Chapter 4

It was a good lesson to get the boat ready for the night before going to eat. It made sense. Each of them stretched their sleeping bags out, Rupert’s was a large, oblong one, not really a camping one. His mother and father thought it would be useful for the future as he could unzip it into something like a duvet. His old one – the one he had used for the DoE – had finally given up the ghost, it had been his since he was in Cubs, and you could see daylight through it. The other three had bags that zipped down to the bottom, but they were shaped rather than regular.

Rupert went into the boat well (surrounded by the boat cover) and undressed to his underpants. He normally slept naked, but for this week he would stay wearing his pants. The three girls changed into sleeping attire and called him back in.

The cold meant he had to use the heads. He aimed at the side of the bowl so it made less noise. The girls each then made their way in. They had less option to direct their pee. Amelie splished and splashed noisily, Abigail produced a small waterfall of noise, and Mary used her hand to direct herself to one side. They all realised that worse was to come – when solid waste was produced, but that was something for the future.

A lot of ‘good nights’ echoed around. Rupert offered to tuck them all in, but was told that wasn’t necessary.

It had been a good day. In fifteen minutes, the regular breathing of two girls was heard from the forward. They weren’t used to roughing it, they had been moderately horrified at first, but now they were content. Free of the strictures and controls of normal life; all four felt comfortable with each other, knowing that, for example, a pair of wet pants on her bag might be laughed at here by her sister and friends, but no-one else would know of Amelie’s incident.

An hour passed, and Rupert had a problem. He couldn’t get the image of Amelie’s bottom out of his head. It was just a glimpse, but what a glimpse. That gave him an erection, which he would normally have quickly dealt with, but, try as he might, it was impossible to get the requisite speed and pressure silently. So he lay and dozed. Across on the other side, there was movement. Abigail needed another wee, she crept to the toilet, peed as silently as she could, pumped water in and out.

Rupert got up and went, the cold luckily shrank his erection back to normal floppy; making little noise until he banged his head in the dark. “Fuck! Sorry.”

That, of course, meant that the two sisters were now awake, and made complimentary, if ribald, remarks as he went back down the corridor to his sleeping bag.

Amelie got up and went into the ‘cupboard’ that was meant to be a bathroom. She sat and let out an enormous fart, which set everybody laughing uncontrollably. There was definitely no privacy in a boat. It became more obvious that it hadn’t just been a fart. She was the first to christen the toilet with solid waste. Several sheets of paper (you could hear everything) were torn off and disposed. Then the pumping was more than a couple of pumps. Geoff the yardman had emphasised the need to make sure the waste was pumped right round the tubes and out, leaving it halfway could end up blocking the toilet. Clearing it was “Disgusting, horrendous, and chargeable.”

Mary passed Amelie as she went back to her bed. Then Rupe needed to go again. “Again! Have you no self control?” girls laughed at him. He justified his lack of control because his bits were on the surface, so the cold influenced them more. The three girls laughed at him. It was 3am and they were all laughing and joking with each other, so Rupert put the gas back on and made four mugs of cocoa. By the time it was ready, Amelie and Abigail were asleep. Mary and Rupert sat up on deck in big jumpers, looking out of the laced up back at the stars. A shape walked past – an otter? Surely a cat? There was a splash and then silence. “This place is amazing.” they agreed. If they kissed after that, it was just friendliness.

The day dawned and was still cold as people again made the inevitable trip to the heads. The sun was up and a gentle mist floated over the large lake. A small fleet of swans came out of the mist towards the moored boats. The kettle boiled, the toast was made, they all sat and munched and slurped and then, as more people started to appear on the staithe, they went below to dress. “I might wear this jumper in bed tonight.” Mary decided.

“I don’t think it’ll help. And if you get up, you won’t have an extra layer to put on to get warm.” Rupert suggested.

“Yes, thank you granny. I think I can decide.”

Rupert was dimly aware that only he put cold water into the fold down basin in the bathroom (it folded down over the toilet, so you had to get the priority order right) and washed. There were some ‘proper’ showers in the boat yards, the girls might be thinking they’d wait until then.

That first day was spent on more gentle sailing on Hickling, then a struggle up towards Horsey. The river was narrow and the wind was not right. After tacking for a while, they cheated and chugged up for a distance. Horsey was great for sailing. They were less happy with the man charging for mooring, who seemed somewhat grumpy. They did the tourist thing of going up the windmill. Then they set off to the village – which had nothing there except a church and a small art shop. The artist mentioned the pub which seemed to be well out of the way, heading to the sea along a side road.

Two of the girls sat at the table outside, Rupert and Mary went in and asked for menus and ordered some drinks. “Sorry guys, can’t serve you. You’re clearly underage.” It wasn’t worth arguing, the bar man was sticking totally to the rules. They left, nobody wanted to drink Coke or Pepsi with their meal, so they would eat on the boat – it would be more fun anyway and they could get more food tomorrow.

So they walked through to the sea, and were amazed how close the sea was to the broad. One day the sea would break through. Then they headed back to the boat, used the toilets in the car park and moved out to the Waxham Cut. Halfway up, they moored in glorious isolation.

Dinner consisted of dried pasta and pasta sauce mixed with chopped salad tomatoes. It was crude and basic, and delicious because it was their own. Well, it was Rupert’s. The sisters had only used electric cookers, Abigail needed at least five saucepans and a microwave to do any cooking. They were amazed, and very impressed as he boiled the pasta, chopped the tomatoes, drained the pasta, added the pasta sauce stirred enthusiastically and then added the tomatoes. All whilst opening the bottle of red and pouring four glasses (plastic glasses) of wine and toasting the holiday, the crew, and the boat. He told them that he had no intention of washing up, so they had the choice of keeping their own knife, fork and plate, or washing up. The idea of eating each meal on the same unwashed plate did not appeal, though Rupe thought it did make sense.

Rupert sat and looked at the sinking sun as two volunteers washed and dried the dishes. Mary sat beside him as the other two chatted and giggled inside the cabin. “This is such fun. Last night, I thought I was going to hate it; but we have a week of freedom. The beds and the cold are small prices to pay for sitting in the middle of nowhere, drinking wine and eating your crappy meals. It’s lovely.” She was leaning against him when Abigail came out with her glass of red.

“Oh, budge up. Yes, that’s nice.” Now he was sandwiched between the fleshy, female bodies of two girls. Amelie came out in her sweatshirt, the temperature was already dropping, looked and made to sit opposite. “Oh, Amie! Sit on his lap. Pretty sure Rupe won’t mind.” So now he was a boy pie encased in girl pastry. Abi was right, he had no objections at all.

“We’ll need to fill up with water tomorrow.”

“We’ve hardly used any! I didn’t even wash this morning.”

“I know, but you’d be surprised how much we use. Don’t want to run out. We can fill up at Potter Heigham, don’t need to stop at the boat yard.”

“You’re the boss, skipper.” Mary saluted. This was increasingly their view, they were happy to be free, away from the control of their parents ... and happy to have someone telling them what to do.

They were all drifting towards bed an hour or two before they would have done at home. Being in the outdoors (even if under a boat cover) started to switch their body rhythms to work with the nature.

By midnight, everybody was getting up again to revisit the toilet. It was getting cold.