Ben caught up with Marcie in the bathroom, sitting on the loo in her unfastened dressing gown while her urine gushed noisily away. She saw immediately what he had in his hand as he made for the basin, urgently saying, “Oh, leave that there. I can’t ask you to wash that for me! Flush those dirty tissues down the toilet too. You are so good to me, Ben, letting me have my messy play.”
“Well you’re so good to me,” he replied, “Making that costume, dressing up to give me a treat, then letting me do that thing, letting me come in your mouth.”
He hadn’t meant to finish so crudely, but Marcie didn’t seem to mind as she rose, wrapping her robe around herself, hiding the tops of the white stockings that she still wore. Then she moved over to the basin, pushing him aside. “I’d let you do that whenever you want, within reason. Maybe not on the Metro, for example,” she said with a cheeky smile as she ran the water hot over her hands and her used sex toy. “You could say that you’re good for me too, letting me indulge my taste for your sexy creamy love juice, and letting me share it with you too. Did you like that? Do you find it tasty too?”
“Aye, I guess I do,” Ben cautiously replied, stepping across the bathroom to start his shower, “I know what you mean, about it being a bit sweet. And the taste isn’t bad, is it?”
“I still think it’s like a soft runny brie, maybe with a bit of sweet cranberry jam stirred in,” Marcie said with a smirk as she vigorously scrubbed the lathered shaft of her floppy silicone toy. As she finished at the sink and Ben stepped into the gushing shower, she added, “I think I’m getting hungry though. I’ll dry this cheeky little fellow on a piece of kitchen roll then start getting the croissants warmed, okay?”
“Okay, thanks,” Ben agreed, giving her a small wet wave as she left, then he focused on giving himself a good clean as he heard her banging around in the kitchen. He felt a pang of regret to be washing the traces of Marcie’s intimate arousal off his face, to lose the lingering scent of her private musk that brought such strong arousal to him as well, yet he hoped she’d let him bury himself in her furry vulva again soon. He was especially thorough in scrubbing the fingers of his left hand, thinking of Marcie’s trust in him, or her confidence in their affinity, to let him play with her anal stimulation and risk the indignity of getting her excreta on himself.
He made a rich lather around his genitals too, diligently washing the collar between his glans and foreskin especially, wanting to be as clean as possible for Marcie should she get close to his penis again later. He thought nostalgically of his stiff erection rising before her face, almost touching her nose, as she blessed it with her exotic Catholic phrases. He’d felt proud to play his part in her little ritual, literally and figuratively, and he hoped that he would rise to the occasion again, whenever she might be up for it. He was also a little sorry to be washing Marcie’s lipstick off his skin, as he’d quite liked the idea of carrying the mark of her claim to him in a private shared place. He knew he wouldn’t need to wait long before raising the topic of wearing a more public wedding ring though.
Ben washed the rest of his body, and his hair too, using his own shampoo rather than Marcie’s special products. Feeling especially clean for the day, he stopped the shower, dried himself vigorously on his towel, then wrapped it around his waist, put on his deodorant and left the bathroom.
He found Marcie in the living room, putting the finishing touches to the breakfast table. As well as the plates, glasses and cutlery, she’d laid out butter, jam, honey, cereal, milk and special orange juice. Ben said how lovely it looked, pecking her lips as she let her fingertips drift across his bare chest briefly, below the line of his damp cord necklace. She was keen to take her turn in the shower though, telling him when the croissants would be ready, and suggesting he make the coffee. He made a joke about the jars she’d put out then, saying that they should have gone savoury, trying brie and cranberry on their croissants for a change, then she shooed him away in mock exasperation.
He went to the bedroom to get dressed, taking his underwear and a clean shirt from the drawers and wardrobe that he now shared with Marcie, since she’d had a thorough sort and he’d fixed up another storage unit in the tiny spare room. He made the bed, shaking out the pillows and duvet vigorously, checking the sheet for stains from their spills, but finding only negligible colourless spots, though he still left the duvet turned down to air everything.
