Extra Time 37

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CHAPTER 37
Morning, cold and dry, a skin of hoar frost on the tent’s fly sheet. I did the necessary after the night’s beer and found my wife emerging for her own dash as I returned to the nest. Jan was already up, a pot of tea brewing in what could only be called the dining room.

“Hangover, Jill?”

“Not really. Sore feet. Going on a walk and then trying to dance in silly shoes, not good for the sole”

It took her a couple of seconds to get that one. “That is dreadful, woman. Tea?”

“You have to ask? Larinda’ll be back in a bit, like, so best make that two cups. Then get the place sorted, ready for the off”

“How’s your brother?”

I thought on that for a minute, and it was obvious, in the end, how I had to answer her question.

“Jan, this will sound odd, given the circumstances, aye? But, well, happy seems to fit the bill. Aye, happy. Shite ahead, pain, all that, but he’s seen his bairn well, blossom, and…”

I couldn’t put it any clearer, the words failing me, but that was it in summary. Hayley had shone over the weekend, her singing flawless and pure as her joy in music shone through in her smile. Larinda returned, taking her tea with a smile and a squeeze of Jan’s shoulder. Voices were beginning to sound from various directions as the rest of the campers awoke. There was a faint but definite smell of bacon teasing my nostrils. Larinda noticed the slight motion of my head and sniffed as well. Jan just grinned.

“That’s our Merry! Sod cooking on a camping stove when we have a proper kitchen. Shall we? BILL! BACON’S ON!”

Thick tights, a wool skirt and some flat-soled boots did me, along with a fleece. One advantage of a wig was that it worked just about as well as a woolly hat for keeping the head warm. Wrapped up as warmly as possible, we crunched over the frosted grass to the hall among a steady stream of people with identical aims: getting outside a breakfast. Merry was, of course, ridiculously cheery, dishing out fried items and beans, toast and tea, with the help of my two nieces, Shan, the French girl and her sister.

Sister? Sister-in-law? Whatever, they were clearly happy to be involved, and there more than a few of the men being served who seemed disappointed not to have her deliver their breakfast. There was a strong smell of coffee competing with that of the bacon, and Sophie caught my eye, picking up on my reaction just as Larinda had earlier. She smiled, and there was an impish twinkle there.

“We have not the taste for coffee as it is made here, no?”

I had to laugh. “You mean you are too polite to say what you really think, that it’s shite, like”

“Shite?”

“Er, not very good”

“Ah. Can I make the guess that shite is not a polite word?”

Larinda was chuckling away beside me. “Definitely a bloody teacher! How did you sleep last night, girl? OOOH! Merry, bring a couple of slices of bread, you’ve got a new toaster!”

Sophie was staring at her feet, the blush slowly fading. “This is still a new thing for me. My Benny, we had a misunderstanding of our circumstances, and…”

Chantelle was at her side by then. “Sophie, they are friends, yeah, mean no harm”

The French girl looked up again, a small smile flitting past her lips. “I know that, Shan. But I thank you. Yes, it is still a new wonder for my life, but I am doing what I can to make it a familiar one”

Shan was still hovering. “My mums say we are sisters, lahk, survivors together, so we look out for each other, yeah?”

Larinda just nodded. “Yeah, I think we all of us know a little about that, Rach too. Getting protective, girl?”

Chantelle stood up straighter. “Yeah. Don’t let nobody ever do what they did to me. Mums tell me that’s the way to kill the demons”

Suddenly she was laughing, her face sparkling in amusement. “And Mum Ginny, yeah, she says cur their balls off, it’s the only way to be sure”

Sophie blushed again, and in a very small voice said “But please not the balls of my Benny, no?”

We managed some sort of hug over the serving counter, and yet again I had the realisation that others had had it, still had it, far, far worse than me, just as Ian joined us and underlined that. Von was with him, and they were actually holding hands. Ian saw that I had noticed.

“Aye? Makes sense, lass. Clock’s ticking, but enough on that. How, slaves, Daddy wants his scran!”
Hays giggled. “I’m working, Daddy! Merry’s my boss today”

The Welsh woman just grinned. “I think your Dad needs a good feed this morning, for it is a cold one, so go to, girls”

We took our breakfasts to one of the tables, together with more tea, Larinda opting for a cup of the French coffee, which was quite tempting.

“How are you feeling today, Ian?”

He frowned. “Odd to say it, but hopeful. I mean, I know there’s going to be a lot of shite ahead, a lot of pain… but seeing Hays so happy, it leaves me feeling things’ll be better when I go, like”

Von bristled. “Not going, see? You will have plenty of years with your girls, so no silly talk from you, is it?”

Ian winced. “She got talking to all those other sheepshaggers last night. Buggered her vocabulary right up”

A long, drawn-out sigh. “I know there are new things coming on, new treatments, but the probability is very high that I will be dead in the near future. That’s it in a nutshell, so I have to accept that. No, let me finish. What happens happens, so we simply make the best of it, like, and seeing Hays so happy, finding out what she can do…. Ach, how I hate Ellen for that! No, we give them as good as we can, aye?”

He challenged me with his eyes, and then the defiance collapsed again.

“Assumptions, pet. This is my worry, aye? My problems, not yours”

Larinda snorted. “Utter and complete bollocks! Rach, morning, grab a pew! Ian, what is it about the word ‘family’ you don’t understand? You are sodding well doing it again. Typical bloody man”

Rachel and Jim had their own plates piled high, and I was briefly tempted to go for a second helping, but Larinda stopped me.

