CHAPTER 22
There is something I have always liked about a sleeping bag, and in later years I discovered the same feelings for small tents. It feels nest-like, a small space entirely one’s own, where everything feels close and warm. I luxuriated in my bag for a little while after I woke, but I needed a wee, and there was only so long I could put it off. In nighty, dressing gown and socks, I did the necessary before creeping down the stairs and past the living room door. From behind it came the sound of more than one snorer. I filled the kettle, and then decided to set a pan of water boiling so that there would be plenty for the tea that I knew would vanish almost as soon as it was poured.

The kitchen door opened to admit Gandalf, in a set of long johns, his extravagant quantity of hair sticking out at all angles. I gave him a welcome smile, repaid by a quick hug.

“Kettle’s on!”

“There’s lovely, girl. Those two still spark out?”

“Yes. Away with the fairies, as Mam… Loz says”

“Got your feet under the table right tidy, haven’t you? Sorry. That sounds rude, and wasn’t meant to be. You’ve settled with those two, haven’t you?”

“Yes…”

“Not a worry, girl, not a problem. They’re good people, those two”

“I know that”

“Aye, you do. Kettle’s boiling, love”

I busied myself filling the pot, and he waited until I had put everything hot down before adding the next comment.

“Don’t need to know where you came from, girl. Not how things work in our world. You make two people I care for happy, aye? And my kids like you, and I trust Rosie’s feelings. She’s a sharp one. I think she got all of Sam’s share as well, to be honest”

That bit rang true, and I had to snort a little bit as Gandalf just grinned and collected a mug from the draining board.

“Milk in the fridge, love?”

“Yup. Sugar?”

“Three for me. I’ll go and start a bit of arse kicking while it brews, then we can get the place cleared up before the run out”

“Run out? Where to?”

“Don’t know, love, not yet. Your Dad will. Badger”

“He’s not my Dad”

There was a flash of teeth through his beard.

“Oh yes he is, love! Right: backsides to boot before tea drinking. Mind if I get the kids up?”

“They’re your kids!”

“And it’s your bedroom, love. Not going in without permission. Not the done thing, aye?”

That threw me just a little, as I remembered my thoughts in the sleeping bag. Respect of personal space had never exactly been a priority in Runcorn, and even though there had been worries of far greater importance, the simple act of knocking and waiting for permission had never been observed. The door had opened, someone had come in, and…

I forced a smile, but something in my face had caught his eye, and I understood where Rosie’s sharpness had come from.

“Yeah, go up. First door on the right after the bathroom. They want tea?”

“They will do, love. Off to do the booting”

Half an hour later, we were all spread out around the living room, mugs in hand. Carol and Pete had taken some of our guests back to their place next door, but we were still pretty full.

“Uncle Ken?”

“Yup?”

“Gandalf says we are having a run out. What are we doing?”

“Ah, duck, it’s simple. There is no way on Earth me and her are going to feed this lot breakfast, so we are going to have a little drive. Remember Holloes? That transport café?”

“Are they open today?”

“Lorry drivers will still be on the roads, Debbie, still need petrol and bacon rolls”

I laughed, and then asked the obvious question.

“We taking the van?”

“No, duck. Carol and Pete will squeeze three of us onto the back seat of their car. Easier to park that up the Chase, but you still need some warm clothes. And take your wellies as well as ordinary shoes”

I dressed as instructed, and at ten thirty we rolled out of Cannock in a convoy of cars and motorbikes, Rosie and Sam riding tandem style in a sidecar attached to an odd bike that just had one cylinder, which pointed forward and upward. The badge on the tank was a big cat’s head. Gandalf had spotted me as I inspected it, and smiled as he showed me the machine’s finer points.

“Six hundred cc single with twin exhausts, overhead valves, engine used as a stressed member instead of a frame downtube…”

It would be years before I understood all he said, but when he kicked it into life, it sounded loud and rather rhythmic. What I was now thinking of as the Petrie family did indeed squeeze into the back of Carol and Pete’s car, and we were off up the road and out of town, the rain having ceased and a pallid sun lifting dew from the roads. We didn’t drive that far before parking in a straggling line along the grass verge of a minor road. I was instructed to ‘welly up’, and a motley line of people in a wide mix of clothing followed Pete through a hole in the hedge and onto an unsurfaced track that led across rolling heathland that dipped ahead of us to the shore of a small lake. Several flasks were produced, some of tea and others of hot chocolate, as Pete rather oddly removed his shoes and socks, rolling his flared trousers to his knees. The flask he then produced was ‘hip’ rather than ‘Thermos’, and holding it before him he stepped into the water.

“Friends, thank you for joining me in this moment of thanks and respect for the spirits of this place. I am not asking you to pray, nothing like that in any way. Just stand for a minute or two, and reflect on what has been good for you in the old year, what will be better in the new one. Look at the people around you, look at those who care for you, and smile, while I give the fish a drink”

Muttering something under his breath, he made a bow to each quarter of the compass, pouring a drop of what I assumed to be spirits into the water at each dip of his chin. I stood and pondered, as he had asked, and I ran out of time. So much to be thankful for.

I realised he was watching people for signs they had finished, and after the last wry grin or head shake had passed, he stepped back out of the lake.

“Bugger me, folks, but that water is cold! Got the towel, love?”

Carol produced a folding camping stool and a large bath sheet, which she used to dry his feet and legs before sorting his shoes and socks. Pete grinned round the circle once more.

“Now you see why I let her do the driving at New Year! I can hardly feel my feet now. I feel the need for a fry-up! Who’s with me? Apart from these three, of course. Bloody long walk home otherwise!”

Breakfast time had come and gone for most people, but not at Hollies, where we annexed what looked like a quarter of the seating, working our way through bacon, egg, tomatoes, mushrooms, chips, kidneys---if it could be fried or otherwise heated up, it was somewhere on the plate. More tea, more silliness, more discussion of motorbike engines, but this time between people who actually understood the things. I stuck with Sam and Rosie. Sam was in fine form.

“Rosie’s got a boyfriend, Debbie!”

“No I haven’t, you stupid boy!”

“It’s Gwyn Edwards, and he’s got spots”

“It isn’t Gwyn Edwards and he hasn’t got spots, they are freckles”

I saw my chance.

“So if it isn’t Gwyn Edwards, who is it that’s your boyfriend?”

“AAARGH! I HAVEN’T GOT A BOYFRIEND!”

Sam shrugged.

“Richard Perkins said he saw you holding hands with him. And he walked almost all the way home with you, did Gwyn. And he lives the other side of the school. So there”

He turned his face to me, along with his curiosity.

“You got a boyfriend, Debbie?”

So much of my good mood crashed right then, and I wanted to say “No, Sam, not right now, but I’ve had a few, all a little older than me”

Keep it together, girl.

“No, Sam. Not really old enough, am I? And we travel a lot, so don’t meet many boys”

“Dad says you need to hit them with a stick”

Rosie interrupted his explanation.

“No, stupid BOY, Dad said she’ll be beating them off with a stick when get older. Dad said that cause he thinks she’s pretty, not because he thinks she should hit people”

I was lost for a few seconds. Kisses on the back of my neck as Charlie--- No. I worked back through my memories of Gandalf’s behaviour towards me, and it simply wasn’t there. No hint of anything felt towards me apart from simple affection, pleasure in the company of a friend, the child of other friends. Not the same as Charlie or Don. I suppose that was the first time I began to comprehend the damage those people had done to me, damage that not only went deeper than the physical injuries but would take far longer to heal, if it ever would.