To tell or not to tell

The Spotted Owl pub was heaving with the after-work crowd, mostly single, drunk and youthfully optimistic. At the bar, three men in their early thirties, were laughing hard at yet another bawdy joke, in-between slugging down a pint of local ale.

Andy Brown, Bradley Henderson and Chris Lampson had lived in the village all their lives; went to the same primary and secondary school and even lived together for a while during the college years. Andy had left for the craziness of the City but returned every now and again for a brief respite. At six foot with a well-toned frame, he was part of a frantic social scene away from his old life. Coming home felt more of an obligation than a pleasure. The only spark was meeting up with his two best friends and enjoying their folksy company. 

Bradley, nearly as tall as Andy, had grown a bit overweight from his regular nghts out drinking and eating take-aways. He refused to learn how to cook and his parents had forced him, finally, to move out of the house a year ago and be independent, about ten years later than planned. 

Chris was not like Andy and Bradley in many ways. He was nearly a head shorter than his friends, with a wiry figure that looked like he could snap in half at any moment. Of the trio, he was the only one without a professional qualification, for he continued the family tradition of running the village’s only grocery store. 

“Oh! Look who’s at the table in the corner, Andy. Sarah Townsend. You remember her, don’t you? You always fancied her but never made a move. Why’s that?”

“Because, Brad, she was way out of my league then. But let’s just say my time in the City has not been wasted.”

The lads chuckled heartedly. The alcohol had loosened their tongues and their inhibitions. Leading the way, Andy boldly strode across the room over to the table where Sarah sat with two other women, all drinking from straw out of a huge fishbowl of blue liquid. 

“The ABC gang altogether again. What are you doing in town, Andy? I thought you lived in London.”

“I do, Sarah. I’m just home for a few days, seeing my parents and my sister, Jenny. I don’t think you know her. She would have been about two years below you at school. You look as lovely as ever.”

“What a charmer you are. London’s definitely brought you up a peg or two. Come and sit with us, boys. I promise we won’t bite” 

The ladies giggled and shifted along the bench to make room for another three at the table. 

“So, lovely Sarah. Aren’t you going to introduce us to your nice friends?”

“Mr Bradley Henderson, don’t you lovely me. Behave or else your mother, my step-aunt, will be hearing all about in the morning. Boys meet Pam and Cecilia. Ladies, I present to you one gentleman, Andy; one decent bloke from the village, Chris; and one misfit from who the hell knows where, Brad” 

Sarah, slim, blonde, hair up in a bun, one of those women who radiated natural beauty, much to the envy of others. Pam was a tall brown-eyed brunette with a wicked sense of humour. Cecilia was straight to Pam’s funny; upright, uptight and plain. 

In the next few hours, the blue liquid bowl was drained out, more ales were consumed, and meals were ordered. Andy cosied up to Sarah, Brad flirted with Pam, but Chris and Cecelia struggled to connect and spent most of the time looking at their friends and at other patrons. The pub landlord, Derek O’Shea, a decade their senior, bald as a coot and built like a nightclub bouncer, brought over the hot dishes with a smile and received a loud cheer from the inebriated six. Chris and Cecelia lost no time in getting stuck into their plates of steaming gastronomic delights, pleased to be relieved of boredom. Pam pecked her food whilst Brad insisted on finishing the snack that he had brought over from the bar earlier. Andy and Sarah only had eyes for each other, and their food was merely warm at first bite. It was Sarah who noticed that something was not quite right with Andy.

“Hey, are you alright? You look a bit peaky. I think you’ve had one too many drinks”

“I’m feeling a bit faint. It’s really hot in here isn’t it? Please pass me the water. Thanks” 

Sarah lifted the jug of water and was about to fill Andy’s glass, when he dropped it. His hands were at his throat, his eyes were bulging, and he made raspy, wheezing sounds. He was struggling to breathe. Blood was draining rapidly from his face. He fell to one knee then slumped to the sticky floor. 

“Oh my God. Andy, Andy! Oh my God.”