“Arse size and nice clothes, girl. Ian, we have brought you over here, we are sorting the girls, yeah? For once in your life stop being the bloody alpha male and just go with the flow. Just look how many women you have on your bleeding case, and give it up!”

Jim rumbled a laugh. “Aye, marra, tek it from me, Resistance is useless”

Rach went into her usual tits out, head back pose.

“Don’t recall no resisting from you, love!”

“Aye, but what with the handcuffs an aal…”

That broke the mood, as Von raised her hand and said in a quiet voice “Please sir, I won’t resist, honest!”

Rach softened. “When does it all start, Ian?”

“Fortnight into the New Year. Eric’s given me some advice on what I’ll need, and Kate… Kate’s talked me through what to expect. She’s a bit in your face, like. No illusions there”

Von hugged him. “And you would want a fairy story and a nasty shock, Ian?”

“No, you are right. Better that it turns out to be not as bad as she says”

He grinned, in a strangled way. “Couldn’t be any fucking worse than she telt us! Jill, when do you want us gone?”

I gave his hand a squeeze. “Whenever, pet. Just need to decide if you are going to move over here full time, or just when, you know”

“Well, I have to work, in between, like, so as long as you don’t mind…”

Rachel snorted yet again. “Bloody men! Ian, family!”

He nodded at that. “Aye, you are right, lass. Just been out of it a bit too long, like. It was a lot different when we were boy--- bairns. Now, the girls. I think they should stay over. Easier with the schools, after all. Problem is, they’ll only see me when I’m in shit state”

Von hugged him. “Can’t be helped, see, so we make it as easy as we can. Lots of strength here. Just need yours now, isn’t it?”

He was on the verge of tears. “It’s the girls, aye?”

Larinda smiled gently. “They will be fine. Now, eat up, pack up, and we’ll sort out the shower roster at home”

“Shower roster?”

“After all that Dad-dancing, you are as ripe as, yeah? Showers and a quiet lunch, and then see what we can do for a bit of fresh air this afternoon”

Ian grinned. “Not enough fresh air lying in a tent?”

Larinda shook her head. “Not that, love. See this ground, all frosty and stuff? Bound to thaw, turn to mud and shit and misery, yeah? Get out with the girls, get some more pics of you together”

“While I’m still alive, you mean?”

“Sod it, no! While you are still fit. Give you something to look back to, and forward to as well, yeah?”

In the end, we had to delay our departure from the church as Merry quite unreasonably suggested that we do some of the washing up. Again! Her father had to wear an apron. Again.

Eventually we were in the front door, the kettle on as bodies sat wherever they could as the girls sorted their bedroom out and James and John discussed what we might see at Mercer’s country park, our destination for Larinda’s ‘fresh air’. Karen caught me watching the two men, for surely that was what James was becoming.

“Got a present for you, girl!”

She handed me a flat and floppy parcel. “Go on!”

It was a T-shirt, and as I looked at it Karen just laughed. “Took me an age to find one, but what with everything that’s happened since that day, I just thought it would fit. I mean, I hope it’ll fit you, course, but I mean---well, you know”

It was a copy of her old shirt, the start of it all. “Girls ride bikes too” was the slogan. Full circle. I wore it under my fleece, over a bra, of course, which made it even more poignant, as we ambled past the little lake and ponds in the park and John took more pictures while swapping species with James, who was now holding hands with Bethy. Hays sported a spare pair of binoculars from my collection, and the weather was still crisp and cold, a skin of ice over the waters. We had agreed: Ian would leave after New Year to sort out his affairs, but as of that day Larinda and myself were effectively to be foster parents. Ah well; we had already trained the two of them in dishwashing. Now we just had to add cleaning and laundry skills.

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Comments

Aye ...

I can see where this family is going, I'm thinking there's going to be some fostering perhaps in the near future.

Good chapter Steph, what with family and friends and all.

XX

Bev.

bev_1.jpg

What I write

Family and friends. Ties and interdependancy. Support and love. Ian has an awful time ahead, as is obvious, and I have to put some support in place. I also had to write some 'echoes', especially that between Shan and Sophie. Still a way to go on this one, but real life is very heavy at the moment so it isn't appearing as often as the words demand.

Extra time...

Andrea Lena's picture

...it reminds me of the words of Gandalf after Frodo laments that he wished none of the events had happened. Gandalf's reply:

So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.

What truly makes your tale(s) compelling for me is that it's really all about how we respond to what we face; what we do with the time we have. What type of character is developed in them through the things we face and the choices we make. Jill and others grasp that tightly; that life can't be lived for what we don't have or can't do, but rather for what we choose to do with what we've been given. Truly a remarkable talent, Steph... Thank you!

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Characters

I have said it before, but I don't do, can't do, plot-driven stuff. I mean that there is a (hopefully consistent) plot, but what I always want to do is put people on paper. If I can do that, then their interactions and reactions to 'fate' just about write themselves.

I Hope There Are Enough Bathrooms

joannebarbarella's picture

The girls are sweet kids and Jill and Larinda are lovely people, but four women into one bathroom don't go. Please tell me there's another one. Sometimes the purely practical can rule.

One of my pet peeves is that in commercial and office buildings the architects put in the same facilities (in number) for men and women, when any idiot knows that women can't just walk up to a piece of porcelain and point. Things take a little longer and deserve more attention, so do we have to conclude that all architects are stupid males?

Joanne