“Careful when you mention Beemers. Our mate Neil rides one”

Tony humphed.

“Talking about the drivers, Mike, not riders. Though I dunno about those who went for the Brick”

A word of explanation is necessary here. BMW classically make bikes with boxer twin engines, where a cylinder sticks out to each side, giving perfect primary balance—in other words, little vibration. That is their ‘R’ series. They later introduced the ‘K’ series, which is weird.

The engine in the K1 is an inline four cylinder affair, but instead of it sitting upright across the bike, the thing lies on its side. Hence the nickname ‘brick’, or the more contrived one pushed by one bike mag, the ‘digital suitcase’. What made it tacky was the styling. They were garish, with panels that cracked, and someone, somewhere, had the bright idea of an angular exhaust. Thus, rather than having cylindrical silencers, the KI had square-sided ones, and the 750cc triple versions were triangular. If you really fancied riding a heap of bright blue plastic, with a huge yellow ‘K1’ on the side, with yellow wheels and a yellow saddle…

They weren’t produced for long. Anyway… Tony continued.

“Got a Guzzi myself, now. A California, with the chair. Having a kid puts limits on things. Sarah’s on a 750 Kwak, and the lad’s on a Honda CBR500 I found. Lot of work to get that one fettled. With the dog, though, we have to use the chair”

He chuckled, oddly, and Steve held a silencing hand up.

“This is one of those auspicious days, though! He only does this on rare occasions, so you are honoured, Mike”

“Sorry?”

“Tony here rode the chair over, while his Missus came on HIS bike”

“Sorry?”

“Take a look, Tone?”

“Why not?”

We gathered our beers and headed for the front of the house, Tony pulling out his mobile and switching on its torch, Neil tagging along as if by instinct, and….

Tony was saying something about also having a Ducati, but what was in front of me was special in the extreme.

“Forget the Duke, mate. This is?”

“Right. The frame’s a 1960 Dominator Wideline, or at least I think it was a Domi, cause it’s at least third hand. I used a bottle jack on the bottom rails, VERY gently, to allow the sump to drop a bit. Engine’s a ’52 Black Shadow. Tank’s by Dave Degens. Wheels are off a Commando. Saddle’s Velocette, a Thruxton”

Neil spoke; I couldn’t.

“And the bollock-sucker cut out?”

“Ah yes. I had the seat recovered with a little bit of bodging to sort that bit out”

More explanation: the ‘Thruxton’, racing version of the Velocette 500cc single Venom, had a single carburettor that stuck out diagonally to the right, with an open bellmouth air intake that necessitated a cut-out in the front edge of the saddle, rather unpleasantly close to a gentleman’s particular attributes. It was never a good idea to either dress to the right or to wear loose lower garments. I’ll leave that there.

I looked at the old, beautiful V-twin hybrid, and realised what I had missed.

“You rode the Cali, Tone?”

“Yup. I let Sar have a go this time. I don’t let her start it, though. I rather like her face the way it is, rather than after it gets planted in front of the bike”

Neil asked if it kicked back, and got a slow nod and a slight shudder.

“Tony… could I ask a favour?”

“You’re not riding it, mate!”

That was said with a smile to draw any sting, but Neil was shaking his head.

“Not what I meant. It’s my job. Profession. I’m a snapper. You say you have a Ducati as well?”

“Yeah. Mike Hailwood Replica”

“And the Guzzi. All V-twins. I could do a serious portfolio on those. And, Steve, was it? You have a Guzzi too?”

“Yeah, an 850 Lemon Two”

“If I leave you two with my details, any chance of a shoot?”

He passed them each a card, then smiled.

“I’ll grab some shots tomorrow, but right now Carolyn wants me to dance. Thanks!”

He headed back for the garden, and the two other men watched him, Steve breaking the silence, his voice oddly flat.

“I heard what happened to his wife, Mike”

I nodded.

“We were really worried about him, doing something stupid”

“Wouldn’t have been stupid, Mike, just probably badly planned. Sorted, though, I believe. Lainey told us”

I hadn’t realised how cold his eyes could look till that moment.

“Tony and me, well. That fucker Nigel’s game was too close to home, so it is… fortunate that official means have intervened”

A pause.

“Neil can have all the time he wants. How good is he at the snapping?”

“Amazing. He’s got… Common interests, yeah? He’s doing some more stuff up by Hadrian’s Wall shortly, with another friend”

“That’ll be Debbie, then”

How closely linked were all these people? I simply nodded, and he offered a smile.

