Where shall we put it?
So many possibilities.
Down there, or up here?
For tools or planting? Home or Workshop?
Let’s put it here for the moment.”
So we unload and it stays in a heap,
Half-way up the drive for several weeks,
Reflecting our own, unlikely path of courtship.
“I think I need to reduce my commitments,
Let go of the Workshops,
You know,
It has been too much for me recently.”
“Oh, all right then,” I reply,
Badly disguising my disappointment.
“Perhaps you had better take the ‘Shid’ away,”
And we load it back onto the trailer
Before you drive off.
The autumn brings you back,
And we restart with enthusiasm.
“Would you like my ‘Shid’?”
You ask again.
“Oh, yes,” I reply,
“I have always wanted the ‘Shid’.”
This time it not only gets up the driveway,
It is built, right outside my back door!
So close, so much a part of my everyday life.
Just the door is missing,
Like an open invitation with no definition,
An unfinished entity, awaiting completion,
——————————————The ‘Shid’.
On Monday morning Big J. stops me at school; “Poor Adrian’s come down with a nasty dose of flu——he has a high temperature.” I am surprised; he had been in bursting, good health the day before, not that I could say so! “Oh,” I reply. “I’ll go over there now; see if he needs anything.”
My poor Prince is certainly rough——more Angel, ‘hands off’ tactics, we wonder? I make him a drink and soothe his fevered brow. “Come, My Friend, climb in beside me and cheer me up. I’m in no fit state for any hanky panky, but a gentle snuggle would be grand.” Goodness he’s hot——poor Minstrel. “Do you need a computer lesson?” He asks. “It would be good to keep in touch by e-mail while I am away. Let’s send Cordelia a message. I think she might be our Guardian Angel—don’t you?” Adrian puts his school reports aside to teach me the rudiments of computer know-how, even though he’s burning up. Until now I haven’t needed to learn.
To Cordelia,
Hello, hello, our very dear friend so far away. You have been in our thoughts a lot, but we have been so busy that we haven’t, until now, managed to put pen to paper. Attached are some photographs of the Workshops in progress. As you can see by the clear, blue skies, we are being smiled upon. Things are going very well with mad ideas popping up every couple of days. At school, we are busy painting lanterns for our favourite festival. And how are you? Love and blessings to you and your jet-setting family. Two weeks until I set off on my own adventure, Woohoo! So, we’re looking forward to seeing you on your return and picking up the traces although I, Adrian, will have left by the time you get home. We enclose the song that we started to write on your last night with us. It is our birthday gift to you——hope you like it.
Lots of love from us both——X
Adrian is up and about a couple of days later, getting ready for his trip. I help him sort through clothes and other necessities. “What do you think of this red tartan knapsack?” He asks my opinion. “My favourite; it needs a new leather strap. Are you free tomorrow afternoon? I’m driving to the other side of town to buy a pair of boots; I could drop it into the menders on the way. Fancy coming with me?”
We drive for fifteen minutes. Dual carriageway takes us past the industrial area of town adjacent to the port. Huge cranes litter the skyline and massive container ships docked beside the pretty Marina come into view. We pass the industrial estates and soon reach the exclusive region of town with its famous surfing beach and expensive shops. The single street is full of cafes, art galleries and foreign visitors. The lampposts and railings are all painted a ‘seaside blue’, adding to the holiday atmosphere; the area is packed with people in the summer. Flashy, American cars trawl past in the hot months with dolled-up girls hanging out of the windows and the predictable V.W vans with their ‘surfy’ drivers park as close to the shore as possible. A wooden boardwalk stretches right along the beachfront and continues around the foot of the volcanic hill. This end of town is a backpacker’s Mecca, playing host to a carefree, unshod lifestyle.
Today it is quieter. The sun shines of course, but we are wearing jumpers. “This is the shoe shop; it’s the only place in town selling the boots I like.” Unfortunately Adrian’s size isn’t in stock. The manager is apologetic; “we can have them here next week.” I help him gauge the correct size and the order is placed. “Oh well, we’ll have to come back again; what fun. Let’s go to the beach.” We run down to the inviting sands, taking off our shoes to greet the cold sea. We spend a happy time playing together. Adrian draws pictures while I write in the sand——
To alight upon shores of a blessed, known Land.
