the vibrant Welsh capital. Prostitutes paraded their wares in pairs along the dimly lit streets that abutted the bridge and separated them from their home in Butetown. His view from the two doors of the Great Western, a curious mix between a pub and a club at the foot of the Lane that bore its name, painted a dreary rain swept picture of the city's dark underside. Why he had been stationed here he did not really know. Tim the other door man was pleasant enough with a mild, respectful sort of manner like so many other karate champions of their day, or so it was claimed. A veteran of the doors, Tim was married with one child and in his mid to late thirties. Quiet and firmly spoken Tim talked with maturity and a wisdom that is the preserve of those who have survived twenty years around the streets of the Docklands' and the City. Tall, distant and talkative in short bursts Tim provided Rhodri some level of companionship between the long periods of isolation as they each manned their respective door of the Great Western.

A peculiar pub, the Great Western attracted neither rich nor poor custom, and he guessed that it had long since seen its heyday. Two spiral metal staircases ascended to the hotel rooms and dining areas, whilst downstairs a long bar adjoined the two entrances separated by some twenty five yards. A lounge lay at either end of the mock station platform which was the theme of the bar, and he would read the headlines on the wallpaper fashioned after a collage of the Times newspaper. The dates of the last headlines suggested that the bar had been refurbished in eighty seven even if the clientele had not been, doubtless driven away by the decline in the surrounding area.

During his month at the Great Western trouble was as infrequent as visits from Alwyn, a man constantly troubled by the whinings of a dissatisfied manager. Tim and Rhodri were purportedly both satisfactory but Wyvern Security was not, although the manager proffered no reason as to why he was malcontent. There were always occasional stand-offs and drunks to be forcibly helped on their way out through the doors of the Great Western, but largely the pub was a quite and trouble-spared venue frequented by irregulars. Rhodri suspected that in truth he struggled to pay the rates for Wyvern's security services with a dwindling custom. Alwyn was usually in a foul mood after being called to account by the manager, and usually Rhodri was cautioned for dress standards or just insulted in passing. But Alwyn was not a man to rile, and the wisest course was to ride his fiery temper, for the tempest is always calm by morning. One Friday evening Alwyn had descended the spiral metal staircase cursing under his breath, and told them both to go home for the evening. The manager duly appointed two favoured henchmen to cover the doors, but as though to prove Alwyn's point that weekend saw so much trouble at the Great Western that Rhodri, Tim and Wyvern Security were promptly reinstated.

Internationals were to door men as April is to accountants. People and their money would flock from all over the Country into the capital as the Welsh Rugby team fought for glory and honor on the hallowed turf of Cardiff Arms Park the national temple of Welsh rugby. To the door man this meant heaving clubs and pubs from eleven on Saturday morning until three o'clock the following Sunday. Tribes of business men and valley men drank heavily from eleven and staggered from pub to pub before carrying onwards to the Arms Park. At five waves of revelers would spill out into the pubs and finally the clubs of a City alive to the spirit of what it meant to be Welsh. Many just came into the city to be a part of the atmosphere, but for every tribe an international meant there had to be stories of legendary conquests of full-bodied women and manful encounters witnessed in the bars and in the streets on that great day. Scuffles with drunken men started at eleven and carried through until the small hours when the door men were all exhausted, their nerves drained by the strain of bodies and bustle. He had served his first international tour of duty at Floyds and the Harmonica, and the long day at the Great Western was only his second international. The day of the international arrived and the bar thrived as executive suits embarked upon the final leg of their traditional crawl from one public house to another, buying inflated rounds on the hospitality of their expense accounts. Little trouble came with them as they stopped for refreshment during their migration to the Mecca of Welsh Rugby, which lay a few hundred yards beyond.

After three the place became deserted with the exception of a dozen or so men from the Fairwater estate who had no tickets to the game. Rhodri watched with detached interest as good-natured laughs and roars turned to bellows and cries. Before long beer was thrown for entertainment and before long the glasses it came in.

"Stop it all of you!", Rhodri yelled forcibly, "Or I'll have to ask you all to leave!"

A moment of silence lay between the surprised reaction of the individual and the response of the pack.

"Why and what are you going to do about it?", yelled a drunken youth from the corner, and yet another followed his lead, throwing more beer in defiance. The boisterous roar grew again and Rhodri drew closer, his tired, emaciated frame of fewer than one hundred and forty pounds trying to be heard above the roar,

"Right that's enough!"

"Says who?", cried another voice followed by a cacophony of guffaws and yells,

"Me!", and he strode over into the middle and seized a beer glass wielded as a missile. The large drunken man laughed loudly and encouraged the others to join him. Despairing, Rhodri cast his head up to the heavens in frustration. Tim duly arrived, his imposing frame and black features casting the shadow of popular Docks' folklore into their subconcious minds,

"I want you all out of here now!", Tim stated firmly, "If any of you tries anything, I'll finish the one who moves first!"

Tim grabbed a beer glass from a hand and pulled the chair from underneath its owner who promptly fell upon the ground. Slowly and surely the dozen or so left silently and sheepishly, for they were not the type who fought for fighting's sake. As the last of them departed he turned to Rhodri and spoke to his soul,

"You're in the wrong job mate", and Rhodri's soul nodded in agreement as Tim patted him on the shoulder.

Long days in the University, long weekend evenings on the door and the four remaining evenings during the week he spent locked in his room catching up with his studies. All in all his lifestyle did not lend itself to a rich social existence. When invited out he was generally not available, and when he was available people had long since given up asking. What passed for a social life consisted of coffee breaks in the University with his colleagues and occasional visits to friends' houses scattered around Cardiff's centre. Occasionally he would snatch a mid-week evening or afternoon with Helen, Nicki and Sarah Evans who lived with Mark in Roath, or he would walk up to Crwys Road in Cathays to visit Wynn and his friends from the Cardiff University rugby side. The fraternity of rugby players made him feel welcome, and in their tolerant and open-minded view of the world any physical male whose life extended beyond the narrow limitations of study and white collar work was eligible to be accepted by the pack. Rhodri enjoyed their generosity of spirit and felt at home with their harmless humour and boyish sense of fun.

Affairs were not going well in the house at Coburn Street. The months of inhaling smoke at Floyds had given him a persistent chest infection, and the chill of his downstairs room in the house merely exasperated his condition. He had bought a small electric fire and this had soon become the scapegoat for the size of their electricity bills. Further, his lack of attention to washing the sink and shower after use had upset the girls and Jennie in particular. Loud music that he played on the few occasions that he was in the house was an additional irritant, as was virtually any behaviour manifested by an estranged male. Jennie could frequently be heard complaining to her friends bitterly about the fall from grace of her former social standard bearer, and he was stung by one conversation he overheard with one of Jennie's closest confidants,

"Honestly last year you couldn't have wished to have met a nicer boy! He was always polite and charming and he even escorted the ladies at night to ensure that they arrived safely. Now we can't seem to get a polite word from him. He makes a mess, he has no social life, he never goes out and he's involved in all of this nasty bouncing work, I mean how ridiculous really!"

There was little doubt that he had fallen below Jennie's basic social standards, and he knew well that he was in the process of being ostracized. He was very surprised to overhear circulating allegations from people who were not known to Coburn Street, claiming that someone had intentionally left his fire on all day to run up the electricity bill. But as it is impossible to strenuously deny a rumour without giving it credence he maintained his silence, feeling dismayed that things could have been so distorted. Worst of all, the bills were exclusively in his name and he had already paid the connection charges for gas, electricity and telephone. Affairs were set for crisis, and he felt the impending storm as the first collective quarterly charges were due. In order to avert the forthcoming dispute he calculated all the charges and distributed the responsibilities as twenty percent for each of the three ladies and forty for himself.

Paynie, Jennie's boyfriend sought to ease tensions when he popped his head round the living room door and approached Rhodri with the intent of pouring oil over troubled waters. "Listen Rhodri, the girls are upset over the bills", he said, pulling up a chair and leaning forward as friendly souls are want to do, "They feel that you were here over the summer and have run up more of the bills than they have, especially the telephone".

"I hardly use the telephone Paynie", came the soft and subdued response, "The hundred and sixty pound telephone bill is largely theirs"

"Well the girls don't see it that way, and they are unhappy. Jennie works hard for her money".

"I've offered to pay forty percent to their twenty Paynie and I'm hardly rolling in money myself"

"Okay Rhodri", added Paynie smiling, "I'll talk to them and see what I can do", and his wise old friend duly used his charm to persuade them to settle for the twenty percent, and Rhodri heard him and smiled.

Ultrabodies was typical of a bodybuilders' gym. Occupying a spacious floor above the shop front it boasted a wholesome array of racks, machines and benches. Painted in metallic blue to mark the changes that had taken place since the early days of medieval torture, the devices matched the carpet and contrasted neatly with the white of the walls. Frequented by the iron men of the city, the gym was designed to be functional rather than pleasant, and unlike the sleepy little town of Kettering the hard men came exclusively to train, this was no social club. A couple of times a week he would work out for old times sake, though he had long since lost both his mass and conditioning. It was an act of faith for him, as he felt nude without the muscles and physique that had marked a misspent youth in a gym inhabited by professional bodybuilders and the hard men. He was in the habit of combining his visit to Ultrabodies with his weekly shopping, and on one occasion he had carried his groceries into the changing rooms upstairs and left them there whilst he went downstairs to train. He was not far into his routine before he spotted Alwyn's powerful, brawny form sitting beneath the shoulder press in a red tank top. A large tattoo adorned his right arm below the shoulder, with the inscription 'Who dares wins' emblazoned across the symbol of a dagger, and he murmured his recognition in respectful astonishment. Alwyn had not told him that he had served with the SAS, and this merely added another dimension of respect towards an instinctively credible man.

"Who's left their bleedin' shopping upstairs on the floor!", a voice bellowed from the reception.

"It's mine!", replied Rhodri.

"Get it 'outta here, and you with it, we don't want your sort in these parts!", shouted the tall and well fleshed owner. Rhodri started to walk his head barely erect, but a growl started from behind,

"Let him be! He's doing no harm and he's one of my door men! If anyone has a problem with one of my door men they'll have me to answer to!", and his mighty frame rose from the seat and turned towards the owner.

"Okay Alwyn! It's no problem!", the owner's voice had gone up an octave or two. Rhodri turned and walked towards his patron and stood by Alwyn who seemed otherwise tired and out of sorts,

"Thank you Alwyn"

"That's all right Rhodri", came a deep sigh.

"Don't you think you've been working too hard Alwyn?", Rhodri asked his soul softly.

"As long as I have my company and my training that's all I need", he said quietly without a hint of aggression, convincing himself that his hard life had not drawn heavily upon his spirit. Rhodri sensed the pain and dared not probe further into the sensitivities of a powerful and unpredictable man.

"Want to work in with me?", Alwyn asked. Rhodri looked at the array of heavy discs adorning the bar and said,

"No thank you very much Alwyn, I think I would be out of my depth"

Assignments towards the end of November became irregular and he found himself sent to various venues from Roath to Penarth Road, and some nights he would have no work at all. Matters finally came to a head when he called at the end of November to find that there was no work for him at all that weekend. Alwyn had given him his word that he would find him a club, but Rhodri felt unconvinced by his apparent lack of urgency. Frustrated by the inconsistencies, the low pay and the loss of self-respect that accompanies the position of a loose end his instinctive loyalty began to wander. That he had to work there was no question, his covenant barely covered the rent and bills and he wanted to escape the cycle of debt and dependence that had pursued him and so many other students he knew. Thoughts and imaginations turned cartwheels in his mind as he strolled along Park Place at December's birth away from the realm of the sun. A two hour aperture between lecture and experimental class had led him to wander the half mile between University and town centre in search of sustenance. Light drizzle fell steadily from the grey skies, but this was no deterrent to someone from the Valleys. The warm interiors of the lounges of hotels and restaurants seemed especially inviting, the golden glow from the window scenes a beacon to those entrapped outside in a wet, grey world. As he passed it did not escape his attention that a major redevelopment was taking place in the plush little part of Park Place that adjoined Queen Street. To his left was the familiar splendour of the Park Hotel, but to his right an exotic development of woods and fine furnishings had sprung up, conjuring images of the days of the Raj in his mind. Huge plate glass windows emblazoned with the word Henry's in flowing green and gold lettering afforded the passer by a clear view of the old world. Stopping to obtain a closer look, he marveled at the rich, dark parquet flooring which led to assorted carpeted platforms. Bamboo furniture upholstered with elegant patterns of reds and greens provided a lighter contrast to the dark browns of the bannisters and floors, and the furniture was ringed by potted shrubs and assorted trees from the tropics. A restaurant area lay towards the back of the spacious interior with yellow walls that reflected the golden hues of the wall lamps onto the rich dark sheen of the parquet floor that separated the four island platforms from the passage to and from the bar. At the centre of the floor, golden fittings highlighted a polished hardwood bar, the focus of Welsh community life. He sensed the doors with glass panels and brass handles inviting him to cross the threshold even though the establishment did not yet appear to be open for business. But there, in the left hand corner of the window platform four men sat intently in conference around a table over a cup of coffee.

Seizing upon his instincts he pushed the door open and ascended the four wooden steps after a brief glance at the elegant mosaic flooring and brass plate that marked the short entrance well. Smiling confidently he boldly approached the four men whose formal meeting appeared to have come to an end.

"Good evening gentlemen"

A surprised face wearing a handsome moustache and a warm and friendly expression looked up at him,

"Good day to you young sir and what can we do for you?"

"I was passing by and I came to wondering. Do you gentlemen already have security arrangements in hand for the opening of this establishment?"

The man with the friendly moustache and dark brown hair answered,

"No, funny you should ask. We were just discussing that. Please have a seat and come and join us".

With confidence and due reservation, he pulled a bamboo seat from under the table and sat down.

"Hello", said the friendly moustache, "I'm the manager Mark Stallion, this is Ray my assistant", he pointed to a thin and balding man with a lean frame and acne, "And to my left are my two section heads from Whitbread's, Michael Ronson and Peter Stirling"

"Pleasure to meet you gentlemen, Rhodri Walters", Rhodri replied shaking hands with due formality and a warm manner for he felt right at home.

"So what can we do for you?"

"I believe that you gentlemen might be requiring security personnel for your new venture and I wonder if I might be able to help"

"Yes we do indeed", replied Mr.Ronson with a twinkle in his eye.

"Have you had other enquiries?"

"Yes, we had a gentleman...from Wyvern Security I believe it was, come round and talk to us earlier this afternoon", he paused for a second and stroked his chin, "Have you worked in security before Mr.Walters?", asked Mr.Ronson.

"I used to work with Castle Leisure as a doorman, and I've worked as a door man at half a dozen or so establishments in the Cardiff centre since then".

"You're a professional door man?"

"Yes and no. I'm a full time science student at Cardiff University, but I work as a door man in the evenings"

"Well you sound like just the man were looking for", added Mr.Stirling with a positive tone to his voice, "Allow me to explain. We have just established a chain of Henry's cafe bars in the country, we have one in London and this will be our third operation. Henry's operates an all day continental style service from breakfast at seven until eleven at night, and we have applied for a license to operate until two a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays. We believe we will need at least two door men seven nights a week at least for the initial period after opening". Rhodri's eyes lit up as he imagined the sums involved,

"At least", he agreed.

"Can you find a partner?", asked Mr.Ronson, "You seem polite and as though you know what you are doing. If you can find a partner you may have the contract".

"For six, seven pounds an hour yes", Mr.Ronson nodded, "Can I meet you on Friday at twelve when I have agreed upon a partner?"

"Certainly", said Mark of the friendly moustache and the warm smile.

Rhodri wandered back towards his practical class munching a sandwich as he considered who the most suitable partner might be. The candidate had to be black, that was obvious. Two white door men could not sell a rejection to a well dressed Somali from the Docks, besides it gave balance and symmetry to the door, a most essential facet. He was a natural front man, polite and formal with an eye for a potential trouble maker. But he needed a heavier man who could fight in support if needs be, and more importantly act as a deterrent. Nobby crossed his mind briefly, but he neither knew or trusted him fully. Obi was the obvious choice. Mature, powerful, authoritative. That was that, he would seek his consent at Lloyd's on Thursday night. Obi was a business man and Rhodri was convinced that he could hire his services for six, maybe seven pounds an hour. Besides it would be easy money for him, in fact it would be almost an early and golden retirement.

Thursday evening came and as he had suspected he received no call from Wyvern Security asking him to work that night or indeed any evening that weekend. Donning a black suit with black shirt, suit and tie to complete the effect, he let the front door of Coburn Street close with a bang. At nine he found himself strolling through the cold December mists of old St.Mary Street with a renewed air of confidence and a swagger in his stride. Pausing at the wooden door that marked the entrance to the Harmonica, he asked the man with the pony-tail if he could come in and talk to Obi. With unusual responsivity the pony tail disappeared downstairs and soon after Obi replaced him at the door,

"Yes what can I do for you Roddy?", came the familiar coarse and sharp reply.

"I have a contract for a cafe bar and I was wondering if you might be interested for six or seven pounds an hour"

"Come inside", Obi bent forward and looked from side to side along the street and followed him into the club. The two descended the stairs and stopped by reception in Floyds.

"Tell me more", he said with brusque enquiry.

"Henry's? That's the new cafe bar that's opening next week by the Park Hotel?"

"Ah huh"

"Well I have just obtained the contract for myself and one other door man to work the place seven nights a week. We can work in a third if needs be. Interested?"

"Well I'll let you know", came the terse reply, but with Obi you never did, as with all good door men he never showed his emotions; it allowed the customer to read you and take advantage.

"When?"

"Come back later tonight"

Rhodri felt unconvinced by this reply and started to reflect upon alternative candidates as he stepped back onto St.Mary Street. There was only one obvious candidate, that was clear. Someone had let slip the fact that Nobby had fallen from favour with Alwyn, easily done he thought and no bad character reference, and that Nobby was currently in disgrace working the door of a rather unsavoury hotel at the bottom of St.Mary Street. So he turned right and walked the remaining two hundred yards to the Paradise hotel. Unsightly it most certainly was, and he pushed open the saloon style doors and reluctantly entered. A plain wooden floor, a bar and an entourage of well worn prostitutes and pimps, or so he guessed from the excessive lipstick, frilly tops and short hip length skirts. Nobby was in his by now familiar red, white and blue standing by the side of the door, looking most preoccupied by thoughts of deep resentment.

"Hello Nobby", he approached extending a hand.

"Oh hello Roddy!", his face appeared to light up and a smile returned to his troubled visage, "What bring you here?"

"You Nobby"

He laughed and mopped his brow with his red kerchief,

"How so?"

"Got a door contract at a nice new cafe bar, six pounds an hour if you're interested, just the two of us"

"Ooooo!", Nobby's lips pursed and his eyes grew wide, "That's good money that is".

"Yes, nice work if you can get it. Starts next Monday if you're interested"

"Hang on!", his face became serious and his eyes darkened. He stared into space and lifted a finger as if to test the wind, "Let me first ask the spirits!"

Rhodri watched the pantomime impassively, yet he sensed a sincerity and felt an energy that lent some small credibility to his actions.

"No! Not right now! The spirits say that it is not the right moment, may be later. We will take the contract later! I cannot move now!"

"Well I'm terribly sorry old bean the contract's for right now. See you around", and the dark black suit left the bright blue one in the corner and departed Paradise lost with a sigh of relief.

Now he had some serious thinking to do. If neither Obi or Nobby were available that left him no suitable black candidate that he could trace except through Wyvern Security and its establishments.

"Fool", he exclaimed out loud chiding himself, "No door man equals no contract, and tomorrow's the days. Now let me see, how do we feel, may be one more venture into Floyd's?"

This time he just ignored the pony tail and walked straight in and down the stairs, assuming the air of a regular Wyvern door man who simply didn't have to justify his entry into headquarters. As he came through the corridor he espied Obi at the back of the club and moved hurriedly towards him. At that point a heavy hand fell upon his shoulder. Rhodri had a strange feeling he knew who it was,

"Looking for somebody Rhodri", he slowly rotated his head and saw Alwyn's square head and pointed chin with a thin beard neatly tracing the line of his jaw bone, as was the fashion, "I've been hearing bad things about you Rhodri!" His voice resonated with severity and then he paused, "I've heard that you've been going around getting contracts on your own behind my back!"

"Oh really now and who pray told you that?", his response was defiant and probing.

"Never you mind who told me that", he voice had softened in volume, but not in tone, "I heard that you went and took a contract that I was in for behind my back!"

Alwyn's line of enquiry was uncomfortably close to the truth,

"Oh, you mean Henry's?"

"Yes that's right", Alwyn nodded slowly and gave Rhodri a knowing look.

"Well is there a law against that?", retorted Rhodri, "Funny really, because I got the impression that you weren't employing me any more"

Alwyn's face softened to humour and his eyes sparkled,

"Well I'll tell you what Rhodri! If you help me to get that contract, then I'll make you one of the two door men, now how's that?"

Rhodri stirred the idea around in his mind and looked pensive as if he had a great many options to consider. Then he looked up at Alwyn slowly and opened an eye as if a possible compromise had beckoned,

"Come to Henry's on Friday at twelve",

Alwyn nodded.

Rhodri arrived in his best blue-grey suit at twelve the next day to find that Alwyn and John were already standing next to the large and ornate hardwood bar at Henry's, dressed in their Welsh team track suits chatting to the manager Mark Stallion and the visiting executives.

"Hello there!", smiled Mark, "We've been expecting you".

"Good afternoon gentlemen", and Rhodri proffered a slight bow.

"So have you found a partner?", asked Mr.Ronson with a hint of doubt in his voice.

"This is Mr.Alwyn Bayter and Mr.John Falcon of Wyvern Security", he cast his eyes downwards and then raised them with a more forceful spirit, "I work for them and they manage myself and other door men of equivalent caliber. If you give them with the contract then they have agreed to supply you with another door man of my level".

Mark Stallion seemed convinced and appeared to have already made up his mind that he wanted Rhodri, and from there on in it was an easy sell.

"Well that seems to be settled then", added Mr.Ronson, "You gentlemen can finalize arrangements with Mr.Stallion later".

Alwyn bent his face around his broad shoulder and smirked at Rhodri with a little sparkle in his eye. Formalities were then finalized as the three shook hands with their counterparts firmly and exchanged winning smiles. As they turned to leave Alwyn's strong hand descended firmly on Rhodri's right shoulder accompanied by another smile.

Alwyn, John and Rhodri got to talking as they rounded the corner of Park Place and walked out onto Queen Street and John raised the issue of Rhodri's prospective partner,

"I think we'll has Nobby join with Roddy. I think they make a good team you know", and he chuckled cheerfully as if he had just seen his little son walk for the first time. Alwyn nodded and exchanged grins with John and then tilted his head downward and looked affectionately at the smaller figure who strode between them. John's ambling stride quickened as at last he turned his attentions to his prized recruit,

"So well then Roddy, better get you's some smart clothes for the new job then uh?"

Rhodri recognized that unmistakable glint in his eye.

"Something nice and better than that antique piece of shit you wore at Floyds", added Alwyn courteously. Rhodri felt it wisest to smile sweetly and say nothing, at least for the moment. The blue-grey suit and two baggy red, white and green track suits made a right through the doors of the large modern shopping centre with its potted tropical plants, white walls, skylights and explosion of light and colour. After perusing the shop fronts Alwyn started another conversation with John to pass the time,

"We're goin' to have to send a car up to Pontypridd tonight, Pete and the boys are expecting trouble. Last week seven of them showed up to have a go at the door men, and two of my door men got lashed. They've threatened to come back tonight so I'm going to take Obi, Neil and Dai up tonight in my car", Alwyn laughed, "And we'll soon see how hard those boys really are!"

John smiled and nodded as they stopped outside Top Man and John showed Rhodri inside with the palm of his hand,

"Be my guest".

Rhodri headed over to the tuxedo rack and picked out a Young's size forty two and checked the price tag. One hundred and twenty pounds, not extravagant, so he tried the jacket on.

"No Rhodri", Alwyn shook his head as he removed the jacket from Rhodri and returned the suit to the rack. Reaching for a Pierre Cardin suit of a slightly smaller size he jerked it roughly from the rack and thrust it into Rhodri's arms,

"And don't worry about the price we'll take it out of your first month's wages". Alwyn's voice was firm and impassive. Again Rhodri said nothing as he had learnt that forcefulness was best circumvented. The jacket fitted nicely. Comfortable, but not too loose and not too long in the sleeve. Alwyn turned to him again,

"That'll do, do you have some wing collared shirts?"

"Yes"

"Starch them on the collar. Got the bow ties and handkerchiefs John?"

"Yes I's working on that, green they said they wanted, go's with the cafe front ah"

Alwyn took the suit and added it to the green silk paraphernalia on the cashier's desk and the young brunette looked haughtily at the three less than elegantly dressed men in front of her. Looking at Alwyn with practiced surprise she gave him a look of astonishment,

"And how do you intend to pay for that sir ?"

Alwyn returned the look of contempt, and Rhodri and John sneered at the material arrogance of the cashier. A cold silence descended upon the four of them. Alwyn reached slowly and deliberately inside his track suit pocket with his right hand and withdrew four thick bundles of notes and threw them on the counter in front of her,

"How much?", he asked sarcastically.

"Two ten sir", came a markedly more subdued response. Alwyn removed the band from the nearest bundle and counted four fifties and a ten and threw them down in front of her, returning the remaining bundles to his pocket,

"Can I have a receipt please"

He shot her another derisory look and the three left the shop and regained their sense of humour. Stopping at the entrance to the shopping centre John looked at Rhodri and smiled at his new, most favoured recruit,

"You's and Nobby starts at seven on Monday, here's your nice suit and tie. I'll sees you around soon". Alwyn and John shot Rhodri a parting smile and went their separate way congratulating one another heartedly.

Rhodri and Nobby stood in front of Henry's at seven on Monday as an icy chill wind blew past. It was only the second week of December and already winter had sunk its sharp teeth into the Capital. As with all grand openings their sole function was to greet the guests courteously and to open the doors for the invited members of a privileged elite. The cold brass of the door handles sapped the heat from their hands and after a short while Nobby had realized that it was an unpleasant task and delegated it exclusively to Rhodri. It was clear from the outset that Nobby was not content working at Henry's, and it was not due to the intense cold or because he did not like to be stationed outside the front door. There was a nagging resentment at the back of Nobby's mind, Rhodri could feel it, but his impassioned features gave no indication as to what it might be. Nobby just stood and stared ahead for the first week as if he did not wish to communicate with him, or indeed any of the train of people from Cardiff's upper echelons who poured steadily through the ornate front door. For his part Rhodri quite enjoyed savouring the atmosphere of the well mannered and well tailored gentlemen and their glittering and colourful companions. He suspected that Nobby might be jealous, but there was no indication that this was the case, so after fascinating over his partner's behaviour, or rather the lack of it, he merely shrugged his shoulders and felt pleased that the days of three pounds an hour and unspeakable violence were for now behind him.

