CHAPTER 14
“Ellie?”

“Umf?”

“Have I been asleep?”

“Er, yes. It’s one of those things with tents and bikes”

“What is?”

“You get off the bike, snuggle in and, bang. Day’s gone”

“What time is it?”

“Half five”

“I need the loo”

“And that’s the downside of tents. We need to get up, anyway. Time to lurk outside the beer tent”

“Drinking already?”

“No, just looking for friends”

I wriggled out first before helping her to her feet, tucking our tooth kits into my handbag, and we walked over to the nearby Portaloos for the necessary actions, then ambled slowly to the bar tent, mainly because Mary, of all people, wanted to look at some of the more extreme examples of lightweight camping.

“That’s a Hilleberg Akto, love. Very popular with the drilled-out tea strainer people”

“Sorry?”

“Old joke about people obsessed with weight. They’d have components with lots of holes drilled through them, to save on weight. Bit… strange. That one with the orange mountain bike next to it, on the other hand…. Yes. See the empty kebab box? He seems to live on doner meat and beer. Then there’s the HPV lot—no, the OTHER HPV, not he virus. Human powered vehicles---over there, see? Plastic shells. I saw one a few years ago made entirely of coroplast; like corrugated cardboard, but plastic. Then there was the lad who simply brought a survival bag”

I found myself laughing at the memory, which was nasty of me, but it had still been funny.

“First time I saw him, he had a super lightweight coffin-sized tent. Next year, he turns up in a bivvy bag—basically a sleeping bag with a rain cover and a little curved pole to keep the cover off his face. Then he goes that one step further, with just one of those folded orange sacks”

“The mountain survival things?”

“Yup. That was a year when it absolutely pissed down. Karen, softy that she is, she and Terry gave him a slot in their bell tent. Not my style, minimalism”

“I do like that big porch on ours. Space to cook and that”

“Well, remember we need it tidy tonight for our guest”

“Right…”

“Hello James! I am Ellie”

The lad was most definitely on an up just then, hand in hand with his young lady, and the smile he gave us was like summer sunshine.

“This is Bethany, and we are friends, and who are you?”

“This is my wife Mary”

“My Dad has a wife and she is called Karen and are you a Mum too?”

Perhaps not quite fully there, then. Mary answered, after a quick look at me, and got it spot on with “Hello, James, I am Mary and we are friends”

“Are you going to drink beer?”

“Yes, but later”

Bethany then spoke, and I noticed, with delight, that James simply let her talk.

“His ‘rents are over there already, doing the mingle stuff”

I smiled at her, feeling happier with each friend I met.

“You up on your own, love? I mean, I know you’re with James’ family, but you know what I mean”

“Yeah. Mum’s got work, and Hays has a concert, yeah? Had to promise to be all virtuous”

“Lead on, then!”

As the young couple walked ahead of us, Mary whispered, “High functioning?”, and I nodded.

“Terry’s boy, and Bethany’s been very good with him. Glad to see him, you know”

“Human?”

“To be honest, yes. I don’t cope well”

“More my field, love, SEN. Who else are we likely to meet? Any other warnings I should hear?”

“I don’t know. When I said I was coming, on the forum, a lot of people said they wanted to say hello. People I’ve not actually met in real life”

I waved as someone went past on a bike hinged in the middle, which brought a gasp from Mary.

“How the hell does he ride that?”

“John is… John is an individual of many talents. That’s the Wobble Bike. Hi, Kaz!”

“Hi back, you two. Love’s Young Dreamers found you, then?”

“Sort of. We were looking at the lightweight stuff, and I was explaining drilled-out tea-strainers”

“Orange sacks?”

“I did indeed tell Mary that one”

“Just be grateful it wasn’t your tent, then. He was so lightweight he had no socks, and no soap”

“Oh god!”

“Anyway, got some people here that we know, and you haven’t met. Terry’s got some tables in the snack tent, just in case it rains. Follow me, and I’ll do the intros”

There was quite a crowd, many of them wearing the forum cycling top in multiple colours (mine was pink; it is traditional). Karen waved an arm for attention.

“Hiya all! This is Ellie, and her wife Mary. And they’re not veggies. Cuppa, you two?”

