CHAPTER 73
The day finally came for our little excursion and we loaded up the car with bikes, tents and all the usual impedimenta.

Even though it was to be Bev’s hen night, we had four men with us, in the shape of Jim, Andy's nephews, and little Stevie. My logic was that the presence of the kids would help slow down any excesses, and there was also the site rule banning single sex groups.

We were off to a little place in the New Forest called Red Shoot, where the campsite in question is part of a complex involving the pub and brewery. Alice had a room in the pub, and the rest of us set out our stall in bags and on mats, with a barbeque of our very own. Once we were unpacked, Arris set off for town to buy out the local butcher and vintner, and we made our own little canvas and nylon village. We were staying two nights, the Friday as a clan gathering and the Saturday for some gentle cycling and then a night of ritual human sacrifice and debauchery, or a barbie and some laughs. It wasn’t a huge group. Bev came down with Anne and Suzy, while I brought Jim, Alice and Andy’s nephews, while, to my surprise, an enthusiastic Enid rode in with Janet. Arris brought her brood, whilst much later that evening Siá¢n drove in with Elaine, Ellie and Karen. We had a quorum. We also knew where to hire the extra bikes.

Neither Jim nor I would demean our status as serious cyclists by riding hired bikes, but the others needed the option. I wasn’t going to drag them over silly distances, but a day out at the watersplashes and watching the ponies was our hope. As long as it didn’t rain ,of course, but this was at a time of Indian Summer, where the warm days stretched on seemingly forever. We ate in the pub that first night, and then sat with our glasses watching the children play on the ropes and climbing frame, and once they were abed we sat round a little gas lamp and swapped stories of men, good and bad, and tried to frighten Bev out of her planned nuptials.

I was avoiding any mention of Andy’s past lifestyle, but as we bustled round when Elaine and co arrived, Bev collared me.

“You don’t need to skate round things, you know. I have had chapter and verse from himself, and it is not a problem”

“What, it doesn’t bother you that half the women you pass in the High Street have met your bloke with their kit off?”

“A little, but I’m the one he’s kept after the test drive. And I’m the one he dumped his porn collection for”

“You now owe me a new glass of vino, you sod. Come on, you have a court to order about, and there are four girls without drinks. And Bev…”

“What?”

I hugged her. “Thanks for letting him grow up at last. He’s a good bloke, he’s just been a little badly done by, and mostly by himself. He’s a good man, and I think he’ll make a good dad”

“Oh, I know all that. That’s why I’m marrying him and getting all fat”

She grinned. “That, and his utterly delicious arse!”

The next day we were off to the hire centre in Ringwood (did I mention there is another brewery there too?) and then we began a gentle pootle around the lanes of the northwest Forest until we found ourselves at Moyles Court, where there is a ford, and as we waited for the older pair to join us after a bit of motor touring, the alleged adults reclined on the grass as the younger ones tore backwards and forwards through the water until completely soaked, waves of water soaring out from the speeding bikes. I deliberately write “the alleged adults” rather than “we”, and I will not be revealing who was in which camp.

And there was an ice cream van. And ponies and stuff. And the sun shone on our silliness, as I watched the children squeal and laugh. So different to my own hen night and, in truth and speaking as a mother, so much the sweeter.

We had had lunch as a picnic delivered by Alice and Enid at the ford, and after all the exertions we were ready for some serious carnivory after we had returned the bikes and collected our cars again. Back to the campsite, a doze in the sun after a shower, and we were ready for our evening. Elaine lit the barbeque, and after the smoke had died down we started with some lamb chops and vegetable shishkebabs, chunks of onion, courgette and green and red peppers alternating with whole mushrooms, all soaked in a barbeque sauce. Small pieces of salmon, wrapped in foil and soaked in lemon juice with dill and chives, chunks of feta cheese covered with cayenne pepper and also cooked in foil, and of course burgers for the kids. Jim liked the salmon, but shuddered at his first taste of the feta. Ah well, all the more for me. Enid and Alice had shopped for salad, and bread, and other Nice Things that involved chocolate and cream, and by the time it was half seven we were feeding well and I was still only on my second pint.

This was indeed good living. We were not getting drunk, we were killing ourselves by gluttony instead, but it was all at such a leisurely pace that it didn’t seem like it. Girls were sitting or lying around, laughing loudly or quietly, forming and reforming little conversational groups. Kids were running around laughing, or stuffing themselves on “burgers with the lot” , though we’d avoided going all Aussie there, and then at nine PM the campsite manager came walking across with a cake, so Bev got a bit weepy, and we all had a cuddle, and though I reckon I had quite a few drinks it was also done at such a gentle pace that I didn’t feel drunk.

We teased Suzy, of course. When would he, had he, was he going to, all variations on the same question. Those of us who were old married women took a back seat, even Janet having a bit of an edge due to her ring, and finally, as Bev used finely-honed debating skills and a sneaky ice pack to the bare thigh, Suzy cracked and admitted that she was gong to ask him herself if he didn’t make the move.

As I was a little out of the teasing loop, I was able to spot how Anne was reacting, and soon realised she seemed a little out of sorts. On my own hen night, she had got absolutely pissed, and dissolved into floods of tears and silliness. Here, she was a lot more sober, and I could see how she was feeling her isolation more keenly. I took the chance to go to the ladies’ with her, and asked her outright if she was OK.

“No, not really, I feel really out of things here.”

“Problems with Jon?”

“There is no Jon. He has called everything off; I still see him at Pat’s charity group, but that’s all. No meals, no coffees, no Church together…I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, Sar”

Being a fundamentalist religious nutter…no, not fair, not fair at all. If Anne had been as bad as she had seemed, we would never have got past her bigotry. She had come forward, in the end, and put herself out to accept Alice.

“Has he sad anything about his family, Anne? Could it be something to do with them?”

“Well, it turns out that he has an odd one, Sarah. His parents are divorced and his father has a new wife”

“That’s not odd, Anne, that’s almost obligatory these days!”

I thought for a minute. “Just hazarding a guess, Anne, but what do you think about that sort of situation? You know, divorce and remarriage?”

“Well, it’s not right, is it? I mean, divorce is wrong, so he can’t really remarry…oh, hell, you think he’s hiding from me because he thinks I’ll hate his family. That’s silly!”

“Anne, just think of what you just said to me, unthinkingly. Think of Bev and Andy with a child you would curse as born in and from sin. Think of my sister, and her wife, and how they would react, I think that’s what Jon fears. He probably shares your views, but he isn’t going to tell his stepmother that, is he?”

I could see her thinking it through. “Anne, you just make your religion a little too public. ‘Judge not’, remember?”

“But I don’t…I do, don’t I?”

I just nodded. “Talk to him, Anne, talk to him as we have just done and show him that you can be true in your faith without having to tell everyone else how wrong they are. Sorry to be blunt, but that I think is what he fears. Above all, think about what Suzy’s just said. If Hywel doesn’t play the game, she’s going to take the game to him.

“Don’t be a weathercock, Anne, go out and make your own life. And always remember you have friends here.”

Bev had come up behind her, as I spoke, and she just wrapped her in a hug.

“You can deal with my situation, and you do it well. Let him see that side of you. If he is worth anything, he will understand. And Sarah is right, you have friends here you have earned”

That was indeed a good night.