Sarah panicked; Chris knelt over Andy to check if he was still breathing. Bradley ejected himself from his seat but only manage to hit the table and send some bottles, glasses and plates flying in the air. The smashing glass and the sight of Andy lying unconscious caused pandemonium; people screaming, some running out of the pub, some crying, others rushing to help Chris revive Andy. Derek called 999 and calmly gave them details.

Andy was limp and lifeless. His lips had gone blue and swollen. Bradley had no clue what to do and simply stood there in shock, staring at his friend. Derek pushed his way past the bystanders and shoved Bradley to one side. 

“Chris, I need you to focus and be with me, mate. You think you can do that? Good. Give me your hands. Put one hand on top of the other. That’s it. Now, place it right here, like so. That’s his heart. When I say ‘go’, you push down about two inches and count 30 presses. Then I’ll give him two sharp breathes and you go again until help arrives. Got it? Good.”

Help had to come from two villages away and only arrived after twenty-three minutes. Chris was sweating and exhausted, as if he had climbed a hill with a soldier’s backpack strapped to his shoulders. Derek, too, was tired but not ready to quit. The paramedics had to haul him off Andy in order to do their job, but it was no use, Andy had already gone. 

The summer sun caressed the colourful garden of Mr and Mrs Brown. Trestle tables stood perpendicularly, in front of large bi-folding doors leading into the living room. There was plenty of sodas, water, fruit juices, tea and coffee for the guests, as well as sandwiches, biscuits, scones and cakes. Jenny embraced Bradley and Chris, then led them through to the outside area to greet her parents. Inside, sat Andy’s grandparents, looking forlorn. In the warm sunlight, a few of Andy’s school friends stood around whispering to each other, afraid to disturb the sanctity of the anniversary of his death. 

Bradley was a shadow of his former self, two stone lighter, a full beard and sunken eyes. He missed Andy terribly. The fateful night played over and over in his mind, kept sleep at bay most of the time. He had grown closer to Andy’s family, spending more time with them, as if clinging onto the memories least they fade away. In the shared grief, feelings were developing between him and Jenny. He hardly saw Chris anymore.

Chris, outwardly, did not look any different, but inwardly, he had changed a great deal. Seeing his friend die right in front of him, at the age of just thirty-one, had awakened a dormant ambition within him. He had stepped out from the anonymity of the grocery store backroom to be a respected leader of the community and an assistant to the Member of Parliament for the valley.

“So, here we are, Brad. You look shit. Do you know that? I met your boss the other day at a business networking event. He said he’s on the brink of firing you.”

“Really. How discreet of him. Maybe, I should have word with HR about that on Monday.” He looked down at the manicured grass, swinging his legs as if brushing some imaginary leaves to the side. 

“How do you do it, Chris? You’re fine. Better than fine. I keep hearing how you’re putting this together and raising money for that and starting a new club here and…geez, how do you do it! I can’t get Andy out of my head. It’s too much, man. Too much!”

“Brad, it’s been a year now. You’ve got to pull yourself together and move on with your life. Andy would want you to do that.”

“You know what I can’t get pass? Do you remember what they said at the inquest? He was seriously allergic to peanuts. Andy was my best friend for thirty years and I never knew that. That blows my mind. He never said a word. Ever. Then, I think about The Spotted Owl. We were regulars there most weekends – you, me and Andy. And that place had peanuts everywhere. It was a death trap for Andy. Still, in this day and age, how did Derek manage to get a peanut in Andy’s shepherd’s pie? Now, look at him. The Browns sued him out of business. I do his accounts and… well screw my boss, if he can be indiscreet, so can I. I can tell you; he is in a very deep hole. Debts everywhere. Joannie’s the breadwinner now. But on a teacher’s salary, you can only go so far, with two little ones to feed as well. I feel sorry for old Derek but peanuts in your shepherd’s pie?”

Chris looked around, making sure they were standing far enough away from the next group of people. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. This was not going to be easy.

“Inquests don’t always get it right, Brad” 

The searching look in Chris’s eyes made Bradley uncomfortable. Stress manifested itself in the form of a nervous tic. His left shoulder began to jerk slightly, as if he were a puppet on a string. 

