Ride On 39

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CHAPTER 39
Steph did indeed go along to the competition, and Kelly and I went along to watch her and a few of the other virtuosi do their party pieces. Lots of fiddlers, lots of guitarist/singers, and a single piper. I gave Kell a prod.

“Well?”

“Yeah, like he’s not bad, could tighten up his tempo a bit”

“You know what I mean….”

That got me the trademark grin. “Ooooooooooh yes. Musical, tall, nice bum”

“Are you allowed to say things like that?”

Still grinning, “Not my words, Mum’s. Naughty maternal wench that she is”

Mark joined us as we waited for Steph’s performance, and I noticed he sat at my side rather than hers.

“What’s she play like?”

Kelly answered. “Well, she will either be very, very precise and stunningly beautiful, or stark raving mad, or both. Bit good, is my aunty”

Mark spoke across me. “How did I sound?”

Ah, of course. Take one young man, tall and in his own mind too skinny, and far too prone to blushing, and stick him next to a stunningly pretty girl with a figure I would die for, and expect him to be able to have any form of coherent mental process; no, not going to happen. I was a little out of the loop, of course, just like Steph, as our teenage years had not exactly been normal, nor the stuff of dreams. This, however, was as normal as it gets, two young people terrified of rejection, blazing with all the hormones their bodies could ever want, and frantic with longing. Part of me ached for them, while another, ruder part wanted to get the popcorn out and watch the fun.

No. I leant over to Kelly and whispered, just as Steph appeared on stage, “I think you’ve pulled”

I realised our problem. If I had been a normal woman, we could have trotted off to the ladies’ for chapter and verse, but as I was, that was out of the question. So I limited my contribution to a few suggestions.

“Mark, what are you and your bamps doing for dinner?”

“Me what?”

“Grandfather”

“Ah, me granda. Divvent–er, don’t know”

“Kelly, you think there will be room for two more?”

She laughed. “I think you are a bit behind! Steph already has it in hand. Ah, shush, here she is”

She walked out with her fiddle, spotted us, and smiled. I won’t go into details about her playing, except that she did three pieces, two of which I recognised. The first was quite a free interpretation of a Vaughan Williams tune, and then one of our dance tunes, something called ‘Stool of Repentance’, in which she was a little hirsute. They were followed by something wailing and with a completely free tempo, and she did, indeed, go stark staring bonkers. There was silence as she finished, and then a shout of acclaim from the few people who had come in to hear friends or family compete. Mark was nodding.

“Wild Hills…I’ll have te show her how it’s played”

I looked at him, open-mouthed, and Kelly even leant forward to stare past me. When she got her mouth working, she asked him if he was serious. The grin couldn’t be kept away.

“Na, you were right, she’s bloody good. It is one of my tunes, though, so I’m looking forward to a bit of a play with her, like”

Steph was coming over, and Kelly started dancing on her seat.

“Yay, Aunty Steffy!”

The tall redhead attempted to frown, but ended up giggling. “I told you…how did I sound?”

Mark answered. “Got me blown out of the wattor, er, water. Have ye ever heard of Billy Pigg?”

“No, should I?”

“Aye, he’s one of the old greats, that was his tune, I believe. I’ve got a disc ye can hear, I base a lot of what I do on his stuff. Very sort of advanced for his day, very free with the tempo”

She was nodding. “Yeah, it’s written in 6/8, but it’s played in, well, whatever feels good. Adam, it’s like your Japanese stuff, you know, the note’s the thing”

We headed off from the marquee for our dinner, collecting Eric, Jimmy and Geoff from the musical instrument shop where we had left them, and Geoff and his wife went hand-in-hand straight away. That was almost their signature, I realised, constant closeness, constant little signs of affection. No sign of the others, but I noticed Kelly check her watch.

“What? Oh, yeah, just don’t expect Mum to be very coherent when she does the cooking. The olds like a bit of time on their own when we go away.”

Ah, of course, just as Kelly had described over the dishes. We were passing some looseboxes for horses when both the girls started to giggle. The younger turned to me and the boys, still chuckling.

“Just, a few years ago, yeah, we found the most brightest pink pair of knickers just left in there, on some straw, and we always check to see if someone has left any more”

That set the boys laughing, and there were a few spicy remarks as we walked up the slope to the tent. Jan was at the stove, hair adrift, humming softly to herself, as Bill lay back in a chair in post-coital relaxation. It hurt. I understood exactly what Kelly was feeling, just then. Both couples had it all, it seemed, on that front, and the two of us were outside watching. Even Eric wasn’t in the same boat, as while I fancied him rotten, as I now admitted to myself with no reservations, I had nothing I could do with him, and he was presented with nothing that he could actually himself fancy back.