He met Marcie coming the other way as he returned his towel to the bathroom, her dappled olive shoulders beaded with drops of water, her body and hair wrapped in white towels. He pecked her lips again, but they didn’t linger, then he was still filling the cafetiere when the oven’s timer went off. He pulled out the tray of croissants, wrapped them in a clean tea-towel that Marcie had already got out, then wondered if he should start his cereal while he waited for her to finish getting dressed, and tame her hair too, as he thought to himself, hearing the hairdryer.
It was not that long before she appeared though, dressed in the kind of loose skirt and blouse of hers that Ben still thought of as ethnic or even a Romani Gypsy style. He noticed she’d coordinated the russet colours of the unbleached cotton blouse’s embroidery details with the dark earthy colours of the skirt’s rich botanical pattern. He also saw that she’d pinned her damp hair up, as she did for work, though she’d not put fresh makeup on her cleaned face. He did glimpse the serpentine chain on her neck though, and guessed that the silver Mjölnir which he’d gifted her was hidden beneath her blouse, just as her cross remained around his neck, though on what Ben felt was its more masculine tough cord now rather than the thin chain that she’d first shared. She smiled happily as she sat down, giving a contented sigh as he poured some orange juice for them both, but then she sprung up again to get her pills. Returning to her seat, she quickly popped out her tiny daily dose of contraceptive, then raised her glass as if to say cheers, but instead she wished him happy birthday, then knocked back a mouthful with her pill before confirming that he could wait until after they’d eaten for his other presents.
After the intensity of the coupling that they’d shared, they now seemed more at ease with chatting about light and trivial matters. Marcie confirmed that Geoff knew when their big delivery was due, and that Ben had made sure he was okay with taking the time to help, whilst he confirmed that she could help Shona wrangle the boys if they wanted to try and get involved whilst Ali was out at work, covering the weekend duty roster. Then they wondered how busy Lindisfarne might be for their day trip out there, before falling into their stories of visiting the island before. Marcie had only visited it once with some colleagues from her library, soon after she’d moved to Newcastle when she’d been keen to find friends. Ben admitted that he had been several times, some even by boat, sailing up the coast to it and the Farne Islands with crews from Tynemouth. He thought the northern dunes would be quieter, if they wanted to take their picnic there, so long as they didn’t linger so long that they missed the tide.
Marcie made a show of being exasperated by Ben’s big appetite when, once they’d finished the croissants, he went to get some toast, protesting that he’d had cereal too. He made a joke about his hunger, saying that there surely wasn’t a better day to indulge it, giving Marcie an excuse to act as if she were shocked as well as annoyed. Then she ducked into the spare room to get his other presents from her, his “official” one as she called it, and, “A silly little surprise.” She explained that she had some cards which had arrived in the post for him too.
When Marcie came back, they agreed that he should open the cards first. Ben recognised his dad’s handwriting on the first he picked up. The card inside had a colourful photograph of a red fox in what seemed to be a flower meadow, which Marcie found very suspicious until Ben reminded her that she’d spoken to Dave about her sympathy for wild foxes on the farm herself. There was a small cheque inside, which Ben hadn’t expected, given how much his dad had helped out already, but Dave had written in the card that Ben and Marcie should spend it on a meal out together, which Marcie thought was sweet.
There was also a cheque in the old fashioned card from his grandmother, with a simple watercolour painting of a vase of bright spring flowers and the words “happy birthday” in a curling script beneath. In painfully shaky handwriting, she’d written inside that she hoped it was the right amount to pay for the mirror which Dave had mentioned they’d bought for the flat.
“Does she know where we’ve hung that naughty mirror?” Marcie asked when she saw the message.
“Aye, I think I told Dad it was in the bedroom, and they know we share a bed, don’t they? They’re not naive. But did you see what else Granny put? ‘For now we see through a glass darkly.’ That’s from the Bible, isn’t it?” Ben asked.
“It’s from Corinthians, I think,” Marcie confirmed, “It’s in that bit about love that always gets read out at weddings, ‘If I speak with the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, I am but a clanging gong.’ I can’t remember it exactly, but perhaps she really does mean for us to see that we put love first, in the mirror she’s bought for your birthday, or ‘face to face,’ as that Bible quote goes on to say.”
“But she bought it for us both together,” Ben corrected, “Look, she’s even put, ‘Love to you both.’”
