Chapter 4

During my week of 'study' leave I visited Nan practically every day. Each time we ended up making love in her small, single bed. Things just got better and better between us.

The next day she had been at the sink stacking dishes when I had pushed my self up against her complaining the kitchen was small. I had clutched her bottom, allegedly to get past, and she'd giggled and reached behind to rub the front of my jeans.

She turned around and I kissed her on the lips. Soon we were seriously sucking face with her frantically rubbing me. She then dropped to her knees, her face illiciting a sly grin.

"Here? It's a bit public isn't it?" I said, indicating the big French windows of the dining room opposite.

She pulled down my zipper and fished into my pants, working my cock free. I ceased my objections.

Her mouth closed over me and she stabbed down on my growing erection.

She paused, looked around, then pulled off the blue singlet she was wearing. Pulling down my jeans and underpants, she stroked my balls before resuming sucking.

Kissing along my length at one point, her hands encircled my arse and pulled my thighs against her chest. I could feel the buttons of her nipples brushing my flesh.

Looking at her watch she said,

"1 Minute 30."

"You're... uh... timing me?" I croaked.

"Hmm hmm."

She kissed me all around my cock and balls while her hand rapidly jacked me.

"1 minute 45," she announced.

"Can we go to bed?" I asked desperately.

"Not yet... I want to test something."

"Nancy," I whined, "aw... shit!"

"C'mon babe..." she whispered, while applying more pressure and jacking me furiously.

With her other hand she fetched a plastic cup from the bench. Just as I was about to come, she pointed my cock into it. I did my best to fill it.

"2 minutes... thirty one? no... thirty two seconds. Not bad!"

"Thanks," I puffed.

"It's all red!" she said, concerned.

"You buffed it pretty hard, friction burns."

"Aw, I'm sorry... kiss it better?"

She dabbed her lips on it.

"I'll recover," I told her.

"Good! I need to put it in my diary before I forget."

"You're keeping records!" I said after her fleeing figure.

"Of course!" she called back.

I followed her to her room. She was noting the figures down in her diary.

"Let me see?" I asked her.

"No! its private," she complained.

But I fell on top of her anyway, trying to read over her shoulder.

"Get away, get away," she cried, "ok then, I'll choose the pages you can read."

She then read out some entries she'd made, all since we'd got together. She'd even written a little poem, I told her I could maybe try and set it to music.

I fetched her guitar, one of those cheap 'Suzuki system' things parents bought for their kids in those days. B, D and bottom E strings were nylon, top E, A and G were wire bound. It gave a kind of flat tone but was easier on soft fingers.

Nan wrote poetry in rhyming couplets, four lines a stanza. Therefore it wasn't that hard to fit a tune around it, basically anything in 4/4.

I settled on 'Yarrow, ' an old English folk song. We picked up her lyrics together and sang a duet.

Our voices blended together surprisingly well. We moved on to other songs, both popular and folk. She loved Irish music, then beginning a decade long popularity.

"Can you come to a BBQ this Saturday?" she said suddenly.

"Where?"

"Here, with my family... they want to meet you. We always have a family day on Saturday."

"Me? What? with your family?" I said, flabbergasted.

"Yes, I told mom and dad all about you, well some, and they want to meet you."

I tried to think of all the excuses I could but one gaze at Nan's expectant expression and I knew I had to go through with it.

"What'll I wear?"

"Clothes, you idiot. What does anyone wear to a BBQ, a tux?"

Nancy had spilled the beans to her folks the second night back from camp. She told me they had taken it surprisingly well. She supposed that they thought no good would be served in laying down the law as this would have encouraged 'rebellion.' They resolved to let things run to its conclusion and be there to pick up the pieces.

By then it was dawning on me that my relationship with Nancy was swinging towards long-term. I'd even dreamt of our wedding, a previously unthinkable prospect with anybody.

But Nan would never have 'shacked up' with me without a ring. It would have been too much for her parents and she didn't want to hurt them.

On the other hand my own living arrangements were becoming insufferable. I shared an apartment with another bike dude and his crazy older brother. The brother, Jeff, was heading towards a complete breakdown at the time and his behaviour was becoming bizarre.

He borrowed the Kawasaki one time and I stood on the pavement outside while he burned off an inch of rubber up our street. Anxiously I awaited his return when, 4 hours later I get a call from the Police station.

He'd been caught doing 155kph in a 50kph zone and his wierd behaviour had caused the cops to run him in and check whether he was 'on' anything.

He eventually traded his numerous charges for a spell in the Psychiatric Unit.

I was just grateful I got the bike back intact.

In any case I was growing tired of the way I'd been living.