Every night during the first weeks Alwyn would drive by in his metallic blue Datsun 240Z and walk about inside after checking up on his door men. Alwyn was much as a junior with a new shiny toy, and he would come by to glance at his showpiece security establishment whenever possible until he tired of it. Rhodri imagined that such a flagship could be used to convince other up-market clients that Wyvern Security could cater to their needs. Although he wasn't quite sure how much money they were making from the Henry's contract, he knew that other establishments paid Wyvern six pounds an hour, from which they took the national insurance and gave their door men three. Naturally he assumed that this was more lucrative, especially since he had been offered six pounds an hour before negotiation and with no overheads of employment. But this line of thought was not healthy and so he dropped it and concentrated on his work. Basking in the warm glow of the lights upon the pavement, he enjoying glimpses of healthy times being enjoyed by the remnants of a healthy society and he felt at ease even though the cold wind bit his hands.

Mark was a breath of fresh air. Confident and good natured he bubbled with enthusiasm and smiled whenever there was the slightest pretext for optimism. A man of average height, average weight and a well above average personality, Mark was a popular manager. By nature a hard worker he brought a sense of fun with him to the job as he struggled with the accounts, the ordering, the staff, the pay roll and his countless other duties. Mark rose at six and finished at two in the morning but did so with due grace and a lust for life. Professional as he was, he did not tend to mix socially with the employees, keeping his assistant managers and the other staff a healthy distance from the decision making process.

Mark had been allocated two assistant managers. Yvonne was a pleasant lady of Italianate background and performed her duties efficiently and with the minimum of fuss, and when she had finished her duties she disappeared as swiftly as her busy social life demanded. Occasionally she was remarked upon for her frumpy style of dress and the general absence of smartness that Henry might otherwise have expected of her. Ray however, was an altogether different species. His slight build lent him an exaggerated impression of height, as Ray had a frail and altogether unhealthly appearance with a smattering of acne and a thin designer beard following the line of his jaw. Ray spoke with the excessive authority of one who thirsts for power but lacks the confidence to wield it, and Rhodri noticed that he derived great pleasure from exercising his limited dominion over his bar staff. But Ray was not malevolent, and beneath the swashbuckling exterior he was a sweet, sensitive and easily influenced man, proud of his Mancunian origins and desperately needing to be loved and respected. Mark and Ray however, did not get along especially well. Mark teased Ray over his mannerisms and adolescent bravado, whilst Ray appeared to annoy Mark incessantly over aspects of his competence. Quite simply their chemistry was reactive and their personalities incompatible with a happy coexistence. Mark would frequently come outside to talk to Nobby and Rhodri, confidants outside his private staff, and after a week the three of them were chatting together merrily as if they had been good friends for years.

It was only the first Friday after they had formally opened to the public, and Mark stepped outside into the fresh, crisp air to check the door and snatch a friendly word,

"Hiya Harry!", Mark grinned at Rhodri, "Hiya Nobby! How are you two boys tonight?"

"Hallo boss!", laughed Nobby.

"What's the score on the doors boys?"

"Only male Channel and female Vogue models tonight Mark, and only if they're well dressed, over twenty five and not wearing jeans!", joked Rhodri. Mark laughed,

"Very good, very good! Keep it up boys! Remember now jackets and ties and over twenty fives. I like the customers you're sending me 'cause they're spending good money in here!"

"How's business?", asked Rhodri.

"Bloody unbelievable really! We're going to take over four thousand on the bar alone tonight!"

Nobby laughed,

"Well don't forget to take it home with you boss!"

"I wish I could, I think I'm going to need both of you to escort me to the safety deposit box!"

After a half hour or so Ray strolled over and burst through the saloon doors, twirling his key chain around his finger and chewing imaginary gum,

"Hallo, how's it going boys?"

"Okay boss!", charmed Nobby.

Rhodri decided not to make the mistake of saying what came to mind,

"We're having a good evening Ray, no major problems, only one drunk who didn't know which way it was to Stamps!"

Ray nodded as if he was bored tearless too,

"Lousy weather huh guys?"

"We adapt to it", Rhodri replied shortly.

"Any nice girls?"

Nobby, intelligent and sensitive as he was, spotted Ray's needs and came alive,

"We's getting some real nice pussy coming through this door for you boss!"

"Oh excellent!", and Ray's face lit up, "That's just what I need that is, some perks of the job! Just send them through the door and tell them to ask for Ray!"

Nobby laughed and elbowed Ray in the side, and even Rhodri managed a smile,

"Even get some leg for young Rhodri here!", Ray grinned trying to establish a rapport.

"Oh we'll find someone desperate enough!", Nobby teased in good humour. At that moment an attractive lady walked out alone through the door and gave Rhodri a rather obvious and suggestive glance. Ray laughed excitedly and Nobby chuckled,

"Hey look Rhodri! Quick there goes a babe there!", clamored Ray, pointing with his finger as she rounded the corner. Following the flow of the fun, Rhodri waited a second and then shot after her as if a dog on heat. Predictably Ray and Nobby burst into peals of laughter. Rhodri returned with the look of a bemused hunter and Ray went inside to tell everyone his amusing story about door men and attractive women.

People came to Henry's in their finery, because it was a place where refined people came to spend their money. Henry's was not a place to be, it was the place to be. Doors were opened for you, and one was treated as a valued customer from the moment one entered the establishment until the fond and friendly good night that accompanied departure. Rhodri had observed that when people wore their best apparel, they were invariably on their best behaviour. People craved the energy and the ambience of the smartest new place in town, and even favoured regulars found themselves turned away politely when they arrived in their jeans. Their first full Saturday at Henry's came as the first hint of snow purified the grey pavements of the Capital. Bitter cold permeated their Pierre Cardin suits and their thin shirts and vests and Rhodri shivered and struggled to keep his face free from the expressions of discomfort. Nobby did not appear troubled by the chill breeze and refused even to shiver and Rhodri guessed, correctly, that Nobby was indeed a hard man. After a time Ray came outside to join them, key ring twirling,

"Hallo boys, how's things", he stated coolly as he slipped through the saloon doors with effortless grace.

"Hiya boss!"

"Evening Ray"

"Any problems!"

"So far so good boss!", and Nobby elbowed him to complete the male bonding ceremony. Ray chewed his gum slowly against his cheek,

"How are the bar staff doin' boss?", giggled Nobby with the addition of another elbow and a wink.

"Oh she's very good thank you", responded Ray raising his eyebrows.

"I bet she is!", laughed Nobby, "You're a real cool mover boss!"

"Oh really! Actually I think she moved on me!", and he puffed out his rib cage.

"What's her name Ray?", asked Rhodri with irrepressible curiosity.

"Never you mind?", he answered with playground maturity, "Let's just say she's goes down under!", and he raised his eyelids and receding hairline. Nobby laughed in appreciation and Rhodri stared in surprise at the quality of Nobby's acting. Then he turned and gave Ray a contemptuous look. There was only one Australian behind the bar, and she was a pleasant and reserved blonde.

"John Falcon came round today", Ray added, weaving his shoulders from side to side and adopting a boxing posture, "Asked me if I wanted to work out with him! He's the world karate number one you know!"

"Yes I know boss! Good for you!"

Rhodri acknowledged John's master political stroke with a slight nod, there was after all no better way of staying the favour of a lucrative contract than to pander to its ego.

"Says he's gonna' teach me some moves!"

"Well that'll be good for you!", added Rhodri, concealing his thoughts, "Excuse me Sir, you'll need a tie tonight I'm afraid"

"What a tie to get into a bar!"

"Yes Sir, after seven it's jacket and tie required I'm afraid. House rules, but we look forward to seeing you again soon Sir".

"Don't bloody believe it!"

"Thank you sir, good night"

"Bloody arsehole!", added Ray after the burly rugby physique had disappeared beyond earshot, "Doesn't he understand a simple rule"

Three youths approached the door dressed in blazers, shirts and ties. Rhodri instantly recognized the shaven streaks of hair and the golden ear rings as typical of Fairwater and Ely fashions, and closed the door behind the previous customer,

"Good evening gentlemen, may I ask your ages"

"I's twenty five, he's twenty six and so's he"

"Do you have your driver's licenses with you gentlemen"

"No I ain't brought mine"

"I'm afraid I'm going to need them tonight gentlemen".

"Why's that!", asked the larger of the three stepping forward, "We're over eighteen and smart like"

"Yes you are Sir, very smart, but the management requests over twenty five years of age".

"Don't believe you!"

"Are you calling him a liar!", demanded Ray cleverly throwing the attack back.

"See that girl there in the left hand corner! I knows her, she's not twenty!"

"I am not aware Sir that she is under twenty five, nor do I have evidence that you know that she is".

"Fucking bullshit!", shouted the youth advancing threateningly. Nobby took his jacket off and handed it to Ray, and then slipped Rhodri's off his shoulders. Taking his black leather gloves from his pocket Rhodri fastened the Velcro straps about his wrists without taking his eyes from his opponents as if a fight were imminent.

"Not tonight gentlemen", he added with an air of finality. He and Nobby adopted blank faces and steeled themselves for action.

"Come along Andy !", shouted a youth at the back, "They're not worth giving a hiding to!", and the three estate boys walked off.

"Oh sure as if you could!", shouted Ray excitedly. "Good job boys!", he added patting Nobby on the back.

"Spot them a mile away", said Rhodri. Ray puffed out his chest and pulled the saloon doors open and strolled in as if he'd sorted out some real serious trouble.

The Friday before Christmas was one of those nights an experienced door man can feel in his bones. Inexplicably the atmosphere carries a certain tension, no matter how still the air or the streets. Spirits followed the festive Season into the bloodstream of Cardiff's business men who for once ventured in search of merriment to the bar rather than their homes after their day at the office. Expensive suits, crease-less shirts and million dollar smiles, the door was opening and closing faster than a turnstile. Less than forty minutes later Nobby and Rhodri found themselves extracting a couple of two hundred pound executives from a furious tangle upon the floor in front of the busy bar, both their jackets torn at the seams. Rhodri struggled as he dragged a tall silver haired man with a dangling sleeve from underneath a stout man with dark curly hair who was grappling with Nobby. The silver haired man, apparently in his late forties straightened his frame to his full six feet and a quarter, his face flushed with blood as Rhodri caught his breath. Nobby, altogether a more powerful man, had few problems as he restrained the large curly man who was later recounted as having referred to the other man's wife as an old horse and neighed. Once again the two bespirited knights of the boardroom table caught site of one another and their faces grew red with anger as they flailed their arms. Nobby found himself dragged across the parquet floor by the arms of the bull, whilst Rhodri was forced from desperation to put the distinguished gentleman into an arm lock, forcing his noble face towards the ground. Unfortunately giving away some hundred pounds in weight did not secure his position of restraint, and slowly and surely an ever reddening executive straightened and lifted Rhodri off the floor. Fortune smiled in the form of a bar man who rushed over and seized the man from behind around his shoulders,

"This isn't good behaviour", he shouted to Rhodri and the bar man and a packed audience, "You door men are behaving like louts not gentlemen!"

"Bleedin' hell!", cried Nobby as he received a wild punch to the face as he struggled to carry his bull out through the front doors.

Ray saw the funny side of things and ventured outside to provide some light relief some twenty minutes later after Nobby and Rhodri had cooled off in the December night air. He had not stepped out two minutes before three valley boys with unshorn curly locks and ear-rings rolled up to the front door with training shoes and open neck shirts. Regrettably they did not seem intent upon the door itself,

"Right see that blackie, he looked at me funny!", alleged a fair haired man with a generous belly.

"And that poncey boy in the suit an' all !", cried another man with dark curls, as the three strolled towards them faces flushed with machismo and beer.

"We're goin' inside blackie!", stated the dark haired man with dark eyes and scarlet cheeks.

"I'm afraid that admission is not allowed without dress shoes and ties gentlemen", started Rhodri.

"Ah fuck off! Who asked you poncey boy!", shouted the fat man with fair hair advancing upon Rhodri, "Are we goin' inside lads?"

"Yes we's goin' inside!", came the deciding vote to their rear.

"Are we's goin' for the watch routine or the shoelace routine?", asked the fair haired man.

"They's might be good, better goes for the shoelace", replied the darker man and the fat man with fair hair crouched down in front of Rhodri and fiddled with his shoelace, crouching low preparing to throw a thinly disguised uppercut.

"I don't knows Ralphie. This one looks ready to kick ya's", drawled the third man with no outstanding features of interest, "You don't knows with these small bounca's, somes of them knows hows to fight!"

Ralphie ascended slowly and steadily to his feet, shrugged his shoulders and lurched off in the general direction of Queen Street changing the subject,

"Now's there any other bars around here Bobby?"

Their evening of merriment was far from over and barely ten minutes later three well dressed young men careered around the corner followed some seven seconds later by two policemen.

"Stop him Nob!", cried the slower of the two officers. Nobby sprang forward and grabbed the leading youth and spun him round against the glass, whilst Rhodri seized the second, restraining him only to find his prey's fingers lodged firmly inside his nose. Thrusting him against the wall Rhodri struggled as the offending fingers reached deeper in search of indignity, whilst Nobby released a loud scream as his catch sunk his teeth into his hand.

"Well done Nob!", cried the policeman as the police van drew up and the two policemen escorted the two gentlemen inside its infamous rear. Nobby and Rhodri found the funny side of events as Nobby imitated the addition of two fingers to Rhodri's nostrils. However, barely had the two recovered from their exertions when the three youths they had intercepted reappeared at Henry's with three more friends.

'Oh God', thought Rhodri.

"Hallo again there gentlemen", Nobby laughed, his cheeky expression and broad grin hiding his surprise and apprehension, "How are you this evening?"

"Oh hello", replied his victim with an open stare of disbelief, his hands placed expectantly upon his hips.

"I see they've let you go!", laughed Nobby.

"Yes that's right!", continued the youth.

Nobby showed him the teeth marks on his hand and laughed with a relaxed shrug of his shoulders. His humour was nothing if not infectious and very soon the irony of the situation was transparent to the group of youths and even Rhodri managed a snort of laughter.

Henry's first three birthday weeks were a joyous occasion celebrated by most anyone who was anybody in Cardiff society. Two o'clock on Christmas morning came and passed and Rhodri declined Nobby's kind offer to attend his party with Paul the next day. Exchanging Season's greetings with his new best friends, Mark and Nobby, he drove down to Lloyd's to collect his wages and wish John and Alwyn a happy Christmas. His newly re-sprayed old BMW looked half decent, shining under the brilliant white street lights in garage forecourt. She drove him faithfully across Britain along the empty motorways at little under one hundred miles per hour, without so much as stopping on the way to the sleepy world of Grafton Underwood. They arrived at five o'clock on a frosty, crispy Christmas morning and he fell asleep on his warm bed in his dressing gown, waking refreshed at ten the next morning as if it had all been just a long, bad dream.

The two days of Christmas passed quickly and, as with all tenuous relationships, brevity was the key to compatibility. Returning by a more soulful route, winding through the valleys and across the fields of old England, he watched a thousand years of stone walls and hedgerows pass by. His eyes twinkled as he enjoyed the cobbles of the little country lanes in Tewkesbury and Warwick that had seen the cartwheels of trade roll in from the countryside for as many years as the oaks had stood in the fields nearby. It was with a heavy heart that he pulled up outside the little house on Coburn Street, and he yanked the hand brake taught with his right arm, stealing himself for his mission. Sighing he paused, lost in swirls of chaotic thoughts, and then with a sharp intake of breath he bounced out of the driver's seat and onto the pavement. Only a few hours of free time remained, for he was due back to work at seven, and besides he had some outstanding study to do. As he turned the key he felt the still calm of a deserted house and for a change he relished the peace that there was in tranquility. Wandering over to his desk he cleared away an unwashed mug of coffee, opened his Biochemistry practical book and picked up a favourite pen.

Nineteen eighty nine came in with a roar at Henry's, and Nobby and Rhodri entered the establishment to join in the orgy of hand shaking and good wishes.

"To a prosperous and fruitful new year my dear partner!", cried Nobby clasping his hand.

"To strength and survival!", replied Rhodri.

"Happy New Year Ray!", cried Nobby.

"Happy New Year matey!", cried Mark wringing Rhodri's hand.

"Happy New Year Mark!"

A buxom straw blonde grabbed Mark and planted a prosperous New Year's kiss on his lips and Mark's spirit rallied,

"I could do with some more of this!", he beamed and his smile carried Rhodri through into his long awaited end to the eighties.

John and Alwyn made shrewd moves to ensure that their jewel was fixed firmly in the dragon's crown. Henry's assistant manager Ray spent at least two sessions a week training in the company of John Falcon, whose legend sparkled in the impressionable eyes of Ray. Scarcely a week passed by without Ray mentioning the effortless grace with which he was progressing as a martial artist in John Falcon's skilled hands. Nobby the master of male ceremonies exhorted and praised his efforts, while Alwyn and John decided to spend at least one night a week each at Henry's to rest their door men who had secured the contract so successfully in their client's eyes. Mark Stallion and Rhodri grew to be firm friends, the kind of friends who did not need to exchange words to convey an impression of trust and friendship. A rising Ray enjoyed a publicly advertised relationship with Sandy, the Australian barmaid and his head began to spin with the trappings of his new life.

Wednesdays were the only evening of the week that he had to himself, time in which to catch up with his studies. Thus the weekly Biochemistry practicals rolled into Wednesday nights and he managed to enjoy the change as a rest. Tensions at Coburn Street had subsided now he was rarely there, and when he was around the girls were usually out or sleeping. This arrangement suited him, as he believed himself beyond squabbling over a dirty sink or five pound share of an electricity bill. Such things were more distressing to him than the sight of blood, for they proved that petty jealousies manifested in such little things could overcome the beauty of trust and fellowship.

Ten years of Conservative rule had transformed British society. Where fine manners, good breeding and a first class education had been at a premium for a successful entry to the higher echelons of Society, now the trappings of success held sway. Gleaming sports cars, Churchill's leather shoes and fine Pierre Langan cloth had swept Wordsworth, the Order of the British Empire and the Oxbridge degree under the carpet. Symbols of quality had been usurped by the glitter of ostentatious wealth, and for the most part, it did not seem necessary to qualify how it had been attained, or even borrowed. A stern Mark stepped through the front door on a busy Monday to call his door men to deal with a problem inside. Two young gentlemen stood in startled surprise beside a table where an elderly couple dressed in tweeds and cottons sat before a pot of tea. Fine fair hair falling just above shoulder length adorned the richly tailored blue-grey cloth of their suits, and to the casual eye the pair seemed quite out of place beside to an irate manager.

"You see these two here! Yes you two, you were threatening and shouting at an old couple who wouldn't say boo to a goose. I mean for God's sake! I just don't...just get them out of here!" Rhodri had never seen Mark as angry or red in the face and he quite lost his concentration as he stared at the most unusual scene.

"Who do you think you're talking to mister! We're both accountants around here!"

"I don't care what you are! You're banned from my establishment! Rhodri, Nobby take them outside!"

"I'm warning you we both know some pretty important people in the Cardiff establishment!"

"I don't care who you know, they're old enough to be your grandparents! You animals! Now get out of my sight!"

Rhodri awoke from his trance and the two door men edged the grinning duo back towards the rear fire exit.

"We don't want any trouble now boys", the elder of the two raised his palms in appeasement to the advancing Nobby and Rhodri.

"No one's giving you any trouble gentlemen, now would you please leave as the manager requested", Nobby responded with a certain elegance and finesse.

Backing them slowly to the rear, the four reached the bay by the fire exit and Rhodri depressed the lever allowing the doors to swing open.

"Now would you kindly leave gentlemen", repeated Nobby, assuming an eloquence of intonation that is the preserve of those Africans who speak English. The elder of the two approached Rhodri as if he were about to strike him, and his false smile turned to a snarl. He reconsidered his gesture as Rhodri showed no encouraging reaction. Sighing aloud Rhodri removed his black gloves from his trouser pockets, and fastened them about his wrists to unnerve his opponents. His opposite number looked at him in wide-eyed horror as he finished his ritual,

"Now are you going to leave now gentlemen?", asked Nobby in his firm and polite tone, "Or are we going to have to force you to?"

The eldest nodded as he stared at Rhodri in disbelief,

"Don't worry we're going"

"Thank you gentlemen", replied Rhodri as he closed the doors behind them and clicked the latch shut by the bar. Slowly he began to remove his gloves as he walked with Nobby back in the direction of the main door,

"You know Nobby, there's an old saying that if you want peace you must first prepare for war".

The New Year at College started with a certain familiarity,

"Well you're looking pretty tired this morning I must say Rhodri!"

"Why thank you Mark", replied Rhodri with practiced disinterest as he cast his eyes around at the medical students herding towards their next lecture.

"Well of course he's tired", interceded Terry, "He's been working hard haven't you mate!" Terry was by no exaggeration a loyal friend, and at times it seemed he would be more at home in a law court than a laboratory. Rhodri looked at the grey sky through the windows and pondered why it was that people huddled so closely together in winter weather in such a warmly heated room with condensation dripping from the windows. Sally leant forward, hands on her knees, wearing a patronizing smile,

"Are you still working at Henry's Rhodri?"

There were of course a range of possible responses to such an obvious slight but he avoided them,

"Yes, well I don't think five weeks is overstaying my welcome?"

"How's your albatross?", grinned Mark with his familiar self-satisfied look. Rhodri paused and thought. Large wing span, white, bad luck...

"Of you mean the BMW!", and forgave him the slight for its intelligence, "Dreadful. New battery, new respray, new lights and little or no mileage undertaken to speak of", and both Mark and he enjoyed the humour. Mark however hadn't quite finished,

"A little fat appearing under your chin there I see Rhodri, are you putting on weight?"

"Yes I'm afraid that Mark and Henry are treating me rather too well after hours", and he left the remark cryptic and Mark's face puzzled, "I'll tell you what. Wednesday is my day off. Why don't we all go up towards Sully in my car. It's about ten miles away towards Penarth. We can have a few drinks and a meal. Do you want to come Sally?"

"Sure that sounds lovely". Sally's overcast face lit up.

"I'll pick you two up at eight"

"Sounds brilliant", added Mark smiling.

The three returned from Sully in poor spirits. Mark had been neither good company nor quiet during their two hour stint in the cosy little bar that overlooked the rocky headland near Penarth. Whilst Sally and Rhodri had endeavoured to make pleasant conversation Mark had been agitated, as though a problem burdened his mind. Being Mark, frustrations manifested themselves as ill considered remarks and frivolities. For all the pain and muddied water under the bridge Rhodri knew Mark's spirit and loved him for the free spirit that he was, a brother in life and in work. After an hour they called it a night and drove back to Cardiff. Mark managed one more acidic laugh as Rhodri's infrequent driving and limited handling skills resulted in a collision with the pavement and the trim on the BMW fell off onto the road behind,

"Hah! Brilliant I must say!", exclaimed Mark falling back into his seat in satisfaction.

"Why thank you Mark"

Sally gave Rhodri an amused smile as he jerked the steering wheel over to the pavement and did his comic best to reclaim the metallic strip from the other side of the road,

"Got it! Bent, but not stirred"

"Fan-fucking-tastic! Now can we go home now please?"

Rhodri peered over his right shoulder,

"Oh, at your service Mark".

The street lights flew by as the car raced through the empty streets of the capital at eleven o'clock on a drizzly Wednesday night. Silence descended in respectful sympathy as the white car hurtled along Richmond Road towards Cathays. The car always seems to perform and look so much better at night he thought to himself, and then allowed himself a wry smile. Turning left off Albany Road, it was only a hundred or so yards to the house that Mark shared with Sarah Evans, Nicki and Helen.

"Here we are Mark", Rhodri stated with an air of finality, breaking the awkward six minute silence. Mark left the back seat with a bang,

"Night"

"Pleasure was all mine!", Rhodri shouted after him, "Home Sally?"

"Please", and her big baby eyes flashed sweetly at him before he drove the remaining six minutes over to the student tower apartments and drew up alongside the entrance. A pause followed a respectful moment's silence as the midnight hour approached,

"Coming upstairs?", Sally asked with a furtive smile. Rhodri looked at her pretty smile, full breasts and flowing curves and then cast his mind back to the long-term boyfriend they had all heard so much about,

"No thank you Sally, I'd better be getting back. But thank you for a nice evening", and he gave her a pleasant smile.

"Okay", she returned the smile, before she smoothly closed the car door and made her way towards the entrance with a furtive glance over her shoulder.

The festivities were long forgotten and January's bleak chill and the long hours of winter work began to bear upon his shoulders. John and Alwyn had established a strong rapport with the sensitive and easily flattered Ray, and Ray reveled in the glory of his association with the big boys. Through his ability to listen and his awareness of peoples' feelings, Nobby had built a strong foundation with both Mark and Ray, whilst the natural alignment of Mark and Rhodri had begun to lead to tensions in their relationship with Ray. All the ingredients necessary for a power struggle that marks man as a social creature, with needs and hierarchies, were there, and only the shrill bleating of the lamb when the wolf is hunting was necessary to disturb the brittle peace. Rhodri felt a deep sense of inner foreboding as he noticed the remarks and glances that came his way when Ray was with Alwyn and John, and he grew suspicious. A wise and wary manager knew that door men could become more familiar to an establishment than the firm that supplied them, and it made sense to change staff around from time to time. But Rhodri knew that Mark valued his services and that Wyvern Security had precious few employees who were substantially more than gorillas in bow ties, as the manager of Stamps had so succinctly put it. Equally they would realize this and regard his comfortable position with Mark. 'How petty we men are', he mused aloud during a moment of solitude, 'That they will kill and lie and betray for a few pieces of silver. I suppose 'they', who ever 'they' are, regard the waste of constructive effort and resources of non-cooperative activity and competition as positive, a model for the antisocial paradigm of survival of the fittest, where he who gleans the most is presumed to have produced a greater contribution to the diminished whole'. He flirted with the tortology again and chuckled at its absurdity. Finally he resolved to forget such reasoning to preserve his sanity.

Ray was to all intents and purposes in charge of the bar. Whether this was a position acquired by default, delegation or desire Rhodri wasn't entirely sure, but he knew that Ray relished the power and influence that he wielded. Robert and Kate, the head bar staff were as close to Ray as peas in a pod, and as for the attractive Australian bar maid, even closer. Robert, a black in his late twenties, was an extrovert and unfortunately had taken an instinctive dislike to Rhodri. Late one evening in the early week Rhodri reclined quietly against his banister, sipping a cappuccino.

"Call yourself a bouncer?", Ray taunted from behind the bar in full earshot of the bar staff, "My kid brother could take you!"

Despite the questioning glances that this scene provoked from the other bar staff, Rhodri chose to ignore him. Ray, who was standing next to his head bar man sniggered and exchanged a sly grin with Robert. Examining his finger nails, Ray propped himself up against the wall behind the bar and cast a furtive glance in Rhodri's direction. Rhodri turned and walked back down the flight of steps back towards the door.

Five minutes later after Ray had exchanged further sniggers and whispers with Robert across the bar counter it started again,

"Been watching too many Hong Kong Phooey cartoons if you ask me!", exclaimed the muscular Negroid who had injected a little ridicule into his jesting, "Gone to his head!"

Robert, Ray and Kate joined one or two of the bar staff in a fit of titters.

"Barely stand on his two legs let alone fight wiv'em!", shouted Robert and this, judging by the cascade of sniggers it evoked, must have been a popular image. Nobby had by now heard enough. He beckoned to Ray to come over and laughed through his teeth as he always did when he was serious or upset. He spoke softly and seriously into Ray's ear,

"Roddy is always ready to fight"

"Yes I know", said Ray darkly, "I might end up lying on the floor in a pool of blud!"

