CHAPTER 6
I had no real choice, of course, but to agree with her. I was just starting to wobble a bit from the wine, but I was still sort of sober. Kate and Ginny sat with me for a while, silent in the flickering light and the odd sting of the smoke, until a small piece of paper was pressed into my hands and the shorter woman led the taller away by her hand.

I sat for a while longer, before tonguing my flute back to life with a little nod to Ian Anderson and a certain bourrée. I let the music mingle with the wine for a while, and a couple of the others joined in the lilting tune, and I almost felt good, almost wanted to erase the last months of withdrawal. I changed to Yn Iach I Ti, which nobody knew, but they caught on quickly, and them Myfanwy, and I held my back to the flames so that my tears wouldn’t shine out.

I felt Eric’s hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently., as I finished.

“I don’t know what’s fucking you up, mate, but let it go for tonight. I’ve got a big can of scrumpy by the fire, share it if you need.”

I did, and the hangover was ferocious. They say never to mix grain and grape, but no bugger ever thought of adding apples. I woke in my bag, my bladder full, and felt about for the bottle, the one with the tape round the neck, and filled it with the residue of the night’s stupidity. I could smell bacon, and as I unzipped my inner tent the outer was opened and a mug passed through.

Ginny, as usual, was depressingly chirpy. “Want some porridge?”

“Oh fuck off, I need grease”

“Only for this morning. We are back on course this afternoon”

“What do you mean we? It’s only me you are starving”

“Yeah, because I already have it right. You OK, mate?”

“Sort of. It’s been good, but I feel out of place. As if I’ve lost connection”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve been cutting us all out, like a tumour. Trouble is, some of us grow back”

Yeah, I know. All the plans I had to get her out so I could continue my descent fell from my hands and smashed at my feet. I shamed myself by starting to cry, and Ginny wormed her way in and cuddled me to her. She was followed a second later by Kate, and the tent was more than full. Ginny was murmuring into my ear.

“You can try, mate, but we won’t listen. Friends don’t fuck off just because you tell them to. I’ve asked you to, Kate has, but if you won’t talk to us talk to her mate, OK?”

No, it wasn’t OK. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I couldn’t. I had tried to talk to myself, but all I could do was to drop into my half-dozing fantasies as the booze took my mind away till the alarm struck my ears. I simply had no way to describe my pain, no way to tell people who cared about me that the person they were so worried about was beneath their contempt.

What to say, and how to say it? Everything I had ever done, everything I hoped for, showed me up as a failure, as a pervert, as betrayal. I took what I could, the double hug, and waited for my tears to dry. True to their nature, they just stayed with me till I was once more straight, and then faded away with a kiss and the fervent urge to speak to Sally, if nobody else.

The ride back was easier, as the Sunday traffic was lighter until we hit the edge of the congestion charge zone, where the Kensington Wanker was out in strength, sitting immobile in the traffic behind the wheel of 160mph penis extensions and blasting away on their horns as we slipped past. I mean, why buy the things to drive in London? Average speed for traffic across the town is 12mph, and any half-decent cyclist can do that. I could go on and on about health and wallet benefits, but that would be a little hypocritical considering what I was spending my own cash on.

We dropped people in ones and twos, until eventually it was three of us rolling down Buck House Road to the side entrance to Victoria. There was a Brighton train leaving from Platform 17, and with a bit of a squeeze we got three bikes into the two spaces allocated, or rather two there and my SG into a vestibule, Kate was on her phone at the other end of the carriage as soon as we cleared the dead spot under the roof of the station, and then returned to slump against Ginny in one of the wheelchair seats.

“Sal’s fine with taking you on, but obviously she needs to do it through your own GP. Now, you are a man, so I assume you never go to a doctor, but have you actually got one?”

“Well, yeah, he’s in Northgate”

“And his name is?”