Ben then went on to open the other cards from his family, then finished with one that caused Marcie to give a small groan. “It’s from my mum,” she explained, “I’m surprised she remembered and thought to get it in the post on time. I shudder to think what she’s put.”
But when Ben opened the card, it was just an innocuous picture of a yacht, heeling over with its sails filled. Inside was a modest WH Smiths voucher and a simple message to say that Vera hoped Ben had a lovely day. Marcie was still nonplussed, saying, “It’s like she thinks you’re twelve years old.”
“But she remembered the sailing connection, and I can get a nice sketch pad with the voucher. I’ll write to thank her,” Ben said, taking the role of the widow’s apologist once again.
“Oh, don’t you keep defending her! You’re not her son-in-law yet,” Marcie said in half-mocking frustration, also tutting in a way that sounded almost like a laugh. Ben felt a little surprised at her presumption, laughing nervously himself, but Marcie went on, “Come on, you can open your proper presents from me now.”
She’d wrapped them in very smart glossy paper, printed with a bright cartoon pattern, which Ben said he was sorry to tear, but there was no suspense as he opened the bigger box-shaped gift and the awkwardly shaped bundle that she’d tied to it with ribbon. He pulled out the suede rock climbing shoes with their rigid black soles and the belay device that they’d chosen together, thanking her and assuring her that they would be very useful for his new hobby. Ben also got Marcie to admire the shiny carabiner attached to the new belay plate, contrasting it to his old fire damaged carabiner that he now used as a keyring. He swore he’d still keep the old one too though, as a miniature memorial to all that he’d lost, as well as a reminder of Marcie’s role as his saviour in his survival of all those trials.
Then he curiously opened the smaller boxy present, and laughed when he saw it was a Playmobil toy - a pirate figure, who was brandishing a knife and pistol was on the front of the box. He immediately realised it was actually a dark-haired girl-pirate with tan skin. He guessed why Marcie had chosen it, seeing that the figure even had stylised dots for eyelashes that could have been moles on her cheeks.
“A Mediterranean island trouble-maker,” he laughed, “Ready and able to force her way aboard!”
“That was the idea,” Marcie said with a beaming smile, “She’ll sneak into your duffle back when you set out to sea, then use her knife to cut off your block and tackle if you misbehave with those naughty sirens from Denmark or Talin or wherever.”
“There’s no risk of that now, but she’s perfect,” Ben said as he opened the box and got the figure out along with her accessories, remarking, “you must have spent ages shopping around.”
“Well, not really,” she admitted shyly. Then she sighed and said, “I’m just still so sorry that you lost all your proper models. They were beautifully made, but this is just a child’s plastic toy which would look absurd in any of them. But I want us to keep that playful childish magic alive too.”
“Aye, well I do too,” he reassured her, leaning forward to peck her lips, then remarking, “That’s why I’m reading The Magician’s Nephew, now I’ve got Mort out of the way, and kind of why the truck’s coming today, to keep us playful.”
“Well, that’s something for Cal and Zain to play with really isn’t it? But don’t let them run off with this little lady. She can be your special charm now, a guardian fetish, a tiny goddess idol, like a Roman lares or Egyptian shabti.”
“I’ll look after her, if she’s all those things,” Ben promised, but he’d just heard a distant beeping as if a large vehicle was reversing and said, “That couldn’t be the truck now, could it?”
“Mother of God, is that the time already?” Marcie exclaimed, leaping up.
She opened the back door and they both slipped their sandals on before stepping out into the morning sunshine, then opening the old door in the yard’s back wall too, peering up the alley to see the anticipated grab truck reversing towards them. A wiry old man was pacing backwards behind it, acting as the banksman, casually waving his arms to the driver. Ben recognised him from previous contract jobs, remembering his name was Pete. “I hope Geoff gets here soon,” Ben remarked, prompting Marcie to go back into the flat to check the front door and perhaps alert Shona by ringing her doorbell too.
Pete had seen Ben, giving him a quick wave, then once he was closer, he called out, “We’re dropping this off here, are we?” Ben confirmed they were, then there was a whole palaver with Pete and Conor, the heavyset driver, as they fine-tuned the truck’s position and tried to work out how they’d get its legs out to stabilise the crane’s arm.