But he was still there. That was what made me love him, the strength of character that kept him by me. I knew without fear that he would be there for me that night, and if I could have nothing else I would have that, and gladly.

“Eric, just off to make a quick call, see how the girls are doing, aye?”

“OK, I’ll pour you a brew, don’t be long”

I walked off a little way for some privacy and Ginny answered on the third ring.

“Yay, it’s my girly! How is it going, Annie?”

“Far better than I had hoped, butt. I think Kelly might have pulled”

“Sod Kelly, what about you?”

I was silent long enough for Ginny to start asking if I was still there. I drew in my breath.

“Gin, I sort of think I might be in love”

“About fucking time. And Eric?”

“Sort of, heading that way, think, oh shit, the only way he can sort of relax, really relax about it is in the dark, aye? But…I think, if this goes right, well, yeah, I think he sort of does”

Ginny was laughing happily. “I think I can work out what that means. You be careful, though, love. He’s too good a man to lose, even as a friend. Let him make his own choices, no rush, let him think he’s setting the pace”

“Is that what it was like with you and Kate?”

“Not really. We sort of worked out what we both were, you know, and then one night in the pub she just slaps her hand on my thigh and says ‘How would you like to hate yourself in the morning?’. Ah, fond memories!”

“Just about what I would have expected from you two! Now, the man I sort of believe I love is pouring me a cuppa, so I will be off, aye?”

“Be safe, Annie, be safe. We both love you this end, you know that. Go and drink your tea before I get fucking maudlin. And play some music, woman!”

Back at the tent, Jan was dishing up bowls of curry with pitta bread to mop it up with, and Eric handed me a cup of tea. Without thinking, I patted his leg in thanks, and spotted Mark smile. Shit. That might be a problem ahead. We finished our meal, and Geoff and Eric did the dishes run as the rest of the Woodruffs busied themselves with the water bottles and instruments. Mark nodded to me, and it was obvious he wanted a word. We walked off a little way, leaving his granda soaking up the early evening sun, cap off.

“Adam, I know you saw that I sort of saw, aye, but I just wanted te say that, like, I divvent have a problem with gays, like. It’s just, well, you are always so close te the lass, like, and I sort of thought, well, that it was a sort of, ah, sort of boyfriend thing”

I couldn’t help it and started to laugh, and his face fell as the blush rose.

“No, no, I am not laughing at you…oh sod it, there is no easy way to explain it, so let me just get it out. Kelly is a girl-friend, not my girlfriend. I am not gay, and neither is Eric”

“So those girls you went off to phone, they were your wives, like?”

“No, they are their own wives. Ah, shit, son, I am confusing you all to hell, aye? The girls I rang are married lesbians. Eric and I are both straight. My…my real name is Anne. There. That’s it. Not for the public, aye?”

“Bloody hell, I’ve never met one of yeez before! I mean… mean, I don’t know what I mean”

“Yeah, I am on the hormones, and some time in the future I will, you know, but please, quiet on this one. Jimmy doesn’t know, but all the rest do.”

“No problems, er, Anne”

“Annie to my friends”

“Annie. So, that means you’re not going with Kelly, then…”

“Oh you silly boy! Sorry, didn’t mean it like that. Mark, she fancies you rotten. Just take it easy, she bruises”

What a smile.

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Comments

Ah yes

kristina l s's picture

That need at times, almost a necessity, to stand there emotionally naked and just say...this is who I am. You hope they're cool, think rather than.... But you're never quite sure and it's scary as hell, but then so's being... and on a brighter note, hah matchmaking, way to go.

Kristina

Ride On 39

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bagpipes Bag Pipes, banjos and fiddles? What a diverse sound that'll make

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Young Love

joannebarbarella's picture

Wah! So prickly, so vulnerable, so ecstatic, so miserable.

Most of us didn't have a "match-maker" or even a sympathetic older ear. Lucky Kelly....Lucky Mark.

I remember a sixteen-year-old infatuation, when I fell head-over-heels in love and all seemed good and then she dropped me, and I tried walking in front of a bus. I was lucky the bus-driver was alert.

But she kept coming back, and I just didn't know what was going on. However, that first mad flush was gone and besides, I could no longer trust her, even though my heart would not let her go completely. How many love-stories fail through misunderstanding and youthful immaturity?

You remember too, don't you?

Joanne

You know what they say

Write what you know...

The thing I remember is the urgency, that if it doesn't happen NOW it never will.

"What a smile."

Sounds like another person is spoken for.... giggle.
 

"Let me succeed. If I cannot succeed let me be brave in the attempt." Pledge of the Special Olympics.

dorothycolleen

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Lovely

Path of young love rarely runs smooth.

Nice chapter Steph.

Hugs.

Beverly.

Growing old disgracefully.

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