A Tangled Summer

by Caroline Kington

  ‘I don’t know, Hannah. I feel a bit strange about it all. I thought it would be easier than it is. I mind more than I thought I would, if you see what I mean. I mean, it’s nothing, is it? People do it all the time. So why am I making such an issue of it?’

  ‘People talk about it more than they do it, you must know that, Ali. There’s an element of trophy-hunting among our lot, but I reckon that’s so much hot air.’ She turned to face Alison, and Alison realised the usually dizzy Hannah was serious. ‘You’ve got to like him, and I reckon it’s got to be more important than a quick fling, otherwise you’ll regret it. You do like Al, don’t you?’

  Alison blushed under her friend’s direct gaze. ‘Yes, yes I do. He’s the first person I ever thought I would…It’s silly, Hannah, but because I said I was going to find someone and do it… I wouldn’t have…you know…if I didn’t find the right person. And then he turns up and I’m all confused because I want to, but I don’t, if we’re going nowhere.’

  ‘Have you told him this?’

  ‘Sort of. And I think he feels the same way.’

  Hannah suddenly grinned. ‘Well you’re in for an exciting night. Will we, won’t we…? Lights, music! The scene is set. Let the ritual dance begin!’

  ‘Let the ritual dance begin.’ Hannah’s words echoed in Alison’s mind as they teetered across the grass in their heels. ‘That’s what this whole thing is, a bloody ritual. And there are the lights, and there is the music… And there’s Al!’ She suddenly felt very excited. He was standing, tall and lean, by the entrance. His hair was spiked and he was wearing a loose, white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up. He turned and gave an appreciative smile when he saw Alison, her blond hair loose over her shoulders, wearing a dark plum, satin boob tube and dusky pink, silky skirt.

  ‘See you later.’ Hannah gave Alison a quick hug. ‘Have a great one, Ali. Here, take this, you might need it.’ Laughing, she pressed something into Alison’s hand and grabbing Nick, disappeared among the crowd pushing into a tent. Alison opened her hand.

  It was a condom.

  * * *

  Charlie was not having a good evening. Late back on site, he’d had to endure a bollocking from Dark Glasses, which had taken place in front of a group of dancers he’d been flirting with earlier. Then, when he’d finally managed to gain some free time to play the field, he’d found the music so loud it hurt his chest and made all chat-up impossible. In one tent he’d spotted a group of girls gyrating in a circle around a pile of handbags, had gone to join them only to be driven off with the words ‘Bog off, granddad’ ringing in his ears. Added to that, it was almost unbearably hot in the marquees and there was only piss-poor lager on sale, at what Charlie considered to be a rip off price. He decided to cut his losses, take a break and quench his thirst with a real pint.

  The Grapes was surprisingly empty for a Saturday night. Linda was serving a customer and Charlie noticed that there was only her and a relief barman, Tony, behind the bar.

  ‘You’re quiet tonight, Lin,’ he remarked as she pulled him a pint.

  ‘Yeah,’ she sounded tired. ‘Word is there’s some sort of disco event on and that’s where most of my customers will be.’

  He took a long appreciative slurp. ‘Where’s Stan tonight – not off visiting his sick mother again, is he?’

  Linda stared at him.‘You are joking aren’t you? I’d’ve thought better of you, Charlie Tucker. I thought we was meant to be friends.’

  It was Charlie’s turn to stare, ‘What’ve I said? Last time I asked, you said he was looking after his mum. Of course we’re friends, Lin. You’re one of my best mates. What’s going on?’

  She put both elbows on the bar and her shoulders sagged.

  ‘Stan’s gone, Charlie,’ she said, her voice low and dull. ‘We’ve split. Things haven’t been great since Jessica came along. I dunno, I think Stan resented the time it takes to look after a baby. He’d flirt with the bar staff – nothing serious, done to make a point, I think. Then Beth joined us…’

  ‘Beth!’ Charlie was stunned. ‘But she was…she and I… I thought…’

  ‘You weren’t the only one she made eyes at, Charlie. She’s very clever at spinning people along. She was good for business. But then I found out that she and Stan…and Stan told me it was serious. It had been going on for some time.’ A wan smile flitted across her face. ‘Charlie, you must be the last person I know not to have put two and two together.’