Ben then led the two men into the yard to show them the chalk marks he’d made to guide their delivery into place. He found Marcie standing with Geoff at the back door, and Shona standing at the top of her kitchen’s steps with Fiona on her hip and the boys around her feet. “The big log is here!” he called out to them enthusiastically after a quick nod and wave to Geoff.
Cal immediately pelted down the steps, whooping, then dancing around the yard, eagerly imitating Ben’s gestures, pointing at the white lines on the concrete as he told the grown-ups, “It’s going here. Can you see? I helped measure it out.”
But Ben was a bit concerned for Zain. He’d expected the younger boy to be the more excited of the two about the delivery and the big truck, as he was so keen on any kind of utility vehicle, from fire tenders to bin lorries. Yet now that the day was finally here, he seemed to be silently rooted to the spot. Ben spontaneously decided to jog up the stairs and give him a bit of encouragement. “Come on little man,” he said, greeting Shona too with a smile and a shared look that he saw weary gratitude in, “Don’t you want to see how the strong crane arm works?”
He scooped the light youngster into his arms and took him down the stairs, carefully placing his feet on the steep steps as he chattered to Zain, before introducing him and Cal to Conor and Pete, reassuring them in a sotto voce that he’d make sure they were at a safe distance when they started the lift. He beckoned Geoff over to introduce him too, catching Marcie’s eyes as she gave him a supportive smile, then whilst Shona started coming down the steps with Fiona, the four men and two boys headed for the yard’s alley door to see what the truck had brought.
“Happy birthday, matey,” Geoff said quietly as he caught up Ben, grasping his hand firmly and handing over a birthday card after he’d quickly shaken Conor and Pete hands too, “Marcie told me you’re still up for stopping over this evening, right? Sofie’s really looking forward to it.”
Ben assured him that they were looking forward to it too, then laughed when Geoff exclaimed, “Blimey, that’s a mighty big lump of wood!”
The truck had brought the sawn-up trunk of an old ash tree that had fallen down in the Cragside grounds and needed extracting. Harry, Ben’s old supervisor, had been very helpful when Ben had raised the idea of taking a large log for their Tyneside flat’s yard so that his neighbour’s children could play on it. Harry’s general attitude had been extremely supportive and sympathetic since the fire, like that of most people at the Trust in the last few weeks. He’d offered to take Ben on a walk to see the fallen tree, then arrange for contractors to cut off the roots and branches with their own chainsaws, so Ben needn’t get near the flying sawdust. Ben had marked the tree in the places he wanted it cut, so that it would fit in the yard, as well as the way up that it was to be loaded, but this was the first time he’d seen the finished piece.
It was almost as wide as Ben was tall across its base, with the edges smoothed off by some nice chainsaw work, he noted. It didn’t taper much before it forked into the start of the old tree’s three great limbs, each thicker than Ben’s or even Conor’s waist. Ben was glad to see it was resting on the truck’s bed in just the way he’d hoped, anticipating that it would be absolutely stable once it was moved, resting on the stubs of two limbs and a flattened edge of the trunk. Conor and Pete had already lashed thick slings around it, with loops that they could lift with the truck’s grabber, rather than having to grasp the awkwardly irregular trunk directly. Ben checked that they had ropes too, then they began planning the way that Geoff and himself would help Connor on guy lines to guide the great log over the yard’s back wall and into place while Pete swung it across on the end of the crane’s arm.
Zain had come out of his shell a little, and stood quietly beside his brother on the truck’s bed, now that Connor had dropped the side and Ben had boosted them up. Pete was very patient with the young boys, sitting them in the bucket seat at the base of the crane to show them the levers for the hydraulic controls that would move the arm. He explained how the crane could lift the weight of an elephant, and even crush a grown man to death, with a clear understanding of their young minds’ sense of the macabre. He built on this as he went on to show them the stubs of his left hand’s last two fingers, using them to illustrate a story of a young boy who got his hand caught in a big machine, telling them how the boy grew into an old man, but the fingers never grew back.
