The thought of a threesome made me gulp with excitement and I answered hastily.
“I expect he’d like to meet you too. But how?”
“Leave it with me. I’ll think of something.” Simon said thoughtfully. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and handed me a business card.
“Write your address on that and I’ll contact you soon.”
He took back the card and after a brief goodbye, he walked briskly up the road into the darkness.
* * * * * * * * * *
Saturday is the only day that my busy family has time to have breakfast together. Stephen had gone away for a few days and I was at a loose end, so I sat moodily chewing on a last piece of toast as I watched my Dad open the weekend mail. He gave a little grunt of surprise and handed my mother a small white envelope. It contained an invitation to a garden fête the following weekend in aid of the local hospital appeal. The sender’s name and address were unfamiliar, but all our details were correct, even down to mentioning me by name. They puzzled over it for some time before handing it to me. It was clearly Simon’s doing, but I shrugged noncommittally and I handed it back—-I didn’t want to appear too excited or eager.
* * * * * * * * * *
The day of the fête was bright and sunny and we were in high spirits as we looked for the address on the card. It wasn’t hard to find as there was a string of cars already parked in the long driveway and along the road outside. We made our way to the gate where a young man sat at a folding table, busily issuing raffle tickets. I wasn’t surprised to find that it was Simon, although I hardly recognised him in casual clothes and out of his smart business suit. He greeted me cheerfully, explaining to my puzzled parents. “Mark and I are old friends; -we meet on the train most days.” He called out to a couple standing nearby, and then turned back to us.
“You must meet my folks. They’re the ones responsible for all this nonsense.”
After the introductions had been made, we were just about to be led off to a large marquee, when Simon pointed to me and said to my parents. “You go off and enjoy yourselves and we’ll meet up later on for a chat. I’ll see that he’s well fed.” When they had gone, he smiled charmingly at another volunteer and handed her his sheaf of tickets.
“That’s enough of that for a while. Let’s go and eat.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to eat pork.” I said accusingly after we had stopped at the barbeque stall. He gave me a fierce grin and stabbed playfully at my crotch with his plastic fork.
“That’s true: I do like some sausages better than others…as you know.” He grinned, “—-but anyway, these are beef. Want another?”
I took the hot dog he offered, smiling at his double entendre and munched steadily as we walked around. There were several stalls and other attractions to be investigated and it was quite some time before we started to look for my parents once more. We eventually found them standing by the house, wineglasses in hand, admiring a sleek sailing boat on a trailer.
“Lovely, isn’t she?” Commented Simon as he stroked the shiny hull affectionately.
“I got her for my twenty-first birthday, but I hardly get time to sail her these days.”
“Don’t you believe him!” Simon’s mother appeared round the corner of the house. “It’s because none of his friends will crew for him. Some kind of Captain Bligh, he thinks he is.” Her large frame shook with mirth as she topped up our wine.
“Have you ever sailed, Mark?” Enquired Simon, rapidly changing the subject.
“No, never.” I replied, adding wistfully ” I’d love to try though.”
My answer seemed to please him and he stood for a moment, thinking.
“Hmm. It would take some time before you could handle this beauty, but we have a cruiser moored on the Hamble. Perhaps I could take you out in her and show you the ropes one day?”
My mother looked dubious, but Simon’s mother came to my aid.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Bradley. My Simon is an excellent sailor. Your boy would be quite safe with him.”
That’s what you think. I muttered to myself, but I looked at my mother with appealing eyes. Eventually, she gave a deep sigh and uttered her usual mantra on such occasions.
“You had better ask your father.”
I could hardly contain my delight. Dad had been talking animatedly with Simon’s father, and from the way they were getting on; I knew that I would have no difficulty in persuading him. When he nodded his agreement, I hugged him gleefully.
“That’s fixed, then.” Simon said nonchalantly, adding almost as an afterthought.
“Why not see if that friend of yours would like to come along? It would be company for you and an extra pair of hands is always useful.”
Game, set and match to you, Simon. I thought, trying hard to curb my excitement.
************