  Charlie was shocked and angry. ‘He must be fuckin’ mad. He don’t know his luck. You’re the nicest person I know, Lin…and jolly good-looking, too…’

  Linda gave a faint smile, but Charlie noticed the tears in her eyes. ‘Not good enough to compete with Beth, though…’

  Chagrin at the realisation Beth had taken him for a ride, and the flicker of regret that he’d never got any further with her, were swept aside by his indignation at the way Linda had been betrayed. He stood up on his stool and leaned across the bar to put his arms around her. ‘You’re a million times better than that little shagger, Lin. He’ll see sense, in no time. Don’t you…’

  But his mobile interrupted his attempts to comfort her. It was Dark Glasses, urgently needing him at the entrance to the site, to sort out a bit of bother between the police and a local.

  ‘Bugger, I’ve gotta go. Listen, Lin, I’ll pop round tomorrow lunchtime. Give you a hand, if you like. You can give me the low-down then.’

  * * *

  ‘Well, this is nice!’ Ron beamed across the plate of ganache, floating in a sea of raspberry coulis and cream, which he was sharing with Elsie. He had secured them a table tucked in the corner of their favourite restaurant in Bath.

  ‘We don’t often get to come here in the evening, these days. I like it noisy and bustling. More French, somehow.’

  ‘You’re right, Ron. We should come more often. We’re getting lazy in our old age.’

  Ron sighed, put his spoon down and placed his hand over Elsie’s. ‘I’m afraid, love, that this might be one of the last times we’re going to be able to go out with each other. I’ve been dreading this moment, but it looks like the end of our Saturday afternoons, as well.’

  Elsie was speechless with shock. When she finally found her voice, it sounded thin and shaky. ‘What do you mean, Ron? I thought you enjoyed them as much as I do?’

  Ron held her hand tightly and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. ‘I do Elsie, love, I do. To continue seeing you in this way, there’s nothing I’d wish for more. But it’s just not going to be possible…’

  ‘Why not? Oh, I see…’ Elsie became grim. ‘It’s not what you want, is it Ron, darling? Has this got something to do with that daughter of yours?’

  ‘She’s wearing me down, Elsie. Even before the incident with Alison, she’d been going on and on about how I shouldn’t be living on my own; I might have an accident; I might get ill; I don’t feed myself properly.’ He gave an involuntary chuckle. ‘Although, considering the size of me, I don’t know how she can say that! Then after she called round and nearly found us in bed together, she’s become convinced that I’m drifting towards senility. She’s even sent some snooper from Social Services to “assess my caring needs”.’

  ‘What cheek!’ Elsie was appalled.

  ‘Yes, but she’s determined. Her last little lad has gone off to college and she says she’s got room for me. She wants me to sell up and…’

  ‘Use the money for her own advantage, I’ve no doubt. Property prices in Bath are good at the moment. Your flat will make a tidy sum.’

  ‘Yes, she’s made the point that it would be a good time to sell, and it is true, with three children all in higher education, she could do with whatever I can give her. She’s my only child, Elsie.’

  ‘But you don’t like her?’

  ‘No.’

  The two sat in miserable silence, the chocolate treat unf
inished, unwanted.

  Else was the first to rally. ‘Who are our children to tell us what we can do and what we can’t? There’s a way round this, Ron. Don’t give up too soon. I’ll put my thinking cap on. I’m too tired and too full of rich food to think clearly this evening, but I’m not defeated, and I don’t want you to be either.’

  ‘No, Mrs Tucker, ‘ he said meekly, and bent to kiss her fingers. ‘Now I think it’s time you got off home to that family off yours. Find out what they’re up to.’

  * * *

  Stephen and Angela sat side by side on a bench on the banks of the little muddy river that gave Summerbridge its name. Every now and then, the darkness was lit by vivid shiverings of sheet lightning. The dull yellow glow of the distant street lights was their only other illumination. After promising Angela a meal out, Stephen discovered the day in Weston had made heavy inroads on his cash and what he had left was just enough for fish and chips. Angela was very understanding. Nothing had prepared her for the day, and then to spend the evening in his company as well – Angela would have happily shared a stale crust with him.