“Let us know if you need anything. I’ve known her a long, long time. Sound woman; serious class”

Suddenly, the darkness rising under his flat tone evaporated.

“And do the bloody Lazy Riders still do that thing with the rally virgins?”

“The staking out naked? Ask my boy’s girlfriend for an update on that, but I do believe so. We were up at the site…”

Mood rescued. I wittered on about the kite-feeding as we walked back to the garden. What exactly was his background? Whatever it was, it held seriously murky depths, and I was glad he was so clearly on my side.

There were three barbies in operation. One of them, tended by Dave’s wife Joy, had goat curry. And there was beer. Time to indulge.

Once again, the sun ambushed my sleep with extreme prejudice. Maz was already up but appeared as soon as I was functional, fresh from the shower.

“Last day, darling! Don’t let’s waste it”

It was another ‘camper’s special’ in the conservatory, of course, LC having repeated her festival nesting with the other little ones in the living room, so I was soon outside both a cup of tea and my first bacon sandwich.

“Steph? What’s the plan?”

“Grab the bus to the station, then boggler-boggler to Pompey Harbour. Leave in an hour or so?”

“Hint taken. Feels a bit like abandoning all this lot, though”

“Don’t worry. People understand. Hell of a trip tomorrow, so slack will be cut. Just expect a bit of a swarming over breakfast. Refill?”

It went exactly as she had predicted, and it felt a little like each mouthful of beans or sausage was followed by a hug or a handshake, but eventually we were at the bus stop, Kawan in his carrier, and then via the lift to the station. I was just about to join the ticket queue when Steph tugged me back.

“Already booked, Mike. Just need to print them from this machine”

She dropped her voice.

“Deb gave me the full SP on Clara, so I booked hers as well. Not a worry”

The train was one of those that split part way, so we had to check carriage numbers and we managed to find two sets of table seats for the six of us, Steph steering the kids and Maz to the right hand side seats.

“Main sites are that way, people, but there are a couple on this side I’ll warn you about in advance. Lots of water courses after Pulborough, Maz, so keep an eye out for waders. Great white egret is moving in”

Ish looked a little out of sorts, I suspected as he now saw his love life on a timer, one that was counting down.

“What’s to see?”

“Right. Tiny bit of wetlands as we leave Crawley, then on this side, where Your Dad’s at, a little castle, Amberley. Shortly after that, on your side, a massive one, Arundel. We cross the Arun river, where there will be waders, out your side, and out our side a Hawker Hunter jet fighter on a plinth. Chichester cathedral your side, then Portsmouth, HMS Warrior your side. Cameras out? I’ll shout when”

Off we went, with a pause at Horsham to leave a lot of the train behind, and the sights went exactly as described, except for any great white egrets, although I got a yelp of ‘Avocet’ at the bridge, Maz laughing immediately after her mini-outburst.

“As if I hadn’t seen enough of them at Dunwich! Got the jet, Ish?”

“Yes, Mum. Why is it here?”

Steph waved to the South.

“That’s Royal Naval Air Station Ford. Trading estate now, as well as Ford Open Prison. Look on your phone and you’ll see the runways”

“Right… Got it. We’re really close to the sea now, aren’t we?”

“Not that far, but look at your map again. Can you see a place called Bosham?”

She spelled it out, and Clara was first to find it.

“What’s special?”

“Look at the layout of the water and remember it’s not a lake. It’s the sea and it’s tidal”

LC was listening hard.

“Is it like the Holy Island place? Where the water tides in?”

Steph was grinning.

“Exactly that! Just, it’s not a causeway, it’s the village. Many houses have sea walls with special gates for the spring tides, and snapping drowned tourist cars is a local game. Anyway, lots of the land that way is like that, only technically land”

It gradually got more built-up, though, and we stopped-started our way through the dreary north end of Portsmouth, Maz twitching appropriately towards some marshland to the East, and then the train stopped at a place called Fratton. Steph waved everyone to stay seated.

“Next stop is Portsmouth and Southsea, which is NOT ours. And we don’t (snort) get off at Fratton”

We arrived at the odd Harbour station, built out along a pier, HMS Warrior tall beside it, and started the walk back to the ticket barrier. I tugged Steph to drop back a little.

“What was the joke, woman?”

She actually blushed.

“Um, not exactly relevant for me. It was… ‘Getting off at Fratton’ is local slang for Mussolini’s railways”

“Sorry?”

“Pulling out in time. Coitus interruptus”

Thank god I hadn’t had to explain that one to LC.