“That’s a line from the poem,” I remind him. He asks what it refers to; “does it have sexual overtones?” I tell him it can mean whatever he wants to hear. I let a stream of sand flow through my fingers; “look at all the different colours in this sand; let’s count them.”
My Friend is less amorous today. We are in public and yes——I have a husband and he is hoping to win the hand of the lovely Jules. A Red Flag Day.
NON-EXISTENT IN A REAL WORLD
“No, we are not lovers, are we?
But there again, we do hold exquisite potential in our hands.”
“No, we aren’t having an affair, are we?
Ah, but yes, what a glorious affair we are having.”
“We haven’t known each other very long,
And yet, we have been together for aeons.”
“But I don’t want a relationship now,
For I am dreaming of another.”
“And I cannot have a relationship now,
For I am vowed to another.”
“So, what is this then?
We really don’t know.
You don’t want it, and I can’t have it,
Yet here we are, unable to keep apart.”
“It is nothing; it does not exist.
How strange and yet how perfect————
Non-existent in a real world.”
The two Japanese boys arrived ten days ago. They are charming and gave us beautiful gifts on their first night. Their English is limited so we are perfecting our sign-language skills. The children are fascinated and help them feel at home by playing football. This isn’t easy on The Mountain but they seem to enjoy the challenge. They are intrigued by the animals and this morning I watched them creeping up the hill after one of the bantam hens in their immaculate school uniforms and matching, white socks. I made them a packed lunch for their Rotorua trip today. I found them waiting with Cedric by the classroom block at three fifteen, worn out after their outing. Their socks were still pristine white. I hope they like tuna pasta——after my own beach outing it will have to be an easy meal this evening. I must remember to give them extra blankets; it’s getting very cold at night.
As we drive the seemingly endless route home, Rinky leans forward and comments; “they’re both asleep, Mummy.” One of the school mothers told me that Japanese automatically sleep while travelling. How sensible. The local radio surprises us with an advert as we negotiate the twisty road; “Preparation XYZ——The perfect way to deal with maggots and unwanted, sheep pests; every farmer should try this new solution——phone now to place your order.” Or something along those lines. We certainly wouldn’t hear farming adverts punctuating Terry Wogan’s radio show in England, and if we did I can hear the funny remark he would make afterwards! This is a nation of pioneering farmers of course. People are more practical than in England; I am often surprised by their skills; even the younger generation can build a house or a ‘shid’ for instance,
butcher a pig, knit a pair of socks, home preserve and grow vegetables. These are commonplace activities.
In a week’s time Adrian flies to America and then Europe. He may return with another in his heart. I decide we had better make the most of our remaining time and agree to drive him to Auckland the day before he takes off. The Laird will be away in Fiji on a College Service trip and the Japanese will have left. I’ll organize the children to stay with friends so we can enjoy the little time left us. I shall be taking care of Adrian’s beloved dog, of course——and his car. He will be away for six weeks.
* * * * * * *
It is Wednesday evening and I am in town delivering Rinky’s school friend home. I tend to bring invited children down from The Mountain after a play session. Many locals avoid the rural winding roads at the end of a school day, especially in the dark, so I usually offer to drive. Before heading home I drop in on Adrian. He has music playing and his curtains are closed. How natural to come to him like this, at the end of a tiring day. We stand close together with the lightest of kisses and handholding. Our meeting is tinged with clandestine succour.
“Well, good evening, My Lady. What a lovely surprise. May I lay you across my bed for a short while?” “Why yes, Fine Sir, you may indeed.” We catch up on the day’s events and move together provocatively. We don’t have time to remove any clothes. I wonder if we will maintain some level of integrity before he departs? If so, we will be cutting it fine. My eye travels around his room. He has a series of botanical prints around his bed, a picture of Christ and several lists of ‘Things To Do’ blue-tacked at eye level. I like the cosy world he has created. His collection of instruments stands on top of a piano by the window. He has a clarinet, an accordion, a trumpet and a penny whistle.