  So they sat eating their chips, chatting about Weston, about rare breeds and Stephen’s problems with the dairy, about his impending visit to the Merfields and, of course, about the Merlin Players.

  ‘It was chaos without you there on Thursday, Stephen. Honestly, I think if you left, then I wouldn’t want to stay… Ooh, look at that! Isn’t it weird the way the whole sky is lit up, just for a moment, but there’s no sound. Does it mean we’re going to have a storm?’

  ‘Not necessarily. We could do with the weather breaking, though. The ground is that parched, there’s hardly any new grass coming through.’

  Stephen was no longer fretting about the event and the question of its legality. He’d no intention of going to it himself – he couldn’t think of anything he’d less like to do – and if it was illegal, he couldn’t stop it even if he had wanted to, so he had relaxed and was enjoying himself in Angela’s company. In spite of the years he had known her, they had not really spent much time together that was not locked into some Merlin Players activity or other. Taking her to Weston-Super-Mare had been a decision made on the spur of the moment, but it had turned out very successfully. She and Jenny had got on well, and when they had finally parted, Jenny had invited Angela to join the family for Sunday lunch, before Stephen and Angela had to go off to the afternoon rehearsal.

  ‘Do you know, Angela, after you told me about Thursday, there was one part of me that thought it’d be brilliant if neither you nor me went to Sunday’s rehearsal.’

  She turned and stared at him.

  ‘I just think they take us for granted, Ange, and it wouldn’t do them no harm to see just how much we do.’

  ‘Don’t you enjoy it any more?’ she asked, her voice small with anxiety.

  ‘Yes, yes I do, don’t get me wrong. I’m not talkin’ about givin’ it up. I just would like to be appreciated a bit more, that’s all. And you. It makes my blood boil the way Mrs P treats you, sometimes.’

  ‘Does it?’ Angela murmured happily.

  ‘Yeah. It’d be no good if I didn’t turn up, ’cos they’d make you work harder – look what happened on Thursday. So we’d both have to skive.’

  ‘Shall we go and visit an ostrich farm?’

  It was his turn to stare at her. This was unexpected; she was normally so timid, so responsible.

  He grinned in the dark. ‘Shall we?’

  * * *

  ‘I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough.’ Hugh Lester’s voice was getting shrill with indignation, and he threw himself forward in the armchair in which he had been lounging when he first made the call, nudging a small coffee table and splashing coffee over the floor. ‘I phone you up with news of an illegal rave taking place outside our village and all you can say is you’ve made a note of my complaint! Don’t you know what goes on at these raves? Illegal substances of every variety, under-age drinking, that’s what, quite apart from the noise…’

  ‘Give me the phone,’ hissed Veronica, putting down her glass of cognac and crossing the sitting room to take the receiver from Hugh. Putting on her most imperious voice, she addressed the bored policeman at the other end of the line. ‘Good evening, officer, Veronica Lester here. I’m a Justice of the Peace. I think the Chief Constable would take a very dim view of no action being taken against this rave. You must be aware that we have a no-tolerance policy towards drugs and under-age drinking, quite apart from…oh, you have. Good. And they’re on their way… They’re there already. Excellent! Thank you. Good night.’ She put the phone down, looking very smug. ‘Sometimes being a JP has its advantages. Let’s go. I wouldn’t miss this for the world!’

  * * *

  Stephen drove into the yard a second behind Elsie. She had got out of her car and was listening intently to something. When Stephen turned his engine off, he could hear it too, a deep electronic throbbing. She fixed him with such a stare that he didn’t need the shuddering light from the lightning, still periodically illuminating the sky, to tell him that there was no escape.

  ‘Well, Stephen, perhaps you would be so good as to tell me why there are so many cars using Weasel Lane, and what that noise is? What’s going on…?’

  In the same way that Stephen had taken a gamble with Jeff, he decided to come clean with his grandmother. Sitting in the kitchen over a cup of tea, he told her how close they had come to disaster, and how this event, however much she and Jenny might disapprove, would keep the bank off their necks for another month, and save his dairy from closure.