“Right. Where first?”

Her work head went back on.

“Walk a little way towards the foot ferry to get some shots of the Warrior, then along to the museum. Three ships plus the other stuff. Then grab a snack at Gun Wharf, and I have a choice of two things for you. Up the Spinnaker Tower there (snort) or a harbour boat tour, which will take you up by the Roman fort. Goes from near the Spinnaker. Then walk round to Spice Island via a treat for the little one. All depends on what people fancy”

“Shall we ask them, then? And what was THAT joke?”

“I’ll tell you and Maz in a bit, okay? Right, you lot! Down this way”

It was absorbing, to say the least. We trooped all over the Warrior, learning about yatagan (I think) bayonets and why the bridge of a ship is called that, we walked through the wonderfully and aptly immersive Mary Rose hall, large chunks of the more conventional museum, and then were led through HMS Victory, which was fascinating. One piece of trivia stuck in my mind: the lowest deck, with the lowest headroom at a little over five feet was the orlop, where the ship’s carpenter lived and worked. Nelson’s chippy was over six foot tall.

Ow.

Our snack was a ‘light bite’ on the rather nice terrace at the Slug and Lettuce, almost at the foot of the Tower, where Steph explained the options. Naturally, my beloved wanted to get as close to the water as she could, the gurls wanted to see the Roman castle, and Ish fancied ships. Boat trip it was. I waited until all three younger persons were by the water’s edge, watching a cross-Channel ferry enter the harbour, when I remembered,

“That other joke, Woodruff? Is it as bad as the first?”

She blushed once again, Maz suddenly paying attention as Steph explained exactly what the ‘first joke’ had been before starting on the second.

“Look, see the Tower? Long tall thing, observation decks stuff at the top? Those curving rails supposed to look like sails?”

Both of us nodded.

“Well, when it was being built… I have a load of colleagues down here, Mike. That’s how I hear of these things. When it was being built , for a long time there was just the central pillar, with the lump at the top, and when they started to build those rails… for a long time there was just this stubby V at the bottom…”

Maz suddenly burst out laughing.

“Oh dear me! A tickler! What did they nickname it, Steph?”

“Depending on who you speak to, either the Rampant or Randy Rabbit, after something Ann Summers sells”

I was lost, but I knew what that shop was about. Maz clearly spotted my confusion.

“Ladies’ intimate massage device, darling. Vibrator. Dildo”

She brayed once again.

“What is it about Brits and the seaside? Bad enough with that thing in Brighton!”

Another blush from our friend, who murmured, “You’ll mean the Cock Ring”

Maz nodded, then waved at the kids.

“Here’s my vote. I know what Mike calls it, but we have money. Boat trip, then see if we have time for climbing onto a stimulating erection”

So we did, with a nice mix of shipping in the harbour, some water birds for Maz including clouds of waders flying in starling-like clouds, the Roman fort, and finally, an hour later, Gun Wharf Quay once again, Maz tugging me (and my wallet) towards the Tower. Up we went, and the views were immense. Steph was adrift in memory.

“Took the ferry from here a few times, but one was really, really special. Geoff was riding the Paris-Brest-Paris, so we, the family, we were there as support. When he’d finished, they made the two of us get our luggage out of the cars and drove off”

“They did what?”

She grinned, happily.

“They’d booked us a few nights in a hotel in Paris and a flight back. As you would say, Maz, romantic as”

There was something else there, but she slid past it.

“Next PBP Geoff did, Eric went along. First proper trip, first time abroad, for Darren and Chantelle. Goos memories. Oh, Maz?”

“Yes?”

“Bins. Over towards the sea fort there. That is big. Can you…?”

“Just… OH! YES! HE’S HUGE!”

Thank you, Suleiman’s money. I walked over to the kids.

“I do believe Mum has found an eagle, kids. You can actually see it if you look…”

It was a small black dot, with other small black dots flying around it, occasionally darting in and away, but it was a very much bigger small black dot than anything else out there.

“How big are they, Steph?”

“Wingspan goes up to about two and a half metres, Mike”

That was basically Ish standing with his arms raised. No wonder Steph had been able to spot it. Eventually, of course, it flew off, and we rode back down in the lift, Maz bubbling with delight. Steph led the way again, with the words ‘That treat for littlest”.

There was a sort of canal, closed at the harbour end, with little replica ships floating there. Said replica ships turned out to be boats driven by electric motors, children for the use of. I was starting to feel a little hard done by, in a happy way. Where was my treat?”