“If you’re buying”

We found a couple of seats as Karen went for our drinks, but I did a round of hugs first, starting with Sandy and Greg.

“Bit warmer than last time we met?”

Sandy shrugged.

“Warmth is---”

“No, love. Done that too often”

“Yeah, well, it’s drier, which is a delight. Loads here you won’t recognise, but we have had apologies. There’s a big group who live down near Gatwick, but they had a big event last weekend. Getting two off in a row wasn’t possible. Anyway… those two are from Newcastle, the three there are from Brighton, she’s from Edinburgh, those four are from Brum, and so on”

Names were put to faces, but I rapidly lost my way.

“Mama Bear and the Cubs?”

“Cilla will be over later; still baking for tomorrow night”

“Right. Deep end again, then”

I raised my voice a little.

“I can’t remember any of your names, but if you want to say hello, I’m Ellie, this is Mary, and neither of us bite. Unless you’re made of bacon, of course”

Mary disappeared to the snack bar once our tea was gone, returning with a couple of chicken salad rolls and an old favourite of mine, Eccles cakes. I looked at the plate, and she simply said, “We both love the cakes, and as there’s salad in the rolls, they’re officially negative calories, so we don’t need to feel guilty about the sweet stuff”

That was the moment I finally knew that I had my wife back. Not assumed, not hoped, not ‘seemed to have for now’, but knew in my heart, so what could I do but kiss her?” That brought a cheer, and then a flow of people I only sort-of-knew from online, each one opening with some variation of ‘I’m X on the forum, but my real name’s Y’. We nattered away as if we were old friends, however, and eight o’clock rolled round earlier than I realised. Off to the array of plastic furniture outside the bar, a pint each of something called ‘Bloodaxe Skullcrusher’ or whatever for each of us, and the evening got sillier, right up to the point where someone started singing Tom Lehrer.

There were nodes in the crowd, people whose personality almost shaped the reality around them, such as of the Brighton trio, a tall woman with scarlet hair, who reminded me of one of those animated films where a character flickers through different shapes or even species.

Terry was sanguine about the beer.

“I can put up with silly names, love cause it’s from Yorkshire, so it is automatically Right. And it’s actually a decent pint”

I ran him through my discussion with the boss about that brew-pub in Albany, and he shuddered when I described the gassed-up Old Speckled Hen.

“Hanging offence, that”

The clock was still ticking, however, and at ten-thirty I said my goodnights and towed a slightly-pissed wife back to our tent by way of the inevitable Portaloo stop and a quick brush of our teeth. I slipped into the tent first, pushing everything except the croissants over to our side of the porch and setting out our double bag; once we were both in I hauled the opened-out rectangular single over the top of us as a quilt.

“This is actually nice, Ellie. Like a nest”

“One part I do enjoy, love. Remember, no wild animal Sandy stuff; we have a guest due first thing”

“Yeah…”

She was already away, snuggled into me, her right hand on my right breast as was now her habit, and I rolled into a spoon, my mind putting the day away in episodes. Was she happy? It seemed so, but every time she heard ‘woman’, ‘girl’, ‘her’, there was still a hint of a twitch. This was, after all, just a holiday, in essence, and all so artificial. We seemed to be gelling as we settled back into daily life, but I couldn’t help thinking of that fabled other shoe waiting to fall.

It was still far better than I had expected, and I drifted into sleep without noticing, as my wife lay warm and close.

“Ellie?”

The light was the grey of pre-dawn.

“Umf—Jude?”

“Yeah. Bit chilled”

“Come in. Stick to your left; there’s a space for you. Munchies in the porch”

I heard the outer zip go, then the inner door opened as she backed in.

“Keeping my shoes on. Feet swelled a bit”

“No worries. Got the spare bag for you, on top of us as a quilt”

“Magic. I’ll just get these down”

The chocolate croissants evaporated, and then she was rolling herself in the bag after closing both doors.

“Needed the sugar, was almost bonking”

“Mmmmfh?”

“Mary, Judy; Jude, Mary. How was the ride?”

“Bloody four hours of rain at the start, but most of it was dry. No wind, thank god. Need to…”

The rest was soft snoring.