On Saturday I arrived at Nan's at 3 in the afternoon for the BBQ. As I walked up the drive Nan came down and took me firmly by the hand.

"Do I look alright?" I asked nerviously.

"Fine, stop worrying," she told me but I could see she was anxious.

Around the back of the house, on the patio, I was confronted by the whole family, including numerous children. I felt them all looking at me as Nan pulled me towards her father.

"Dad, this is Don."

I extended my hand to have it warmly pumped.

"Glad to meet you," her dad said, "Rose?"

I was somewhat in a daze as I was introduced to the rest of Nan's family. I honestly couldn't remember who was who, which wife was whose, or whose kids belong to who. It all whizzed around my head.

I was grateful to Nan who introduced me to a fruit punch and a plate of snacks. It allowed me to retreat from the centre of attention.

Nan's mother sidled up to us and started talking about the camp. She told me Nan had said I had a bit of trouble with Brother John. She apologised for his throwing me out of camp and assured me I was always welcome at their services.

"You know, he means well," she said, "he's just a little intolerant. When we first arrived in New Zealand, he was often here, wasn't he Nancy? I rather think he had is eye on her, but she was too young."

"He was too boring... and full of himself," Nan interrupted.

"I thought he was quite nice..."

"Fine, you go out with him, mom,"

He mother laughed and clapped her hands together.

"Its just as well we don't get to pick her dates. I'm afraid we'd never get it right. I understand you play music, Don, perhaps you could give us a song later?"

"Yes, lets!" Nan bubbled beside me, "we could do some of that stuff from the other day."

"Um," I felt trapped, " sure," I reluctantly agreed.

It wasn't too bad, however. I strummed away on Nan's little soprano learner's guitar and sang with her, avoiding the faces of the audience.

There was an enthusiastic response. Afterwards Nan's brothers and father let loose with a few Irish songs, a la capella. They took their Irish ancestry very seriously and belted out songs like, 'The Wild Geese.' with gusto.

Did they realise they were Rebel songs? I decided not to go there.

In fact the whole family loved folk singing. I think that's what won them over to me.

I had weened myself on 'Pentangle, Fairport Convention, Strawbs and Steeleye Span while most of my contemporaries were getting their kicks from the 'Nineteen Ten Fruitgum Company, White Plains' and the bloody 'Monkees.'

By the time Clannad became the rage I had all their earlier stuff, in Irish. Then Irish pop/folk music was everywhere so I reclaimed Punk and Goth through Siouxie, the Clash, The Cure and later, the awesome Babes in Toyland.

Something changes in a person when they pick up a guitar, tin whistle or whatever. To play you expose a piece of your soul, indeed, doing anything creative means putting a piece of you into the work.

You become vulnerable, and in that vulnerability true communication ensues. The execution may not always be perfect, but people respond. It's true that when you give love it's always returned. At least I've found it so.

Things happened pretty quickly from that afternoon onwards. Some two weeks later I was cuddling with Nan on her sofa. It was evening and I'd just shared dinner with Nan and her folks.

Her parents had found other things to do to give us some 'privacy.' Nancy's 18th birthday was coming up and we were discussing what she would like to do.

"We could go out to that French Restaurant," I suggested, "crepe suzette?"

"Oh yum, but its so expensive!"

"Thats ok, my shout," I told her.

"No, I couldn't let you. You must save your money!"

"What for?" I asked, "to spend it on my old lady."

"Your old lady! Is that what I am now," she teased, " I thought you had to be married to gain that distinction."

"Ok, we'll get married then."

That was all it took, as casual as you like. Friday, post a letter, Saturday, get married, Sunday take out the trash for Monday's collection. It felt like we were arranging a trip to the zoo or organising the shopping list.

This time next year, we decided, after Nan turned 19 and me, 24.

"I suppose I'll have to buy a ring?"

"You'd better!" Nancy exclaimed, "and not from that street seller down at the Mall, either. I don't want to peel the gold off with my fingernail."

"Gold, hell!" I whined.

"Yes gold! you cheapskate, and I'm coming with you too. I wear it, I pick it."

"And I pay for it."

"Absolutely. Sell that damned motorbike of yours."

"WHAT! I'd rather pull my teeth and sell the fillings," I said indignantly.

"Do that then. On second thoughts that would spoil your smile."

I put the Kawasaki in the shop, it went to a good home. I had a ring by the time her birthday arrived. The balance of the proceeds from the bike went into a joint account.

The next problem was my inadequate living conditions and her parents came up with a solution.

Now reconsiled to the fact I wasn't going to go away, they suggested I move into a 'grannyflat' they kept behind the house. It was fully self-contained and detached from the main house.

I readily agreed, the thought that I would have practically unlimited access to Nan was the clincher.