Nobby looked at Ray through the side of his eyes, and his lips curled upwards at the corners. Ray returned meekly to the corner of the bar where Robert leant over to make a few more choice remarks to an impressionable Ray. Ray started dancing on his feet as if he were shadow boxing, staring intently at Rhodri. Looking around Rhodri saw only one customer in the premises, who had by now risen to his feet to don his jacket. The temptation to educate the anemic runt, whose spotty head had reared above the flowers in his cosy little garden proved too much for him. Rhodri slipped his gloves on and walked up the steps towards the bar and stopped six feet in front from Sugar Ray who by now was again chewing imaginary gum. Relaxing his shoulders and letting his arms swing loosely by his sides, Rhodri adopted a deep attacking stance and looked at Ray impassively.

"Come on then", Ray challenged a thick Mancunian accent bobbing and weaving. Quick as a flash Rhodri launched a front lunge punch, transmitting the energy of his explosive movement into his right first. Focusing an inch into Ray's solar plexus he winded him slightly and having bent him over double, he threw him forcibly over his right hip with a swinging neck throw. Recovering his original position, Rhodri watched the fallen ego right himself and insist on another trial. Rhodri turned and repeated the same maneuver, casting him to the indignity of the floor, to demonstrate the difference in power and speed. For a third time he withdrew and a third time Ray showed his not inconsiderable courage by rising again. This time Ray plucked up the fortitude to throw a right jab, and knocked his attacker's head backwards as he lunged forwards. The outcome was much the same only Rhodri lost his focus with the jab, landing his punch too deeply into Ray's stomach sending him sprawling to the floor. Undone, Robert bounced from behind the bar as Rhodri sat in a whicker chair upon the raised platform, his gloved hands resting over the arms of his chair. He rolled his cricked neck slowly and deliberately round in circles, whilst Robert performed a machismo war dance in front of him. Rhodri thought about it, but he instinctively knew that Robert could fight. Worse still the lighter man could never win a play fight, and in order to preserve face and dignity he would have to hurt him, possibly badly. That was a walking offense and so he wisely sat on the chair as if he were a king watching a jester prance, and soon even the bar staff were laughing at Robert.

Unfortunately Robert had not finished, and after turning the permutations over in his mind, Rhodri decided that he was a threat to his position as well as an irritant. Of course he mentioned to Mark that Robert was antagonizing his credibility, but it had not escaped Mark's notice and neither had Ray's relationship with the bar staff. Nobby missed even less than Rhodri, and living south of the railway line, he knew what went on. He lived with Paul, the manager of the Wine Press, and Paul's girlfriend Lucy worked behind the bar at Henry's. By and by it emerged from Lucy that Robert and Kate were supplying the street with cases of spirits, a fact easily concealed because they were in sole charge of both the ordering and the books. A sharp manager with an eye for the accounts could probably have picked this up, but tired, overworked and over-trusting managers regarded the books as a chore rather than as a matter for great conscience. Nobby could not stomach Robert any more than Rhodri, and after a time he let him in on the secret, knowing precisely what he might do with the information. In passing Mark's office Rhodri happened to let slip that there were grounds for suspicion and before the week was out Robert had taken a one way trip away from the premises. Ray was subdued for a time, professionally embarrassed by his choice of friends, but as the leopard, his spots were only hidden by the shadows.

The balance of power continued to swing in his direction. Events had led Mark to trust increasingly in his door men, and he frequented the front door whenever possible to talk to his confidants. After the initial decree from Wyvern Security that they were to remain outside in the cold, the rules were relaxed so that during the off hours and the week days they could stand inside where it was warm. Rhodri took to reading Le Figaro and the Guardian to alleviate the long minutes between customers. Dinner was served at eleven thirty after the chairs had been put away, and Rhodri enjoyed his break time cappuccino piping hot with just a sprinkling of cocoa. However the treatment of the door men made the busy bar staff increasingly resentful, and as rumours spread about exorbitant wages and favouritism Mark had felt obliged to intervene.

"I had a meeting with the staff today", Mark announced outside the front door, an expression almost bordering on concern across his joyful features, "I just couldn't believe the hard time you guys were getting".

Nobby adopted a sincere and reverential look, whilst Rhodri looked surprised and hurt,

"I told them that you guys only got a fraction of what Wyvern Security were making an hour". Nobby's eyebrows lifted,

"Honest to God!"

Mark continued,

"And I had to explain to them that you two had to stand outside in the bitter cold every night. As for the weekends, I said I couldn't believe what you guys had to go through with non-stop abuse, aggression and threats for six hours outside in the cold".

Nobby appeared impressed and Rhodri waved his head from side to side as if he had never thought of it that way before.

"How could you be so unfair? I asked them", and Rhodri pondered Mark's potential as a Thespian,

"Well could you do the job they do I asked them?"

"Thank you Mark", Rhodri added politely in recognition of the support. Nobby didn't say a word and just looked as though he were impressed.

For the next three weeks Tuesday evenings were spent in the company of John Falcon. To say the least Rhodri found working alongside the owner of Wyvern Security difficult. Alwyn spoke his mind, albeit aggressively, and there was always instantaneous feedback on anything that was less than perfect in his eyes. John noticed everything and said nothing as Nobby had warned, and this made him feel wary. It was difficult to know whether John's relaxed approach on the door was preferred to Rhodri's more intense style. That Tuesday John stood alongside Rhodri in his green bow tie, who as usual dissipated his nervous energy by opening the door and greeting people, bouncing his energy off them to test their alignment. Eventually John broke his tension,

"So Roddy what do you think of working at Henry's? Good job ah?"

He took this as a leading question,

"Cold but rewarding"

"How does you likes working for Wyvern eh Roddy?", and his pronounced features turned at an angle to scrutinize his door man's reaction.

"It's okay I suppose" Rhodri smiled and shrugged indifferently.

"You knows a young man like you can goes a long way working for me".

"Thank you for saying so John. Good evening Sir, might I request that you wear a tie next time? Good evening madam, thank you for coming".

"How does you like working wiv Nobby?" John's voice took on a more sinister tone.

"He's a good door man, sharp, capable and supportive".

"Aha", John smiled and nodded his head as if he had learnt something. He swung his ear around towards the door.

"I think we better goes in Roddy, looks like there's something happening inside". Rhodri rotated his torso to see one of the bar men waving frantically for them to come inside.

Rhodri bowed courteously as John walked through the door he had opened for him. There was no need to ask the bar man for the identity of the miscreants. As he and John approached the two men were railing a fair haired young man dressed in a flannel jacket and crocodile leather shoes, his back pressed against the rich dark veneer of the bar. A tall, dark-haired man with a generous waist and broad shoulders thrust his outstretched finger into the face of the youth with the flannel jacket, menacing, whilst his partner, a dark, curly haired man of medium height and build stood a pace behind his partner, weaving his fists and shoulders as if he were about to strike in support. Rhodri made his way around the back of the pair who both wore designer stubble and noxious expressions and tapped the taller man firmly on his shoulder. After a moment he brought his grisly visage around to glare at Rhodri who sighed and shook his head slowly,

"Excuse me sir, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave"

John faced his curly partner in crime from the opposite side, a long established ruse to upset the aggressor's focus. Confused, the larger man stopped still and turned sideways on, staring aggressively at Rhodri as if unsure of developments. The curly haired man shifted his feet, fists now unfurled, and moved towards John. Looking down upon Rhodri in contempt the taller man's lips curled slowly into a smile,

"I'll take this one Ive, he's looks ready"

Rhodri shifted his weight to a deeper and more balanced stance as the stench of beer and his bloodshot eyes drew closer. John stood calmly with his arms relaxed by his sides and stared at all three men as if he had no problem.

"Ready Steve?", asked the curly haired man relishing the tension, unfurling his lower lip in anticipation, "I'll take this one, no problem. Got yours sized up"

Rhodri read the fight as imminent, withdrew his knuckle-duster from his right pocket and raised three fingers of his left hand above his shoulder. He nodded to John and mouthed 'ready?'. Three fingers, the targets fastened their gaze and tensed their shoulders. Two fingers, and their fists were clenched. One finger, Rhodri looked at John and prepared to let his hand fall. John slowly shook his head and sniffed. Unnerved by John's unsettling calm and evident origins, the curly haired man lowered his guard and started to walk towards the front door. After a suggestive grimace of defiance towards Rhodri, his partner rocked back slowly towards the bar, and then with leisurely disinterest turned to join him. John and Rhodri followed a few paces behind to make sure that they continued to walk forward and through the main doors. Rhodri and John settled back to work outside the front door, and John looked at Rhodri darkly through the corner of his eye.

"So's you like fighting then uh Roddy?"

Unsure whether John was concerned or satisfied over his handling of the situation Rhodri was brief and to the point,

"I'd rather not. But sometimes it goes with the job. If the word is that you can't fight or won't, they just walk right through you and then you end up getting roughed up, or you just leave. A weak door man is no barrier, but to talk is better. It works for me".

"Uh-huh", John nodded in understanding of Rhodri's philosophy and then broke out into a smile, "You's doing alright Roddy don't you worry".

January was almost over and the cold weather at last began to relent. Rhodri walked in through Henry's front door at the end of a quiet Wednesday night and saw a happy John laughing and joking with Nobby and Mark at the back near the restaurant. John finished laughing and smiled at his prize recruit as he neared, his irrepressible soul written all over his face. Rhodri found it hard to imagine this man fighting, let alone competing in the clash of bone and spirits in the international dojo. His face and figure were a picture of carefree relaxation and his every breath seemed to draw in the atmosphere as if it were a precious vintage,

"Coming to the Caribbean evening at the Finistere ah Nobby?"

"Where's that at boss?"

"The Students' Union", intercepted Rhodri.

"He does mi 'ead in boss, he really does!"

John chuckled and those dark brown eyes sparkled with a love for life,

"Roddy you shoulda' seen John's face when I came into the ring at him at Channel View a few weeks ago", Nobby continued, "I bounced over the ropes and roared like a lion! And John, he stare at me and goes 'Like frig Nobby' and kicks my ass!", Nobby and John both burst into an uproar as they recalled the picture, and Mark and Rhodri were left little option but to join them as the spirit and the company were contagious.

"You's coming with us Roddy?", John added smiling.

"And why not?", replied Rhodri with a modest smile.

By the time they arrived at the Finistere C.C.Cool, a popular student member of the Union was standing by the front entrance. Her eyes lit up and she seemed thrilled to see John. In between giggles and spontaneous shrieks of joy she greeted John and led the mild mannered man and his entourage into the Finistere. As with all the immaculately decorated facilities of the Students' Union, the Finistere was smart and garish, its decor imposing even above the dim evening lighting of an evening function. Rhodri and his companions relaxed, and as always when he ventured out with Nobby, his partner went straight to the dance floor to flow and sway in tune to the rhythms and melodies of the night with the most attractive ladies on the dance floor. Uncomfortable with the harmonies of the Caribbean Rhodri danced briefly with Nobby and John for a short time out of politeness, and then fell back to watch from the shadows, ever curious as to how people from an unfamiliar culture enjoyed themselves.

Nobby had barely whispered two sweet little nothings into the ear of his young companion when he felt the presence of a dark spirit, cold and hateful. The feeling permeated his being and he became unable to relax, shifting his weight uneasily from leg to leg. His senses awakened, he scanned between the dimly lit and ornate walls of the small club in search of the disturbance. There in the far corner by the luminescent green of the exit sign were a set of eyes staring at him intently. They belonged to a Rastafarian, but no follower of God, his large Negroid forehead shadowed a slight snarl and those hateful eyes. Aware that it had been recognized the spirit rose slowly from its chair, its frame bent forward and moved towards them, skirting around the dance floor, wide open eyes staring at him intently. His intuition had served him well, and he recognized the individual as one of the drug dealers he had once evicted from Floyds. As it drew within fifteen yards, eyes scarcely human and devoid of love John smelt it and stopped dancing. John turned around and looked as the sneer became a snarl and its teeth were bared. Hunched over, its dilated pupils burning fiercely, it paused and stared at John in recognition,

"Frigging hell", exclaimed John, his smile evaporating, "Let's get outta here!".

John and Rhodri made their way calmly back towards the main entrance, maintaining eye contact with the spirit and, after a brief delay, Nobby sent his pert and pretty companion a parting smile, shrugged softly and followed his friends through the door as the Rastafarian followed them to the exit. He stopped and watched intently as the three friends disappeared down the stairs listening as Nobby described the passing of another beautiful woman to John.

Monday evenings were a cold and quiet affair. It was only eight o'clock and the first hour had seemed to drag by interminably, with only a handful of couples and business men venturing out for an evening coffee. The Henry's restaurant was not doing a thriving business. Rhodri guessed that the British felt uncomfortable eating on open platforms, as if they, their food and their manners were open to the public. Rhodri had finished the remnants of his cappuccino with a relish and picked up the Guardian newspaper to read the international section, reclining against the wall as he spread the broad sheet at waist level. At that moment two youths with crew cuts wearing faded denims and light green bomber jackets hurtled past on their bikes, and he scarcely noticed them. An arm shot up out of recognition,

"Hey Nob! How's it going!"

"Hiya Gary! Hiya Steve! How's you doing!"

Gary and Steve dismounted their racing bikes and cruised to a stop standing on one pedal. The two youths walked their bikes twenty paces before resting them against the service door of Henry's. Gary was a cheerful soul, plump and muscular with round piggy eyes and circular spectacles that enhanced the impression of his chubby cheeks. Gary seemed always to be smiling or in between smiles and had a happy-go-lucky air about him. Steve wore a severe expression as though he bore great responsibility on his shoulders. An anxious person, Steve looked nervously at the stranger reading the newspaper behind Nobby before starting a discussion,

"Hey Nob, Alwyn told us to stop by and check this place out", he paused and stared at Rhodri in disbelief, "What the blinkers does he think e's doing standing there reading a paper on the job?" Nobby sent Rhodri a neutral glance and returned to face the bomber crew and replied in a calm, assuring manner,

"He's s'alright. There's no problem really. This isn't like other doors, its quiet and smart and you can read the paper. The manager doesn't care so long as he's smart and polite".

Steve, however wasn't finished and stared at Rhodri as if he were from another planet,

"Doesn't look like a door man, doesn't act like a door man..."

Rhodri refolded his newspaper calmly,

"Do want to step aside and prove your point?", he responded, clearly irritated by the stranger's audacity.

"What he don't even talk like a door man!", he widened his stance, "Do you want me to throw you through this window?"

Rhodri looked him over dismissively with obvious disdain and returned the challenge,

"I don't think you could throw a former Glitzy door man anywhere".

"Glitzy? You?"

Nobby nodded to Steve affirmatively and gave him a knowing smile. Steve looked wide eyed in silence and changed the subject,

"Coming over for a beer afterwards Nob?"

Nobby shook his head with a pleased expression,

"Not tonight my friend. I have other business tonight", and then he chuckled contentedly and Gary smiled.

The news broke at ten o'clock after an unusually quiet Thursday at Henry's. Gary and Martin, two of Wyvern's most popular door men, stopped by at half past ten with reports of an attack on John Falcon. As soon as they had hurried the last customer from the premises the four of them drove through the orange, red and white streaks of the city streets down towards the Cardiff Royal Infirmary. They had just passed the Wine Press when Martin began to tell Nobby and Rhodri of the terrible events that had taken place earlier that evening at Carringtons, a pub just outside Canton, Cardiff's Chinatown. Martin, a short and chubby black who radiated the spirit of friendliness, turned his head around in the driver's seat and exclaimed,

"They're friggin' cowards! Ross and Frankie just hid behind the bar when they's started!"

"Honest to God!", echoed Nobby.

"When the fight broke out they didn't do nothing to stop it", Martin continued, "The manager had to calls Wyvern in to sort it out after the two gangs started, reckons they both had it in for the door men!"

"So what happened?", asked Nobby.

"John an' me's arrives in John's car like, an they's tearing up the place glasses smashing and iron bars an' everything. We walks in and one of them jumps on John from behinds and some other nutter grabs a metal pipe and smashes John over the head likes this!", and an excited Martin made several lashing motions with his right hand. Rhodri wasn't quite sure who was directing the car.

"Honest to God!", repeated Nobby.

"And how is John?", enquired Rhodri from the back.

"I doesn't knows, there was blood coming from his head like so I droves him to the infirmary, but they's says I couldn't stay like".

"I hopes he's okays like", said Gary, his sweet round features creased with worry.

The car pulled up inside the perimeter of the small stone wall that described the Infirmary car park. A short corridor led the four of them through into the spartan accommodations of the waiting room. With little aforethought the four friends strode right through and into the accident and emergency room with its curtains and trolleys. A clearing of the throat stopped them fast in their tracks,

"And where do you think you boys are going?", the sharp voice of the nursing sister snapped behind them. Martin hesitated briefly and looked at her,

"To see Mr.Falcon"

"Well I'm sorry. You gentlemen are going to have to wait outside like everyone else".

"How is he?", demanded Nobby.

"As far as I'm aware there was no serious damage, just concussion and a gash above his left temple, but the doctor's keeping him in for observation".

"Where is he now? When's he comin' out of hospital?", enquired Martin.

"We're just finishing his stitches so he'll be out in a while".

"Thank the spirits for that!", Nobby reflected with a genuine sense of concern, "I was worrying that it was really serious!"

Returning to the waiting chamber they joined five other door men who had arrived anxiously awaiting news of their leader. Information and speculation interchanged freely with rumours and ruminations over events at the Carrington. Rhodri doubted that he would ever hear the truth. The four friends fretted in the uncertainty as hounds anticipating their master's return, agitated, restless, uneasy. Some fifteen minutes later John emerged through the doors his eyes half closed, a pad of cotton wool pressed against his left temple. He appeared a giant without his top on, his broad shoulders separated by powerful pectorals covered with wisps of wiry black hair. His ebony skin reflected the bright ceiling light and the sharp cuts that separated his muscle groups. Truly here was a dark horse thought Rhodri.

"Hey John is you alright 'bro?" asked Martin rushing to meet him.

"Friggin' hell boys!", John managed a slight curl of his lips as he saw the entourage awaiting him, and then he laughed just like the old John.

"You boys get me out of this friggin' place will you!"

Physiology had by now become largely endocrinology with Dr.Kevin Bland, a lecturer with a Devonian lilt and a strong rapport with his students. For the students lectures had become a matter of great seriousness as second year finals approached, and attendance was marked with reverential respect as the students hung upon every word. Rhodri became fascinated by the neural and chemical regulation of the brain's hormonal gland, the pituitary. How and why the organs of the body and the brain should communicate at this interface intrigued him. The possibilities were boundless. If hormones released from the pituitary controlled reproductive behaviour, the immune system and the work rate of the body's cells; then thoughts, feelings and emotions had a potential path through which they could control the body. He dreamed of the yogi and their ability to slow their heart to a fraction of its normal rate, cheerful people who never seemed to become ill and desperate mothers who could lift cars to rescue their babies. Then he realized that his imagination had run beyond the confines of leutinising hormone and he peered over Wynn's arm to catch up on its feedback pathways.

Winters seemed to be getting shorter. It was only February, but one might easily have been forgiven for thinking it was already spring. Crwys Road led him up over the bridge and he walked another two hundred yards before turning right into Lucas Road. Wynn and his fellow rugby boys lived in a house just around the corner, a squalid affair perhaps, but it was made magical by the humour, the life and the soul of their fraternity. Rhodri knocked impatiently and Wynn answered,

"Oh hallo Rodders!"

"Good day to you Wynn"

Wynn's cheeky grin radiated from his freckles and the image was made golden by his ginger-red hair.

"How was your metabolism lecture today Rodders?"

"Same as yours Wynn"

"I know, bloody awful wasn't it!"

"I don't know or care how many photosynthetic pathways there are in a pea, I just eat the buggers".

"My view exactly Rodders, and what may I ask can we do for you today my good man?"

"A cup of tea would be nice perhaps?"

"Come in my dear fellow!"

Rhodri walked through the narrow entrance hall and into the living room. It was aptly named as it looked as though an army of squatters had camped in it, and the floor had suffered many a late night take away. Big Jim the centre lay spread-eagled on the remains of a sofa. He clutched his head and started groaning for effect,

"Good afternoon Jim"

"Oh hiya Rod. What time is it?"

"Half past lunch time Jim! Another night on the tiles!"

"Yeah too bleeding right mate!"

Ravi sat in the corner reading the Sun, "On the tiles, on the floor and in the bogs eh Jim!"

"Fuck yes!", added Wynn with a grin.

Tim Michael came down the stairs to see what had stirred their little community to life,

"Hello Rhodri my man, how the devil are you!"

"Hello Timbo", interjected Wynn.

"Good afternoon Tim, how's my star Welsh centre then?"

"Very well Rhodri, I've got my Welsh Universities place and I'm still a regular in the Swansea first team".

"International honors await!"

"I hope so Rhodri I hope so", Tim's handsome features looked a picture of hope and concern.

"You'll do it Tim. He'll do it won't he Rhodri?", stuttered Ravi anxiously.

"I'm sure he will, but the international season beckons and Wales are looking good for the Grand Slam!"

Three audible cheers and a groan from Jim went up as Rhodri struck a positive note.

"Should have seen us coming down from Murrayfield on the coach Rod!", cried Ravi throwing the sun onto the carpet, "We all climbed through the sky light with our beers and sat on the roof of the coach on the motorway! Seventy miles an hour! Honestly Rod, I was shitting myself!"

"Ravon, from the planet hard on!", cried Wynn, injecting a little fun into the proceedings.

"Don't remind me!", groaned a dehydrated Jim.

Ravi continued undaunted,

"Any way there were fifteen of us up on the roof at seventy five..."

"Seventy five eh now Rav!", clamored Tim with a big smile, relishing the charged atmosphere.

"At least", Ravi stated determined to restore his credibility, "And some of the boys started hanging over the side of the coach as we were going along and the driver caught sight of them in his side view mirror"

"So what the fuck did he do then!", cried Wynn.

"He stopped the coach in the lay by and refused to move again until we all came down!"

"Damned unreasonable!", shouted Rhodri.

"Damned irresponsible of him!", declared Wynn, "Destroying good harmless fun without a license! Ought to write to the company and complain, eh Rav!", Wynn was now in his element as he teased Ravi.

"I know Wynn!", agreed Ravi, "And poor old Jim had to climb back up onto the roof with no one there to help him!"

Life on the door with Nobby had become a routine, both of them knew the ropes and the rules of communication. If there was positive sign it was the mild February weather which freed their minds from personal discomfort to explore more spiritual realms. Nobby appeared upset by something he had seen or heard. He was not his normal fun loving self and he wore a frown. Rhodri felt uncomfortable next to the intense blaze and as ever could not resist enquiring,

"What's bothering you Nobby?"

"It is nothing! Anyway I don't want to talk about it!"

"You seem upset Nobby? Is it something at work? Ah hello! Good evening Sir, Good evening madam, welcome".

"Don't talk to me again when I am like this and never tell someone that they look unhappy or upset!", his voice was raised and scolding, "Now don't talk to me until you have gone!"

Rhodri didn't much appreciate his attitude and his tone shifted from enquiry to concern,

"Gone where precisely, Nobby?"

"Away from me! The spirits have warned me about you!"

"Oh! And is that the truth now?", an element of sarcasm edged into Rhodri's voice.

"You will see what the truth will be!"

"Que sera, sera"

"Don't bullshit me with your clever talk!", Nobby became irate.

"Oh truly?"

"You are arrogant!"

"And so Nobby, if I may say, are you"

"I am greater than you are. Stronger, more powerful", his fist punched the air, "Handsome to women!"

Rhodri became amused by the absurdity of the remark,

"Oh and is that the truth now?"

"Truth! My ancestors said that God created a great truth and he covered the whole world with its beauty", and Nobby raised a dramatic fist in the air, "All angels lived in great happiness and contentment because they all understood the universal truth that they were one being with the universe and all creation. Dey lived in harmony and peace because there was balance, and nature sustained them with all that was needed for life. And then God created man, and man feared da truth because he wanted more than creation could allow. And man stole the power of the earth from the animals and the earth and created great disharmony and imbalance".

"Goodnight gentlemen", Rhodri opened the door for two elegantly tailored men with well fed paunches and bowed courteously.

"But the truth made man feel ashamed of his greed, so man hid from the truth and refused da truth entry into his mind! So man created evil, which was the separation of man from truth and the love of God. The truth said that all men were created equal with the animals and the birds and each other, one being with all of creation. But without the truth man created kings and lords and power that one man might rule over others without limitations. Power to kill, power to fight, power to rule! And with power man made himself a demigod and sought eternal life!", Nobby again punched the air with passion at the mention of power. Then his voice darkened, "But God sent the angels to live amongst men so that they could fight with the evil men of power and undo theirs works and tell the truth to men who would listen. For the angels said without the truth of harmony and peace man would destroy himself with greed and hate and by killing this earth that he is inseparable from!", Nobby's face darkened as his voice reached a crescendo, "But the angels cannot stop man from having power!", and he punched the air passionately with a snap of his jacket.

"Well now that's very interesting Nobby!", replied Rhodri, "Now where do I fit into this scheme of yours?"

Nobby remained silent and determinedly so. Curious as to how Nobby's statement and story fitted together Rhodri decided to tell Nobby a story of his own,

"Ever played bridge Nobby? It's much like life, a game of skill, a game of judgement and a game of luck". Rhodri paused to eye two attractive women as they entered Henry's and they acknowledged his complement,

"Good evening ladies! Ah now, where was I? Ah yes. Bridge. We are all dealt a hand in life Nobby, be it by genes or the fortunes of birth. Our hand may be strong, it may be mixed but it is our hand and our fortunes are determined to a great extent by how we play it. However there is one fundamental rule in life that transcends the rules of bridge. Some people are dealt a hand rich in hearts, for they are beautiful, popular and never short of friends or love. Such people believe that hearts are trumps and scorn or pity those who are not blessed with a heart as rich as theirs. Others are blessed with a hand rich in diamonds, for they are sharp of mind and wit. They can solve problems, out think their fellows and consider themselves infinitely their superior. For they say how can one succeed in life without learning, education and a sharp mind to make the most of opportunities. Others are born with a fist full of clubs. They are strong, fit and physically robust. They can say that they can out run, out fight and out perform our fellow men in physical endeavour so we are stronger, fitter, better. And yet some others are born with a hand rich in spades. With their spades they work hard and seek treasure, for they are the business people of the world. Because they work hard and seek wealth they often prosper finding it. With their money they can own and buy and live above others. And from their seats of wealth and power they despise those who do not have and think them idle or inept. For not to own and consume and to wish to do so is unimaginable and beneath them. But in truth they are all wrong. For in life there are no trumps!"

Nobby stared ahead appearing bemused and then turned to his partner who was grinning wryly,

"You are full of shit Roddy! I don't know what the frig you are talking about!'

"Then more fool you Nobby, more fool you!"

