Summer of Love (27 page)

‘I am quite hungry, actually. You ate at Annabelle’s, Rory, you can probably wait a bit longer.’

‘OK, Mummy can have something now but I want to cook my own sausage.’

‘Fair enough.’ Gus handed Sian a roll. ‘What would you like in that? Chop? Sausage?’

‘Oh, a sausage please and no ketchup or anything.’ A moment later she bit into it. ‘This is heavenly!’

‘Nothing like food cooked outdoors for good eating. It’s better if you’ve been for a bit of a hike first, of course. Now, Rory, you cook this.’ He produced a peeled stick with a sausage speared on it. ‘Hold it over the bit where there are no flames, just glowing embers. Let me know if your arm gets tired and we’ll rig something up.’

‘My arm’s tired,’ said Rory after a matter of seconds.

‘OK.’ Like a magician, Gus reached behind the log and produced two sticks with forked ends. Choosing his position carefully, he stuck them into the ground. Then he pushed Rory’s sausage further down the stick, added another couple, and then propped the stick on the forked ones. ‘There! A rotisserie that doesn’t actually turn round.’

Rory looked at him questioningly.

Sian explained. ‘A rotisserie goes round and round so the sausages, or whatever’s cooking on it, cooks all over. Gus will have to turn over the sausages when one side is done. But that’s no great problem. He’s used to it.’

‘Did you cook the chops on the fire?’ asked Rory. ‘Did you put them on a rohteessry?’

‘No, I put them in this.’ He produced a hinged barbeque griller.

‘That doesn’t look like something you’d have in your pack when you’re on the trail,’ said Sian.

‘No, but you try to cook chops on a fire without some sort of grill, and see how you get on.’ He turned the sausages. ‘Of course I could cook a haunch of venison, no problem. It’s these little namby-pamby cuts that are more tricky. More wine?’

‘I must say this is a very luxurious camp,’ said Sian, allowing him to fill her glass. The furthest she and Rory had to go was the house, and she was enjoying herself. One of the downsides of being a single parent was always having to be the decision-maker, the responsible one, the driver. She enjoyed the times when she could let go a bit. And even if it only lasted the evening, it was such a relief to be sitting here with Gus, talking naturally, no tension between them to ruin the atmosphere. Rory’s presence seemed to act as a balm. They could be an ordinary little family, as Melissa might say. Sian stopped herself; she didn’t want to think about Melissa and she didn’t want to think about the future or what it might or might not bring. She just wanted to enjoy this moment of harmony.

‘I thought Rory might appreciate something realistic and manly but that you might prefer a few comforts,’ Gus was saying. ‘Me and Rory will go off on the trail together some time. If that’s all right with your mum, of course.’

‘Mum?’ Rory, who had been getting drowsy and was in danger of falling asleep before his sausage was cooked, sat up, all attention. ‘Can I go with Gus?’

‘Of course,’ said Sian. After she’d spoken she realised that she did feel that Rory would be perfectly safe with Gus. Maybe having a father for Rory might not be as hard as she’d always thought. As long as it wasn’t all the time, of course.

It was nearly dark and it wasn’t easy to read Gus’s expression but Sian was aware of the warmth in it. ‘Thanks, Sian,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you trust us guys to go off together.’

‘Well, Rory’s been brought up to be sensible and, knowing Fiona, I expect you have too. I’m sure you’ll be fine.’ She chuckled. ‘Honey,’ she said to Rory. ‘I think you should think about getting into your sleeping bag. Then you can eat your sausage and go to sleep.’

‘I am tired,’ he said. ‘Can I have ketchup and a roll?’

‘Of course.’

While Gus dealt with the sausage Sian got Rory into his sleeping bag. ‘You can sit up and eat and then wriggle into the shelter. Gus will help you.’

There was a fair amount of giggling and wriggling and pretending to be a caterpillar but once inside the shelter, which now had a ground sheet, Rory decided it was very dark. ‘You won’t go away, will you?’ he asked nervously, still her little boy.

‘No. We’re both here,’ Gus reassured him. ‘You can see us, by the fire. And later, we’ll be sleeping in the shelter with you. You won’t be on your own.’

‘I want a story!’

‘Darling, it’s a bit difficult to read stories in this light,’ said Sian.

‘Did you pack a book in your bag?’ asked Gus.

‘Oh yes,’ said Rory. He burrowed in his rucksack and produced it. ‘Mum said I should bring one and you might read to me,’ he added hopefully.

