CHAPTER 14
I saw almost everyone out of the house at eight, Jim being young enough to need a curfew. Arris and I settled down on the refolded sofa for a snuggle and a chat, with a glass each of a big fat red. I hugged her.

“Thank you. That’s about all I can say, and it doesn’t start to cover what you have done for me.”

“Sar, I owe you for a husband and three kids……and some rather amazing sex getting them!”

“Alison Parry, why do you always have to bring the conversation round to shagging?”

“Because, at the end of the day, it is what life is about. We are born, we die, and part way between we try and leave something behind to carry on for us, and getting that is such fun!”

She realised what she had said as I started to cry.

“Oh, Sar, I’m sorry, I didn’t think”

“You have no idea how that hurts me, Arris, never to have a child. Before you say it, yes, I could have done it as Sam, but I would most probably have crashed and burned long before any kids, and women just don’t do it for me.

“I mean, even my sister can do that, her and Siá¢n, so why not me?”

“There are other women who can’t give birth, love”

“I’m not a fucking woman, am I? I’ve got a fucking cock down there!”

“Sar, that can be changed, you know that”

“If wasn’t such a coward I could have done that years ago, and then with Tony, in the bathroom….I could have been right for him, but I’m not, and I really love that man, and I am so frightened. All he needs is to see a real woman and I’m lost, I have lost.”

“What happened to the girl in the wet blouse walking on air?”

“She woke up”

“Sar, listen to me. There is a lot you don’t know. Steve and Tony are as close as ever, and I am far closer to my Viking than anyone else. We talk. I am not saying that getting you two together again was my idea, but I had a lot of input.

“Even when Tony was getting married, and having a son, he still talked about you. It wasn’t that he wasn’t in love, it was more fond memories, ‘what-ifs’, and I had to bite my tongue. You had run away, and I couldn’t break that confidence because I love you so deeply.

“You came into my little world, and turned it upside down in the best of all ways, and I can never repay that, as I keep bloody telling you. I was wrong, I admit that. I left you to heal, that was what I thought, and I lied about where you were to Tony, and made Steve keep quiet as well.

“I was wrong, I realised that some time ago. You weren’t healing, you were fading away, and I couldn’t stand watching that.. So, I did something, I broke your confidence, and please believe me I did that out of love.

“Listen, Sar. You have a chance now. He is dotty about you, and he knows all about you, because I told him everything, and he DOESN’T CARE! You have a real chance, love, and if you don’t get off your arse and grab it with both hands I will personally strangle you. Now, what are we going to tell your GP, and when?”

“What do you mean?”

“You hate your cock? Fine, we change that. I’ll be there, all the way, and so will Tony, if you just let him, and if things work out, so will Jim. Oh, yes, I have seen how you look when you hold his hand, and if you can’t have the pain I have had, you have a chance at the joy.

“Now, are you listening to me? Or do I have to put you over my knee and wallop some fucking sense into you? Come here….”

We ended up in bed together, spooned up, Arris warm behind me, her presence driving out all of the demons and some of the fears, and I fell asleep to the murmuring of Pandora in my head.

Hope….

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I saw Arris off home in the morning, with a hug and a new threat of spanking, and from work I rang my GP’s surgery for an appointment. I also had a quiet word with Alan.

“Alan, I may be needing a bit of time off sick in a little while”

“Who is he, Sarah?”

Bloody hell.

“How did you know?”

“Well, I caught part of your conversation with the surgery, you seem almost happy today, and you were seen snogging on the cliffs by Dover”

Oops. “A very old friend, just come back into my life.”

“Are you happy, Sarah?”

“I would like to be, but I don’t know if I have the guts”

“I gather this guy is not like the little shit in Swansea?”

I smiled fondly. “Other than that he is male, not in any way at all”

“You will be aware of company policy on the procedure I am assuming you want to talk to your quack about? All I want is a couple of promises.”