Nobby was agitated by this display of impudence. He waited an hour and a half until the cafe was empty of customers and gestured for Rhodri to come inside with his head. Whisking off his jacket and laying it carefully over the back of an available chair, Nobby strode over to the far side of the parquet floor and moved two heavy marble tables away to the side. Rhodri took the hint and removed his jacket and walked calmly towards the centre of the floor wearing his gloves. Nobby met him at the centre and stopped four yards in front of him. With a sharp intake of air through his nose and then an explosive exhalation Nobby fell into a short parallel stance. Rhodri swept all thought, feeling and emotion from his mind. In a flash Nobby had sprung forward powerfully into a jumping side kick with his right leg. Catching Rhodri in the solar plexus, he thrust him back a couple of feet, but Rhodri's muscles were taught and he recovered his form quickly. Expelling more air with a triumphal relish Nobby grinned and then postured to launched a second jumping side kick to Rhodri's face. However he made the error of signaling his intent and Rhodri jumped first and highest through the air, snapping a side kick into the pit of Nobby's stomach, beating him to the draw and winding him briefly. Nobby landed heavily, and Rhodri sensing his opponent's vulnerability hooked a right arm under Nobby's left and bowled his arm over in an attempt to gain the decisive arm lock. But Nobby was too swift for him and span one hundred and eighty degrees to position himself behind his partner. Nobby's powerful forelimbs clenched Rhodri in a bear hug and lifted his lighter opponent, squeezing the air from his floating ribs. Suddenly Nobby thrust both his arms and his torso downwards driving Rhodri's legs and hips into the floor. Rhodri landed heavily, his shoulder pounding the floor. In his mind's eye he sensed Nobby fast approaching with a jumping stamp kick, and spun around on his back thrusting a right side kick up from the ground, halting Nobby's advance. Nobby leapt over him and turned around in mid air, landing three feet the other side and moved forward to drive his left foot into the belly of his fallen opponent,

"Come on Nob!", cried one of the chefs enjoying the spectacle.

"Up and at him Rhodri!", cried one of the bar staff who by now were all aggregated around the bar. Rhodri pivoted around on his back again, pushing Nobby backwards with a driving left side kick from the floor and then effortlessly floated to his feet as if his limbs were purely supplementary. Rhodri roared and slid through a stance to throw a right front snap kick at Nobby, forcing him backwards. Skipping through his stance he threw a right roundhouse kick that stopped just short of Nobby's chin, and finally, facing forward, he swung his right leg full circle and stopped it an inch from Nobby's chin and held it there. Nobby smiled, dropped into a deep stance and relented, thrusting his open hand forward in conciliation. Smiling Rhodri accepted it and shook it firmly.

"Bloody hell that was good!", shouted Mark, "Best fun I've had in weeks! We're going to have to have you do that again at weekends to end the week with a bang!"

"No thank you boss, he does me bleedin' head in!", exclaimed Nobby into laughter, and being infectious everyone joined in.

Another Wednesday evening came around and Rhodri wandered off in search of the company of his friends as he often did. The walk to Angus Street was long and drab affair and the black form clad in green leather trudged wearily along Harriet Street as the rain washed the mud from the toes of his suede shoes. He climbed down the steps that led to Moy Road and peered through the grey at the rows of Victorian terraced houses that lined the sides like ranks of soldiers defending the order of society. A warm glow emanated from the little windows along the sides of the narrow streets, acting like beacons for the souls that brought life to the desolate place. He knocked on the old door with the dark paint flaking off its front and after a time Nicki came to the door dressed in her familiar trousers and colourful jumper.

"Good evening Nicks! How are yer luv?"

Nicki laughed that sweet familiar laugh that soothed his soul,

"Oh hello Rhodri! Please do come in!"

Rhodri returned the smile and walked across the door step and into the dark hall of the three storey house. Their house had a lived in feel, not the familiar lived in sensation of a well decorated and furnished modern semi-detached, but a feel that the house had been alive for well over a hundred years and that some of the previous souls had not fully departed. The living room was large and spacious, tidily arranged with old furnishings ringing the circle. Helen was also in and he greeted her in his familiar manner,

"Hello Helen, squeezy love possum!"

A broad smile came across Helen's innocent face,

"Oh hiya Rhodri!"

A rich Welsh giggle emanated from the bedroom between the front door and the lounge. Rhodri returned and popped his head around the door of Sarah's room. Sarah Evans was in her little bedroom staring melancholically at her pharmacology text book. The explosive opening of the door caused her pretty face to turn around and she cleared her fine dark brown hair from in front of her big baby brown eyes. Her sleepy eyes shone in the light that separated them and she managed a weak smile,

"Hello possum gorgeous! How are you!"

"Hullo Rhodri. Oh I'm fine. I've just got so much work to do. It's not fair really". Her voice tailed off and her sweet, purring Welsh tones eclipsed the content of her lips, but only served to heighten the emotion,

"Have you come round for a cup of tea?"

"Well that's only my cover, you know full well that I've only come around to see my lovely ladies!"

Sarah smiled again demurely. Helen's shrill voice emerged from the kitchen,

"I've put the kettle on Rhodri!"

Rhodri and Sarah emerged from the room to join Nicki and Helen in the lounge. Nicki grinned from ear to ear, her head lolling from side to side. Laughing after some distant thought she adopted her favourite little girl lost voice that she knew entertained him,

"Hallo Rhodri, would you like some of our herbal tea, we've got peppermint, strawberry, mixed berries or chamomile?"

"Allo Nicks", replied Rhodri in his gruff little girl lost predator impersonation. Nicki burst into a fit of giggles and fluttered her eye lashes innocently as she looked up at the ceiling. Rhodri continued his Bill Sykes impersonation,

"I'll have sum luvely strawberry tea please! It makes my sweet liddle heart sing wiv joy!"

The girls laughed as his tongue fell from the side of his mouth and Nicki maintained her perfect form of innocence. Helen handed him a mug of tea and he promptly collapsed into a low chair and folded his legs over. He brought the mug up to his chin with both hands as if making a silent prayer for warmth and friendship and thought a moment,

"How's life with my favourite ladies?"

"Okay I suppose", replied Nicki in a more sullen tone, "Except for Mark!"

Helen piped in with uncharacteristic venom,

"Yes Rhodri you were right about Mark!", and then she turned towards her two friends, "Well he did warn us!".

Sarah seemed upset, she had a soft spot for Mark that ran deep,

"Well he's alright sometimes", she said in a half-hearted defence of her old friend.

"No he is jolly well not!", insisted Nicki, sounding as though she had reached the doors of aggression, "Last week he put the heating up to full again! Even though we'd all just had a meeting to agree that we only heated the house a certain number of hours a day", her cheeks were flushed red.

"He's always making nasty remarks and comments", added Helen.

"Perhaps he's lonely and depressed", responded Rhodri sighing and Sarah nodded.

"I'm not surprised", replied Nicki, "Anyway I'm off to see Phil now"

"Have fun squeezy!", Rhodri called after her and Nicki giggled sweetly.

The February rain soaked the soil of Cardiff Arm's Park in preparation for the first home fixture of the Five Nations rugby tournament. Nobby and Rhodri arrived within a few minutes of one another at the appointed hour of eleven on Saturday morning, bracing themselves for an onslaught of celebrants. Cheery fans dressed in red and white paraded the Welsh soul through the rain-swept streets of the Capital. Rhodri was already weary and the fifteen hour day was yet to begin for it had been a long and testing Friday night. The Docks' boys had been around for the second time in their finery. Eight of them to be precise, some old adversaries, and now some new. Nobby had braced himself when they first appeared at the front of the line at half past ten on Friday night.

"Excuse me!", Nobby had said as he stepped in front of them to close the door as the foremost of them attempted to walk straight in, "ID please"

"Whatcha talking about 'bro!", spat a West Indian youth dressed a tasteful blue suit with tie pin and white shirt, "I's a coming in with ma brothers!". He leant forward menacingly. Nobby's face seized a fierce expression and Rhodri stepped forward to close the gap between them. They both knew who they were dealing with and what would happen to the prosperity of the establishment if they got inside. Once you had allowed the dark elements of the Docks to enter an establishment they would assume right of passage and if they were challenged a bloody beating would ensue, or worse. Rhodri had long since accepted that either you packed your bags and left the establishment or you stopped the trouble at the door, and there was no more pleasant door to work in all of Cardiff.

"Excuse me Sir!", exclaimed Nobby addressing the pack forcefully , "Can I see your ID please!"

A second elegantly dressed youth threw his face and long, lean body forward provocatively against the front line, his fierce expression and dark eyes testifying to the lie that his suit told the outside world. As was the Somali fashion his head was shaven to his scalp and golden ear-rings and jewelry glistened against his ebony skin. He snarled at Nobby, leering over the row of smaller youths,

"Are you's saying that you don't want us in here bro'!"

Rhodri interceded to support,

"I'm sorry Sir, we require proof of ID!", but Nobby's hand patted him on the shoulder to stop him.

"Who the fuck asked you honkey boy! Minds yer own business!", the tall, gaunt Somali demanded, raising his bejeweled fist as if to strike him. The youth flung himself forward as if to strike Rhodri, ricocheting off his wall of juniors at the last moment of his to provoke a fearful reaction. Rhodri held fast, his nerves tingling as he felt the sharpness of being alive and on the edge. The queue behind started to murmur nervously and then to shuffle back in anticipation of a fight. Again a youth rushed the line testing Nobby's resolve. Nobby's powerful arm and sideways movement again blocked his path and the youth saw Nobby's will to fight deep within his eyes as he rebounded back off a partner as though he were on a yoyo.

"Are you's turned traitor to tha white man bro'!",

Their tall and muscular leader whom Rhodri had faced before at the back door of Floyds challenged Nobby, standing forward of his front line, his tall, powerful athletic physique towering over Nobby's resilient form. Ridge like eyebrows gave his eyes a stern and savage quality and he leered into the little man's face,

"Cos' we's coming in see! These suits cost uz hundreds of pounds 'bro, hundreds of pounds!"

"I'm sorry", replied Nobby unmoved, "My manager insists that everyone is over twenty five with ID to come in my friend".

The tall leader with skin as black as night leaned forward his face darkening as he leant forward,

"Don't call me friend 'bro! 'Cause you ain't no friend of mine!", and he raised his fist with trembling emotion, "Cause you's a honkey like him next to you 'bro!"

Rhodri slipped his black leather gloves on, and two of the younger Somalis at the front stepped away. At that moment Mark Stallion came out to see why his custom had ceased to flow in and stopped in his tracks behind his door men. Ray followed behind him and joined him in horrified silence. The leader, probably the only among them in his twenties, raised himself to his full height, his face intense with rage as he looked through the windows into the comfortable warmth and wealth of Henry and his favoured clientele.

"See him there!", his long arm pointed toward the left hand platform, "I knows him, he ain't twenty five, nor's she! You knows 'bro, you's full of shit 'bro! Full of shit!"

Nobby was too experienced to respond and just shook his head and remained silent. Mark cleared his throat and spoke with authority, though his voice was trembling,

"Look I'm the manager here, it's twenty five and over. Those are the rules. My door man have represented my opinion and you're not coming in and that's final!"

Mark stood fast and Rhodri could sense his friend shaking behind. Nobby opened his palms and shrugged his shoulders as if to tell his brothers that it was nothing to him. Leaning forward the leader glowered at Nobby one last time. Realising the futility of their situation, they exchanged glances and scowls before making their way off slowly in the direction of Queen Street muttering amongst themselves. What ever they were, the Docks' boys were not stupid. They knew that if they crossed the threshold towards unprovoked violence at such an establishment the authorities would hunt them down. So when they could not bluff or threaten their way in, they were forced by bitter experience to err on the side of caution. Rhodri often heard rumours of Docks' boys who had disappeared without a trace, never to be seen again and the papers never said a word. But as he had quickly learnt all human life was not created equal. Mark exhaled in relief,

"Well done boys!", Mark clamped a hand on Rhodri's shoulder, "I thought that was going to be it then!"

"So did I boss!", replied the brave Nobby, starting to chuckle, "So did I!"

Now the rain poured over the gold lettering of Henry's and the skies were scarcely brighter than they had been the night before when the Docks' boys paid their fateful visit. Sue brought Rhodri a cappuccino and he leant against the polished rail of the steps to enjoy it. Resting his eyes on Nobby, whose expression appeared as downcast as the weather, he looked into the distance and thought affairs through. Nobby stared at his finger nails reflectively leaning against his bannisters.

"We're doing a lot of hours Nobby".

Nobby looked round at him in mild surprise.

"I'm beginning to think too many".

"Do you want someone's else to come and take your job?", he replied, "Because if you allows Alwyn to put someone else on, they'll work two nights, then they'll wants three and soon they'll have all your hours". He spoke softly with a compassion and clearness of mind that impressed Rhodri, and Rhodri felt forced to acknowledge the truth in his words,

"You're right of course Nobby. But I can't help feeling that this is really easy money for John and Alwyn".

"That's your business?"

"Well it was my contract to begin with", and Rhodri sighed. Nobby's face darkened at the insinuation and Rhodri knew that he had probed too far,

"Don't speak to me any more about it please! We have another long day ahead of us. You should just concentrate on your work".

Alwyn came by on Monday night at eight. He cruised slowly down Park Place in his blue Datsun sports coupe, leaning his head out through the open car window as he passed to check up on his two door men. Coming to a leisurely halt next to the Park Hotel he looked back towards his two door men. He nodded and stroked his designer stubble before opening the door and raising himself on a powerful leg above the height of the low slung sill. Wearing his Welsh international colours he strode purposefully towards the door. Appearing unusually concerned and pensive he walked through his two door men, casting suspicious eyes towards Rhodri as he went.

"You look like a piece of shit", he growled at Rhodri in a low tone, as though he was'nt sure his breath wasn't being wasted. After a time he came out through a door that Rhodri opened for him looking somewhat reassured and walked three yards past them and stopped, staring ahead towards the hotel. After a dramatic pause he turned around and first looked at Rhodri, and then at Nobby, and finally beckoned Rhodri with his finger,

"Come with me Rhodri. I want to talk with you".

Rhodri followed Alwyn to his car where his ruler swung smoothly into the driver's seat and closed the door. Placing his elbow through the window sill he slowly turned his questioning eyes towards Rhodri and nodded his head slowly as if he knew of something untoward and important had come to pass. He looked up at Rhodri with dark, questioning eyes and raised an ominous finger. Then he turned his face forward and stared through the windshield at the Queen Street lights,

"I've been hearing bad things about you Rhodri". His voice had a cold, sinister quality to it but Rhodri hid his instinctive reaction and joined the game,

"Oh really? From who?"

"Never you mind who from", Alwyn responded sharply in quiet, dismissive tones continuing to avoid eye contact. So quiet in fact that threat emanated from his words. Rhodri had read his eyes and knew someone had been whispering little secrets into the Dragon's ear, and he had a fair idea exactly who,

"Listen Rhodri. A little bird's been saying that you're not happy with the money you're getting paid here..."

Rhodri interrupted, firmly and truthfully,

"I'm perfectly happy with the size of the wages I'm taking home thank you. I like working at Henry's and I think Mark likes me working here too. I don't know precisely where you got your information from..."

Alwyn stopped him with an open hand and nodded slowly,

"Okay, go back to work now and send Nobby over to me".

Rhodri marched back the forty yards to the door apparently preoccupied with affairs, and as he returned Nobby gave him a wry look out of the corner of his eye,

"And what did he have to say with you?"

Rhodri enjoyed the moment. He paused and then looked across at his partner with a troubled expression upon his face.

"Alwyn wants to have a word with you".

Nobby looked astonished, his eyes staring wide open in disbelief as though something had gone quite wrong. Recovering his presence of mind he stole off towards Alwyn who by now was sitting impatiently in his car with his elbow jutting out of the window casting glances back towards the door.

Rhodri saw Nobby raise his arms defensively as Alwyn pointed a probing finger at him and spoke with a stern expression. Nobby grew increasingly agitated and stepped back a pace, his hands now pleading his innocence and his voice reaching an excited high pitched whine. Again Alwyn gesticulated angrily with his finger as Nobby bent his face over towards the car window to profess his innocence. Finally Alwyn withdrew his finger, continuing to nod and lecture Nobby vigorously whilst his subject bowed his head sorrowfully. The metallic blue Datsun pulled away smoothly and a subdued Nobby returned, his face a mixture of confusion and concern. He took his place beside Rhodri as Alwyn turned his blue bullet around and slowly cruised past them staring at them authoritatively. Nobby averted his eyes, brooding angrily, and waited until he had gone from sight.

"I couldn't believe my ears at his cheek!", stammered Nobby after Alwyn's ghost had gone a safe distance, "Honest to God! He tell me that if I don't like it here I can go and work somewhere's else, 'cause he doesn't want me causing any more trouble. Honest to God! How ungrateful he is after all I have done for him ini!"

Rhodri just kept silent and gave him a knowing look.

Alwyn's lady friend Sharon came around as usual at eleven on Saturday evening to collect the fee from Henry's and pay Nobby and Rhodri from the takings. Neither beautiful nor plain, or feminine or butch she was very much an enigma. Shrewd, intelligent and an accomplished martial artist in her own right she was the only woman he knew who presented a match for Alwyn. More seriously she had the dangerous habit of flirting with many of Alwyn's door men, including Rhodri, and this made most of them nervous, especially Rhodri. Advances from Alwyn's personal concubine were the most concrete reason imaginable for an application to join the French Foreign Legion, and worse still she delighted in teasing Alwyn about it. He remembered her gall at Floyds when she had teased Alwyn after he had commented on her performance,

"Sharon, you'd better improve your punctuality or I'll have to get rid of you". Even with his girlfriend Alwyn did not lose his poker face.

"And look what a good job I do for you!", she sniggered, "You need me don't you!"

"No", Alwyn replied impassively, "Without me you'd have no money, no home and no employment".

"And you'd have no more blow jobs!", she quipped and looked at Rhodri before bursting into laughter. Even Alwyn had conceded a slight smile at the audacity he loved in her. She never lost that fertile, flirtatious sense of fun in interacting with the door men and for some reason she liked to talk to Rhodri. He in turn found her a font of information and drank from it whenever possible, for as Nobby so succinctly put it, information is power.

"Hello boys", Sharon smiled sweetly as she came out of Mark's office and handed them their envelopes and engaged their signatures before ostentatiously stuffing the remaining several hundred pounds into her bag, "How's the door boys?"

"Very well", Rhodri replied, "And how's business with Alwyn?"

"Up and down", she replied, "Always up and down. Alwyn doesn't make much money from a lot of his doors and doesn't get too upset when he loses them, but this one", she added giving Rhodri a look of caution, "He cares about a great deal", and she beamed at the dollar signs in her eyes. Rhodri wasn't the only one to feel that possibly she was a little brash and over confident, and Mark followed from the office and came to stand next to his door men. Mark seemed annoyed at being personally reminded how much money he parted with when dealing with Wyvern Security. He watched and shook his head in apparent disbelief as she disappeared from view, confidently wagging her tail end like a Hollywood starlet,

"I don't know how you two guys stand such exploitation? Eight pounds an hour and I bet you guys don't see six.."

"Four", interjected Rhodri and Nobby's eyes lit up. Mark tutted and rolled his eyes, "And all they do is collect the money on Saturday with a big smile on their face whilst you boys take all the risks". He shook his head again. "I can't understand how you can stand being taken advantage of so blatantly". Nobby wisely said nothing, resting against the stair rail and just shrugged his shoulders.

John and Alwyn had tired of the novelty of working the door at Henry's one night a week to relieve their door men and had searched for a suitable replacement. Having agreed that the rotund and amiable Gary was an ideal fit they put him on trial with Nobby and Rhodri with great success. Gary's happy-go-lucky optimism coupled with a blissful absence of insightful intellect allowed him to overcome both Nobby's obsession for dominance and Rhodri's restless spirit. Both of them regarded Gary as a ball of fun, as well as a much needed rest from one another. Gary was from Ely, and being curious of nature Rhodri liked to probe him about his life, his times and his perceptions on the world as if he were a rare link to human kind. Gary displayed a refreshing frankness and a maturity beyond his tender years that endeared him to Rhodri, and in his own simple way he understood more of life and spirituality than either of his partners.

"Is you courting at the moment like?", Gary asked Rhodri during a quiet hour on the third Tuesday in February. Taken aback momentarily, Rhodri then smiled at his harmless curiosity and turned his head slowly from side to side.

"Doesn't you like girls then?"

"Certain and special ones", Rhodri replied.

"Got meself a pretty one I's courting at the moment", Gary said pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and broadening his smile, "Met her in Mallorca like, on holiday. She's from Reading and I'm seeing her in a fortnight at the weekend".

"That's good news", smiled Rhodri, "Here or there?"

"Both. Nob's going to hire me a car from his friend in Grangetown so's I's can drive down and picks her up and brings her back up here".

"Thinking of marriage?"

"We's talking of it like, but I think she wants to wait a bit".

"Do you mind if I ask you how old you are Gary?"

"Seventeen I am, eighteen in April, an she's nearly seventeen herself".

Raising his eyebrows Rhodri maneuvered the conversation to Gary's background,

"Where do you work during the day Gary?"

"With me dad! He's a scaffolder and me an' his mate, we do jobs in and around the Newport and Cardiff area"

"Hard work?"

Gary shrugged philosophically,

"Can be when's you get going like, but I's used to it sees, started when I was just fifteen an I've never stopped see". Gary paused to readjust the position of his round glasses with his index finger, another of his endearing traits.

"Any martial arts?"

"Me?", he shrugged his shoulders, "I just does a bit of judo".

Rhodri was curious and beckoned him onto the sidewalk. Turning away from Gary he grinned as he changed, turning to face him with a spin.

"Oh no! You's as bad as Nob you are!", Gary's laugh was cut short as Rhodri skipped through with a right roundhouse slapping kick to Gary's temple, which was effortlessly blocked with his right palm. But this was merely the diversion as Rhodri shot through again with a fast forward right punch thrusting off his left leg and succeeded in knocking the wind from Gary before he could react.

"Ooof!", cried Gary, "You put something into that one didn't you?", and he smiled rubbing his stomach. Gary wasn't the only one smiling however, for in his mind's eye Rhodri saw a metallic blue Datsun with Alwyn smiling and enjoying the spectacle. Rhodri turned around out of curiosity and there next to the Park Hotel was Alwyn sitting behind the wheel of his sports car staring at him, his eyes glistening in the lamp light.

Monday came around again, as it always does, and business was quiet at eight o'clock. Rhodri and Nobby for once stood willingly outside the front door as the refreshing gusts of spring made an early appearance through Park Place. Dancing and frolicking in eddies and whirls, they teased animated sweet wrappers, hypnotizing a troubled mind. Just as a rare moment of serenity came across his being, he found himself thrusting an arm reflexively across his front to stop a pair of denims and an open necked shirt hurtling through the door from around the corner. The young man seemed momentarily taken aback, and retreated a step. Staring at Rhodri in disbelief he became vexed and took a brisk step forward and thrust himself into his obstacle's face. Rhodri did not react and stared at him impassively,

"I'm sorry sir, you can't come in with jeans!"

"You talking to me!", the young man responded, his voice cold and deliberate. From his features it was clear that he was Greek in origin and to give him due credit, immaculately groomed from head to toe.

"Who else?"

"These jeans probably cost more than your tuxedo", he challenged placing his hands upon his hips.

"Congratulations, but I'm sorry the manager dictates dress policy and you can't come in with jeans on".

"Do you have a problem with me?"

"Not as far as I'm aware Sir".

"Just ignore him!", advised Nobby.

"Who asked your opinion?", and the youth stepped across to stare Nobby in the eye. He stepped back in astonishment.

"Yes I remember you! The last time we met you were trying to sell me a stool on the street corner!"

"Life is a circle!", replied Nobby defiantly, stung by the reference. The Greek returned his attention to the impudent door man who had provoked his ire and Nobby took off his jacket.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Can't say that I do".

"I'm Frankie, son of the owner of the Casablanca"

"So who gives a shit!", snarled Nobby.

"Part of the Greek family", he continued ignoring Nobby, "Do you know what I've got in my pocket?" Rhodri looked at him blankly.

"A blade". He nodded as if to emphasize the validity of his claim. By now he was determined to prove his point and gain the fear, if not the respect, of those who dared to challenge him. Taking another step forward he lunged his face at Rhodri's until their eyes were barely five inches apart.

"You wanna step around the corner with me so I can show you how to use it?"

Nobby took Rhodri's jacket.

"What's wrong with right here and now?", Rhodri replied, his upper lip curling to a snarl, "Or are you afraid to use it?"

Frankie was taken aback by this tactical affront. It was obvious he could not use a blade in public, and now his credibility had been called into question. Frenetically he paced back and forth searching for a way to save face and not to give quarter to the two door men who had met his challenge. A tall and well fed Italianate friend appeared from hiding behind the corner and his dark eyes burned with anger. He wore an ornate patterned paisley shirt and well tailored black trousers, and spoke with a certain eloquence, at least for someone from the Cardiff underworld.

"Can I go in and speak with the manager of this establishment please?", the man demanded, a request that could not be refused on any reasonable grounds. Rhodri answered him,

"He's at the back working on a ledger".

Nobby swung the door open violently, and the Italianate man turned towards his friend with a severe expression,

"Wait here Frankie"

"Okay Mark"

Mark then stormed through the open door towards Mark and Nobby returned to face Frankie's vitriolic stare. After some minutes of heated discussion at the back and Frankie's incessant pacing at the front, Mark re-emerged and gesticulated with his head for the two of them to leave and they stormed off towards Queen Street, Frankie turning and drawing his imaginary blade across his throat. Nobby screwed his face up and grimaced at the sight of Frankie's threat and continued to stare until the had rounded the corner. Nobby turned towards his partner and spoke tersely,

"I knows him. He's a real hot head. He'll be back don't you worry!"

Tuesday night followed as if the lectures had never really separated him from his surreal nocturnal existence, and Gary afforded him little comfort. Events and pressures had started to take their toll on his nervous system and he was both fatigued and frustrated. He did not need to earn half as much as he was to maintain himself, but it was the same old system. A scrap pile of people claiming unemployment, desperately wanting work, and a fistful of people working all the hours God sent with no time to enjoy the fruits of their labours. He wishfully imagined he was making six pounds and hour and working sixteen and not twenty eight hours a week at the door. Rhodri muttered in derision at the system and Gary turned to him in surprise and readjusted his glasses,

"What's eating you? You's not said a word all night and now's you's muttering to yourself. Who's gone and upset you now?"

Rhodri regained his composure,

"No one thank you Gary. You must please excuse me, I'm having a bad thoughts session".

"Oh!", Gary smiled as if the concept were alien to him, and carried on looking very smart and pleased with his new found position in life.

The Tuesday night rolled on interminably until eleven, but it was not over. At eleven o'clock a four wheel drive Suzuki rolled past with Frankie, Mark and a hired hand at the wheel. They cruised down Park Place staring intently at Rhodri as Gary said his farewells for the week. Feeling vulnerable Rhodri shifted his feet uneasily from side to side as he sensed the threat. They rolled past a second time in order to unnerve him and to see if all the patrons had left the establishment. Some five minutes later they made their third crawling pass as the last customers walked out through the door. Rhodri was surprised and relieved to see Nobby walking up the street dressed in his blue suit.

"They's back to bother you is it Roddy?"

"In a manner of speaking".

"Okay then if that's the way they want it!", Nobby nodded fatalistically and stormed into the middle of the street, beckoning the three of them to come and fight. They declined his invitation and continued driving up Park Place towards the Boulevard de Nantes. They returned again on Sunday night, and again on Monday at half past eleven, but Nobby stayed on through the midnight hour to ensure his partner left in safety.