A new walkway led us through some interesting harbour works, a bland street and then the edge of a marina, before delivering us to the old fortifications at the entrance to the Harbour. More time spent ambling and clambering, and then Steph led us north, to what looked like a pub.

Finally.

“This is Spice Island, folks. Choice of two places, one being the actual Spice Island pub, over there, or this one, the Still and West. Now, the two are both good, but there is a bit of a nip in the air now, and the Still has a sort of conservatory floor where you sit right by the harbour entrance without freezing. And they do decent ale, Mike”

My treat, finally. They had seats for us, the sun was still out, ferries and yachts were passing mere feet from our table, and both beer and food were excellent.

“Dad?”

“Son?”

“That’s an aerial photo of here, but what’s the ship doing?”

Our waiter was just clearing the rubble from our main course, and looked up with a grin.

“Pompey spirit, son. That was HMS Vanguard, the Navy’s last ever battleship. Took the Royals down to Cape Town she did, the old king that is, Lizzie’s dad”

“What’s she doing like that? She looks like she’s jammed”

“She was being scrapped. Not the right way for a ship like that to go, not at all. They were towing her out, and she decided to go for a last trip to the pub, being a proper Pompey girl. Took an hour for them to drag her off. That’s what the photo shows”

The place may not actually have been intended as ‘my treat’, but it did the trick.

It was a quiet ride back to Gatwick, all parties being a little tired, after an inspection of the old walls and an hour or so just staring out to sea, LC slumped against her mother as the latter scanned the water in hope for some last treat. A local bus saw us to Charlwood, where a visit to the local chip shop fed the few of us that remained.

It seemed odd to have such an empty garden and house, and I felt out of sorts as our final departure bore down on us. I wasn’t worried about leaving, or settling back into that work groove, but more anxious about possible effects on our family once our little local universe broke up. How would LC cope with school, for example?

Sod it. We all seemed to find something quiet to do after our final packing, mostly reading, lad and lass, snuggled together in pensive silence, LC explaining something to Kawan, while Maz was cross-referencing her copy of the Collins bird guide with her little notebook. All so normal, and all overshadowed by the vision of a clock’s hands slowly winding us forward and away.

Once again, a local bus took us to the airport, a lift ride up from the stop, and we shuffle-queued to check in, Ish glued to Clara, until we were freed to head for the security gates. Steph bent down to LC, something small in her hand, and the girl’s eyes lit up, as my friend caught the weight of our gaze.

“What? Just, bear needs a passport, so I, well, there’s a shop in town, and they had a spare one. Neil did a pic for us, so it should be fine. Now bugger off, before I get soppy again”

That didn’t work, because all we did was exactly that, soppy in the extreme, and Clara particularly in tears, until the moment came, like diving into cold water, and we were filling the trays for the X-ray machine, Steph and Clara out of sight.

The entrance to the departure lounge was serpentine, clearly designed to maximise our exposure to the ‘attractions’ of the duty-free shops, but there was a shout as we passed one such, which turned out to be where Caroline worked. Part way through yet another farewell, she looked hard at Ish.

“Could you please excuse the two of us?”

She led our son off to a quieter corner, and there ensued one of those chats where facial expressions rise and fall, and no matter how hard you try to make sense of things, to guess the topics, it’s impossible. It all finished with a mutually solid hug, and then we were finally on our way to another waiting area, Ish looking at his feet throughout. Once seated, he excused himself and walked over towards the champagne and seafood place, pulling out his phone as he went. Last chance, I supposed.

Time dragged, but a gate number finally came up, and we woke a dozing daughter for the walk and trundle to yet another waiting area, and finally, finally, Ish closed his phone as we stop-started down the airbridge to our Singapore Airlines aeroplane. We settled into our four seats, the two girls in the window seats as LC was already checking the entertainment console for available cartoons. Kawan stayed in an overhead locker until the seatbelt light went off after a punctual departure, and we were treated to limited cloud cover once we hit Europe.

I had checked the route, and it was obviously a tweaked one, following the Russian murder of all those passengers on a Malaysian airlines flight, so, to the delight of Maz and Ishe, we saw a large chunk of central and Eastern Europe before flying along Anatolia as the darkness swallowed us. There was food, and drinks, plus odd snacks, but in the end we all succumbed to the default state of the long-haul passenger, stunned into a half sleep while wrapped in a blanket and trying to wish the hours gone and the flight done. I spent part of it swapping the SIM cards in our family phones, just for something to do.