“Whatever you need, Alan, just ask”

“Advance warning when you set off for it, so I can get a locum in to cover you. An assurance that you will be coming back afterwards, because I value you. And finally….”

He grinned. “I want an invitation to the wedding”

“That’s a bit premature, Al!”

“Not by the look in your eyes when you talk about him, kiddo”

He turned serious. “You have had too many years of shit, and if I can do anything to help, I will. Now go and get your man, but out of work time, OK?”

Everyone else seemed to see things better and more clearly then I could. Perhaps they were right. Arris had been so fierce in her pushing. I realised, finally, that it was time to give in and do as I was told. Three days later I was on the waiting list for the surgery.

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The weekend of the rally came around, and our little convoy left Dover. Just to get the transport right, and in defiance of all logic, we actually rode all the way to Reading, only to come back on ourselves once children were loaded up. I hate chairs, as the steering is reversed from bikes as soon as you add a sidecar, and they corner very differently to the right from how they do to the left. For some reason, Tony wouldn’t let me take the Norvin, so I was on my Kwak. Straight up the M20 to the M25 we went, and then rumbled round that to the short cut I use across through Bracknell to Reading, where we collected the others. As the chair was a double adult, we actually managed to get three of the kids comfortable in it, Jim, Suzy and little Stevie, so that Steve was able to carry most of their camping kit while Arris took little Ali pillion. On a lovely early Autumn Friday afternoon, three bikes and a combination retraced the route to the M23, peeling off by Gatwick and looping round through a maze of streets in Horley until the site was found. Nice and level, some high hedges to keep the wind off, I sent two of the kids out to find some empty drinks cans as the adults started erecting things.

Motorcycle. Grass. Side stand. The mixture generally causes the bike to end on its side as the stand simply pushes into the dirt. A flattened can, or a piece of wood, stops that. Stevie and Ali were soon back with some bits of plywood the organisers had put by for exactly that reason, and I realised we might have a rather well-organised do here.

I had not brought a tent, as when I dug it out….well, stuff decays when left unused, and Tony promised me he had space, and that felt rather an attractive idea. So, I had splashed out on a decent sleeping bag and a self-inflating mat, got some gas for my little stove, and had the usual girly dilemma about what to wear.

I wanted to look GOOD for Tony, good enough to make the other men jealous and Tony proud. The other girls would be jealous as a matter of course, because both he and Steve were spoken for. Not that I was lusting after my best friend’s husband…oh, you know exactly what I mean. All of that had to be balanced against being outdoors in a field, and leaving rather a lot of space for important things, such as extra sets of clothing for the kids.

Arris and Steve had an odd thing with two sleeping compartments and a central eating area. Tony’s was smaller, a simple dome with two large porches. Plenty of room to lie down in, but it did mean that I would be sleeping right next to both boys. Somehow, I didn’t mind that. The rally seemed, at first sight, to be really family-friendly, and I was amused to find that it was timed to coincide with the neighbouring pub’s World Tiddly Winks Championship, so kids of all ages would be there.

Jim surprised me; in a seriously solemn tone he gave me strict advice about how I should loft my sleeping bag before going out, and I had to break the Little Lecturer mood by producing Arthur, who always came on rallies with me. He giggled, and showed me the miniature sleeping bag his mother had sewed for his rabbit, Peter, and I really wished I had thought of that little trick.

We finished pitching, and booked in, wandering over to the pub for a look at the bar menu. Rallies tend to suffer a bit from the Great Cheeseburger Plague when it comes to food, so we were quite pleased to see a decent range of eats. The truly important job was sorted out while we had a coffee on the terrace: babysitting. It is all too easy to forget kids on such a weekend; one beer leads to another, and suddenly the child’s time consists of long lonely evenings and nights awaiting a drunken parent. Yes, we would have a drink, but there would always be at least one person with the kids and sober. This was a family weekend, and we would do family things. The kids would stay up as long as they wanted, which simply meant that when the excitement wore off, they would fall asleep all of half an hour after their normal time.

I was really excited myself.