Nobby's girlfriend stopped by for the last time. Fun-loving, she had a grace to match her proud African beauty. Rhodri had seen her before when Nobby had taken him dancing to Jackson's, and Nobby had melted when he was in her company. Holding his hand tenderly she smiled gently and whispered,

"Friends".

Nobby smiled back at her and a tear welled up in the corner of his eye. He could not stop it from falling and it glistened in the brightness of the street light and as she saw it her eyes dropped. Nobby forced a laugh and a smile to hide the pain, but his sorrow was transparent and Rhodri heard his soul crying. As her hour glass figure drifted from sight he sniffed and took his green handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the tears from his eyes. Speaking with uncharacteristic softness and humility he turned to his young friend,

"This morning I was thirty five, feeling like twenty five, and now I feel like forty five".

Rhodri nodded in reverent sympathy,

"You know something Roddy, don't tell anyone the secret of your happiness of they will try to take it away from you".

Ray came out, and being a sensitive man he felt the silence and Nobby's quenched fire,

"How are you Nob? Do you want a break inside?"

Mark followed him outside, taking a break from a session in front of the books,

"Evening boss!", Nobby grinned remembering his manners.

"Good evening Stallion!", cried Rhodri thrusting his forearm powerfully upward. Embarrassed and flattered Mark laughed,

"Don't call me that! People will get the wrong idea about me!"

Nobby caught the mood, and forgetting his sorrow, he punched the air crying,

"Stallion!", forcing Mark to giggle again.

"Will you two stop it! You're embarrassing me!"

"Stallion!"

"Okay guys, that's enough! I'm off to do some more paper work before some of the young ladies start spreading rumours about me".

"Don't worry boss", Nobby chuckled, "We'll tell them it's all true!"

The third Thursday night of February's grey and rainy rule was far from over. Five of the Docks' boys arrived in jackets and ties to test the resolve of the door once again. Four Somalis had been joined by a spirit of the underworld who was unfamiliar to him. The spirit was his height, about his weight and lacked any visible sign of emotion. But his eyes struck him. Looking into those eyes was to take a trip into eternity, a bottomless pit of darkness as if the daylight had paid. A voice from the spirit, quiet and clear screamed that hatred was very near. The hollow and hateful spirit chewed gum as if it were cud, a scar on his cheek and his mongrel skin advertising his origins. Whilst the Somalis jostled and bobbed in tribal ritual he just stopped and stared intently at Rhodri as though he had found what he had been looking for.

"ID please gentlemen!", insisted Nobby.

"Here's my ID!", proclaimed the eldest Somali warrior who drew himself to his full six feet proudly, "Here's my driver's license man, I'm forty two!", and he cackled along with his three brothers.

"Your dad's ini!", cried Nobby returning it to him dismissively.

"You's calling me a liar 'bro?", and he started forward thrusting his face into Nobby's, glaring savagely. Then he began the dance, throwing himself body and fist at Nobby, recoiling off the two Somali brothers who stood before him at the moment before impact. Nobby flinched as the Somali magic started to work and the two door men became on edge. Rhodri's mind started to drift backwards. The Rose Seller had warned him of this time as he offered Rhodri a rose. Clumsy in intonation, eloquent in word, something about the Rose Seller had struck Rhodri as deeply odd. Long curly black hair and a goatee beard, his Creole features said that he was from the Docks, but he wasn't. An immaculate tuxedo and a red, red bow tie matched his fiery eyes, lending him a certain romantic quality. The Rose Seller would spend time in passing to talk with Rhodri before delivering the magical touch of love to Henry's friends. He would always offer Rhodri a rose, and Rhodri always decline to accept the barbed wire and the Rose Seller would look through him questioningly. Rhodri remembered how he told of his coming of age on the door,

"I worked the door too Roddy, like all young Docks' boys coming to manhood. Fifteen months I was there. Then after a while they start to visit you, and it is no problem at first", and he waved a rose hypnotically in front of Rhodri's eyes, "Then after a while, when your time is coming to an end the spirits visit you. They come and watch you, testing your spirit, but you cannot fight them. Returning, time after time they come for you, and still you cannot fight them. It is from the traditions of Somali warrior law that old spirits come to challenge the fresh warrior until he has learnt the lessons of life and its secret. Some never need the lesson and some never learn, but you will some day...", and he offered Rhodri a customary rose and then left. Rhodri slowly returned to consciousness, and the faceless spirit was still there before him staring through his soul. Shaking his head Rhodri rejoined the world of conscious thought and saw that Nobby was becoming increasingly agitated as the attacking waves of energy pushed him back against the door. Rhodri removed his jacket and his blood grew hot in anticipation of the blood shed. Fastening his gloves upon his hands he stepped forward and Nobby followed him and they stood side by side resolute and ready to fight. The young Docks' boys' fierce grimaces were transformed into teasing smiles, for they had achieved what they had set out to do. Rhodri's life energy drained from his hands and neck as he watched them slope off in the direction of Queens Street, laughing and well pleased with their nights work. The mongrel spirit stayed where he was until they had disappeared from view, still staring intently at Rhodri. Eventually his eyes blazed coldly and he nodded in understanding, before he turned and walked away, leaving Rhodri and Nobby on edge for the rest of the night.

Rhodri strolled down St.Mary Street on Thursday night after work, a rare occurrence now that he had graduated to Henry's. March's liberating warmth had arrived and he felt cosy in his tuxedo as he lengthened his stride to take him to the Harmonica. Precisely what energy had drawn him to venture down the street he was not quite sure, but he walked purposefully, and reaching the old wooden door he strode boldly past the young and tall Kevin with an exchange of nods. He was looking for Alwyn, he wasn't quite sure why. Sure enough Alwyn was there, standing at the reception of Floyd's casting a thoughtful eye over the premises,

"Evening Alwyn"

"Hello Rhodri. And what can we do for you tonight?", Alwyn responded with a wry smile.

"Just popped by to say hello".

Rhodri paused to joined Alwyn in another watchful sweep of the evening scene at Floyds before continuing.

"Got stopped at Fellows last week by Hadyn the incredible human hulk and his little army". There was a strong touch of sarcasm in his voice, "Wouldn't let me in to see my friends. Said they couldn't allow other door men from other establishments in, company policy".

"Bullshit!", exclaimed Alwyn, whom Rhodri knew had an instinctive dislike for the operator of the rival security firm, "I'll go and have a word with him", and he raised his infamous index finger, "I'm not having him stopping my door men from going into clubs if they want to".

Rhodri nodded in satisfaction,

"Quite a character isn't he".

"What Hadyn?", erupted Alwyn, "I've known him for fifteen years in Cardiff. Never seen him go near a gi. He just reads all the martial arts magazines at his shop and pretends he's a hard man. He's just a great fat lump, that's all!"

"I wonder Alwyn?"

"Yes?", Alwyn replied, raising an eyebrow in surprise at his door man's audacity.

"Would you have time to give me a lesson some time. I mean I haven't trained with you or your door men".

Alwyn appeared amused and nodded as he thought awhile.

"I'll tell you what Rhodri. I don't have time at the moment, but I'll have a word with John and we'll see if he can slot you in sometime".

"Thank you Alwyn. Have a good evening now". Rhodri bowed and turned to ascend the stairs as Alwyn grinned after him and patted him on the back.

Upstairs all was not well. Kevin, the tall Harmonica bouncer, was using the old heavy timbers of the door as a battering ram, apparently pounding some poor soul trapped between the hard rock and the door. Rhodri stood and stared at him quizzically in the entrance way until he stopped and allowed Rhodri to pass.

"Here Roddy!", Kevin jabbered as he passed, "Do us a favour mate, get rid of Terry for us".

Rhodri sighed deeply and shook his head at Kevin. Terry was an established feature of the Harmonica, an old familiar fiend who just wanted to be loved and given a little company and there was no need to brutalize him. When sober, or so it was said, he could be as sweet and as rational a soul as one would wish to meet, but when drunk the years of pain flooded out from his tired old soul. Rhodri stepped out onto the pavement and Kevin resumed his battering of Terry with the door. Terry was hunched up in the corner, scowling and barking in between tears and violent attempts to force his way into the pub as his head and shoulders collided roughly with the old stone wall. A stocky man unduly gnarled for his thirty eight years, Terry possessed a thick leathery skin to protect him from the elements and a heavy, well fleshed skeleton. Although he had long since lost his speed from his days as a professional boxer, Terry possessed the strength and determination of many battles and refused to yield to Kevin's harsh treatment. He only rarely became aggressive, and even Rhodri had pushed him out of the Harmonica in frustration after he harassed the customers with his old harmonica seeking attention. When Terry did become aggressive however, he was violently so.

Rhodri stood and watched the Punch and Judy theatre in amazed silence before taking action to remedy the situation. Kevin saw Rhodri nearing, stopped the battering and promptly bolted the door behind him, leaving Rhodri with a somewhat disgruntled Terry and a queue of some thirty regulars waiting in the wings in stunned silence. Approaching Terry with open arms Rhodri adopted a conciliatory posture and pleaded with him,

"Come away now Terry! You can't go in tonight now can you?"

Terry growled and weeped in response, like some ogre deprived of sustenance. Unfolding his arms he flung them at his tormentor and then folded them again in sorrow,

"Please come away now Terry, look I'm your friend! Now won't you please come away with me and we can both go home together".

Rhodri injected a soothing tone into his voice to pacify the tormented man. Terry blubbered, drew his arms in closer to his chest and then as if reaching a threshold of frustration launched himself forward from the corner at Rhodri. Retreating calmly Rhodri moved steadily backwards into the centre of the broad pavement as Terry lurched forward brandishing his fist. Shaking his head at Terry, Rhodri backed away another ten paces and then stopped still, looking away at the floor, peering into his mind's eye. An image of Terry formed there, not of light but of intent, and the position of Terry's energy and intent became clear. A girl in line screamed as Terry lunged forward with a heavy right punch. Rhodri sensed his movement as a wall of focused energy came towards him and shot a right side kick out to meet him. There was a slight feeling of resistance and another scream and he held his leg extended at the height of his hip. Concentrating hard he retracted it slowly and with balance and precision. Rhodri opened his eyes and searched for his opponent. There thirty or so yards in front of him was Terry lying prostrate on the pavement, his head resting against the stone buttress that supported the old Victorian stone walls of the building. Groaning, Terry remained on his back, unable to gather the consciousness to rise. Turning away slowly, Rhodri scanned the expressions of surprise and horror in the faces of those lined up along the wall of the Harmonica and he growled in anger. Furious at the position he had been put in, raging that he had been compelled to violence and frustrated that he had been seen to do so publicly he let off a shrill scream. One scream was followed by another and another, and the crowd of onlookers were forced to shield their ears as he stormed back up St.Mary's Street in the direction of home.

The boys were bored. Saturday had come around again and with it the final home international of the Five Nations tournament. All was quiet and drops of rain trickled slowly down the huge plate glass windows as the match edged towards its conclusion somewhere in the distance. A deluge of red and white and blue spread across the streets to declare the news that France had been victorious by twelve points to nine in what was reported to have been a tense thriller of a match. The wave swelled and subsided over the next hour as executives passed through the doors to lament happily over a glorious miss. Eventually the crowds disappeared into the rain and the grey and all was as quiet as a Sunday evening.

Rhodri and Nobby had been on their feet since eleven that morning, and even Wales' Triple Crown triumph had failed to alleviate the tedium of a deserted cafe bar at close to seven in the evening. After six hours the two of them had run out of topics for discussion, and Ray came over having exhausted his list of responsibilities,

"Hiya guys", he spoke with little enthusiasm, "What's up?"

Nobby managed a little shrug and Rhodri continued to stare out into the rain as if he thought it were a stupid question. Spurred on by boredom Ray continued, determined to make conversation,

"Who do you reckon's going to win the fight between Tyson and Bruno then?", and his eyes lit up with the symbolic importance that a championship fight holds for every boy. Rhodri and Nobby were both sparked into in life by the magic of the names. Rhodri smiled and delivered his opinion,

"Tyson's an animal, he has an explosive jab that moves through and get him into range past the big man. Once he's there he'll kill Bruno! Bruno has a big jab and other than that he's too slow to deliver anything! Three or four rounds, Tyson."

"Oh come on!" Ray was by now well into the spirit and excitement of the ranking of giants amongst men, "Bruno's so powerful and massive! If he catches you with a hook you'd never get up again! I reckon Bruno will knock him down, but it'll be close!"

Nobby said nothing and stared into the distance pensively. After a moment he extracted a pencil and a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and proceeded to write,

"What are you doing Nobby?", enquired Ray peering over Nobby's shoulder as he leant against the wooden banister in the stair well. Curious, Rhodri moved over from his vantage point to watch Nobby's scribbling,

"Asking the spirits who will win the fight".

"What d'ya mean?", asked Ray. Rhodri's face darkened with intrigue. Nobby explained with an air of great authority,

"Every word has a value, a meaning in the universal manner of things, Christ has seven, the antichrist six and so on. We all know life is part luck and part arranged by the pattern with which things form, and that certain numbers are lucky, others unlucky, like thirteen", Rhodri and Ray became silent, listening with interest, "Now if I ask the spirits a question, like 'Who will win the big fight?', the words have values, see here along the bottom line. The values of each of the different words combine to give other values on the next layer of the pyramid and so on until we reach the top". Nobby formed the pyramid by combining numbers one upon another, whispering the calculation inaudibly and continued until he had reached the number at the apex, "You see! This is an ancient system known as numerology, you can ask the spirits the answer to many important questions, here they say that the fight will be close, but Tyson will prevail in round four of five".

Ray laughed, trying to restore the levity the conversation had lost. Ray appeared wholly unconvinced by Nobby's mysticism, but entertained by the idea nonetheless,

"That's brilliant Nobby I'll put five on Bruno, you wanna deal!"

"Sure thing boss!", and Nobby cackled with delight as he clapped Ray's hand and swung it from side to side like two little boys in the playground swearing undying loyalty. Rhodri murmured and cast his mind back to his first meetings with Nobby. He inhaled slowly and deeply looking up to the heavens as he rolled his eyes in realization.

Later that same evening Alwyn came by unexpectedly. Casting a favourable glance towards Rhodri he stopped just before he entered to collect the money and pay his respects to his fellow business men.

"Evening Rhodri", he said with a little sparkle in his eye, which from experience was as close to a genuine smile as Alwyn ever seemed to get in his business life.

"Good evening Alwyn".

"I'm sorry about the other night", Alwyn started, then his face darkened and he almost raised a finger, "I've had a word with Kevin, and I've told him that it's not your job to clear up his mess after him". His face then returned to a lighter shade and he nodded his astonishment. Patting his door man on the shoulder with a heavy hand he then entered through the door Rhodri held open for him. After a few minutes Rhodri's curiosity had grown and he looked over his shoulder to see Alwyn emerge with Ray from his office at the far corner. They came to rest by the bar where the conversation proceeded lightly . In-between grins and chuckles their eyes reported back towards the entrance door, and if Rhodri had been more self-conscious he might have thought that they were discussing him. By and by Alwyn exchanged a pat and a handshake with his friend Ray and departed towards the front door giving Rhodri another of his knowing looks as he went. Ray followed shortly after issuing instructions at the bar and came to rest two steps above Rhodri.

"I hear you're going to train with John at Channel View", he grinned.

"It was mentioned".

Nobby and Ray exchanged wry smiles.

Rhodri was fuming and had begun to pace up and down in his room. By mistake he had left the power button of his stereo on whilst he attended College, and now that evening he had returned to find his door open and the power button switched off. These simple deductions were made because the power button had been permanently depressed, caught in fact some distance beneath its normal delicate position of rest, in fact irretrievably so. In his mind's eye there was no doubt as to who had violated his privacy and his possessions. Scalding, he continued to pace about in his room with his door closed before taking a deep breath and settling down to effect makeshift repairs. After a short while Jennie entered the living room in company. The partition between his bedroom and the lounge was wafer thin and he almost hear the facial expressions on the other side. With familiar frenetic tones she unleashed her tension and anxieties before her friends,

"I'm just tired of him, he's a workaholic. We only see him once a week at his desk writing. He never goes out, carries on that sordid business at Henry's or wherever he's bouncing these days", and she encouraged a little derisory snigger from her friends, "God he's sad!"

She knew he was in his room, his stereo was playing, and that remark had been designed to be penetrating and to a degree it had been. Then he heard the unwelcome and familiar tones of Mikie, the erstwhile roisterer of Jennie's affections,

"Just let me go in there and have a word with him Jennie!", and Rhodri saw him speaking through the wall, "I'll just take him outside and beat some sense into him!"

Rhodri, his fists clenched, was just considering rushing out to take him up on his kind offer when Rama interceded,

"No! Mikie!", she implored, "And as if you could anyway! He'd tear you apart!"

"Oh really!", Mikie's drunken murmurs were temporarily drowned out by the sound of his chair giving way as he rose for battle, "We'll see about that!"

"Come-a-long Mikie and sit down! Now there's no need for that kind of talk!", Paynie's voice of reason lifted the tension between the two rooms. Jennie sniffled,

"I just wish he'd go. He's arm in arm with the landlord and I'm really tired of him".

Paynie again poured oil upon the troubled waters,

"Come-a-long Jennie! You're tired! Let's go back to my place and talk there and we'll discuss things with him when you're fresher".

"Okay, I suppose so", Jennie sniffed, "Give me a hug Paynie!"

Relieved to be back at work amongst his friends on Friday night, Rhodri spent the early hours of the evening engaged in easy conversation surrounded by Henry's cosy environs. Nobby grinned at him,

"We train at Channel View on Sundays"

"Where's that?"

"It's at the bottom of Grangetown where the river meet the sea"

"What kinds of facilities does it have?"

"All kinds ini! Weights, halls, and a boxing ring and bags for us to work on".

"What time do you boys train together?"

"We meet at twelve, work for a bit on the bags and then spar!", and Nobby lifted both his voice and his spirits, punching the air with undoubted enthusiasm, "Nobody like to spar with me! My karate teacher keeps telling me to be gentle with all the black belts! They say Nobby you's too rough! I jump at them screaming and kicking and they runs away from me!". Rhodri and Ray standing could not help but laugh.

"John said he was going to pop his head around to see me this evening!", Ray declared proudly, "Says he wants a new sparring partner because Nobby's too rough!", and he slapped Nobby on the back as the two descended into hysterics as Rhodri looked on smirking.

"I am Leo!", declared Nobby fiercely, "Like a lion, I take raw onion to improve my virility and I am like a stud!", he punched the air again and Ray laughed uncontrollably, encouraging Nobby to continue, "Alwyn says to me 'Shut your mouth Nobby! You does my bleedin' head in!' But Alwyn is Taurus the bull, and I says to him, 'Alwyn I am like a lion, and the lion traps the bull on the floor and rips his belly open with his claws!'" Nobby and Ray took a short break for some more good natured guffaws, "And he goes to me 'Like frig Nobby!' and we both start laughing".

By this time both Ray and Nobby were beyond the point of communication as they had collapsed in hysterics and Rhodri was left to greet the succession of amazed customers with a face suggesting no concern.

A short while later they had moved onto the subject of women again when John happened by in his bow tie and cardigan. With accustomed social skill he entered into the frivolous banter that endeared him to his door men,

"Hullo Ray, hullo Nobby", and he smiled enigmatically.

"Hiya John!", Ray replied with worshipping eyes. Nobby punched John playfully in the shoulder,

"Hello John, you ready for me to kick your ass some more tomorrow?"

"Look at Nobby heres!", laughed John, "He always says he's going to kick my ass an' he never does!"

"Well we all need a goal!", added Ray with more than a touch of flattery. John acknowledged Ray with a polite laugh and finally his attentions turned to Rhodri,

"Heys Roddy! I hears you can moves your leg about a bit?"

Rhodri thought briefly and concluded that he meant his kicks were up to scratch, and smiled modestly. John's eyes glistened,

"Gonna come along and trains wis us at Channel View on Sunday ah?"

"I would love to, twelve?"

John nodded,

"I's be interested to sees you fighting Roddy, and may bes I can give you that lesson that you's wanted".

Rhodri forgot his troubles and his life and looked forward to Channel View. Managing to bounce out of bed before nine o'clock on Sunday morning he was unsure whether it was the time or the bounce that surprised him more. He was not at his best in the mornings and by Sunday his batteries were usually flat. Rummaging through his drawer he found a white top and tight white track suit bottoms to wear, and, after an extensive search he unearthed his old sparring gloves and shin guards. After a bowl of muesli he called a taxi firm at eleven for half past and arranged himself a nice hot mug of tea. All was quiet in the house, no provocations or altercations in the superficial world of possessions and perceptions which constituted the politics of the middle class. A gruff man rang the bell ten minutes early, clearly upset at having been disturbed so early on a Sunday morning. His peaked cap failed to disguise his heavy drinking and neglected stubble, and after he had stared rudely for a moment he got to the point,

"Where you going?"

"The Channel View Centre, Grangetown"

"I knows where it is like"

Rhodri sighed and wondered why he had to pay for this. Mercifully further conversation was not engaged and they arrived along the grassy stretch at ten minutes before twelve. He paid his three pounds and slammed the car door.

Channel View was a large and spacious modern hanger which loomed impressively over the Cardiff bay. Briskly, he made his way across the sea of grey paving slabs to reception where he was waved on. To the right, through a side door lay a large room where two heavy punching bags separated an area of wooden floor and the professional boxing ring which lay to his left. A dozen assorted individuals were already about their business punching bags and sparring, whilst a few were in the far corner with John offering him garments for sale, as merchants to a king. The giant Creole Steve was already there, as was Nobby, shadowing sparring towards the far wall. John spotted Rhodri and raised his arm with a smile to acknowledge him. Wearing his full Welsh international regalia of red, green and white he lent the drab warehouse a certain colour and vibrancy. Watching the two large men kick box in tank tops he spotted John's bare feet, which had a callused flattened appearance from many years of pounding in the dojo.

"Hey there Roddy, you's all right?", he called over in light, friendly tones as he hurriedly completed a business transaction with a member of his court before walking over to take charge of his latest recruit. But there was something different about him, gone was his familiar relaxed tone and manner and a purposeful tension ruled his face.

"Right then young Roddy! You's warmed up?"

Before waiting for an answer he pulled Rhodri across and started alternate leg stretching exercises over the shoulder. John sneered uncharacteristically at the tightness in Rhodri's hips,

"You's stiff uh?"

"Long time John".

"Let's goes over and do some light sparring here in open court, hands only. Right let me sees you loose, no come on let it flow now, that's it! Nice and easy. Flow from toe to toe, yes likes you's dancing", he smiled and began to flow with his natural rhythm, and then returned to the order of business.

"Okay now Roddy let's spar!"

Rhodri launched four full thrusting left jabs forcing him back, and then whipped backwards to avoid the counter,

"Aha! That's it now! Easy now, easy now Roddy!"

John launched a testing jab and then followed it stepping through with a right cross which Rhodri bent like a reed to avoid. John exhaled with satisfaction at the result. Finally Rhodri was caught as John sprang forward with two quick jabs after catching the hapless combatant with his weight over the front foot. In his attempt to escape Rhodri found himself off balance and he careered backwards over the wall bench without the contact of a glove. John laughed,

"Okay Roddy so hands and feet now!"

Snorting with annoyance Rhodri walked to the centre of the floor and raised his guard high above his head in the praying mantis form. John smiled and probed forward with a quick left lunge punch to the face and then to the solar plexus, but the right mantis arm flowed up and then down absorbing the blows. Rhodri countered with a fast lead jab and then a reverse punch off his back leg but fell well short and was forced into rapid retreat by a blitz of punches and subtle forward motions, absorbing the final punch with a defiant upper cross block. Lost in the void of motion Rhodri jumped up with a high thrusting side kick directed at John's head. The master merely smiled and leant to the side effortlessly as the blow cut the air. Landing as softly as a cat, silently and with a spring in the step, Rhodri then followed with a leaping roundhouse kick, swinging across the line of John's face. John ducked with faultless timing leaving Rhodri to complete the circle and land with his back to his opponent. John spun effortlessly around the back of Rhodri like a top, and turned his rotation into a left roundhouse kick, snapping from the knee and Rhodri was surely undone. Closing his mind Rhodri felt a lightness of being and himself lifting off the floor as John's thigh brushed against the back of his hamstrings. He was in the air, floating and turning and then he felt the hard impact of landing upon his two feet, his right ankle taking the brunt of the impact. Rotating his neck quickly to position his opponent he noticed that John was indeed some way behind him, some thirty yards in fact, nodding and grinning in appreciation as their eyes met for a moment, still burning with the fire of conflict. For a brief instant the two recognized one another and nodded with the revelation of knowledge. Their companions had long since stopped their training and were stared open mouthed in silence, he had just somersaulted thirty yards from a standing,

"How d'ya do that man?", asked an unfamiliar Rastafarian. Rhodri just shrugged his shoulders,

"I don't know it's my first time".

Rhodri kept warm with some light stretching and movement as he watched John enter the ring and spar successively with a range of partners. He was loose, fast, swift, agile, toying with his opponents and practicing his moves, timing and control. The giant Steve succeeded in sweeping him off his front foot and he acknowledged the point, but otherwise it was merely a canter to a thoroughbred racehorse. But John grew weary after six three minute rounds and stepped out of the ring for a fluid break. His now steely stare caught sight of Rhodri. He motioned to him with his head to enter the ring,

"Hey Roddy, hey Nobby let's sees the two of you's together!". The entourage gathered round under the ropes to watch the confrontation, their eyes sparkling and their mouths grinning in eager anticipation. Nobby removed his purple track suit top and paraded his muscular frame with more than a suggestion of pride. He exhaled loudly as he somersaulted over the ropes and landed with a heavy thud feet first upon the canvas. Rhodri climbed slowly and reluctantly between the ropes, his wasted frame preserved from the embarrassment by a loose fitting top. Eye to eye the two faced each other in the centre of the little ring which commanded such mastery of movement. Nobby grinned broadly, exuding a self confidence that assumed victory. Rhodri relaxed his tired shoulders, his face staring impassively so as not to give his opponent the advantage of his knowledge.

"Hah!', Nobby cried, bounding into a powerful stance. Rhodri just stayed loose swaying gently back and fro, feeling his adversary. Effortlessly he leapt forward and rose high up off the ground, forming a sword edge with his right foot. Catching his opponent cleanly across the face, Nobby's consciousness was saved only by a timely shuffle step away. Rhodri flew back as he had come and landed softly on the canvas as Nobby shook the stars from his eyes,

"Hey nice kick there Roddy!", cried John. After regaining his focus, Nobby roared with anger and sprang forward with his reply. The speed and power of his assault caught Rhodri by surprise and with barely a response he felt his ribs and liver implode as he was kicked backwards head over heals through the ropes, his back cracking as the vertebrae clashed in their haste to leave the ring. He lost consciousness and rolled over the canvas tier and onto the floor. His spirit deserted him as he collapsed limp and lifeless below the level of the canvas. He fought the abyss, that void of hollow emptiness that haunts the departed, and slowly an energy overtook him and he felt himself lifted up onto the canvas and rolled underneath the ropes back into the ring. His body unfurled and straightened as if it had a life of its own, for he was way past conscious control. Gradually his eyes became unblurred and he focused sharply upon Nobby who by was bouncing around the ring, grinning from ear to ear and saluting the imaginary applause of the crowd.

