by Neal Bircher
By the end of the night, as far as pub hours were concerned, the group, and there were about thirty members in total, spilled out on to the pavement. Lots of sub-committees quickly evolved to chatter loudly on the subject of whether or not to go to a club, and if so, then which one. Gail and Nick were in a sub-committee of two, and although she would go along with whatever he chose, Gail was delighted to hear Nick say, “I’m not really fussed about going on; what about you?” She shook her head, her beaming smile made its first appearance in several hours, and she began guiding him in the homeward direction. This would be a dangerous few moments: any of the others might yet grab them – especially Nick – and cajole them into popping in “for a quick one”. They jostled past a lot of chattering people without problem and then picked up the pace, moving away from the throng, and along the street. Gail glanced over her shoulder to see Annette in animated discussion with two other girls and gesturing in the direction of Bluebelles nightclub. Gail smiled some more, and she felt confident that Nick would soon be doing the same.
They jumped into a minicab. Nick sat, as always, to Gail’s right. He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
Part two of Gail’s plan would start in the cab. First she gently edged her head onto Nick’s lap and lay there contentedly whilst he continued to caress her hair. Then, unseen by the driver, she moved her hands into position and expertly undid his jeans to let her tongue go to work “warming him up” for what she had planned for once they were out of the cab and all alone.
In twenty minutes they were back in Norling. At Gail’s behest the cab drew up outside the Carpenter’s Arms pub, opposite the entrance to Meadow Park. She was a bit wary of stopping off anywhere in Norling as she knew that her husband was out for the night too, and he could be anywhere – the Carpenter’s, for example. Unusually, she genuinely had been out with real colleagues rather than the night being a fictitious “work do” or meeting with Jenny, or one of her other friends. So it would be ironic if this turned out to be the night that she was caught out. She was drunk enough though not to be overly concerned.
Nick paid the fare and the two of them trotted hand-in-hand across the road. It was maybe their tenth visit, meaning that Meadow Park had become a favourite haunt, and each time they had made love, usually against a tree. They had tried two or three different trees, each quite deep into the park, and some way from the road and the risk of being picked up in car headlights. Gail’s long navy blue overcoat and Nick’s penchant for black jackets no doubt helped them to disappear into the night at all of their various park locations, but there was rarely anybody else about in any of them. They passed through the permanently-open gate, and started along a well-trodden path in the direction of the canal that flanked one edge of the park. There were odd trees and shrubs dotted about, but the more dense clumps were a three or four minute walk away. Gail stopped and turned her back to an oak tree, gesturing for Nick to kiss her, and he obliged. Being winter the tree was shorn of any camouflaging foliage, and it was well within headlamp reach or the view of anybody coming only just inside the park gates.
Gail eased Nick gently away from her. He would think that she wanted to walk on to one of their usual spots. She smiled at the thought. She kicked off her shoes, and then slid off her overcoat, bending down to place it neatly on the grass. As she straightened up she undid her jeans, quickly sliding them off her legs, and dropping them on top of her coat. She wasn’t looking at Nick. She went on undressing until only her bra remained, which then she unclipped before ending with a flourish, throwing it high over her shoulder and away through the branches of the tree into the darkness beyond.
It was starting to rain. Gail now looked into Nick’s eyes. He was bemused, but his smile was as big as hers.
“Come on then,” she said, “What are you waiting for?”
She leaned forward against the tree’s trunk, placing her hands at the height of her head. Nick needed no further invitation, and in seconds was as naked as well. It was raining hard now and the water streamed over her face. Cars passed along the road, their lights flashing across the tree. If their occupants had been looking at the right moment they would have seen Gail and Nick. Likewise, if anybody had walked along the road they might well have heard them.
The rain turned to torrents and cold water cascaded down the tree and across Gail’s face and back. She looked up into the night sky. She was laughing; she felt a sense of freedom like she had never felt before. Life really didn’t get any better.