‘Come out of the shelter then.’ Gus was doing some burrowing of his own. ‘What book is it?’

‘
Brer Rabbit
,’ said Rory, emerging from the shelter, still in his sleeping bag. ‘It’s one of Grandpa’s.’

‘He means one of the ones that Grandpa will deign to read,’ said Sian.

‘Here.’ Gus handed Rory what seemed to be a bit of thick elastic. As he put his own on, Sian realised it was a head torch. ‘Head torches are essential in the dark when you’re on the trail. You need to see where you’re putting your feet and keep your hands free. That one’s yours, by the way,’ Gus said casually, helping Rory to tighten the strap to make it fit.

‘Oh, Gus, that’s very kind of you!’

‘Thank you, Gus, that’s very kind of you,’ echoed Rory, filling his mother’s heart with pride and relief that he said it without being prompted.

‘I’ll switch it on for you this first time. It’s a bit tricky.’

Sian lay back and watched, nibbling on a burger, while father and son lay snuggled up together with their head torches. Who wouldn’t melt at the sight of them both? Sian found herself suddenly feeling rather emotional and took another bite of her burger. It wouldn’t do to get all soppy now.

Gus read aloud very well and did all the voices. Rory giggled and then became more drowsy, his head dropping and rising again as he woke himself up. The story came to an end and Gus eased off Rory’s head torch. ‘Come on, mate.’ Then he picked up Rory and wriggled back into the shelter with him.

Although he seemed to be fast asleep, he mumbled, ‘Can I keep the torch on?’

‘Sure, if you want to,’ said Gus. ‘But you can see the fire and it’s a nicer light. Your mum and I are just here. And when you wake up we’ll be next to you.’

‘OK.’ Rory sighed and slept.

‘I have to admit you’re very good with him,’ Sian said quietly as Rory drifted off.

Gus acknowledged this praise with a grin.

‘And I don’t believe being his father has anything to do with that,’ went on Sian. ‘You’re just good with children. I noticed at Rory’s birthday party. You’re a natural.’

‘I do feel a great connection with Rory, but I like kids.’ He sighed. ‘I have a dream …’

Sian felt she needed to lighten the mood. ‘What, raising a “passle o’ kids” out West?’

Gus chuckled ruefully. ‘Well, that too, but my more immediate dream is to run bushcraft courses for children. I love showing them the proper way to do things, but making it fun. Lots of children – city kids in particular –never know there are more fun things to do with a knife than stab your mates with it.’

‘Wouldn’t children of Rory’s age be a bit young for that?’

‘Probably. When you’re one to one you can do a lot more, but I’d plan to do courses for children of maybe nine or ten – before they get too sophisticated to want to play in the woods.’

‘I think it sounds a brilliant plan. It would use your skills and do a good thing for the world too.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, you know what I mean. Getting children to appreciate nature and wildlife and not to drop litter – it’s important.’

‘I certainly think so.’

‘So what’s stopping you?’ she asked. There was such passion in his voice when he talked of his plans. She felt flattered he was telling her about them and was sure that whatever he set his mind to he’d achieve. She suddenly remembered the barn full of his stuff and smiled. ‘You certainly have enough yurts to put them up in.’

‘That’s true.’ Gus stretched and shifted his position. ‘Sadly yurts are only one of the things I might need. The first thing is a bit of land. I could possibly rent it, to get me started, but you can’t start a business if you’re underfunded. It’s why so many of them fail.’

Sian thought for a minute. ‘I’m sure Felicity at the school would help. Maybe you could take her top class on a trip. That would give you practice. You could see if they like it, what they can manage and what they can’t. She’d tell other heads of schools, get you more children.’

‘That’s a great idea! I’d have to have lots of parents to join in and help but I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem.’

‘Where would you do the course? If you could?’

‘In the woods where I took you and Rory for preference. The trouble is, I have no idea who they belong to.’

Sian chuckled. ‘Well, get my mother to find out. She’s a wiz on the internet. Just give her an address, or the nearest you can come up with, and she’ll find out, I’m sure.’

‘How did she get to be so good at internet snooping, then?’

Sian shrugged and rested her arm on a cushion. ‘Practice. And she says herself, she’s terribly nosy. If the information exists, she wants to have it.’

‘Oh well,’ said Gus, ‘that would be a great place to start. If I could rent, or borrow, those woods for a weekend, we could try it all out. But I’ll still need capital.’