"Right then no more jumping kicks, or else someone's going to get seriously hurt!", shouted John and a ripple of amusement followed from the spectators. Nobby turned around and then froze, looking at the ghost staring at him in astonishment. His grin vanished and his hands stopped their mechanical pumping motion.

"Right you!", Rhodri strode towards Nobby menacingly, his arms dangling loosely by his side. A right roundhouse kick landed upon Nobby's elbow and visibly shook him, and the following front left lunge punch knocked the wind from his stomach, thrusting Nobby backwards against the ropes. A final lashing right backfist sent him careering back towards the centre of the ring.

"Hey, nice combination Roddy!", shouted John. Nobby lurched backwards, dazed and confused in the direction of the far ropes and Rhodri strode fiercely after him, his mind focused on finishing the job. John sensed the danger and called time,

"Okay that's enough now boys, let's stop now or I's going to have to finds replacements for both of you!" Nobby crumpled into a heap on the canvas, panting heavily, followed closely behind by Rhodri who breathed deep and long and hard. Slowly they regained their senses and joined the ring of spectators in laughter as they regained their breath. Rhodri staggered to his feet, his left hand pressed against his wounded rib cage, and pointed at Nobby with his right hand,

"I want danger money for working with this mother!"

John laughed and Nobby rolled onto his side, pointing a finger up at Rhodri,

"An' I want danger money for working with this friggin' psycho here!"

The ring of fighters burst into laughter and Rhodri and Nobby began to tell stories of fights they had endured together as brothers on the door.

Rhodri was carried home on a wave of elation. He knelt before his iron cross that hung upon his wall and uttered a silent prayer for his carriage. Kissing his Lord he donned a sterling silver cross that he had bought and wore it from that day as a mark of his gratitude. For he knew that he had been helped by a friend that day. He even managed to stand upright during his Sunday evening shift at Henry's as the two friends and Ray exchanged stories of male fighting prowess and bonding,

"Hey Rhodri! I hear that you were at Channel View today!"

"You're not kidding!", laughed Nobby.

"I'm knackered!", coughed Rhodri holding the left side of this rib cage, "You should have seen what this son of a bitch did to me today!" Nobby chuckled and slapped his thighs as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I heard!", cried Ray slapping Rhodri's back and sending a convulsion of pain through Rhodri's chest.

"What do you mean what I did to you, you headcase!", cried Nobby in fun, "I've got cuts all down the side of me mouth where this bugger kicked and punched me! Honest to God! I've never been hit harder, I thought my balls were going to fall off!" Bending over double, Ray clutched his stomach,

"You two are too much really!"

"John was really impressed!", Nobby continued in more reverential tones, "He say he's never seen anybody get up off the floor like that before. Honest to God! He says Roddy must have balls like steel! An' he say he had a nice somersault too!" Ray nodded his head in agreement at the rumour as Nobby continued,

"John goes to me afterwards, 'Say where did Roddy learn to fight like that!', and then he grins at me and says 'His style can stop a lion, man', an' then he punches me on the shoulder!", Nobby paused to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye, "An' I says, yeah! May be a dead one, if its really old and its lost all of its teeth!", and Nobby punched the air defiantly as the laughter continued through the evening.

Monday morning however was not so good. He awoke at three, running a slight fever and staggered to the bathroom. Swallowing copious amounts of water, Rhodri then coughed it back out together with a small quantity of blood. Dizzy he went back to bed sweating, and by nine he was awake if somewhat delirious. He missed college that morning, although he still made it into work that evening. His freedom of movement was constrained by a back injury, and by now he was convinced that his ribs were broken as every full breath caused him to wince with pain. His temperature persisted and his freedom of movement was compromised by his back pain, but he just had to grin and bear it and pray that he did not get into another fight. Standing outside the doors on Wednesday night he was about to perform his customary duty of raising the canopy with a long pole when two white youths walked by and, being at that particular age, one decided brightly that he was going to kick it away as it rested on the pavement. Common sense did not interfere and he realized his goal, for it would probably have been quite silly not to have done so given the opportunity. His spine torqued bitterly as his weight shifted onto his other leg as the pole he was leaning on disappeared from under him, and he shot a vitriolic glance of pain at the passing youths. The second youth scolded his partner as they quickened their pace,

"Watch what you're doing there 'bro! Yo! That's the blank panther!"

Rhodri forgot his pain, mystified by the remark. Nobby had used the reference in passing and he had heard it elsewhere before, but no one had ever called him that before, nor had he ever adopted the title. Bizarre he concluded after a shrug, and treated the event as being of no significance.

Questions were being raised as to his state of health and his bedroom began to smell as he sweltered beneath the blankets. His appetite was vanquished and he paid little attention to cleanliness. In his delirious state he imagined that the girls were upset with him again as he dreamt a conversation in the hallway outside his room,

"What is the matter with the boy now?"

"He's normally up by eight isn't he?"

"It's Friday and he hasn't been out of his room before ten since Monday".

"I don't know why he doesn't see a doctor, he's been like this for days. And God what a stench!"

"Yes I know!"

"Stupid boy, he's only twenty and he's caught up in all this...", and at that point he lost consciousness.

By Friday night he was feeling a little stronger and had eaten his first square meal. He engaged Nobby in some light conversation and after a time Gary and Steve appeared from the direction of Queen Street on their bicycles. Dismounting, the pair sported fresh army crew cuts to match their green bomber jackets as they wheeled their cycles over to pay their respects. Steve's visage as usual suggested deep concern whilst Gary's semblance was that of a seraph, reflecting an invulnerable love and trust that put even Rhodri at ease,

"Here's you's been showing off a bit of the ole kung fu like Roddy", smiled Gary.

"He's a bleedin' headcase!", Nobby laughed.

"An' I hear's you two almost killed one another on Sunday!"

"Well he started it!", Rhodri pointed to Nobby, teasing, "I was only defending myself against this mad mother here!"

"Like frig I did!", and Nobby joined in the round of jollity, "John had to stop the fight because Roddy wanted my ass so bad! He say he'd have to get new door men if we killed each other!"

Gary then pointed his finger towards Rhodri, "An' people's saying as you and John are going into the ring on Sunday, because they ain't sure you cain't beat him". Gary spoke with a smile and Rhodri wasn't entirely sure he was joking.

"Err, I'm a not err..quite sure that I'm quite in John or Alwyn's...err league boys", and he averted his face in embarrassment at the suggestion.

"People's saying you are", added Nobby with a mischievous grin, "And they's got John real riled. And as for Alwyn", Nobby stopped to feign a look of contempt, "Hah! Alwyn fought John in the ring last year and Alwyn couldn't get anywhere near John, and John kicked his ass all over the place, real bad!"

Gary and Steve grinned at Rhodri with great expectation and Nobby looked at his partner through the corner of his eye. Nobby spoke in a low tone now, dropping his pretence of humour,

"I have asked the spirits what will happen", and he smiled and gave his partner a knowing nod and a look, "You will fight John this weekend or people will say you are a coward".

Sunday morning came around and he struggled out of bed, cursing the twinges as he straightened himself. He checked his hated alarm clock, it was already ten. Still half asleep he fumbled around in the dark and knocked his alarm clock off the dresser before he finally managed to yank open the curtains. The sunlight blinded him and he staggered back as his eyes adapted to the light. Rumbling through his drawers he attempted to recover the sparring equipment he had thrown down in haste the week before, and after much scrabbling about in the bottom of the drawer he uncovered the gloves but not the shin pads. He found the white sweatshirt and bottoms he had worn the week before and decided to discard them on the laundry pile. Eventually he dug up his old black track suit bottoms and sweatshirt that had been ripped across the front as he scrambled through Rama's skylight. The overall impression was comfortably rough, for he felt rough, and he was in no mood to concern himself with other than the task he had to perform. After a bowl of cereal which he consumed despite not having much of an appetite, he called the taxi firm from the Docks as he believed they were more likely to know where he was going.

A large fat man waddled up to the front door and rang the door bell for what seemed an eternity. Three seconds later he thumped the door impatiently as the occupant scampered to open it hearing Jilly begin to groan upstairs. Rhodri opened the door and gave the man a fierce stare. Before him was a tall, obese man with an unpleasant smirk that would have mothers rushing to the park to collect their little ones.

"You coming or what?", he bellowed gruffly.

"You're fifteen minutes early"

"I just got told to come here"

A deep sigh followed,

"Five minutes?"

"I'll be in the car"

The taxi driver shot Rhodri a parting look that bordered on derision as he ambled off across the street towards an unsightly little cream Lada which had not recently seen any form of water except rain. Sliding into his trainers he looked about for his green jacket to fend off the daily drizzle. Clutching his gloves his found two five pound notes and made a dash for the car door as the rain started to descend heavily. The driver snorted as if to suggest impatience,

"Channel View", Rhodri replied marveling at the failure of communication.

"Okay then"

The car shuddered into life and passed the white BMW making for an unusually flattering comparison. Strangely the route he chose was certainly a good deal more scenic than that of the previous week, and he thought to question the driver about his wayward tour of Roath. However he gave the man the benefit of the doubt as he was unsure that the driver didn't know a short cut. A few miles later he saw that the meter had reached five pounds and he sighed with disappointment.

"I thought Grangetown was beneath Cathays not to the right of it, and I don't think Roath is on the way either"

The driver sneered at him as they rounded Avondale Road and the giant metallic blue hanger hoved into view. The meter ticked past the six pound mark as they stopped an uncomfortable distance from the entrance, the engine begging for retirement or a service, preferably both.

"Not got much work on this morning?", Rhodri asked flippantly.

"Six pounds twenty", he responded, well pleased with himself, "Now hand it over and get out".

Rhodri sighed and thought about walking out without paying him, or just hitting that smug, fat expression. But he just sighed again and handed him a five pound note,

"And that's with tip", he barked sharply, bouncing out of the passenger door and slamming it behind him. Turning around he saw the taxi driver reaching around to his back seat for a baseball bat as he glowered through his rain washed windshield, but Rhodri simply ignored him and briskly stepped into the hall.

The regular crowd were there trading tips, punches and kicks, but this time they all stopped and greeted him warmly as he entered their dojo. As they resumed their training he looked around for a partner, but seeing none he walked over into the corner to stretch. Presently John and Nobby entered the hall in tandem, laughing and joking. Nobby paraded through in his purple track suit with white trim whilst John wore the red, green and white and dragon of Wales. Espying Rhodri John waved at him and called out,

"Eh! Here's young Roddy!", cried John, "Look there Nobby he wanna kick your ass!"

"Yeah! An it look like he wanna kick yourn an' all!" Rhodri smiled back in their direction and waved, grinning to himself. Nobby had a certain savoir faire, the ability to change his intonation and grammar to suit his social situation, from mixing cordially with the wealthy to playing the Docks' boy to gain the advantages their network afforded. Switching to attacking the bags with his elbows and knees, Rhodri loosened up whilst John stretched his long legs over Nobby's shoulder.

"Okays then Roddy!", John called over after he had limbered up, "Time to spar!". Walking over to the area of wooden floor, he beckoned for Rhodri to follow.

"You's and Nobby starts, hands only".

Nobby stripped off his track suit top to reveal his gleaming ebony musculature and chuckled wickedly,

"Yahh!", he shouted, exhaling noisily as he began his dance, bobbing around throwing punches as though there were a capacity crowd watching. Stumbling forward Rhodri found the centre of the floor and let his arms fall loosely by his side.

"Okay begin!", shouted John, his face suddenly a picture of seriousness. Nobby lunged at Rhodri with a jab and a cross, but Rhodri just stepped back and swayed away, allowing the punch to fall short of his chin. Relaxing Rhodri started to circle slowly around Nobby, like a cat stalking a rival, always maintaining a five yard buffer zone between black skin and black cloth. Nobby grew frustrated as he watched his opponent stepped sideways, around and around in a big circle, staring at the floor as though it might impart some special secret. His agitated mood got the better of him and he charged in to close the gap after the first rotation, leaping forward with a thundering right cross to the face,

"Yahh!", declared, but Rhodri slid effortlessly back, shoulders loose and eyes focused, and the blow crumpled into the double-armed cross block that he formed to protect his face as though a car had met a wall. Rhodri continued the dance, round and round to the second full circle, watching, waiting for a break in the breeze. At last Nobby's frustration cost him his concentration and in his mind's eye Rhodri felt his guard drop and his gaze wander. Like a bolt of lighting Rhodri shot forward with a series of springing jabs to the face, catching Nobby by surprise and forcing him to career back into the sliding door where a powerful reverse punch of the trailing leg completed the kill, transiently winding Nobby.

"Hey nice movement! Good skills Roddy! Caught old Nobby out nice, uh!", he moved to replace Nobby at the centre smiling after his more familiar relaxed and unconcerned nature.

"Okay Roddy, let me sees what you can do!"

John's strong and wiry shoulders hung loosely and his arms bounced freely as he danced his free and easy rhythm from one foot to another, as though his life force had no blocks and no inhibition. Rhodri started to circle, but John quickly launched a jab, springing off his back foot like a fencer, forcing Rhodri into a backwards step and a sway of the head to avoid the sting of impact. Rhodri gave John another yard of respect as he continued his anti-clockwise movement, his shoulders swinging gently and arms dangling lifelessly by his side.

"Okays Roddy you wanna play wiv me!", laughed John as he saw the same strategy played out. Replacing his smile with straight-faced concentration, John rolled his shoulders awaiting an opening or an opportunity to counter. Rhodri paid no heed to his face, only to the floor, for in his mind's eye he saw all that was important. Reaching the origin of the circle he noticed that John's concentration had waned and then he sniffed, raising his centre of energy up to his shoulders, and Rhodri darted forward with the opening, throwing a series of strong left jabs and driving John back into the roller doors with a clatter, and finishing with an even noisier reverse right punch off the trailing right leg into John's solar plexus.

"Ooopphh!", cried John exhaling. Then he laughed good naturedly. Rhodri sensed however that he was acting as he had not penetrated John's taught and rigid abdominal wall.

"Ah Nobby! Roddy's gone and got me the same ways too! Kinda good wis his hands ah?"

"You're becoming old and slow John!", teased Nobby and John responded with a good-natured laugh.

Exhausted from the energy he had expended Rhodri caught his breath in two great gasps, forgetting the tenderness of his ribs. He wheeled around and gazed up and about at the cavernous ceiling and then at the gentle sparring that was taking place in the ring. Despite its rudimentary decoration, the dojo was almost homely, and was lent a powerful aura by the presence of the fighting legends from the Docks that warmed its cold heart. Gradually his attention focused upon the ring where a pair of white heavyweights were exchanging mighty blows in the hope of impressing their leader.

"Right's that's enough you two! Tony you've got a nice punch, but cover your face or you's gonna get hit all tha time! Raymond nice work, use your legs a bit more in the counters!"

"Okay John!"

"Righto John!", and two wearing short cropped hair and dark tank tops made their way back through the ropes. Purposefully John then stepped into the ring. His visage had darkened and he motioned with his head, beckoning for Rhodri to come and join him. Somewhat taken aback Rhodri felt self-conscious as all eyes turned to meet his ascent. Crawling stiffly through the ropes, Rhodri found himself within the claustrophobic confines of the ring staring at his master. Gone were those sparkling friendly eyes, replaced now by a glistening intent too fierce to call anger. Calls of support emanated from the ring side,

"Okay now John! Teach him a lesson!"

"Yeah John, show him some real stuff!"

"Go on Roddy kick his ass!", came the voice of a lone dissenter sounding suspiciously like Nobby. But Rhodri grew concerned, John was not his usual, lithe relaxed self and he saw no evidence of padding to protect him from his opponent.

"Watch my ribs huh?", Rhodri cautioned nervously pointing to his left side with his glove, but there was no change or acknowledgement from the darkened expression and deadly look of intent. Rhodri moved around his opponent tightly and cautiously, his free flowing rhythm having deserted him. Hesitantly, John skipped forward, telegraphing his intent, and threw a right roundhouse kick across Rhodri's chest. Anticipating the blow Rhodri moved into the kick with his left shoulder and caught the slow return with his right arm, spinning John around one hundred and eighty degrees by his right leg and sending him sprawling into the corner ropes. Riled John rose to his feet as a worshipping attendant bounded through the ropes and sprayed a painkiller onto his damaged shoulder,

"Hey anyone can do that man!", he taunted, annoyed that his slow technique had been so heavily punished. The two squared off again in the centre and the tension rose to Rhodri's shoulders. Like a gust of wind John thrust a powerful lead punch straight into Rhodri's ribs changing his forward leg to drive it through, skewering his immobile opponent. The force of the impact sent a shudder through Rhodri's body and he recoiled a yard as though hit by a slug. Momentarily, his head pivoted violently back on his neck and Rhodri briefly lost consciousness before shaking his head to lose the stars. John grinned and his eyes glared with satisfaction,

"Easy! Too slow for old Uncle John huh!"

"He didn't even move his blinking feet", Raymond shouted coarsely. Rhodri raised his guard and circled around his opponent, relaxing as he focused upon returning the compliment. John's eyes lost contact for an instant, and Rhodri smelt his opportunity, springing forward with a left front toe kick to his opponent's chin he followed through sharply with a skip and a right front toe kick again directed towards John's chin. His speed caught John by surprise and he lurched backwards with his head staring at the ceiling to avoid the impact of the first and then the second kick. Rhodri missed by a whisker, making the fundamental mistake of not following a high kick with a low one to the exposed belly. No sooner than his second kick had failed, he was forced to leap backwards and to the side as John recoiled off the ropes and raised his leg high above his head, spinning a full turn and dropping his leg like an axe to take his opponent's supporting leg away. Darting back, Rhodri evaded the stunning display of agility and rooted himself awaiting the next opening. Dropping his hands to lure his opponent forward, their intense eyes met in the middle of the ring and John whispered darkly,

"Go on try anything you want I'll meet you half way!"

A heavy silence and a fateful tension descended upon the dojo as the draw was called. Again John punished his adversary's hesitation with another whistling lunge punch that hurtled through a full forward step. The force of impact was numbing, striking precisely the point that Nobby had hammered the week before. The strike bent Rhodri over double, sending a wave through his spine. Rhodri saw black and then white as he struggled to regain consciousness, his legs buckling from underneath him as he staggered to the side.

"He's gone white, you've finished him John!"

"Watch him John, he's tricky, don't take yer eyes off him!"

Rhodri tried to straighten himself, but couldn't. His right elbow folded over his left side to protect the injury long after the horse had bolted. Part of him wanted to collapse, part to fight on, but he had lost his carriage,

"Finish him John!"

Only his mind's eye and spirit remained, but weaving his upper body and as he saw John's dark form advance in his eye, his right shoulder fell towards his right knee and with one almighty effort his spirit lashed upwards and forward with his coiled right and connected with a hard and bony object and completed its follow through. His head rose after the momentum of the swing and he staggered forward to see John reeling against the far ropes, disorientated and clutching his chin. Beyond rhyme or reason he lurched forward again in limbo, his right arm nestled against his ribs determined to survive, to win, to conquer.

"That's enough!", cried John's hand darting under the ropes, "He's hurt! Come on no more or someone's going to get killed here!"

Supporting John's sagging head across his shoulder, his aide offered support as the stricken champion clasped his jaw with his fingers. A dazed John was led carefully through the ropes and Rhodri was left on his own to crawl back through the ropes. Sitting heavily on the edge of the ring Rhodri bent over double, wretching from the intense abdominal pain. But he couldn't, despite his wretched and nauseous feeling, and his head span in circles. After a shocked and seemingly endless silence in the hall, Rhodri turned his head slowly to see John nursing his jaw and his pride, with his full entourage in worshipful attendance. John cast a black and mournful stare in return and Rhodri whispered across to him with a dry throat,

"I'm sorry John, I'm sorry"

John just stared at him with glazed eyes and eventually Rhodri hobbled from the silence to quench his thirst. He called a cab and after a drink of water he regained his presence of mind. Gone was the intense pain and a current of charge flowed through his body producing a sensation of elation. Hyperventilating now, he straightened himself and pressed a thumb into his ribs, but there was no pain. He felt alive and the chi coursed through him as convulsions that became rapidly more intense, more pleasurable than any orgasm he had known, as his spirit celebrated his ascent. His skin tingling, his chest heaving, he burst excitedly through the entrance and out into the radiant warmth of the March sunshine. It was as though he were weightless, carrying no burden or sorrow, and he floated lightly towards the road that had carried him to his destination. Strangely the taxi was already there, and he floated over towards the smiling woman who sat at the helm. He paused for a second, realising that he had forgotten his gloves, but he didn't care, possessions were of no importance to him now as he treasured his moment. The woman smiled at him curiously, eyeing his lacerated sweat shirt, his shin pads and outdoor shoes with a great green leather jacket.

"You've just been doing karate?"

"Uh-huh", he settled snugly into his seat.

"My son's just started too, this your first time?"

Rhodri paused and thought a moment,

"No second".

"Don't you worry you'll get the hang of it, my son soon did".

Rhodri brought his car with him to work that Sunday evening, which was a rarity as it was only a brisk half hour's walk from door to door. He had parked opposite Henry's on the double yellow lines, presently oblivious to the world of rules and restrictions. A pair of police officers followed him to take his particulars over his errant brake light, but they saw the green bow tie and merely smiled and wished him a pleasant evening. The fresh white paint work of his car gleamed in the mercurious glow of the street lamps as he crossed to take up his position at the door at seven o'clock sharp. Mark and Ray chatted excitedly together in the corner and stared at him in amazement. Nobby came in at eight grinning from ear to ear and prodded him in the ribs before offering him a hand. He grinned exultantly,

"Aha Roddy! The spirits were right, I knew it would happen!", and he punched the air gleefully.

Ray came over with Mark who shook his hand vigorously,

"Hallo matey! I hear you've been busy today!"

"Is it true, did you break John Falcon's jaw?", Ray buzzed with excitement, "How are your ribs? That must have been quite a fight! I only wish I could have been there to see it! Was he good Nobby?"

"Roddy was good!", and Nobby slapped his partner on the back.

"Bloody hell!", exclaimed Mark, "This is really exciting stuff! I've got two really good door men!"

The grins and smiles had not subsided before the giant Steve the Creole door man stopped on his way round, and raised his arms high and forward to emulate the praying mantis guard. Soon after Gary and Steve came around and imitated some of Rhodri's kicks, and Gary asked him if had done anything interesting at lunch time.

That evening Rhodri drove back towards his home after an evening that was pleasantly rounded off by a meal on the house. By the time he left Henry's it was just past eleven, and he rounded the corner of Park Place smoothly and accelerated onto the broad, sweeping Boulevard de Nantes which toured the elegant white stone museum and government buildings. As he cruised into the central lane a pair of headlights flashed at him twice, and startled, he checked that his lights were on. Finding no obvious fault or neglect he continued only to be flashed by a second set of beams, then a third. As he cruised down the Boulevard and onto the North Road he lost count of the number of flickering lights that greeted his passage. Glowing pride replaced concern as he sank deep into his bucket seat and enjoyed the spectacle of one flash after another as the silent tribute continued on his lap around the city centre.

Nine o'clock on Monday morning was a somewhat stiff affair. Dressed in black and clad in his green leather armour he walked gingerly along Senghennydd Road towards the bridge over the railway line that served the University. Each step was a painful reminder of a weekend of excessive exertion, and he swore that he had strained every muscle in his wiry legs. Every part of his anatomy ached and he longed for a long hot bath and a massage. Five minutes later than he would otherwise have hoped he stumbled in through the lecture theatre door. The lecture hall was shared with the second year medical students and by the time he had arrived it was already a full house. Wincing, he proceeded to fall down the stairs a step at a time and as he clattered his way noisily down the stairs he began to hear whispers. The whispers quickly became more and more voluminous, until they had become a roar of chatter, as events, rumours and speculations were exchanged above the din. Reaching the front of the room he walked clumsily across to his right, failing to preserve even a modicum of dignity. Eventually he silenced the rumours as he swiveled over the hardwood desk on his rear and fell with a loud bang onto the seat bench. By coffee time, the refectory was wild with rumour, and according to those within earshot, one might have been forgiven for thinking that he had acquitted himself quite admirably defending himself against all five of his assailants.

After work on Wednesday Nobby came around to join his two friends at the door. Wearing a broad grin and his purple track suit he burst through the front door in a manner which suggested renewed confidence.

"Hello boys! I've just had my raw onion so I feel like a stud!"

"Steady on!", smiled Mark, "People might hear you!"

"Are you sure it's only onion you've been taking Nob!", added Gary.

Nobby cackled mischievously and struck Gary with a friendly elbow causing the poor boy to clutch his ribs and Nobby laughed, satisfied at his expression of dominance.

"Tonight I am wearing purple! Purple is the royal colour of kings and people of power! I looked at my stars today! They revealed that I am going to come into power very soon!"

"Well you will let us know when it happens won't you Nobby, we don't want to miss it", Rhodri quipped in jest. Nobby chose to ignore the jibe and pronounced,

"Let's go out tonight boys and get a video and come to my place! But first we will eat!"

Mark shook his head in amused disbelief,

"Good night gentlemen have fun now!", and he walked back to the office to count the evening's takings at the bar.

"So what sort of video are we getting Nob? A nice girlie film?", asked Gary, teasing Nobby.

Nobby merely laughed him off, his mind focused upon richer avenues,

"I have bought Enter the Dragon from the video shop to watch at my place! Let's go and get a kebab!"

Nobby drove an old escort, and in keeping with his personality, lane changes, speed limits and other etiquettes of the road were joyously disregarded. After collecting their kebabs, because Nobby informed them that 'beef makes a man like a stud', the three friends were cordially driven along Penarth Road into Grangetown. Stopping outside a tall terraced house that had seen the grander days of the port and steel industry, Nobby locked the car door and emitted a triumphal exhalation,

"Ahhh! He were are my friends! Welcome indeed to Nobby's palace!"

"Thank you for your kind invitation Nobby", replied Gary sincerely, revealing the quality of his mother. After more laughter the three friends made their way up several flights of stairs to the third floor where Nobby produced a key to a purple door.

"Here we are gentlemen! Shoes off please! I don't want the germs to come in! Might catch AIDS or something!", and he sneered dismissively at the microbes. Nobby's room was small, but elegantly furnished with an antique dresser, a four poster bed and a deep pile fur carpet that stretched from wall to wall. Gary and Rhodri ate their food with due reverence for the surroundings before Nobby felt the need to remind them about the carpet. Golden Harvest Productions banged their gong and Nobby nestled into a position of comfort as the three friends sat together on his bed admiring Nobby's expensive television and video. It was a most interesting study. Nobby became ecstatic during all the fight scenes and especially excited when the black champion slept with four female companions he had been offered in hospitality and replayed the scene at least three times. It was a magical evening. Three souls from different worlds enjoying the pleasure of one others company in a warm and cosy little room lit by the myriad coloured lights of a legend they all revered. After sharing a memorable late night of entertainment Nobby drove his two friends back towards their homes in the warmth of one another's easy companionship, as they joked and teased and laughed during their passage through the red, the orange and the white glowing streaks of city life.