It was gone two o’clock by the time that Nick left Gail by her house and turned to make the long walk home. He was knackered, and it was still raining hard, and when, ten minutes later, he was passing the Haystack and its associated strip club, he decided, in a rare move, to check out the taxi office – “Mac’s Cabs” – located in its rear car park.
The office was an old and ropey Portakabin, painted inside and outside in white. An unshaded 100 watt bulb made the tiny “waiting room” unpleasantly bright for somebody coming in from the dark of the Norling night. Nick blinked as he questioned the middle-aged woman operator who looked like, and indeedwas, an ex-stripper from the club. “I’m looking for a cab to Hain Avenue, please.”
He was surprised how many others were waiting – five; all men.
“Be about thirty minutes, love.”
He could walk it in less than that.
“OK, thanks … I think I’ll walk it then.”
“Are you sure? It’s not nice out there.”
“No, it’s OK. I usually walk it anyway.”
Nick didn’t look closely at any of the men waiting, but one of them was definitely watching him.
“Carmarthen Road? … Cab’s out front, mate: green Peugeot.”
Bed & Breakfast
It was gone five o’clock when Gail and Nick returned from their shopping trip into Kendal. Helen had done whatever it was that she had needed to do to their room, and was now happy to hand over occupancy. They trotted up the three flights of stairs, Nick again letting Gail go first. Gail flicked on the room’s dim lighting and cast her eyes around. The room looked identical to how it had before, but this time there was no Helen in it, so that she and Nick were all alone.
Gail poured out their new CDs from an HMV carrier bag, and rifled through Nick’s selections.
“Slade Smashes?”
“Yep, it’s a greatest hits.”
“I thought that was a single!”
“Ha, ha! They actually had six number ones, six more top three hits, and thirty-four hits in total, I’ll have you know. They’re still performing too, although Noddy Holder isn’t the singer anymore: he left in about 1992. And sorry if they’re not heavy enough for you, but I like them.”
But Gail wasn’t really listening and had moved on toThe Stone Rosesand Radiohead’sThe Bends, both of which she was more approving of.
Nick undid a zipped pocket at the end of his holdall, took out a twelve-pack of condoms, and placed them on a rickety bedside table next to a little framed tapestry of floral design entwining the words “home sweet home”. “I came prepared,” he explained.
Gail laughed and, reaching into her handbag, produced an identical packet that she placed down next to Nick’s. “Me too!” she whispered.
“Twenty-four, eh? Looks like we’re going to be in for a good night!” Nick flopped down backwards onto the bed, and as he did so its headboard banged hard against the wall. Gail laughed again and climbed onto the bed beside him; the bed was as soft as it had looked, and it creaked loudly. They shared a long kiss, before Nick leapt to his feet, tore off all of his clothes, and then, with a big grin on his face, disappeared into the shower.
When he returned from the shower, ten minutes later, Gail too was naked, and was waiting for him under the covers. He climbed in beside her. Darkness had fallen, the curtains were open and their two little bedside table lamps were illuminated. It was unlikely that anybody could see in, with the room being at the top of the house,
but neither Nick nor Gail cared either way. Nick began kissing Gail, but then had a better idea.
He whispered, “How about we hold off … go out for a couple of drinks, and then come back and finish off after?”
Gail thought for a moment before nodding an approval, accompanied by her customary smile. She liked the tactic of a “warm-up” followed by a break in which the desire built even more, and under their new circumstances in which they had all the time in the world it would be better still than usual.
The nearest pub was, according to Helen, the one in which Gail and Nick had had lunch, about a fifteen minute walk away. They didn’t need to walk though as Helen was apparently heading in that direction anyway, and she offered them a lift.
The pub wasn’t busy, it was after all only half past six when they arrived, but there were more people already than there had been at lunch time, and the atmosphere was all the better for their presence.
“Glad to see we didn’t put you off too much earlier,” Tom the landlord chuckled after taking Nick’s order. He was the only person still there from lunch time, the man with the dog having vacated, although Nick suspected that he might well be back later. Gail selected a more secluded table this time, against an internal wall and close to the fire. Nick first brought over her bottle of Stella, and then went back to the bar for a few minutes whilst Tom prepared his pint of Guinness.