Ben could see wide-eyed astonishment in Zain’s eyes as he realised Pete was the boy from his little story. “Did it hurt?” he asked in a quiet awestruck voice.
“Not for long,” Pete reassured him, ruffling his hair with a chuckle, “My dear mam, God rest her heart, kissed it better and I was soon right as rain. But makes it does make it awkward holding one of those new straight pints when you’re at the oche with an arrow in your hand,” he said with a wink to Ben as he mimed throwing a dart. This whole performance meant the boys took it very seriously when Pete decided that everyone was ready and they needed to stand well back with their mum while the actual lift happened.
“You’ve got a pair of good lads there,” Pete said to Ben as they ran back into the yard. Before Ben could correct him, he added, “The little one reminds me of my grandson.”
“They’re my neighbour’s boys actually,” Ben said as Geoff chuckled.
“Oh, you’re very good with them. I assumed they were yours, man. That makes sense though, with the two of you being fair and all, I did wonder. They’ve got their mum’s dark looks then,” Pete blundered on.
“No!” Ben exclaimed with some embarrassment, realising Pete’s error as Geoff laughed, “The dark-haired one, Marcie, is my girlfriend. The blonde one, Shona, is their mum, but their dad Ali is away this morning.”
Pete laughed at his own mistake then, observing, “I got in a right muddle then! I’d guessed your Marcie was this tall fellow’s hinny when I saw the two of them at your back door! You’re all quite close, like? Very nice and neighbourly.”
“Aye, I guess we are,” Ben admitted, wondering if the old man imagined there had been some bed-hopping going on. Or perhaps, Ben thought, Pete had just seen that Ben was at ease with Shona, just as Geoff now was with Marcie, happily muddling along together through the storms and squalls of their overlapping lives. He realised that on balance he felt comforted and reassured by Pete’s perspective as an outsider, that it was clear they all shared a mutual understanding and open-hearted respect, which revealed itself as a casual familiarity or even an innocent intimacy. He knew for certain that he was not threatened by the thought that Geoff was becoming a good friend to Marcie too now.
Conor had been making heavy work of tying the first rope around one of the branches, struggling even to climb onto the truck’s bed. He seemed very happy when Ben offered to take over, tying off secure anchor points around a second branch and then the main trunk with the other ropes, demonstrating the unselfconscious skill gained from his years of tree surgery. Ben then conferred directly with Pete as the old man got the power going to the grabber arm’s hydraulics and tentatively took up the weight of the tree trunk.
Over the noise of the compressor, Ben began giving clear loud instructions, directing Conor and Geoff to positions where they could pull the ropes tight and stop the great log swinging around as it was raised clear of the truck’s bed. He took point on his own rope, hauling on it to guide the trunk’s base towards the flats. There was an awkward moment as he walked the rope through the door from the back alley and on into the yard, when several tonnes of wood were hanging over the back wall. He’d seen Marcie standing by the back door with Shona though, Marcie holding a wide-eyed Fiona close while Shona held a mug of tea, with the boys around their knees, watching with rapt attention. He called over to her to just hold his rope steady for a moment, which she did once she’d handed Fiona over, while he popped back out into the alley to help guide the other two into the yard as well.
He noticed other neighbours at their back windows looking out to see what was going on, and even a handful of slightly older children hanging back further down the alley. He smiled and remarked to Geoff that they should have been selling tickets, then he confirmed that Pete was good to extend the arm as he took the rope back from Marcie. As the huge weight swung forwards with slight jerks, he used his own weight to carefully pull it into the right orientation as the other two merely kept the tension on their ropes to the opposite corners of the yard. Then, when the tree was hanging over the perfect spot, he called out for Pete to start lowering.
He was very relieved when it gently bumped down onto the ground, lining up well with his chalk marks, whilst the slings went slack as the weight on them disappeared. His new snug bike shed and the slim outdoor storage cabinet that he’d put up around the corner behind the bathroom’s outside wall hadn’t been crushed or scraped, and neither had the three great planter tubs that he’d lined against the wall, still waiting for the special-order dwarf apple saplings. He was especially glad that the newly patched concrete seemed to be bearing the tree trunk’s weight just fine too, as he called out to Pete to confirm that the load was down and he could open the grabber’s jaws to release the slings.