Making the ill considered judgement of returning to an occupied house at Coburn Street, he was subjected to another anguished tirade over the sufferings of the jeune middle classes. Thus far he had largely managed to avoid the girls, rising before and returning after their stressful day in the world of the arts. This strategy had become so successful that even Jennie had begun to tire of haranguing an invisible man. However, to his surprise the girls had found the rarity of a justified grievance, and this righteous crusade had apparently preoccupied them for days. That their frustration went beyond the black mould that festered on the bathroom carpet tiles he had fitted, he was quite sure. To be fair, he had suggested putting them in, and Michael had given his willing consent. Unfortunately, the hidden food stains from the Four Lamps had revealed themselves as patches of mould, and another of his contributions towards a happy household had back fired and become another obsession. However, sensing an opportunity to restore a little unity, Rhodri called a meeting in the lounge to discuss the matter. Four sullen faces sat around in a discordant circle of wooden chairs,

"The bathroom's a bloody disgrace!", started Jennie, keen to break the awkward silence and uncomfortable tension.

"It's disgusting!", added Rama, with rare vigour, "And we've told Michael to do something about it several times! And he hasn't moved a muscle!"

"It's like a pig sty in there!", exclaimed Jennie, "I can barely bring myself to go into the bathroom in the mornings!"

"I'll tell you what", Rhodri interjected once he realized that for once he was not the sole object of discontent, "My Uncle Joe Walters had a law practice in the City. I'll go and chat to them partners and ask them what is best to do under these circumstances".

Rama and Jill nodded thankfully and Jennie gave her consent, her mood picking up as she turned matters over in her mind,

"Okay Rhodri, you run along to the solicitors and tell us what he has to say and then we'll decide on what is the most appropriate action".

After a round of nods and satisfied smiles, Rhodri sighed with relief, pleased that he had at last restored a level of communication and cooperation.

Wednesday and Gary came around and as always he was pleased to see the both of them. Yet Gary's expression was strained and for once he was not all smiles,

"I don't knows how I'm going to sort things out with Nobby like", conjectured Gary, readjusting his glasses with uncharacteristic frequency, "About the car an' all".

Gary appeared nervous and deeply concerned, and Rhodri had not imagined that he could have appeared more unsettled if he had just lost a loved one.

"You mean the car that Nobby hired for you from his friend in Grangetown?"

"Yes, that's the one, well I pays him for it in cash like. And then last Friday night I was driving down St.Mary Street bumper to bumper with these other cars after taking Julia home..."

"Julia?"

"You knows, the girl I met on holiday in Mallorca. We's been going together for seven months now", and he broke out into a brief smile.

"How's the relationship?"

"Oh that's going really good like", Gary looked at him in surprise as he circumvented Gary's tragic tale, "But anywise, as I was telling you about the car like", and he readjusted his glasses with a thick finger,

"Yes and what happened to the car?"

"Well this guy two cars in front of me jams the brakes on like and the cars in front of me goes straight into the back of him, an' I goes straight into him and I must have been doing twenty when I actually hit him"

"So the car's dented"

"Oh worse than that like!", Gary exclaimed, "The car behinds me rams into me back like, and the bonnet on the car comes up 'cause the whole front end is concertinered like. Anyways I gets out of the car and looks at the back and that's all smashed up too"

"And what happened next?"

"Well this guy behind me and then this guy in front of me comes up to me all upset, saying I were going too fast. They demands me insurance documents and me drivers license, but I ain't got no insurance cause Nobby took care of that end of things see".

"Oh God!", Rhodri rolled his eyes towards the heavens and gave him a deep sigh upon realising what had happened, "Well didn't you tell him yesterday?"

"Yeah, but he said he went mad at me and said he didn't want to talk about it".

"Talk about what?"

"He said that the car were my responsibility and it were nothing to do with him like".

"He rented the car didn't he?"

"Well sort of, but it wasn't in his name like".

"Was it insured for you to drive?"

"Wells I'm not sure about that like, he didn't tell me".

Rhodri held his hand to his face and groaned.

Living by his word Rhodri called at lunch time and set up an afternoon appointment with the family solicitors. Walking the long hour's drive into the leafy suburb through tree-lined avenues and old symbols of Victorian and Edwardian prosperity he relaxed bathed in the warm glow of the sun. Armed with photographs of the bathroom to bear testimony to the black mould and mildew that haunted fair feminine society, he knocked on the old wooden door. An elderly man, surprised at his phone call, greeted him and politely asked his connection to Uncle Joe Walters to which he replied that he was his Grandfather's brother. The kindly old man sat down and smiled whilst he listened patiently to his tale of woe. Smiling warmly he agreed wholeheartedly with Rhodri's suggestion that the matter was of concern and thanked him politely for coming. Rhodri was told not to worry about the time, after all he was family, and upon requesting the most appropriate action, advised him to write a letter to Michael Kouros. Rhodri returned to Coburn Street well satisfied with his free consultation but much to his surprise the three girls were not there that afternoon or evening, nor indeed the next. Surely three ladies of leisure would find the time to hear his much awaited report and of the fruits of his efforts on their behalf? He began to worry and felt a deep sense of unease.

The next morning he rang Michael and asked if he might come and chat to him about certain matters. Michael sounded unusually hesitant on the phone, lacking the friendly tones of humour and familiarity that had marked their time together.

"Can I see you today or tomorrow Michael?"

Michael was silent for a moment,

"Of course you can my dear Rhodri, but I'm very busy".

"As usual"

"Yes, but I can slot you in at ten tomorrow, now don't be late!"

"Thank you Michael". The receiver went dead.

Rhodri was pensive as he walked the brief half mile towards Michael's ladies' salon on Cathays Terrace. The sun was shining, but this only served to cloud his feeling of doubt still further as he clasped his hand written parchment. Through the glass he saw four young girls busying themselves with lengths of hair over sinks and salon chairs in service of the time honoured tradition of human vanity. He walked through the door to the reception where he had been many times before with Ron Gillman. A pretty young thing smiled at him,

"Is Michael in?"

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes at ten", her teenage looks darkened suspiciously as she stared at the green jacket and black corduroy,

"Who shall I say is calling?"

"Rhodri Walters"

The young lady rushed upstairs and came down a moment later,

"He'll see you now"

Rhodri skipped up the steps and burst through Michael's door with the familiar absence of co-ordination and protocol that usually caused Michael to snigger. Instead Michael looked at him wide eyed and aghast,

"What's going on Rhodri?", he asked in slow and deliberate tones as though in shocked disbelief.

"I went to see my solicitor this week..."

"Yes I know Rod", he replied, his face still haunted by a ghost, and Rhodri nodded to himself, his suspicions proven well founded. Confidently he produced the letter from under the desk and passed it over to his friend,

"And I've written you this letter to you explaining matters. I've had enough of the house. I want to get out of Coburn Street and to move in somewhere else. Do you have any spare accommodation for the time being?"

A dawn of realization came across Michael's haunted features, an altogether strange shift in appearances, combining relief with fresh horror. He paused for a while and nodded his realization and Rhodri gave him time to let events sink in. After a moment's contemplation he spoke,

"I tell you Rhodri I've had enough of those girls and their little games. All you used to do was to go between the kitchen and the bathroom wasn't it?"

Rhodri shrugged and nodded in agreement.

"Too much time on their hands Rhodri, that's the problem, they've got nothing better to do". Michael paused a while longer, then made Rhodri an offer in a more reassuring tone,

"I've got a place in May Street that needs looking after, but its got no fridge in it. I'll help you to move in on Sunday afternoon, okay?" Rhodri nodded gratefully, and returned to Coburn Street where he encountered Rama as he entered through the door. Placing his hands on his hips he stared at the floor, and sighed. Rama seemed taken aback,

"Funny thing happened today".

"What was that?", Rama stopped on the fifth stair and sounded surprised at his unusually firm and demanding manner,

"I went to see Michael today", he sighed again.

"And?"

"He seemed to know what where I had been and what I was there for".

Rama's pretty brown cheeks went red and she stormed off up the stairs as Rhodri went into his room where he heard loud voices from upstairs,

"Jennie! Did you tell Michael that Rhodri had gone to see his solicitor?" There was a pause.

"Oh Jennie! How could you?"

Rhodri moved into May Street on Sunday with Michael's help. He had of course disconnected all the services that were in his name save the electricity, figuring that the girls could come to him for the money for a change. Michael arrived shortly after two to find the place deserted, and he looked around shaking his head,

"Oh I see! It's like that is it?"

Rhodri nodded. In keeping with his generous nature, Michael brought his Honda Civic hatchback around to help Rhodri move his fridge. A committed piece of teamwork carried them struggling as far as the front door. As is typical of life a piece of detached plastic at the back of the fridge prevented them from getting it through the front door, and, after Rhodri had grown frustrated and pulled the fridge backwards, he seized it and tore it off. Michael sniggered uncontrollably,

"What the fuck eh Rod!", and then split his sides after Rhodri tossed the offending plastic protrusion over his head.

"I don't give a damn about the stupid idiot! It's all his fault!", Nobby spat furiously.

"As far as I understand you rented the car on his behalf ?"

"I got him a car because he asked for one! I didn't say he could smash it up!"

"But what's that got to do with it if its insured?"

Nobby ignored the point.

"I went straight over to my friend and asked him to say that I had nothing at all to do with the car! I told him if anyone asks you, just say that you don't even know me! Honest to God! You do a friend a favour and look how he repays you! My friend says the car will cost many thousands of pounds to repair!"

Nobby's face was as intense and wide eyed as he had seen it. As he shook his head from side to side Rhodri was in two minds, but he respected and trusted Gary and so he decided to pursue his line of questioning,

"Nobby, if the car was insured then the insurance company will presumably pay for it!"

Nobby remained silent for a moment and then chose to ignore the point again,

"That is not my responsibility! If the stupid idiot bashes and smashes other peoples' cars then he should friggin' well pay for it! Teach him a lesson aini !"

"Nobby it was an accident, accidents do happen and I'm sure it wasn't all his fault!"

"I've had enough of this conversation! Do not speak to me any more about it if you are my friend!"

The door swung open as Nobby marched out into the cool evening air to recover his poise. Uncertain it was wise to fall out with a colleague and friend over a matter outside his jurisdiction, Rhodri chose to drop the subject, hoping the matter would go away of its own accord. He, Gary and Nobby never worked together, and so he would presumably not be forced to mediate between them or to strain his personal loyalties. But he sighed again, turning events over in his mind. Presumably Nobby had failed to insure the car, but no sane rental agent would ever loan a car without insurance cover, unless...unless of course it was it was not a legitimate rental. The possibilities were endless; Nobby was profiteering with a friend out of official hours, the car could have been borrowed from the firm without permission, or may be Nobby even told his friend it was for a personal favour and then charged Gary for the privilege. After a while he stopped turning the permutations over in his mind and wished it wasn't Monday.

Frankie from the Casablanca had been right, Nobby was indeed a salesman. During a break on Thursday evening Nobby had invited Rhodri downstairs to view what in his words was a magnificent bargain. After so much time together Rhodri was well aware of Nobby's sensitivities, and for him not to buy a bargain from his friend would have been a slight, especially if full and timely consideration had not been given first. As far as basements went, Henry's had not lost their theme of style. Orchid yellow walls, tasteful carpeting and dining tables and chairs for staff breaks suggested that the Whitbread management had a positive outlook on the importance of employee relations. Nobby opened his locker and reached inside,

"Here Roddy! I have fine tuxedos from a quality supplier, they would go well on the door while your other suit is being cleaned. Only forty pounds and it is yours! Honest to God!"

His brown eyes lit up in fascination at the bargain he was offering, and Rhodri had not the heart to tell him the polyester garment was not worth half that.

"Here you are Nobby, here's fifty pounds, size

forty two please"

His partner's mouth opened wide when he saw the money, marveling at its lustre. He exhaling deeply as though the wonders of the world had been shown before him.

"Honest to God Roddy! You's such a good friend!"

May be too good a friend. Alwyn drove around to Henry's later that same evening after Nobby had called him excitedly about the splendid bargains he had on offer. The metallic blue bullet cruised slowly along the kerb of Park Place and came to rest outside the front door. Dressed in his Floyds bow tie and cardigan, he stayed in his car so that Nobby was obliged to go forward to meet him. Alwyn leant across the passenger seat,

"Nobby so where's this bargain you've been telling me so much about then?"

His voice reflected the practiced sarcasm and disinterest of an experienced business man, never one to concede that someone might be about to do him a favour.

"I have high quality DJ's and trousers, very, very good fashion, fifty pounds to you!"

Alwyn nodded, convinced.

"Okay Nobby, size forty eight jacket, thirty two inside leg. I'll come and collect it on Thursday".

"Honest to God! You will have it next Friday at eight".

"I'll have it whenever I choose to come round!", corrected Alwyn, pulling away whilst Nobby's face was still peering through the car window.

The Monday evening was warm and pleasant, and both men had the fruits of life on their mind. Rhodri stood still, his hand now perpetually attached to the brass door handle of Henry's, gazing at the parade of attractive women who migrated towards the bustling life and colours of the city centre at the height of March spring fever. Nobby, hands in pockets, sniffed the fresh air and smiled contentedly as his distinguished features softened into a dreamy smile.

"Good evening Sir. Good evening Madam, enjoy your evening", Rhodri stretched his arms high above him, his trance broken,

"Hey Nobby, tell me! You're up there in the happening social scene of the city! What's new?"

Nobby chuckled at the compliment, his high cheeks lifting to form a broad grin.

"Always somethin' happening round these parts I can tell you! You know Paul the boxer at the Wine Press!"

"Yesss?"

"Well he took the contract for security off John and Alwyn last Wednesday!"

"Oh God!", sighed Rhodri and then crossed himself.

Nobby nodded his agreement,

"Who with?"

"That stupid gorilla with de moustache, Barry!"

Pausing for thought, a look of dread realization came across Rhodri's face,

"They're sitting ducks in the middle of St.Mary Street! They'll never survive, Alwyn will tear them apart!"

"It has already started my friend", Nobby nodded, "Alwyn went round to see Paul last Thursday night! Alwyn was going to punch his teeth down his throat! But I tell you Roddy, Paul was there and he was ready to have a go at Alwyn! Honest to God! Alwyn had to leave because Paul wasn't frightened and Alwyn didn't want to make a scene in the middle of the Street!"

"I dread to think what Alwyn will do to Paul, he's got a virtual monopoly in that part of the city. A small operation isolated in the heart of enemy territory can't hope to survive. Does Paul have an ounce of intelligence?"

"I tell you Roddy, there were fights at the Wine Press all weekend", and Nobby's face reflected his grave concern for his friend, "Six fights on Friday and five on Saturday!"

Rhodri closed his eyes and muttered,

"And I wonder why".

With Wednesday came the bitter harvest of Nobby's deeds. Gary was furious, and he gesticulated to Rhodri fiercely with his finger,

"I'm tells you Roddy, I's going to have this out with Nobby even if I have to remove me jacket to sort it out!"

"Why what has happened now?", Rhodri adopted an air of ignorance both to show that he had not taken sides and to allow him determine fact from fiction.

"You knows I told you I hired a car from his friend across the road from him in Grangetown?"

"I do now".

"Well when I's took the car round all smashed up like he said it weren't insured and that I would have to pay him two an a half thousand pounds in repairs for the damage. I says like Nobby hired it, and he says he's never heard of Nobby like. So when I says you cain't hire out a car with no insurance he says it weren't hired and it was borrowed at my own risk because he took no money for it like".

Rhodri sighed a deep and sympathetic sigh,

"I'm sorry to hear about your misfortunes Gary".

"Sorry ain't the word mate, Nobby ain't going to get away with this and I hope you'll support me!"

"Oh shit! Look...Yes I agree with you Gary...but look it's really none of my business. Please leave me out of it", with that Rhodri opened the front door and skipped outside towards the salvation of the fresh air. Mark had stood behind them listening to Gary's tale of woe,

"Oh God! Nobby!", and he strode off in disbelief in the direction of his office muttering unintelligibly.

The next day Nobby was furious with Rhodri. Without stimulus or provocation Nobby charged his friend with betrayal,

"You call yourself my friend and then you take Gary's side!", his voice raised almost to a shout. Rhodri stepped outside the doors into the void of sound that the outside world afforded him so as not to disturb the customers. An irate Nobby followed him and Rhodri countered the charges,

"No Nobby! I didn't support Gary, I told him to leave me out of it!"

"Only after you said that you had agreed with him did you say for him to leave you out of it!", Nobby spat his words in fury and Rhodri returned a fierce glance,

"Why, is that what he told you?"

"No I haven't spoken to him, but I have my sources!"

"Why did Mark tell you that?"

"No"

A dreaded moment of realization dawned upon Rhodri's face,

"How is Gary going to pay off over two thousand pounds in damages Nobby?"

"That's his friggin' problem the stupid boy!"

"Charming really!"

Nobby's upper lip curled into a snarl and his fists curled up in anger,

"I don't want to hear any more about this shit from you or Gary or any friggin' body else!", and he promptly stormed back inside the establishment. For the remainder of the evening the two were careful to remain apart and not to come to blows. For some strange reason Gary did not turn up for work at Henry's again.

Keeping to his word Alwyn drove by on Friday night to collect his bargain from Nobby. The young squire greeted him and, after the two exchanged a few brash words, Nobby disappeared downstairs to the basement to collect the tuxedo. Alwyn sat in his low slung, bullet-shaped sports car, stroking his chin in thoughtful anticipation. His eyes darted towards Rhodri, then ahead and finally his attention turned to the papers he held on his lap and he started scribbling. Nobby returned and boldly marched through the front door, his prize held forward and aloft. Proudly he handed his merchandise over to Alwyn, the importance of his business written all over his high brow. Alwyn took it and spat in disgust,

"I don't want this Nobby! It's a piece of shit!"

Alwyn's face turned forward in his seat and he thrust the tuxedo back through the window and into the pit of Nobby's stomach.

"Whad'ya mean you don't want it!", Nobby exploded, his eloquence fast degenerating into a screeching ethnic tirade, "You tell me you want one and I buy it from my supplier for you, an' you just throws it back in my face! What kind of a business man are you if I cannot trust your word?"

Alwyn just ignored him and drove off, showing Nobby the back of his hand. After shouting his dissent Nobby turned and stormed back towards the door, staring after Alwyn,

"Okay if that's the way you want it! I tell you Roddy!", and he shook his fist violently in the air after Alwyn had turned the corner, "I tell you no one does this to me without learning the price of my anger! I will teach him a lesson that he will not forget in a hurry!", and with that he swung around and marched back downstairs carrying his raven of misfortune with him.

It was a very quiet evening despite the unseasonably pleasant weather. Rhodri mused as to why it was that people seemed to behave collectively on a random basis. Surely he thought, if Henry's had a clientele numbering some three to four thousand, a Wednesday would be a Wednesday, weather permitting, but it was not the case. Sometimes people came early, sometimes they didn't. Often couples came out, sometimes it was a night for friends. Whatever the trend of the night, he could always taste it. Too many men and not enough women and the atmosphere could literally be cut with a knife, as if it hung in the air like a thick mist. And when there was going to be a fight he could feel it in his bones. That night the air had a strange texture, neither lively nor dull and he felt comfortable with it. Opening the door he ventured out into the cool, fresh dusk breeze as March gently knocked on April's door. Two black men, no longer young but not yet ravaged by the tests of time strolled by in their own good time across the other side of the street. Something in their gait suggested that they were not quite sober, although he could hear them chatting clearly. One of the men stopped abruptly outside the Park Hotel and stared at him and then raised a finger in his direction.

"Look!", and he motioned to his friend, "Look! Over there! Do you know who that is 'bro? That's the Black Panther 'bro! In the flesh!"

His partner stood open mouthed and joined him, pointing eccentrically from across the street in Rhodri's direction. Bemused Rhodri looked behind him and into the windows, but there was nobody else visible at the front of the cafe.

"Hey man, he's a witch man, a witch. Folk's say as can fly! See him staring at us there 'bro! He's got the evil eye man, the evil eye! Careful bro'! Or else he'll curse you!"

"We's better get ourselves out o' here man! Or we's don't know what might happen to us!", and the two inebriated men disappeared around the corner of Queen Street at a very much quickened pace leaving Rhodri to feel singularly self conscious.

Cardiff and South Wales stand in the path of the North Atlantic Drift, a current that brings with it the warmer waters of the Gulf Stream. Its passage warms the sleepy little valleys of South Wales in the winter keeping the frost and snow at bay, and in the spring and summer it brings mild weather and rain. Copious quantities of rain, and that evening they had been on the receiving end. Business had been slow and Rhodri and Nobby were forced to take to the high ground, perched up on the wooden steps in a melancholic silence.

"I tell you Roddy I am sick to my stomach with all of this!", Nobby leant against his banister as though he were a Thespian portraying Cassius maligning Caesar's ingratitudes, "We work six day a week for John and Alwyn and how do they treat us? First of all he tells me if I don't like it I can leave! Honest to God! And then he throws the tuxedo he bought from me back in my face! I tell you Roddy they will pay dearly for this!"

"Be careful Nobby!", Rhodri cautioned as a friend, "Alwyn is a cunning as a fox and as savage as a wolverine!"

"And so are you very cunning Roddy", and Nobby spoke softly as he always did when he was at his most serious, "And anyways what's a wolverine?"

"Think of Alwyn and add a bit of fur, long claws and sharp teeth!"

"Honest to God!", exclaimed Nobby with an expression of genuine surprise, "There exists such an animal?"

"Yes, only they're usually found alone because they're temperamental and like killing all the other animals!"

Rhodri conceded a laugh from Nobby as he imagined a toothed and furry Alwyn, lightening the tone of their conversation. Nobby's eyes then glazed over in sadness as if he had only just remembered something,

"You know what happened to my friend Paul?"

"Which Paul?"

"Paul the boxer from the Wine Press!", Nobby snapped impatiently.

"No, tell me"

"Three weeks ago he was in a fight with this other guy and he fought, an' he scratched an' he punched this guy", Nobby simulated Paul's more unrefined fighting techniques as though he had witnessed the event, "And then he bit his ear off at the bottom"

Nobby grabbed his ear lobe,

"And do you know what Roddy", and he paused as if he had news of great significance, "He was taken to court and the judge said he is going to jail for five years for GBH, that's grievous bodily harm Roddy! Honest to God! Paul!"

"And this happened before or after he took the contract for the Wine Press from Alwyn?"

Nobby stopped and thought about time, events and the relativity of all things,

"Come to think of it just after", but he seemed far from sure, leaving Rhodri to wonder.

By and large this had been the moment Rhodri had been waiting for. He had long whispered into Nobby's subconcious about the reduced hours and increased earnings they would receive if they retrieved the contract from Wyvern Security. Later that evening he capitalized upon Mark's appearance at the front door and Nobby's lingering malaise.

"Hello Guys, you look low", observed Mark as he stared over them at the top of the stair well and looked out onto the rain that had swept all his custom from the street. There was no reply and Mark continued,

"You two must feel really sick of being exploited like this! I mean working every night, running the door with little or no support from your managers, putting your lives on the line and taking home a fraction of what they collect every week!"

"That's life boss!", replied Nobby without so much as lifting his head.

"Well I'm none too happy, we need more cover at the weekends, there's no way you two can cover the inside and watch the door at the same time. I mean if there's any trouble in here as there was last Christmas, you don't know what might come in through the door".

There was more than a hint of dissatisfaction and derision in Mark's voice, and Rhodri responded carefully,

"You mean that you could have more men on the door at the weekends and still save money on your budget?"

"If what you say you are paid is true, then I would say most probably yes!"

At this exchange Nobby's ears pricked up and his eyes opened wide,

"Honest to God!"

Rhodri sensed his opening and took full advantage, speaking softly and clearly,

"That's right Nobby! If you think about it we could have more hours off, cover our backs at the weekend and still make more money than we do now".

Mark nodded and gave a protracted sigh,

"Well it's up to you two".

Whether it was because he had a lucrative deal in the making or because he suddenly had an overwhelming sense of concern for the welfare and safety of his door men Rhodri was not sure. Alwyn rolled by in his metallic blue Datsun on Thursday night with a business offer. Looking ahead with only a brief glance to the side he beckoned Rhodri over with his finger. Rhodri blanked his expression to prevent the acutely sensitive Alwyn from reading his thoughts and lowered his face to the window. Alwyn continued to look ahead as though oblivious to his presence,

"I have an offer you simply can't refuse Rhodri".

"Yes, what is it?"

"We're issuing all our door men with bullet proof vests at special prices".

"Yes, so?"

Alwyn allowed himself a small grin at Rhodri's slight,

"You can either buy a twenty pound police issue for fifty pounds, or we can also do a Kevlar special light version which weighs only twelve, but that's special order and will set you back a hundred and twenty pounds".

"Err, do I have to buy one?", Rhodri's manner had now degenerated to his unique style of polite sarcasm. By now Alwyn was enjoying the question and answer session, and his eyes turned and sparkled at Rhodri,

"Don't you worry Rhodri, we'll take it out of your wage packet".

"Why thank you, oh I think I'll take the lighter one! In price I mean!"

"Here you are", he said reaching into the back seat of his car, "Got one here specially for you!"

He thrust the heavy white padding into Rhodri's waiting arms and added,

"You might want to wear it for the next day or two".

"Why thank you Alwyn!"

"Send Nobby over to me will you"

Rhodri slowly returned to his position on the door and pointed his thumb back over his shoulder,

"Hey Nobby! He wants to talk to you!"

Nobby's face lit up, surprised at the tone in Rhodri's voice, and he strode boldly over towards the elbow and face leaning out of the sports car window.

"Yes, what is it Alwyn?"

"You know those bullet proof vests I've been distributing to my door men for protection against, you know what?"

"I want the most expensive one you have!", declared Nobby inflating his chest.

"That's a special order, one hundred and twenty pounds".

"Yes, I want that one!"

Nobby stared at Alwyn as he marked the order in his book and Nobby strolled back confidently to the door looking well pleased with himself.

Rhodri arrived at work on Saturday in his green leather jacket and black casuals to see if there was a shower he could use at Henry's. The hot water had failed at his house in May Street after only a week and he felt thoroughly grotty and disenchanted with life. His tuxedo and white shirt were slung under his arm and he felt embarrassed about the whole affair. He found Mark on duty with a handful of bar staff as he walked through the main door looking quite under dressed for the establishment,

"Evening Mark!"

"Hiya matey!"

"Got a shower for a poor old vagrant to use!"

Mark smiled,

"Sure we have, downstairs to your right!"

Rhodri showered and made himself respectable in the cosy basement room that the staff used for breaks and changing. Mark sat down there to snatch a little piece and quiet with his books and focused upon something in front of him.

"I know you have some problems", Mark stated quite out of the blue, his eyes still focused upon his books, "You can come and live with me if you want?"

Rhodri looked at him quite taken aback. He knew that they had got on quite well over the past three months, but he didn't realize Mark was so fond of him.

"Can I think about it?"

"Sure you can".

"Thank you for your kind offer".

"Don't mention it".

The next weekend he shoveled his belongings into the back seat of the BMW and moved in with Mark on Woodville Road.