“I made this bed myself,” Adrian tells me. “It’s fairly precarious, supported by wooden blocks.” We laugh ——“better not move too much then. Why Sir——it is a chastity bed! Imagine the local headlines if it collapsed and we got trapped——‘Spiritual Director’s wife caught under collapsed bed with her Lover! Where are the Christian morals in this day and age?’ We get terrible giggles after that and the whole bed shakes.
“Cordelia has sent us a reply to our e-mail,” Adrian says. “I’ll read it to you.”
Dear Friends,
Thank-you for your e-mail. The pictures look very impressive. Unfortunately I cannot access all the attachments. We hardly ever get to a screen, so this is a rare opportunity. I wish you, Adrian, all the best for your trip.
We are having wonderful adventures. We have seen Moose, reindeer, Swedish, midnight sun and ice-sculptures. Animals are clearly a big theme on this trip. We have visited schools like ours in Chile and Denmark. Nice for Joni to experience Class 2 in different countries of the world. Now we are in Belgium with my Mother. My brother is coming to stay this weekend. The children are doing very well; Joni has changed a lot. Thank-you for the song you sent for my birthday. I thought I heard it on a radio in Denmark—can you imagine? Or was it the future? Enjoy the winter, as we do all seasons. Bye for now. Love from Cordelia.
How lovely to receive news from our dear friend. “Well, I had better get on my way,” I announce, lacing up my leather boots. Standing up, Adrian pulls me to him, placing his hands under my shirt and running his hands up my back. We feel like dancing and move gently to the music. Ah, how wonderful to be together like this; the promise of more is tangible. Our chemistry is totally aligned. I have never danced with anyone who matches my every move. And then he kisses me softly——my breath stills——a gate swings open——silence about us——the wind outside subdued——the cat and dog watching with accepting eyes. ‘And when their breath is as one, a thousand stars burst in the sky as I always knew they would.’
As I turn to leave, Adrian whispers in my ear: “what are you doing to me, My Lady?” I drive away reluctantly, realizing these precious moments are some of the greatest gifts I have ever received. I elect to claim whatever riches fall at my feet.
Chapter 4 Elect
July 1st arrives. The children are delivered to friends and Adrian and I share time alone. We love being together on The Mountain. I remember standing on the brow of the hill with The Laird a few days after our arrival, wondering why I wasn’t excited. I recall being surprised at my reaction. I feel quite the opposite with Adrian beside me. Does my female instinct choose a mate who can provide; someone possessing knowledge of the land to survive its temperament and defeat its enemy? Adrian is a Kiwi; at home and skilled on the land, whereas The Laird is a newcomer, ill-equipped and a novice in the ways and wherefores of New Zealand. Could there be any truth in that theory?
We light the fire and feed the animals before cooking ourselves scrambled eggs. We throw in some mushrooms and tomatoes and toss a salad to compliment the easy dish. Adrian calls for reverence with a beautiful blessing.
“Heavenly Father, your bounty is spread before us, the gift of nourishment handed to us so generously”—————
After supper we watch documentaries about interesting places in the U.K. We give each other foot massages through thick woollen socks and enjoy the ‘ordinariness’ of the evening. This is new territory for us; we usually grab the limited time and use it intensely.
An uninterrupted night lies ahead——and we are tentatively excited. Past and future hold no significance when we are together; all that ever concerns us is ‘now’. The more we get to know each other, the more we achieve a state of being ‘present to the moment’. Tucked up in the fireside bed with velvet curtains as cosy screening we talk about our ability to see the deepest part of each other; “If you were a flower, I would be your ‘Stamen Gazer’,” I tell him. “Hmm,” he replies. “That sounds rather suggestive.”
WHAT’S UNDERNEATH THE CLOAK MY LADY?
He asks questions that none have asked before,
He undresses me slowly,
Peeling away the many, velvet layers.
I stand, awkward in my exposed inhibition,
I have been brought up to cope,
Not ponder long on personal nuance.
I am naked before him.