As Pete raised and withdrew the arm, Ben stepped forwards to give his thanks and congratulations to Conor and Geoff, shaking their hands again, then went to do the same to Pete, but Marcie caught Ben’s arm to get him to ask if they could stop for a cup of tea after all their hard work. Pete called out to gladly accept her offer as he turned off the hydraulics’ compressor and climbed down from the controls’ bucket seat. But the boys were getting desperate, fidgeting about on the spot and pleading to Shona to be allowed forwards. She asked Ben if that would be alright, if everything was safe, and he confirmed it was.
They surged forwards, whooping and shouting, “It’s here, it’s here! The log is here, ‘ncle Ben!” Ben saw that they seemed unsure what to do about it though, as they circled it, almost dancing as they ran, slapping it with their hands, but without making any attempt to climb it. He suggested to Geoff that they show them what to do, so rather sheepishly the two grown men told the boys to watch, then clambered up the rough bark, swinging their legs over the trunk so they were facing each other, knees wide as if they were on a rodeo bull.
Cal immediately got the idea and started trying to scramble up beside Ben, seeming to find it easy as Ben grasped his outstretched arm, holding him around the wrist as his little hand tried wrapping itself around Ben’s. Zain was bouncing up and down in frustration, on the edge of tears, so Ben quickly swung down as he gave reassuring words that he’d help the little man up too.
“You be careful, Zain Hadid,” Shona called out sternly as Ben boosted him up under the armpits onto the broad back of the log. Geoff, still sitting towards the base of the trunk with a self-conscious stiffness, held out his hand to steady the small boy as he squirmed and wriggled on the wide curve of tough thick bark. Pete had sat on the steps up to Shona’s flat to watch with a seemingly nostalgic smile on his face, while Conor was diligently untying Ben’s knots and coiling up the ropes, having already taken the slings back to the truck.
Marcie reappeared with a tray of mugs filled with tea, along with sugar and biscuits. Conor took his mug and a biscuit with thanks, then Ben saw Pete take three spoonfuls for himself, making him feel better about his own sweet tea habit. Geoff said he’d have his when he got down, but then checked his watch and said that he’d actually be getting back, apologising for the wasted tea. Marcie told him not to be so daft as he carefully left Zain to his own devices and swung down, then she promised him they’d look forward to seeing him and Sofie later that evening, before confirming that he could let himself out.
Once he’d gone, the remaining grown-ups all watched the boys play, gaining confidence as they slid up and down the log. Though they’d already worked out how to scramble on and off it by themselves via the fork between the stumps of the branches, Ben noticed neither had worked up the courage to try standing up on the trunk yet. Then he checked he had his wallet before getting it out to find a couple of notes to offer to Pete and Conor a tip.
“Oh no,” Pete said with a firm denial, “Mister Mortimer was very clear when he settled up with us. He gave us special rates for the weekend, and said we weren’t to take anything from you, just pass on his best wishes for the day. A birthday, is it?”
Ben confirmed that it was, making a mental note to thank Harry again, then Conor and Pete both wished him many happy returns, just as Ben remembered his card from Geoff, which he’d stashed in the backyard door’s jamb. He swiftly retrieved it and opened it, seeing a cartoon of two cute monsters, one being chased by a group of men, whilst some women looked on. He chuckled to himself as he read the caption, then showed it to the others. “‘Men! They’re only after one thing,’” Marcie read aloud, giving a humph that might have echoed the cartoon women, “It’s from that Viz comic, isn’t it? Well, it could have been a lot worse. I’ll take it inside to put with the others. I need to get on with things, but you all stop here to finish your tea. There’s no rush.”
With that, Marcie disappeared into the kitchen again, whilst Shona took Fiona over to the log to perch her on it. Ben watched how she kept a firm grip on the baby’s nappy-clad bottom as Fiona gurgled and shook her chubby arms happily, perhaps picking up on her brothers’ high spirits. Ben made some small talk with the two other men about what he and Marcie had planned for the rest of their special day. Then he explained that he might not see them again for Armstrong Trust jobs, but he was working part-time with a gardener now, and they might need some heavy lifting too sometime. Pete assured him that they’d be happy to help any time, and that delivering bags of soil and gravel was their usual stock in trade.