Singapore came at six in the morning, somewhere familiar to three of us at least, but it was only a ninety minute interval before our second flight, Ish wandering over to one of the big windows by our departure gate, far too silent. I followed him over, just in case.

“You okay, son?”

“Oh? Don’t know, really. Not so used to this, am I?”

I chuckled, trying not to make it sound as if it was at him.

“Two of us, son. I have told you about me and Carolyn. I’m sure Auds had a dig at you as well, so you know where I’m coming from. Not someone best qualified to give advice, am I? Which reminds me, and you don’t have to answer this unless you want to, okay?”

“Okay…”

“What was it Caroline had to say?”

He blushed, just a little.

“It was… Pablo, yeah? She was so frightened of what might happen, so sure he couldn’t possibly like her the way she realised she liked him, and it was… she said that Clara was a dreamer, and she’d dreamed her way into a dangerous place, but she hadn’t lost her dreams. Said I needed to make sure of it”

“And?”

“I said I had my own dreams. Please don’t tell anyone I said that, Dad. And Caroline mentioned a song she listened to, before it got sorted properly”

“What’s the song?”

“Got it on a bit of paper she gave me. She says the last words are ‘Remember me’. Classical stuff. It’ll be on the net, won’t it?”

“I’m sure it will”

“And she said she thought she’d just been forgotten, but it turned out Rita had been really ill, and Pablo wasn’t ghosting her. That was what she said about Clar, that I mustn’t do that. Let the girl have her dreams, and if I couldn’t join her in them, set her free to dream with someone else”

His eyes were damp, so I pulled him to me.

“What do I do, Dad?”

“Remember that it’s not just you, son. Family is what we are. You think LC would ever let you forget?”

“Elsie want a sister”

“Exactly. Let’s have a look at that little kiosk. Bit dry, me”

The Perth departure was on time, the flight a lot less busy, and finally, finally we saw our own coastline somewhere around Geraldton. I deliberately ignored the bits where we had flown over or past Malaysia and Indonesia. The seatbelt sign came on, and Kawan hid underneath the seat in front of LC as the aircraft swayed slightly, lining up on the runway, a bang as the wheels came down and the towers of our CBD lit up in Spring sunlight.

Shuffle-queue again to get off, Kawan into his carrier as soon as we were clear of the plane, and my eyes fighting with daylight and jetlag. Into the Aussie passport queue, and this time the passport woman almost cracked a smile, a very quiet “Welcome back, you lot!” before she spotted LC.

“What you got there, girl? Can I see?”

LC passed it up, and our borders woman burst out laughing as she examined it.

“Kawan want a stamp in his little passport, then?”

“Can he?”

“Yup”

Bang.

“There you go. Glad to be home?”

Maz grunted, and Ish simply said, “Glad to be off the plane at last”, and the woman nodded.

“Not the first to tell me that, ey? Grab your bags, off home, but no straight to bed!”

The bags were all there, along with my family, and the voices and accents were familiar, my wife’s expression showing that she felt that so, so clearly. The doors cracked open before us, Ish declaring he’d see what the taxi queue was like, but I grabbed his arm.

“Too tired to look, son?”

LC erupted.

“SMILEY BEARD!”

She got the first hug, Maz the second, Ish close behind, but there was still one for me.

“Barbie tomorrow night, mate. Let you get a bit more human, she’ll be right, ripper, et cetera”

“What transport we got---Phil! Good to see you, mate!”

“Same to you, mate! Val’s already plotting for tomorrow evening, but Kul and me, we rode down in one of my bigger vehicles. Got an eskie in the thing with enough basics for tomorrow morning, so get in, get home, get a shower and don’t be bloody stupid and dive into bed”

“Dad?”

“Yes, love?”

“Is he a friend?”

“Very much, love”

“Can I show him Kawan?”

“Of course”

She turned to him, holding out her bear.

“My bear told me his name while I was asleep, and he was my first friend, but Dad told me I had lots more, and we met a lot in the other place, but I had to learn all their names. What’s yours?”

The man bent down, to be closer to her, smiling in a slightly embarrassed way.

“Uncle Phil, if you like, little lady”

“What’s ‘Uncle’ mean?”

Maz hugged Phil, turning to our daughter.

“Two things, darling. The first is that someone is Mum or Dad’s brother”

“Is he? Whose?”

“That’s the second meaning, love. It means someone who is such a good friend that we treat them as if they were our own family”

LC immediately turned to Kul.

“Are you an uncle as well?”