  After a long silence, Elsie looked up. ‘Thank you for being so honest with me, Stephen. You’re a good boy. There’s a lot of your grandfather in you. I accept that necessity makes strange bedfellows, but if you’re going to put Marsh Farm back on track in a serious way, this sort of activity has got to stop, and that’s something you’ve got to make clear to Charlie.’

  * * *

  Charlie, his heart racing, arrived at the entrance to the site in time to see Hugh Lester, in a large Range Rover, shouting at a policeman standing by the side of the vehicle. ‘What d’yer mean, move on? You should be closing this down! It’s totally against the law – I phoned a short while ago… I was assured you were taking action…’

  Veronica, sitting at his side, caught sight of Charlie. ‘There he is – arrest him! He’s the owner of this field. He’s responsible for this. Arrest him, officer!’

  A stab of lightening and an almost simultaneous crash of thunder drowned the policeman’s reply, and Charlie, his heart sinking to the soles of his boots, thought he was well and truly for it. As the occupants of the Range Rover seemed to find it hard to understand what he was saying, the policeman repeated himself, loudly and clearly.

  ‘Move on, please, sir. My instructions are to keep this entrance free of all obstructions. What this gentleman does with these fields is his own affair. Unless you’ve a ticket, or business on site, you’ve no business here.’

  Snarling, protesting, with Veronica shrieking in outrage, Hugh stalled the engine. As two burly policeman leaped forward to push the offending vehicle out of the entrance to the field, Charlie, in sheer relief, threw back his head and hooted with laughter, gave his neighbour an exaggerated V sign and sauntered back onto the site, feeling the best he’d felt for weeks.

  Hugh’s humiliation didn’t quite finish there. Before he was allowed to retreat, one of the policeman asked him to get out of the car. ‘It’s just that I can smell alcohol on your breath, sir, so if you wouldn’t mind coming with me for a moment…’

  For all his bluster, Hugh’s insides turned to water. Knowing that they planned to visit the site and witness the Tucker’s humiliation at the hands of the police, he had, in fact, drunk very little that evening. Nevertheless, it was with nervous dread, Hugh blew into the bag. He registered just under the limit, but his hu
miliation at having to undergo the process at all left him raging. He blamed the Tuckers, and swore, as he drove home, that he would not rest until he saw them leave Marsh Farm, destitute.

  18

  The same crack of thunder that had silenced the policeman momentarily startled Al and Alison, who were lying entwined under a hedge in a corner of the stubble field furthest away from the tents. The heat, the urgent throbbing of the music, and the growing intensity with which they had clung and swayed together as they danced had fanned the flames of desire to such a point they had finally slipped away to join an indeterminate number of couples who had also abandoned the dance floor for a spot of amorous activity in the anonymity of the dark.

  Their kissing had become increasingly intense when Al broke off and sat up. Alison lay on the ground, looking up at him, silhouetted against a troubled night sky. He looked down at her. ‘Well?’ His voice was thick, as though he found it hard to speak.

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘Do you want to go on?’

  ‘Oh, Al…’ She sighed deeply. The moment she had dreamed of had finally arrived. She knew, but didn’t know, and was puzzled and mortified by her indecision.

  ‘I know…’ he spoke gruffly. ‘I realise it’d be the first time for you and I don’t want you to…unless you do. It’d make no difference to the way I feel about you, Ali. I really want to make love to you, but I’m prepared to wait, if that’s the way you want it.’

  A flash of lightning briefly, starkly, illuminated both of them and the whole surrounding hedgerow. Alison groaned. Her groin throbbed and her back arched involuntarily, thrusting her breasts forward, longing for his touch. She put out her hand and touched his erection.

  ‘Please, Al,’ she whispered, ‘please…’

  A violent crack of thunder went unnoticed as he bent over her, slipping his hand under her boob tube, pulling it up and exposing her breasts, small and round, the nipples hard and erect. His other hand slid under her skirt and, skirting round the edge of her pants, his fingers parted her pubic hair and found her pulsating, sexual core.