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path. Myrtle should have given us The Observer Book of Country Smells, not the Book of Birds, he
grumbled.
We did not spot any birds more unusual than those you might see in London parks or gardens, but
we saw wild flowers, butterflies and bees. In a couple of places, cows waded out into the river to drink
or possibly to cool down as the day warmed up. Dale wore a pair of really sexy why-does-everyone-
keep-staring-at-me jeans. He and I led the way, while Alicia and Jeremy followed behind. We were
halfway to Hay when my phone rang. The Handyman was about an hour s drive away and wanted to
know where to find me. Reluctantly I told him to park near the bridge and find us in the picnic area.
With only a few hundred yards to go, we came upon Myrtle sitting on a stile watching the river. The
water s low at the moment, she observed. We ve had rain, but most of it goes to the reservoir. Still, it s
nice when it s peaceful like this. The current can be very strong after a downpour.
Near the bridge was a little park with a flower border, mown grass and some picnic tables. The day
was warming up. Four or five canoes, hired out by the hour from a local boathouse, made their way
slowly upstream. The Handyman, following my directions, came towards us, but none of us bothered
to get up to welcome him. He squeezed himself onto the seat between Dale and me, resting one leg
against mine under the table, and I guessed the other was pressed as firmly against one of Dale s.
Myrtle offered him a sandwich, but he had eaten already in a pub. I tried to give him his ticket to Loyd s
talk, but he told me to hold on to it, saying we might as well all go in together. He asked about festival
venues where Rick might put in an appearance next year, but only Myrtle knew much about the festival,
and she shrugged off his question by giving him the organizers phone number.
To reinforce the message that he was imposing on us, I suggested he go into the town to see the
posters for events for himself. Apologetically he said, I think I ve seen the town, what there is of it.
Look, this book of Quick s is an opportunity for me, the first time I ve really got into the business side
with the band. This could be my chance to edge forward a bit. I don t want to lose the initiative.
He had helped me make friends with Quick and Teef, so maybe hoping for a little help from me
now was not unreasonable. Okay, I said, I understand that, but excepting Myrtle none of us has been
to the festival before. Maybe Loyd could suggest how best to promote Quick s book, but he ll have a lot
on his mind today. I can speak to him when we re back in London if you like.
Dale suddenly stood up and called out: Look, they ve got stuck over there. The water being low,
two teenage girls and a younger boy in a canoe had drifted away from the deeper channel in the river,
and run aground on a little island in the broad river bed. We watched as they tried unsuccessfully to
push themselves free with the oars. Then the boy took off his shoes and jumped out of the canoe.
Pulling on a rope attached to the bow, he accidentally stepped off the rocks into deep water. His head
went under. He surfaced, squealed at the shock of the cold river, and made his way up onto the little
island. Dale walked down to the river s edge, kicked off his shoes, rolled up his jeans above his knees,
and waded in. He could not persuade the girls to get out of the canoe to make it lighter and, even with
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the boy s help, their weight prevented him from freeing the boat. Seeing this, The Handyman ripped off
his shoes and socks and went towards them, slowly picking his way over submerged stones. He was a
strong guy, and he and Dale easily pulled the canoe back into the main channel. The boy clambered
back in, and the two men pushed the canoe off downstream. Dale slipped, fell, and was soaked up to
his armpits.
The Handyman helped him to his feet, and supported him as they regained the river bank. He held
on to Dale firmly, and jealousy surged through me as I watched them. Why had I hung back on the
bank instead of wading in to help? When The Handyman let go of Dale they came towards me side by
side, Dale s wet jeans clinging to his thighs. I could not stop myself trying to see whether either of
them was sexually aroused, and despite the cold water The Handyman definitely was. Our eyes met,
putting me in a muddle of confusion and embarrassment.
Dale wandered over to the sparse cover of the flower bed, where he took off his T-shirt and wrung
it out. He looked around for somewhere more private to remove his wet jeans, but there were no
bushes or other possible cover. Unaware of my jealousy, The Handyman stood beside me, and for a
moment we stopped watching Dale and looked at each other, reading each other s thoughts. He
lowered his eyes. Like my boyfriend, do you? I asked blandly.
Fuck me, he said, Sorry, didn t mean to& what is it about you two? You do this to me every time.
It s seeing the pair of you together, knowing what you& I ve got to pack this in. I m going to go over
there and cool myself down. He walked back to the river s edge, knelt down and rinsed his hands and
arms. I went back to the picnic table, leaving Dale to sort himself out, embarrassed by my own mixed
feelings. Jeremy guessed something of my state of mind, for he tried to distract me with a poetry
anthology he had bought the previous day. He flicked through it to find some lines by Maurice Baring
he particularly liked, and read them out:
Because of you we will be glad and gay,
Remembering you, we will be brave and strong;
And hail the advent of each dangerous day,
And meet the great adventure with a song.
Of course in those days the word gay would not have been used in a sexual context, he said.
Amusing though, to think of the verse with the old and the new meanings in mind.
The tactic worked, for my attention shifted from jealousy and lust to the anthology. When Dale
came over I was my normal self again. His trousers were still sopping wet, and Myrtle kindly drove him
back to her house to change. The Handyman had not brought any spare clothing, but he had a small
blanket in his car and dried himself as well as he could with that.
When we were all together again we still had an hour or two before Loyd s talk, and decided to call
in at a pub in the centre of town. The bar was cramped, but at the side was a big room where half a
dozen lads were playing pool. At one end of it was a little stage with a piano. Myrtle coaxed Jeremy to
go up to perform with her. Fearing gross embarrassment in front of the locals, I prayed the lid of the
keyboard would be locked, but of course it was not. Jeremy fetched her a chair. She sat bolt upright,
looking not at the keyboard but straight ahead, and played a few runs of notes. The instrument s
surprisingly rich tone echoed around the bare room. The lads at the pool table halted their game to see
the show.
We couldn t slip out and pretend we re not with them? I whispered to Dale.
He and Alicia shushed me as Myrtle played the opening chords of the song. When she began the
accompaniment Jeremy sang in a relaxed, very cultured tone, like a vocalist from the era of Noël
Coward or Ivor Novello:
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We hoped our love would find,
Happiness with lives entwined.
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