| The Mods and Rockers troubles at Clacton were the talk of the country, it seemed everyone had an opinion and the story was certainly not lost on David St John. "Surely now everyone can see that cheeky Herbert for what he is." He spoke more to the room than to anyone in particular, Sandy tilted his head and stretched out in front of the roaring fire the way beagles do. The butler only answered direct questions and Polly had grown tired of David's criticisms of Alfie long ago. She'd taken the trouble to visit the two Marks the week David got the push, it had been obvious the lad had no part in David's demise. Both men praised Alfie highly, and when she eventually met him for herself through her friend Tracie, she could see how very wrong David was. She'd given up trying to make David see sense, it was a lost cause. A mile up the road the young couple were moving the last of Alfie's possessions into their cottage. "We've come a long way in two years babe". Alfie beamed scanning the living room with the same curious look he'd had when he'd seen Totteridge Lane for the first time . "It was really nice of Mr and Mrs Cohen to let us rent the whole place, how ever did I manage to live in that one room?" Tracie wondered. They were putting Alfie's considerable book collection on the shelves in the living room, she hadn't realised how well read he was. His political books ranged from Marx to Burke, his vehicle manuals included British Bikes and Italian Cars; but the tailoring books said it all, he seemed to have the complete history of tailoring from 13th century France right up till the latest issue of Tailor and Cutter. Polly thought how ironic it was that Alfie and David shared the same love of Jazz, Rhythm & Blues, Ivy league and Bespoke clothing. She also thought how hypocritical David was for condemning the Mods for taking uppers when he couldn't get through the day without a bottle of scotch and a joint. According to Tracie, Alfie hardly drank and never did drugs because his career came first. The biggest irony of it all was Alfie had made friends with the Barnet Rockers having met one of them through work. If only David could see all these things she thought in despair. That night Alfie and St John came face to face at the Merchant Tailors Ball. Alfie had just been named tailor of the future at the awards ceremony. "You might have these fools eating out of your hand now, but one day they'll see you for the nasty little bastard I know you to be." David snarled before storming off into the night. Alfie felt a hand on his shoulder and heard the familiar friendly voice of Mark Mathews. "Don't worry son, his bark's worst than his bite". Alfie made a gesture with his hand to say it had gone over his head. "That's the spirit, there's a bottle of shampoo on our table with your name on it, invite Tracie and Heather over too." Alfie's friends from the Row, his best mate Heather and future wife Tracie, all had a smashing evening; talking laughing and sharing an endless supply of champaign from the two Mark's while dining lavishly on a fine buffet, it was a great way for Alfie to mark the end of his - coat making - apprenticeship a full year early, due to his dedication and hard work. St John's evening didn't end so well. |