Then the two men decided they’d better be getting on their way, asking Ben to thank Marcie again for the tea as they handed their mugs back, and insisting once again that they wouldn’t take a tip. But Zain suddenly seemed quite upset that they were going, his face crumpling as if he were about to cry, until Ben hastily explained that the log would stay here now. Shona suggested the boys go with Ben to wave the big lorry goodbye, and Ben found himself following Pete and Conor out into the alley holding hands with each of them on either side.
They watched with the kind of awestruck stillness of hero-worship as the men withdrew the crane’s outriggers, checked everything was secure, then mounted the truck’s cab and started the rattling engine. Both men stuck their arms out of their wound-down windows as one of them started the vehicle’s orange flashing lights before they pulled slowly away. The boys waved with all their might as they stayed by Ben’s side to watch the truck make its cautious turn out of the alleyway, then they all turned back to their transformed yard.
Ben saw that Shona and Fiona had disappeared as he swung the backyard door closed and the boys swarmed back onto the great log, but when he put his head around the open kitchen door, he saw them both with Marcie, Fiona balanced on the top beside the kitchen sink with Shona’s arm around her whilst Marcie’s hands were in the washing up bowl. Ben hovered in the doorway, keeping one eye on the boys, as Shona teasingly welcomed him by saying, “Here he is, the hero of the hour. You’ll spoil those two wee ragamuffins, you know?”
Ben protested that he’d just wanted a feature in the backyard that they could all enjoy, then Shona laughed, saying that she was just joshing, and that she and Ali were both genuinely grateful. He mentioned that he was worried that the boys might fall off it and hurt themselves on the hard concrete, but Shona surprised him by replying, “Aye, they probably will. Then they’ll learn to take better care of theirselves. But hadn’t yous two better be getting off if you want to get to Holy Island and back today?”
“Aye,” Ben admitted, “The grab truck’s arrival caught us out a bit. We’ve got a picnic lunch to make yet.”
“Marcie’s beat you to it,” Shona said, seemingly keen to correct him, “We came in here when you boys were all playing out back. I dropped wee Fi on a cushion in the wash basket and helped out filling your stotties.”
He thanked her, and Marcie explained she’d packed the cool bag with everything they needed. For Shona’s benefit, she added that they just needed to finish their interrupted morning chores, reminding Ben of his inhaler, as if he’d forget. He was aware there was something special that he needed to pick up from the bedroom too though, which Marcie didn’t know about.
“I’ll let yous get on with your romp in the dunes then,” Shona said, picking up Fiona and giving Marcie a business-like hug and pair of kisses at the sink as best she could. She gave Ben a direct look as she squeezed past him in the doorway, “Enjoy your special birthday stotties. I learnt Marcie’s got some lovely delicate wafers of salmon for you, and you like them with thick dollops of cream cheese. They should be a treat, but make sure you don’t get sand in them.”
Ben still wasn’t quite sure how to take Shona’s teasing innuendos, if that’s what they were, which she kept making despite the time that had passed since she’d seen Marcie and Ben’s intimacy in the kitchen. Ben had never given away that he knew Shona had told Marcie that she’d seen them, and he still felt as if she were almost challenging him to admit that he was very much sexually active with Marcie. From someone else, the steady stream of cheeky double entendres might have seemed almost flirty, yet Shona seemed to deliver them with a hint of her original suspicion about him. However, he could think of nothing else to do but play the innocent, so he merely replied, “Aye, the smoked salmon will be a treat. We’ll look forward to it, and thank you again for helping to make them.”
“No, thank you Ben, for the tree and everything else too,” Shona replied shyly, suddenly smiling with genuine warmth. Then she surprised him by leaning around Fiona on her hip to wrap her free arm around his shoulder then plant a damp kiss on his cheek, almost whispering, “Have a happy birthday, for you and Marcie.”
“Thank you, I will. We are. Take care,” he replied in some confusion, but she’d already turned away and put on her firm voice for the boys, rounding them up and shutting down their pleas to keep playing with promises that there would be plenty of time to scramble on the tree later.