“Derek didn’t put the peanut in Andy’s food. You did.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about!”

“Hey, keep your voice down. Just keep calm and hear me out. Let’s stand further back. Say, under the shade of the tree over there”.

At the far end of the showpiece garden stood a lonely alien of an oak tree, incongruous with the dainty beauty of the nearby flower beds. Foreboding, old and gnarly. 

“Brad, that night, you were smashed. Luckily for you, so was Pam. I had a horrible time. That Cecelia was as cold as ice. I couldn’t get two words out of her. So, I didn’t drink much, and I kept looking at you guys fooling around. At one point, you had a bag of peanuts in your hands. You were showing off to Pam, doing that trick of yours, the one where you throw it in the air and catch it in your wide gob. Then you grin like a doofus. You should stop doing that, man. It makes you look like a trained seal. 

I saw you miss a catch and it landed in Andy’s meal. You were too pissed to notice. Andy was zoned into Sarah and I don’t know, It just didn’t seem right for me to be sticking my fingers into Andy’s food Of course, I’d have done things differently had I known about the peanut allergy.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me that I put the peanut in Andy’s food? I’m the one that caused him to die. And, in all this time, one whole year, you knew that all along, said nothing and let Derek O’Shea take the blame and watch him go down in flames? Is that what you’re saying, Chris?”

Bradley moved closer to Chris, being a few inches taller, he leaned over Chris and glared at him, daring him to answer in the affirmative. 

“Geez. Just take it easy, man. Think about it. The inquest took place months later. That was the first time you and I knew about Andy’s nut allergy.”

“Yes, and you should have said something then. You could have come forward and said you saw me drop the peanut in Andy’s food. Derek would still have The Spotted Owl.”

“Sure, but you’d be the one in deep shit instead of Derek. Think, Brad. It would have ruined your life. You might have been charged with something; I don’t know what. I’m not a lawyer. Mr and Mrs Brown could have sued you for every penny you have and more. You would have been fired from your job and never be allowed to practice as a chartered accountant ever again. I’ve done you a massive favour here, mate. If anything, you owe me big time.”

Bradley and Chris, standing close enough to feel each other breathing, a thick silence hanging in the air, contemplating the words just spoken. 

“Aw, Chris. Chris. Chris. You’ve buggered it up. I would not have been charged with anything. It was an accident, pure and simple. Had I known Andy was allergic to peanuts, known I dropped the peanut in his pie and not bothered to take it out then I’d be charged. That wouldn’t be accident. You’ve got to go the police and tell them what you saw. We’ve got to reverse this whole mess and put it right.”

“Are you out of your bloody mind? If I do that now, what happens to me? It’s too late. I’m about to run for MP in the next election. If this gets out, I’ve finished.”

“You’re finished? Chris Lampson esquire will be finished. Is that it? I’m in love with Jenny. Maybe, we will want to get married someday, but there’s no chance of that once word gets out that I’m responsible for her brother’s death. And the guilt will eat me alive! In the meantime, Derek has lost his family business, his livelihood, Mr and Mrs Brown think their son died because of someone’s negligent. The lives of the O’Shea’s and the Browns are shattered, probably beyond repair. But your life goes on. Whoop-de-do!”

Bradley had Chris’s shirt collar in both hands. His face flushed with raw anger that terrified Chris. Chris tried to say something but all that came out his mouth was a pathetic whimper. 

“I made a mistake that night, getting blind drunk, doing my stupid peanut trick, and killing my best friend. By accident. You have also made a mistake by keeping your mouth shut at the inquest. We need to own up to our mistakes and face whatever comes our way. Pay the price like men, not run away like snivelling little cowards. If you can’t do that with me, then I will do it alone.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Chris rammed Bradley with furious strength, surprising himself. Bradley tumbled backwards onto the ground, stunned. 

“Yes, he would.” 

Startled, both Bradley and Chris swivelled around to see that they had an audience and the person who had spoken was Mr Brown, Andy’s father.

“And if he doesn’t, I will”.