I know he will find the deep core,
And caress with finite accuracy.
He calls me sharp,
But I would call him sharper,
In a gentle, focused way.
What’s underneath the cloak, My Lady?
If I am to be your Stamen Gazer, Sir,
Will you be my Master of the Robes?
We remain dressed, choosing to maintain some decorum between the sheets. But we do kiss each other——oh yes——for long, blissful minutes. The dogs snore and the candles sputter and fade. Only the one above the bed remains alight. Our hands and fingers explore each other, albeit through clothes. I feel his manhood, firm and expectant against my thigh. Mmm——“time for me to leave you now. Cool your ardour Sir.” I kiss him goodnight and head upstairs, promising to rejoin him before dawn. I don’t rest easily. The desire to slip back into my Minstrel’s arms is too strong.
Eventually I drift away. We need our sleep for the long drive tomorrow, not to mention our dawn rendezvous by the fire.
I wake at four-thirty, knowing our last chance to be really close has arrived. The wooden stairs creak as I tread my way carefully through the dark. The landing window displays a heavenly array of stars. Benevolent friends, they watch over The Mountain. Adrian is awake and takes me to him without a word. We are down to our underwear and lie in a comfortable ‘spoon’ position; sleepy still, yet chatting quietly. “I could imagine holding my woman like this,” he says in my ear. “How wonderful to hold her when she is with child.” I tell him to imagine I am that woman; perhaps even Jules. Maybe she is waiting for him. I am enfolded in his manly scent and slim frame. This is perfection on every level. I melt into him. He responds like a dancer taking the stage. “Just one more kiss before we get up?” I ask. “It might be our last chance.” “That could be dangerous,” he replies. “Mmm——she who
counts colours in the sand.”
We leave the Mountain after a hearty breakfast; aware that many boundaries have been crossed except the final one. We haven’t made love. Our future is nothing but an unlikely question mark. Dogs and luggage are on board and the pleasant, three-hour journey to Auckland lies ahead. The easy roads are always a pleasure to drive. The Minstrel puts his bare feet on the dashboard and plays his guitar while we travel. What fun——the sparkle between us never seems to fade. “You are funny,” he says, watching me grip the wheel with concentration. “How did your driving glasses get so broken? There’s a crack in the lens and one arm’s missing!”
Our conversation moves at a spanking pace. We discuss musical artists, healthy food, relationships, education and future trips together. “I’d like to take you to the West Coast; show you some of my favourite places in New Zealand,” Adrian says, adding; “I keep meaning to ask you; explain those deep stretches you make when we’re wrapped up?” “Ah, now they are hard to describe,” I answer. “I call them ‘Rainbows’ and they ripple through me when I am either with you, or thinking of you. They are a royal speciality. I have never felt them before——glorious——an orgasm of the heart perhaps? Are they unique to me?”
True to form, Adrian has other things to accomplish ‘en route’. The delivery of the school’s unwanted spinning wheels to a lady in a Hamilton suburb is followed by a shared café lunch. Adrian strikes up a conversation with a young drummer while we wait for our food. They chat while I read a magazine and watch the Hamilton world go by. We walk hand in hand through the streets before resuming our journey. Finding a shady path beside the river we stop for a kiss under an oak tree. Unfortunately, a passer-by surprises us and we step away from each other in haste. How vulnerable and exposed we are; out in the open with our clandestine love. This treasure is fragile. It could be blown apart at any moment.
My Woodsman Friend spies promising timber behind the petrol station where we refuel. “For when I return,” he tells me enthusiastically. “I might set up a woodcraft business. I’d call it ‘Sherwood Forest’, after the inspiring forest dwelling heroes. What do you reckon?” We arrive at Adrian’s mother’s house at three o’clock in the afternoon. His father and stepmother live on the other side of Auckland. “Hello Jenny, how nice to meet you.” I shake her hand——wondering what she must think of her son’s unlikely friend. We enjoy a cup of tea in her neat, airy home. The house is part of a ‘newish’ housing complex. Jenny is reserved but welcoming. I chat about my family and how we find New Zealand compared to the U.K.
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