‘Wouldn’t Fiona help you?’

‘Certainly, but I’m past the age when it’s acceptable to take handouts from your mother.’

Sian sighed. ‘But it wouldn’t really be a handout, would it? You’d pay her back. I really couldn’t have done without my parents when I had Rory. They supported me in every way possible.’

‘It is rather different,’ said Gus, obviously still a bit spiky on the subject of Sian’s single parenthood. ‘You were a girl and there was a baby on the way. I don’t have those time constraints and I need to get the money without her help.’

‘Right,’ said Sian after a second, taking his point. ‘Let’s think. Have you got anything you can sell? All those yurts, the canoe, stuff from your travels? Do you need to keep it all?’

‘Not really. But they wouldn’t raise much and I made that canoe! Took bloody for ever. I’m not going to sell it.’

‘Fair enough. What about this book you’re supposed to be writing?’

‘I don’t think I’d get enough money from that to start a business with.’ He picked up something, which turned out to be a spoon he’d been whittling. He produced his knife from his belt and started shaving away. He was just like Rory, he couldn’t just sit still, he had to be busy with something. She was starting to see just how alike they were even if she wasn’t quite sure how that made her feel. ‘Eventually it might make a bit but not immediately,’ Gus went on.

‘Have you asked the bank for a loan?’

‘You’re joking! No bank would lend me money, not in the current climate – probably not even if I put Mum’s house up as security, which she suggested and I utterly refuse to do.’

‘A rich benefactor?’

‘Where would I find one of them, then?’

She chuckled.

‘I’ll get backing from somewhere, eventually. I just have to keep positive, and keep my nose to the ground.’

‘That sounds uncomfortable!’

He laughed. ‘Fortunately, as an explorer, I’m used to discomfort. Come on, you’ve hardly eaten anything. Have a chop.’

‘Maybe it’s time for pudding? Rory will have to have it for breakfast.’

‘Oh no, I’ve something much better in mind for breakfast. It’s a sort of damper, you know, like they make at Scouts.’

‘Hmm, think I’d prefer crumble. Do we want to heat it up? Or shall we just have it as it is?’

‘As it is.’

‘Here we go then. Richard would want custard. I have brought some cream.’

‘I like cream,’ said Gus, giving her a funny look.

‘Well, at the risk of being misunderstood,’ said Gus later, when the wine was finished and most of the food, ‘I think it’s time for bed.’

Sian sighed. She didn’t know whether it was the wine or the flickering firelight and the air of romance, but a part of her – the woman in her rather than the mother – would have loved to have just gone to bed with him as she had done all those years ago. It had been fantastic. And he was in his element out here, at his best, his rugged, handsome features all the more appealing in the half-light. But she was a mother now; she couldn’t be spontaneous any more, not when it might have an adverse affect on Rory. And it could all go horribly wrong. What if Gus got bored with her and left her? Possibly for Melissa Lewis-Jones? She would find it hard to let him see Rory if she fell for him all over again and he threw her aside. Admittedly he hadn’t thrown her aside last time but could she trust him? Really trust him? Her mind wasn’t at its clearest – they’d finished the wine between them – but she knew that sleeping with Gus was out of the question, even if she did now accept she wanted to. At least they had a five-year-old chaperoning them, which made the whole question irrelevant.

‘I’ll just go back to the house and wash and things,’ she said. Gus helped her to her feet; she was a bit unsteady on them.

‘It’s because you’ve been sitting in a cramped position,’ said Gus, ‘it’s made you a bit wobbly.’

Sian smiled in the darkness. ‘Nothing to do with the wine, then?’

‘No, nothing at all! Do you want me to come with you to the house?’

‘Certainly not. I’ll be fine!’ She set off down the path, still lit by tea lights. ‘I’ll be back shortly.’

Her washing included a lot of cold water to her face and not just because it had smuts from the fire on it. She wanted to make sure she was fully in control before she went back. She did add a squirt of scent after all her ablutions though. Was it for her or for Gus? She didn’t know – and didn’t care to enquire.

She crawled into the shelter and then posted her feet into the sleeping bag that Gus gave her. She shuffled around until she was comfortable, glad of the proper pillows he had also provided. She could hear Rory’s breathing and knew he was fast asleep.

‘OK? Comfy? Still room for me?’ Gus asked.

‘There’s still room. Rory and I don’t take up much space.’