“Khan”

“Like pulling teeth, this”

She hit redial on the phone. “Sal? It’s someone called Khan at the Northgate health centre. Yeah. Right. I will. See you soon”

Putting the phone away in a tiny pink sock, she looked at me. “Ginny says you are off tomorrow., so here’s the deal. You make an appointment as soon as the lines open, and see Khan. I will give you Sal’s details for him, and she will contact him herself. It’s a bit arse backwards this way, but I know Sal is good at this so stick with it, OK?”

I nodded my agreement, and the train wound on through South London as I half-dozed in my seat. I was into part three of my standard daydream, the bit where I turn up at the critical mass ride and nobody recognises me, just as the train was pulling out of the airport on the last leg.

We all piled off at Three Bridges and I led them round to the giant supermarket for some fresh stuff. I guessed that Kate would stay at least overnight before heading back up to London, so the vegetation that Ginny lived on needed replenishing. To my delight, she was intent on cooking something with some flavour.

“Need something with a kick tonight, Adam, and I haven’t soaked any beans, so you can be a little naughty. What spices you got? Apart from hot chilli powder, of course”

“Not much…”

“Lemon grass? Lime leaves? I’ll just have to buy the lot, then.”

She filled the small trolley with pots and packets, and a wide range of vegetables including a pack of baby sweet corn, and added some caffeine-free tea bags.

“Adam, you are not just boozing yourself to sleep, you are ingesting enough fucking caffeine to wake the dead. I think it’s one of the reasons you don’t sleep so well. Your body is a temple, and all that shit, so let’s kick Bacchus out, and then start getting some rides in. You still have your legs, I saw that today and yesterday, we just need the rest to match.”

We distributed the goods around the panniers and Kate’s long flap camper, and rode the last couple of miles to my flat. The shed was starting to get a bit full, now, and Kate brought her Cannondale into the living room for the night. Ginny produced a Greek salad for lunch, and I settled down to read as they put their heads together over their move.

Kate had secured a post at the Royal Sussex, so she would be joining Ginny in Brighton at long last, but they had been having problems finding just the right place. Both were renting, so there was no chain, but suitable properties were scarce, and the area behind the hospital is one of the worst in the city. There is even a street called ‘Piltdown’, which sums up the nature of many of the locals. I knew they needed to get their life together up and running, but I didn’t envy Kate her hours dealing with drunks and domestics; it was too much like my own job.

They pulled together a list of properties just before Ginny took over the kitchen for the spicy thing she had planned, which turned out to be a Thai vegetable green curry, in reduced fat (naturally) coconut milk, which she served to us with some wholemeal pitas and glasses of cranberry juice. It was actually rather good-–no, it was superb, and we giggled away when Kate suggested we use some of it to christen Ladyboy the Ti Bride.

Both of them were clearly steering well away from my issues, and we settled down to watch some trashy DVDs that Kate had packed, ‘Resident Evil 6’ or something, in which a rather leggy model type in what looked like leather suspenders kicked and shot thousands of the undead of her own zombocalypse. Ginny spent the entire film criticising her technique, while I watched the two girls as Kate watched the film and drooled. She followed that one with the new ‘Wonderwoman’ film, and I spotted the pattern. Tall, leggy, minimal clothing; Kate was so predictable. I started to laugh, and two women looked at me, and said “What?” together.

“I’m just watching the two of you. Kate, you’ve got the woman you want, and all you’re doing is watching similar ones on video!”

She actually blushed a little at that. “Well, perhaps it might give her some idea of things to wear….”

“But they’re not wearing anything apart from a leather vest and stockings!”

“Mmm, yeah, sort of the point….”

Ginny chipped in.

“Naughty pervy doctor! I shall have to spank you!”

“You do it so nicely, love…..”

I took that as my cue to slip out, leaving them to erect the sofa bed. I showered and did the bedtime ritual, then slipped into my bed with Tabitha.

I got the bonnet, this time, the bonnet and the blood, so much of it, and then Ginny was there, and Kate, and they stayed with me as the night leached away into the grey of dawn.