With the advent of April the pace of life quickened and the cobwebs of those long nights of winter sleep were rubbed from the eyes of a hibernating population. Alwyn stretched mightily as he stepped from his car and strolled into Henry's on Saturday night and after a short time he came out with the thick envelope that represented the week's takings and stopped just short of the door as if he had only just remembered something. Turning towards Rhodri he counted out the balance from the envelope and then fished into his pocket for some change. After producing a second envelope from his pocket he filled it and sealed it diligently and then handed it over without a word. Then he turned to Nobby with his enigmatic look that did not differentiate threat from friendship and spoke to him in as light a tone as he was able to manage,

"Come with me Nobby, I've got something for you".

Nobby's face darkened, as would anyone's who was accustomed to dealing with Alwyn. Rhodri slipped discretely through the door after them and helped it to close quietly. Reaching into the back seat of his shining blue car he produced a bullet proof vest and gave it to Nobby, and then descended into his bucket seat and closed the door behind him. Nobby immediately strode over to the door and thrust the vest back through the car door window and onto Alwyn's lap.

"You see!", he cried with a triumphal flailing of his arms, "I ordered a jacket from you, but now I do not want it any more!", and his voice reached fever pitch as Alwyn looked towards the floor for patience, "How do you like it when someone buys somethin' from you, and then says that they do not want it after you have gone to all da trouble of getting it for dem!"

Alwyn waited for him to finish calmly and then revolved his head and elbow slowly towards the open car window,

"Listen here Nobby!", he spoke softly and firmly, "I'm warning you! I've had enough of your nonsense! Here's your pay packet", and he handed it to Nobby unceremoniously through the window,

"I've taken the cost of the jacket from your wages already", and with that he quietly pulled away. Nobby's face gave the impression that he was about to explode. His eyes were wide open and his cheek muscles tense as he gritted his teeth and stared threateningly after Alwyn's disappearing car. It took only a few moments for him to collect himself, but Rhodri saw the rage and fury in his eyes turn to steely determination as he walked back towards his partner on the door.

"You know Roddy!", he spoke with that quiet and clear voice that signaled decisiveness, "You were right. I should never have trusted those double header snakes in the first place! Sod them Roddy! Let's teach them a lesson they'll never forget!"

"Then are you with me? Shall we draw up a business plan?"

"Honest to God Roddy, yes! I will ask the spirits tonight when is the best time to act", he paused and turned his head, "Partner!"

The rebellion

Mark's house was a small terraced property huddled away at the top of Woodville Road, barely a stroll from Wynn Evans and the epicentre of Cardiff's rugby haute couture. Lady Luck had provided him with a large bedroom with reassuringly deep blue carpets and golden yellow patterned wallpaper which afforded him peace and quiet and almost a sense of security. Mark himself lived downstairs in a self-contained apartment, but being the soul that he was, he allowed Rhodri full run of the place whenever he was around. A fun-loving character, Mark was ever playful and his only long term companion was a small cat whom he and Rhodri named 2K, after the estimated two thousand pounds of love a year she cost to keep, which as Mark maintained was quite expensive for an occasional mistress. He had a distinctly functional approach to life, and his love for fast living superceded any need for extravagance at home. Quality was very much Mark's hallmark, and his choice of furnishings and entertainment reflected a certain practical elegance which impressed on his young tenant. Rhodri understood the rules. Like any cat, Mark wanted attention when he wanted attention, and when he didn't, he most certainly did not. A young thirty something in the fast lane of Britain's young and upwardly mobile professional classes, Mark worked hard, played hard and any ideas of settling down with a companion were still embryonic. Feng shui or otherwise, the little house on Woodville Road afforded a place where they could rest, play and disregard the conflicts and contradictions of the harsh world outside, and most importantly he could sleep easily at night in the knowledge that downstairs there was a loyal companion he could truly depend upon.

Nobby was clearly weary of his partner's new position of residence, but wily as he was, he showed an increase in favour to both Rhodri and Mark during the weeks before Easter. Ray for his part appeared to say little on the matter, whatever his feelings. Easter was now fast approaching and for Rhodri the endless eighteen hour days appeared to have dwindled down to comfortable fourteen which fitted neatly into the day leaving a hint of daylight to be enjoyed in the morning. As far as revision for his exams was concerned, he was not quite sure where to start, two huge text books of biochemistry and metabolism and two little books on systems physiology and O'Riordan's world of endocrinology sat facing him on the little white table that passed as a desk. Feeling creative, he elected to start with an elegant hand written dissertation on gel electrophoresis and to lose all evidence of hard core metabolism on the shelf in favour of Anthony Smith's cosy scientific work entitled 'The Body', Riordan's comfortably thin text book on endocrinology and Lubert Stryer's humane pictorial view of Biochemistry.

Visits to young Wynnston and the boys next door in Lucas Road were not infrequent. Just around the corner five of Wales' finest young rugby players were struggling nobly to adapt to the terrifying realization that exams were fast approaching. As he entered their humble abode just after five on a dreary, rain soaked Wednesday afternoon, he saw that Wynn was in the kitchen preparing one of his much vaunted lasagnes, calories being no object.

"Hiya Rodders old bean, how the devil are you?"

"Not too bad Wynn! What's cooking?"

"Lasagne for the boys, fancy some?"

"Well if you're available Wynn!", the obvious joke provoked a broad grin from the man with golden hands, golden hair and golden freckles. Jo, his pretty blonde girlfriend blushed modestly.

"No not me Rodders! The lasagne!"

"Oh okay, that'd be most appreciated thank you!"

"I think the boys are in the living room Rodders!", Wynn announced gaily. Rhodri made his way through the hallowed hallway of beer stains and tatty carpet to the room that was much lived in. The previous night had been a heavy one, and fresh beer cans and empty curry containers littered the homely floor. Tim was practicing his golf swing, Ravi was in his armchair reading a comic and Big Jim the centre was in his familiar position draped over the sofa. The team's very own philosopher Simon Day sat with a contented smile as he studied homo sapiens in his own environment, pondering over the concepts of human evolution. Tim swung his nine iron fluently back over his left shoulder and turned his head up towards Rhodri during the follow through,

"Hello Rhodri! How's the Neath man then!"

"Hiya Tim! Pretty good! How's Helen?"

Helen Clark was Tim's long term girlfriend, and at the tender age of eight she had been Rhodri's first date at the Pennscynnor Wildlife Park. Her flowing blond locks and cheeky smile had rolled down the hill onto the lawn of his Great Grandfather's estate at Ty Gwyn and after offering him a lolly pop she popped him the invitation.

"Oh very good Rhodri, she's very good", and the topic brought a sparkle to Tim's eyes and bridged their two very different worlds.

"Hello Simes!"

"G'day Rhodri!"

"Hello Jim!"

"Oh hiya Rod", came the unenthusiastic reply.

"Greetings Ravi!"

"Hey Ravi! Aren't you going to say hello to our fellow Neath boy!"

"Hello Rhodri! Once a Neath boy always a Neath boy! Isn't that right Tim!"

"Yes that's right Rav!"

Ravi, Tim, Simon and Jim celebrated the Neath tradition with the monosyllabic and deep-throated chorus of the Welsh all blacks,

"Neath! Neath! Neath! Neath! Neath!"

"Better than crappy old Carmarthen any day!"

teased Ravi, throwing his voice down the corridor.

"Oi! Watch it!", cried Wynn.

"So what's up boys?", asked Rhodri.

"Exams Rhodri, bach, exams!", smiled Tim knowingly.

"Fuck yes that's right!", responded Ravi.

"Oh don't remind me!", groaned Jim.

"Jim's been studying hard, haven't you Jim?", teased Tim.

"Oh yes that's right! Down the boozer and Taurus steak house six nights a week!", cried Jim.

"Hey Rhodri! Guess what!", Ravi exclaimed with a look of boyish innocence crossing his big brown eyes, "The exams are in six weeks and we haven't done a stroke of work all year!"

"Good form! Good form!", Rhodri exhorted.

"Fantabulous!", agreed Simon for whom life with the boys was one long entertainment, "Stars, all of them stars!"

"What are we going to do Rod?", asked Ravi.

"Well you could always take a few books out and read them?", responded Rhodri with delicate irony. The chorus was immediate and overwhelming,

"Nah!"

"Cripes no!"

"Heaven forfend!"

"Nooo!"

And then from the kitchen,

"Crickey Moses Rodders have you gone out of your mind? Okay boys", called Wynn from the kitchen, "Come an' get it!"

As Easter approached Nobby became a frequent visitor to Woodville Road. A knock on the blue door once or twice a week led to a discussion around the round table in Rhodri's room. That Wednesday Nobby leant over the bannisters as he sensed Mark's arrival,

"Hiya boss!"

"Oh hiya boys!", came the smiling and buoyant return, and Nobby laughed to show the pleasure at his welcome. The bedroom door slid open and Nobby exhaled with vigour as he casually slung his Young's tuxedo jacket over the back of the chair.

"Pull up a chair Nobby and let's go through the plan".

Nobby smiled cheerfully as the paperwork was spread across the white laminated surface.

"Right, we guess seven to eleven, Sunday through Thursday, and eight 'til two on Friday and Saturday at nine pounds an hour. That means Wyvern are taking about five seventy, five eighty a week"

Nobby sat and beamed at the mention of money. Rhodri looked across to his partner for approval and then continued,

"If we structure the company so that the standard rate is four pounds an hour and five for head door men to be competitive with Wyvern's basic three, that means we can provide Henry's with an extra door man from eight to eleven on Thursdays and two more door men from nine to two at the weekend and still be competitive. If we charge seven an hour, that's with one pound fifty tax and national insurance, hang on that's six ten a week. We're over budget!"

Nobby scratched his wiry hair and thought deeply for a moment,

"No we can't do that. We must appear to be giving them a saving and increasing the cover so they're really happy!"

"Let me think where we might make savings. I know. Do we really need two door men between seven and eight when there's nothing happening?"

"You're right you know Roddy!"

"So let's see now, that's seven hours a week less which gives us.... a grand total of five sixty! We have an actual psychological advantage in cost as well as an improved service!"

Nobby purred,

"I like it!"

"So do you think we can have this sheet typed up Nobby?"

"Sure thing. I have a friend across the road who does secretarial services. For me she does special rate!"

"Cover the costs fifty, fifty ?"

"Fifty, fifty partner!", and the two brothers clasped their hands in unity and Nobby grinned as if he had gained a brother. His lips straightened and a thought came across his mind,

"We need a name for the company. Somethin' that reflects peace and harmony and prosperity? I know Purple Security!"

Rhodri shook his head.

"Royal Security!"

"No way"

"Palace Security! Because that reflects our market of cafe bars and restaurants!"

"Actually...yes I quite like that".

"And for an emblem I have been thinking, a white and a black hand clasped in friendship, simple, effective, bold!"

"That's a very nice idea!"

"Shake on it pardner!", and Nobby giggled. Upon this wave of synergistic euphoria the two shook hands and exchanged warm smiles. Then Rhodri stroked his chin,

"Where are we going to find the door men from Nobby?", Rhodri added after pontificating, "We're looking for a reservoir of well mannered men who can defend themselves. There must be many students who conform to those specifications?"

"Don't you worry Roddy, I know of some people who are just the ticket, we Nigerians always stick together you know!"

The meeting with Mark Stallion was arranged for four o'clock on Easter Sunday afternoon outside a quiet cafe bar on St.David's Way. For those who were uninitiated the day could not have been a finer one, with the faintest suggestion of wisps of white cloud contrasting against a bright blue sky. A gentle breeze, light and fresh, rolled in from the Channel keeping the sunlight pleasantly cordial. Occasional passers by would have had no clue as to why three irregular companions sat nervously around an ornate table outside a quaint little town inn with virgin white walls and imitation Tudor windows. All three sat with their legs crossed, sending occasional tell tale glances up and down the pedestrianised street in case a little bird should fly by and whisper into the Dragon's ear. After their drinks had been served Nobby quietly explained the finer details of the plan and proposal to Mark in hushed tones, clarified where necessary by Rhodri. Mark nodded and scratched the nape of his neck, his eyes flickering between the draft and the street. After a brief consideration, punctuated with reminders as to the economic advantages of improved security at weekends, Mark eventually smiled boldly and handshakes were exchanged with an agreement to take over the Henry's contract the following week. Finally a dark furrow appeared across Mark's brow when he added nervously that he would inform Wyvern Security of his decision on Monday.

Easter Monday came as though there had been no night to speak of and the cooling breeze had vanished leaving the sun to cause anyone wearing significantly more than shorts and shades to perspire. Droplets of sweat formed pools under his shirt and on his sleeve where he had wiped his brow. Britain was privileged with few days of hot weather, sufficiently few that the installment of air conditioning had escaped all but the delicatessens and the most refined of offices. It was far too stuffy to read in his bedroom, so he chose instead to take his textbook on endocrinology outside and study the thyroid gland in the palatial surroundings of Alexandra Gardens which lay between the two imposing seats of Welsh government. However the abrasive heat prevented him from concentrating, and even the beauty and serenity of his surroundings did not put his mind at ease. With a frustrated cry he made another attempt to learn the differences between the metabolism of the tri- and the tetra-iodinated forms of the thyroid hormone and his concentration finally collapsed as a droplet of sweat fell onto the centre of the illustration he had focused upon. There was an unbearable tension in the air, as if the spirits were warning him of impending danger. try as he might he could not seem to shake this foreboding despite his idyllic environs, and the more he fretted the more his subconcious mind seemed to lend validity to his fears.

In their new arrangement Rhodri was due back to work at eight, Nobby preferring to take the earlier shift from seven. Relaxing deep into his hot bath Rhodri sighed and closed his eyes. It was barely ten before seven and he knew he could afford a invigorating soak for at least a quarter of an hour. The warm water closed over his tired, aching limbs and he felt the healing blood begin to flow through to his skin. Sinking ever deeper into the dark bliss of relaxation, he started to drift into the world away from himself, searching, questioning. In his mind's eye an image of Nobby appeared, and he was standing alone outside the ornate gold and green colours of Henry's cafe bar. All did not feel well, for in the quiet and secluded street he seemed anxious, as though he was awaiting some misfortune, glancing behind himself apprehensively. Rare fear emanated from his brown eyes and his hands trembled in the pockets of his smart tuxedo. Rhodri peered a little deeper into his mind's eye and he saw a car, unusual if only because it was the only car in the street. The car was sleek, with a sun roof and round, recessed headlamps, and the argon street lamps reflected off its metallic blue lustre....

Rhodri exploded out the bath tub sending a sheet of water onto the tiles and window ledge. Not bothering to dry himself, he grabbed an old towel and jumped out of the bath and into his bedroom. His clothes were arrayed over the back of the chair, and it took him barely two minutes to assemble himself. Breathing heavily he threw himself down the stairs and hurtled through the front door and ran as fast as he could along Rhymney Street, not stopping for traffic or for the rhythmic changes of the crossing lights. Ten past seven, he checked his watch. If he ran fast enough it could make it there by a quarter past. Gasping for air he sprinted into Park Place and reached the Boulevard de Nantes. Two hundred feet before him was Nobby and there beside him was the ominous sight of Alwyn's blue Datsun sports coupe. Panting he jogged to a halt next to Nobby and caught his breath,

"I knew that you would come", Nobby greeted him with a smile that matched his pleasured, purring tone.

"I was only worried that I was going to be too late".

"Don't worry", Nobby said gesturing with his head to the scene of Alwyn dressed in his Welsh team tracksuit having a uncomfortably close conversation with Mark at the front of the cafe. Mark appeared anxious, averting his gaze as Alwyn's face imparted his firm tones barely inches from Mark's tense expression over folded arms.

"He's full of hot air!", added Nobby, "He won't take it back from us".

"It's not that I'm worried about, it's Mark. If Alwyn has a go..."

"He won't, not with a manager. He would go straight to jail and lose all his good contracts if he struck a manager", Nobby seemed surprisingly assured and calm, and spoke with soft tone that did not sit comfortably with the impending crisis. Rhodri glanced back over his shoulder and saw some more firm words followed by submissive gestures, and finally Mark raised his hands in the air. Alwyn slid his chair backwards and then straightened himself, tensing his powerful muscles as though he were preparing for battle. He stretched his chest and arms out skywards and then made one parting remark to Mark with what seemed like a smile.

With seven strides he was at the door, and with the eighth through the portal. As was his traditional he took two steps past his two former door men and then stopped staring straight ahead. Placing his hands on his hips he gave a deep and remorseful sigh, as if to suggest that someone had made a terrible mistake. Pausing for effect, Alwyn's mighty shoulders turned with his fur-lined jaw to cast a wry smile at Rhodri before he returned to face forward,

"Well gentlemen", his voice, was cool, crisp and confident, "I've got news for you. I've got the contract back". After a moment he turned towards Rhodri and nodded as if to confirm his statement. Nobby whispered across to Rhodri,

"He's bluffing".

Rhodri shifted his eyes to his right and smiled,

"Yes I know".

Rhodri's eyes looked questioningly as again Alwyn's head nodded slowly in response. Alwyn's frame suddenly pivoted his attentions towards Nobby, and the notorious finger was raised and his voice was now firmer and louder,

"You're a fucking Judas Nobby! A fucking Judas! After all I've done for you an' all!" His voice suddenly clamed and he added,

"I'll deal with you later!"

Alwyn readjusted his posture, coming around to face the street, with his left foot facing Rhodri.

"And you are n'all".

He nodded slowly his eyes penetrating Rhodri's soul, as looked pensively as though he were considering an offer,

"Rhodri", his eyes were sincere and impassioned, "I'm surprised at you. But even though I've got the contract back there's no hard feelings. I still want you to work for me", his voice was almost pleading as he leant forward slightly with outstretched palms. Alwyn's body was cocked at an angle to Rhodri, who stood but a yard in front of the door, caught between Nobby and the wall of the alcove. Rhodri looked Alwyn deep in the eyes, and shook his head slowly from side to side,

"I wouldn't work for you again Alwyn, even if you did have the contract".

Nobby smiled at his partner as Alwyn's face grew tense and he turned his head away to face the street. Rhodri felt an explosion gather steam and then, suddenly, it came. Alwyn pivoted around with his hips on the balls of his feet and unleashed a full right lunge punch towards Rhodri's jaw. Trapped by the door Rhodri could only sway backwards and away and the punch dissipated its power at the point of his lower lip, splitting the skin. The snap of the punch and his head had buzzed him and Alwyn yelled in anger as he advanced to finish the job. Rhodri would have been done for had Nobby not cried,

"No, Alwyn! Not him!" and rushed to the aid of his stricken brother throwing his hands at Alwyn's face distracting the charge. Alwyn took the bait and made three quick strides towards Nobby as the muscular little athlete removed his jacket chattering with intense nervous excitement. Bravely Nobby stepped cautiously back towards Alwyn, prepared to fight, only to be attacked again by a full stepping lunge punch. Fortunately Alwyn was too slow to catch his opponent who nimbly sprang backwards. The psychological battle won, Alwyn walked briskly after Nobby whose face turned from bravado to terror at Alwyn's fierce scowl. Nobby was chattering and bounding backwards like a panic stricken chimpanzee,

"Don't think you're gonna get away wiv this!", he railed at Alwyn, his lips trembling and fist shaking.

"Come back here you coward!", shouted Alwyn who continued to advance after the rapidly retreating Nobby who jumped into his new hire car and drove quickly away shaking his fist defiantly through the window at now charging Alwyn. Rhodri meanwhile had used this window of opportunity to walk quickly past the Henry's bar, nursing the trickle of blood from his lip,

"Are you alright?", questioned a nervous Tracy.

"I'm absolutely fine", he snapped, "Now call the police!"

"Right away?"

"Yes right now! Where's Mark?"

"In the back office"

Rhodri stepped briskly past the bar and opened the office door to find a subdued Mark,

"Could you please come quickly Mark, we've got a problem!"

"Alwyn?"

Rhodri nodded,

"I've called the police!"

"Good! Oh no! Is he still outside?"

"Uh-huh".

"Okay let's go"

Rhodri led Mark out of the office in time to see Alwyn making his way back to the front door from the junction with Queen Street where he had chased Nobby . Rhodri met his gaze and stood in a hunched cat stance, staring menacingly from on top of the flight of wooden steps as Alwyn approached the main door. Limbs burning with one resolve and tears of anger welling his eyes Rhodri reached into his right pocket and braced himself for the fatal confrontation. Their eyes locked, exchanging their mutual feelings of intent and rage. This was the match that he had feared and he inhaled deeply and breathed long and hard, seconds to the drop and he felt the energy coarse through his veins as Alwyn reached for the door handle...

Police sirens appeared in the distance, soon followed by the reflections of flashing lights in the windows of the Park Hotel, forcing Alwyn to beat a hasty retreat to the seat of his blue Datsun. Masterfully he pulled away slowly, his face a picture of collected calm as two white police cars flashing blue and screaming red raced into the sheltered enclave of Park Place and past Henry's. Rhodri watched his smooth escape as four police officers hurtled towards the front door. Mark hissed in disgust as he watched Alwyn's slick maneuver, and then a realization crossed his mind and he turned to Rhodri in despair,

"Where's Nobby?"

"Oh he went to get help"

Mark rolled his eyes and sighed as three officers entered through the door,

"What's the situation gentlemen", asked a tall and tidily dressed young officer unsure whether he should address the tuxedo or the tie and casuals.

"Hello I'm the manager, Mark Stallion", stated the tie and casuals hurriedly, "Alwyn Bayter of Wyvern security has just assaulted two of my door men".

"And where can we find Mr.Bayter?"

"Floyd's night club, St.Mary Street", Rhodri offered gladly.

"Any injuries?"

"Just a split lip", responded Rhodri exposing his dribbling cut, not sure if he should feel embarrassed or relieved.

"Okay Sir", the officer concluded scribbling his notes, "That should be enough for a charge of actual bodily harm. Can you go to the hospital to have it stitched up and bring me a signed form of the injury to the police station later".

He turned to his companions,

"Okay boys, Floyd's night club and move it"

Mark looked clearly shaken, but refused to allow his stiff upper lip to falter,

"What are we going to do?"

"My place, I need to pick something up"

The two friends got into Mark's small blue BMW and drove a toute vitesse to Woodville Road where Rhodri collected his metal rice flails, spinning them for old times sake. They walked hurriedly back to his car, but Mark took a few unexpected turns on the way back to Henry's and Rhodri found himself on the North Road heading northwards. Mark's eyes were silent, staring ahead into the black void between the streaming rows of orange. Only the noise of the wind and the tyres could be heard as they drove along the main road towards the motorway. Without so much as a sideways glance or a slight murmur, they drove on and on mesmerized by the miles and miles of grey concrete that marked the progress of civilization. Fifteen minutes passed on the motorway before Mark took the turning towards Newport. They toured Newport in piecemeal fashion, through the side streets and around the city centre, as Mark gazed fixedly ahead staring into their shared nightmare, meditating, masticating events in his mind. Over half an hour had ticked slowly by since the last word had passed between them. Sensing a slight relaxation across Mark's shoulders Rhodri broke the silence softly,

"Why did we come here Mark?"

Mark did not reply and his spirit remained distant and he struggled to come to terms with events and their consequences,

"I suppose this is all a bit of a mess really isn't it?"

Mark nodded in tentative agreement before finally speaking,

"I told him that if he wanted to discuss the takeover he should talk to you two guys".

"Well he did claim to have taken the contract back".

"I can well believe it. All I told him was that we'd received a lower bid with increased coverage at the weekend, then he started saying things about Nobby before walking out to talk to you, and the next thing I knew the police were on their way"

"He's a real headcase Mark".

"Yeah", Mark's face twitched and his body shuddered faintly, "I know".

At some time between nine and ten Rhodri thanked Mark for his lift to the Cardiff Royal Infirmary. He trudged the familiar route through the old stone doorway and entered the old fashioned waiting room with its drab interior and cluster of plastic chairs. Disorientated with the system at such a precocious hour of the evening he searched for the sister in charge. Failing to find anyone looking vaguely approachable, he simply decided to walk on through to the accident and emergency department and announced himself to a nurse sterilizing some surgical instruments.

"Excuse me where do I go for registration at such an early hour?"

"Oh hello love, over there by the partitions, the casualty sister will be with you shortly".

All that was available for entertainment was an ancient copy of Town and Country, so he leafed through the glossy pages, staring at the pictures of that other world that most people merely aspire to; advertisements for the top of the range Mercedes and Jaguars to make the traffic jam that much more comfortable; avenues of sycamores and beeches lining idyllic country bridle ways and articles on the most highly prized interior designers in all the shires.

"Excuse me can I help you Sir?", Rhodri lowered his magazine and raised his eyes.

"Oh hello again", a familiar face smiled down upon him, "What is it this time, broken nose? Stitches? You quite a regular here aren't you?"

"Oh me...oh sure thing. Rhodri Walters NHS quality control, I have a cut for you to look at".

"Oooh that's quite a big one isn't it, we'll have to stitch that".

"Forget the stitching, I just want a signed form saying ABH".

"Okay", she smiled through her twinkling little eyes, "We'll do that for you as well"

A giant of a police man stood in the centre of the corridor of Cardiff Central Police station and looked down upon the short tuxedo with an expression of surprise and amusement. His smile, bordering on a chuckle, eventually became a rhetorical question,

"Well, well, well what have we caught ourselves here then?"

A bellow of anger instantly recognizable as that of Alwyn came from the other end of the corridor.

"So I hear you've found Alwyn then?", Rhodri responded as he probed and nursed a tender lip which had graciously been spared more than a stitch. The policeman drew closer and looked at him in astonishment. His deep voice resonated,

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! You have a fine night's catch here I must say!"

A coarse yell came from behind a closed door at the end of the corridor,

"Just you wait until I get my bleedin' 'ands on him!"

Rhodri looked pensive, relishing the moment,

"Poor old Alwyn doesn't seem too happy does he?"

The giant officer looked at him in disbelief,

"Well you certainly have an appetite for trouble I can say that for you!"

Another man closer to Rhodri's view of the world came out through the door into the corridor. He wore a dark blue blazer which had a fair few silver-white flourishes added to its arms and shoulders, and addressed the tuxedo,

"Young man?"

"Yes Sir?"

"Would you like to come along with me and make a statement? This way please".

"Go and help look after Mr.Bayter please constable".

"Yes Lieutenant".

The lieutenant escorted Rhodri into a small, dark office, given the life of light only by a small desk lamp directed at a report form. The young lieutenant gave Rhodri a look in the eye, a long, deep questioning look.

"Are you intending to press charges against one Mr.Alwyn Bayter?"

"Yes Sir I am"

"So we have to file an incident report, right name?"

"Rhodri Walters"

"Age?"

"Twenty"

"Date of birth?"

"Second November sixty seven"

He sighed and shook his head sorrowfully before continuing,

"Occupation?"

"Student"

He sighed again and added sarcastically,

"Any other occupations?"

"Door man"

"Address"

"One seventy Woodville Road"

"Telephone?"

"Don't have one"

Again he sighed heavily and covered his tired face with his hand,

"Right, am I correct in understanding that at seven thirty this evening you were assaulted by a Mr.Alwyn Bayter of Wyvern Security outside Henry's cafe bar, Park Place, is my information correct?"

"Yes Sir"

"Any injuries?"

"Split lower lip, here's the A and E form".

The lieutenant nodded, "That'll do, actual bodily harm. Are you sure that you wish to press charges against Mr.Bayter"

"Yes", he sighed, "Yes I am"

"Right then Mr.Bayter will be bound over to keep the peace pending trial for assault and actual bodily harm, do you understand the implications?"

"Yes Sir".