When he returned to Gail, the Guinness started their conversation.
“I don’t know how you can drink that stuff …”
The merits or otherwise of Ireland’s favourite stout then took up five minutes of debate before other lightweight conversation topics flowed as quickly as the drinks. Football, music, cars, and the merits of the Lake District were all given an airing, as well as suggestions as to what they might do to one another once back at their B&B. Nick had got through five Guinnesses, and Gail three bottles of Stella and a G&T, before Nick cut off the conversation to suggest that “It’s about time we went back and finished our shag!”
A young couple on a nearby table looked across, and Gail blushed. It didn’t stop her getting up and putting on her coat though at the same time as Nick, then walking out hand-in-hand with him, and bidding Tom a loud cheery waved good-bye. There was a path alongside the road all the way back, but it wasn’t paved, it was merely a worn-out patch of earth meandering and undulating through an unkempt grass verge that varied in width from virtually nothing in places to something akin to a field in others. Gail and Nick stumbled quickly along it, holding hands where space allowed and singing, laughing, or talking loudly all the way. The flow of traffic was surprisingly regular, with fast-moving dazzling headlights passing them at least every minute. On the narrow sections the cars were unsettlingly close, although the sight of two pub leavers stumbling around at the roadside was probably more unsettling for the drivers than the experience was for Gail and Nick – their sense of danger dulled by alcohol and adrenalin. They rounded a right-hand bend and Nick felt that they were almost back at the guest house. The verge was wide and the grass was long. “Come on!” he said, and he pulled at Gail’s hand before running on ahead of her. He opened up a lead of a few yards, and looked back to see how Gail was doing. The terrain though was not suitable for looking around, or running, or being drunk. Nick tripped and fell straight to the ground, rolling over twice before coming to rest lying flat on his back looking up at the stars. Gail caught up with him a second later and, like him, was panting with exertion. She stood over Nick laughing, and reached out her hand. He took her hand and pulled her down on top of him. Then he rolled the two of them over so that he was now on top of her. Cars were still passing, but the grass was long, and probably offered them protection. Nick didn’t care whether it did or not, and he doubted very much whether Gail did either. He gazed down at Gail, and she gazed back, the moonlight reflecting brilliantly in her eyes. Nick spoke, “Let’s get back to our room – quickly!”
Gail nodded once again and they both stood and straightened their clothing. A van passed as they did so, the sound of a cheer floating from inside it.
It took just a few more minutes to get back to the guest house, and then just a matter of seconds for Gail and Nick to both eagerly mount the stairs to their room. Gail got to the door first, but Nick had the key. Gail turned around and Nick put his hands on her hips and kissed her. “Shall we do it here?” he whispered in her ear.
“If you like,” Gail replied, with a grin. She was banking on Nick not wanting to go through with the suggestion, and sure enough, he was reaching over with the key in his hand to unlock the door. The heavy oak door swung open and they both fell through it, each steadying themselves to avoid falling to the floor. They carried on kissing, and Nick shut the door gently behind them. Gail now had her back to the door, but this time the inside side of it.
“How about doing ithere?” Nick asked her again.
“Mmmmmm, most definitely!” Gail replied, and this time she was undoing the belt on his jeans as she spoke.
Nick switched on the light and they both hurriedly undressed continuing to kiss as they did so. Then they were naked other than Nick’s watch and Gail’s necklace.
“Give it to me, now!” commanded shy Gail.
Nick duly obliged.
They started against the door, which banged loudly against its frame, before moving on first to a window ledge, and then to their big, soft bed. The bed’s old springs squealed a noisy protest at the workout that they were given, rivalling Gail’s own uninhibited groans. But in case anybody else in the house was in any doubt that there was some passionate sex happening on the top floor, the old bed’s giant headboard banged hard against the wall as well. The whole cacophony built to a simultaneous climax that sent the “home sweet home” picture clattering across Nick’s bedside table before dropping, with a final crash, onto the hard wooden floor.
