Chapter 2

We talked of this and that, university and grandparents and stuff. Then I found the phone box and made the five minute (less!) call. Mum just liked to know I hadn’t fallen over a cliff, or been eaten by Welsh Cannibals (she didn’t have much idea about Wales apart from the fact they were small, wide and mined coal as a hobby). Fiona waited, laughing at the answers she could hear “Yes, Mum, I still have a pair of clean socks” (which was actually a lie, and I knew she knew it was, and she knew I knew – but she’d done her duty by asking. If I’d said no, I wondered if she’d have driven to West Wales with clean socks for me); “yes, yes, clean pants too” (actually that was true, walking in stiff pants is hell on the gonads). I stepped out and Fiona said “So, clean panty boy, fancy a pint? You’re buying”

I did (fancy a pint) and I did (buy two). The bar man wasn’t sure about a woman having a pint, nor was he sure she was over age; we took them outside. Which was where Erica found us. She could barely speak. “Come quick. QUICK! Oh, no, call an ambulance first!”

It seemed that Gramps had slipped on the wet floor and fallen, he was breathing, but he was unconscious. Fiona called an ambulance and we rushed back, all the while Fiona blamed herself for going for a pint. “Don’t be silly, he’d have fallen if you weren’t there. ‘Course he would”

We got back and lifted Grandad onto a table. Probably not a good idea, thinking back, supposing he had broken his neck or something? Fiona was very organised and packed a small bag of his medicines, told Granny to pack some stuff for herself, and packed an overnight for herself too.

The ambulance arrived, they took over “Yes, only one person with him please, no space see?” Granny was all of a tizzy.

“Yes, you go, Granny. We’ll finish clearing up. We’ll ring to find out” said Fiona.

“I’ll head on up the coast” I said, realising she might be nervous about leaving me with them.

“Would you mind staying?” she said. “You’re such a sensible, practical chap. They might need help” Would I mind? Would I mind staying in a warm house with four pretty girls instead of walking half the night to a hostel and sharing a large room with a load of flatulent, beardy-weirdies?

“Of course. They’ll ring in the morning. I’m sure he’ll be okay”

The ambulance clattered away. Why was its siren on? Single track road, no traffic and still it was nee-na, nee-nah. You could hear it for hours, it seemed, as it sped (at twenty miles an hour initially) away.

We worked until 2am cleaning the mess. We wanted it spotless for when they came home. Erica was collapsed, asleep on the sofa, exhausted. That was meant to be my bed. Fiona led me upstairs. “No funny stuff mister!” she said. I smiled and yawned and nearly promised, but I kept yawning. I clambered into Erica’s bed in my (clean) pants and fell asleep. The others all went to their own beds, I’m sorry to say

At 4am, Erica woke, realised she was downstairs on her own, climbed the stairs, dropping clothes as she went; until she was just in bra and panties – roughly the same as bikini I suppose but somehow more sensuous. And climbed into her bed. We awoke at 8am facing each other. Not sure who was more surprised. I’m not sure who was more pleased either. She definitely had a grin on (I’m guessing so did I). “Nothing happened. I didn’t hear you come to bed else I would have got out” I said. Fiona was awake now too, I could tell she was listening.