In the morning Nick awoke and reached over for his watch. It was on the bedside table, and he smiled at the sight of the reminders of the night before that accompanied it: the fallen tapestry and the two (unopened) twelve-packs of condoms. It was nearly nine thirty. Breakfast was served until ten o’clock. Gail was stirring next to him, and she asked him what the time was. “Just early enough to get a quick one in before breakfast,” was his reply.
They got down to breakfast looking dishevelled with about four minutes to spare. The dining room contained nine tables, two of which were occupied by other guests: a middle-aged couple, and a man of about forty in a suit. Helen was hurrying about tending to them. Nick apologised for their late arrival, but Helen was all smiles and genuinely didn’t seem to mind. The three guests all looked up and nodded an acknowledgement of Gail and Nick’s arrival. Gail smiled coyly at Nick; it didn’t seem that anybody was eyeing them knowingly, or angrily.
Nick ordered bacon, fried egg, sausage, fried tomatoes, and fried bread, Gail just had cereal, and they shared a pot of tea. The man in the suit read a copy of theIndependent as he wrapped up his breakfast with toast and marmalade, and the middle-aged couple drank the remnants of their tea whilst speaking to one another in the kind of hushed tones reserved only for church, libraries, and guest house breakfast rooms. They were probably planning what to do with their day. Gail and Nick adopted the hushed tones too, and although their conversation may have been similar to the other couple’s there were also no doubt certain differences.
“What do you fancy doing today then?”
“Well, I thought it might be nice to go for a walk around one of the lakes … and find somewhere for some outdoor sex.”
“That’d be nice. What do you think: a big tree maybe, or just some long grass?”
“Both probably … and then perhaps a rowing boat.”
“That sounds good to me!”
“And then perhaps we can think about looking for somewhere for lunch.”
Gail and Nick’s freedom was invigorating, firing their respective imaginations with thoughts of fun and adventure. Thoughts of what might be
happening “back home” meanwhile were able for the most part to be banished right to the back of their minds.
Alyson’s Mum
Alyson gazed out along her father’s perfect lush green lawn. It rolled past flower beds and through sporadic fruit trees to the almost distant ramshackle fence at the bottom of the garden, beyond which three large ponies frolicked lazily in a vast field that they had all to themselves.
It was drab outside, with dampness and grey clouds, and Alyson didn’t like it. She liked it here in the summer; winter was just boring. Nick wouldn’t agree though, he loved the look of the dew on the grass, and he loved the outdoors, seemingly even more so when the weather was horrible. She could feel her body heat being sucked out through the thin leaded-light French windows. That feeling was exactly the same as it had always been. The room was exactly the same as it had always been: the bookcases full of old books that nobody ever read, the antique wood and leather sofa and chairs pinned together with little brass fastenings, her mother’s piano, and the huge Moroccan rug covering most of the over-polished solid oak mosaic floor. It was all the same and it was all sparkling as ever – her mother only ever seemed to set foot in the room with a duster in her hand, much as she did with most of the rest of the house.
The room – well, the house – held a lot of memories for Alyson, a very mixed set of memories. There were memories of moving in at the age of fourteen: a nice house yes, but far from her friends of the previous fourteen years; of riding the ponies around the field at the bottom – not the same ponies that were there now, not even the same owner of the farm anymore; of studying for GCSEs and A levels; of lounging on the lawn in the sunshine with her (new) friends and bottle of Pimm’s; of arguing with her mother; of arguing with her father; of losing her virginity when her parents were away on holiday – she smiled ruefully at the thought of that one; of her 18th birthday party – a strange mix of people from all cross-sections of her life; of bringing Nick here for the first time; of picking apples from the trees in the garden; of having to play that fucking piano. Yes, the memories were mixed alright. But if there was an overriding emotion that thinking back evoked, then it was a feeling of loneliness; of a teenager stuck with two well-meaning, but clueless and impossibly twee adults. She wondered, as she had so often before, how much different her younger life might have been had she had any brothers or sisters. She wondered how different it might be now.