by J C Williams
Jack was driving later on, and Emma had an even better excuse, so the drinking was left well and truly to Pete. He wasn’t a heavy drinker, so after three of the warm plastic pints, he was rocking — and not from the swaying motion of the boat.
“When are the others coming up?” asked Emma.
“Kelvin… aww, my Kelvin,” slurred Pete. “He’s wonderful, isn’t he? Well, he’s filming in Liverpool and going to drive up later on this afternoon. My boyfriend is a dreamboat!”
“So is mine!” said Emma. “We’re lucky girls.”
Jack nodded his approval. “What about John and Julio?” he asked.
“Not Julio,” interrupted Pete. “Whoolio. You need to say it with passion.”
“Whoolio,” said Jack with his finest Antonio Banderas impersonation.
“That’s better! They’re both in the Lake District for the week and also driving up tonight.”
“And you know them from the theatre?”
“Yes,” said Pete, taking another generous slug from the pint pot. “We could deliver you a Tony Award-winning performance of Miss Saigon before you could say Tim Rice.”
“I’ll pencil that in for just after our first hot tub,” said Jack. “And Kelvin is definitely not bringing any of his friends?”
“His friends are all shits,” Pete said, getting slightly more animated. “None of his friends got in touch when all that nonsense was going on with the newspapers. But as soon as he’s famous again, they come out of the woodwork. It’s a hard way to find out who your real friends are.” He pointed his finger towards Jack and Emma. “You’re my real friends,” he said. “I could do anything and I know you’d be there for me.”
“Well, I do have some limitations,” said Jack. “But, give me a few Jack Daniels later and we’ll see.”
Pete graciously accepted a round of ‘shots’ from a group of well-turned-out gentlemen on their way to the horse racing. For a time, they tried to persuade Pete to join them and, indeed, the consideration seemed to cross Pete’s mind — though a combination of pints and cheap whisky meant that the bride-to-be was soon getting some beauty sleep. He missed the second update from Captain Crellin, and they were soon hurtling up the M6 and onwards to Kielder Water.
Pete had been curled up on the backseat of the car like a drunken, Lycra-clad cat. “Are we there yet?” he asked from his position of slumber.
“Pretty much,” said Jack. “Take a look at that.”
Pete strained his eyes and struggled into a sitting position. “I’m guessing that’s Kielder Water? That’s impressive!”
It was magnificent. The sheer scale of the place was staggering. Jack gratefully pulled off the main road and navigated a winding road towards an impressive wooden structure where a chirpy-looking portly gentleman stood with a tray of sparkling wine. “Welcome!” he said. “Can I offer you a glass of wine?” He looked with suspicion towards Pete.
It must have appeared like Jack and Emma had kidnapped the drag act, as Pete staggered out of the car, looking somewhat dishevelled. After politely declining the wine-bearers offer, Jack walked towards the reception. “You two can wait here and I’ll get us checked-in,” he said to the others.
Emma and Pete admired the surroundings. It was beautiful, and the only noise was a family of ducks landing on the calm water. The tree-covered shoreline extended as far as the eye could see.
“How’s your head?” Emma asked Pete.
“I’m not very good at drinking.”
“No shit!”
“The last thing I remember was someone asking me to go to the horses and me making some joke about being a jockey and riding them like a horse. The rest was fortunately a blur.”
“Well, just you take it easy.”
“I don’t think we’ve made the greatest of first impressions,” Jack said upon his return. “They told me twice how they have extensive security patrols and CCTV throughout the compound. Come on, let’s go have a look at this lodge, then.”
“You’ve done well with this, Jack!” remarked Pete as they drove up the hill, through the seemingly endless maze of trees.
“This road is like a rabbit warren,” Jack said after a fashion. “Emma, you’re good with maps, yeah?” he asked, frustration getting the better of him.
Small roads ran in all direction towards the various wooden lodges located sporadically up the hill. With enhanced female map-reading skills, however, they soon located a row of newly built lodges, nestled against a wild backdrop. It was deadly quiet and idyllic.
“Which one is it?” asked Jack. “They all look the same, and none of the car parking spaces relate to the lodge number. It must be that one over there with the door open. Right, we’ll park here and walk over. I can’t wait to get in that hot tub.”
There were a number of other arrivals, unpacking and shipping their beer supplies to their cabin. Most were families, and the arrival of Pete, in his current state of dress, was met with polite but indignant smiles.
There were three bedrooms in the lodge and before Emma and Pete had brought their bags into their room, Jack was stripped off and wearing his swimming attire.
“They’re a bit neat?” said Pete, admiring the tight blue shorts.
“I thought you weren’t bringing them?” Emma said to Jack. “He thought they made him look like Daniel Craig,” she explained, turning to Pete.
“And that’s a bad thing?” said Pete, and he held his admiring gaze for a moment longer before speaking again. “So long as he knows that he’s wearing shorts that look like they’re ‘painted on’ and he’s sharing a hot tub with four gay men, all who love James Bond.”
Jack didn’t care; he pulled back the top of the steaming hot tub quicker than a fat kid opening an ice cream, and jumped in.
“Oh, yes… this is the life,” he said, sloshing around in the warm bubbles. “You should get in!”
The strain of the three-hour car journey soon disappeared. Jack floated on the surface placidly, with his feet hanging over the edge.
“Mummy, there’s a strange man in the bubbling bath,” a slight, delicate voice said.
Jack wiped the condensation from his glasses and smiled, as a blonde-haired girl, no older than five, stared cautiously at him.
Her mum and dad soon appeared, carrying their luggage from the car.
“What are you doing in our hot tub?” asked the father. “Do I need to call someone?”
Jack jumped out of the water to resolve the situation, but he hadn’t brought a towel. The water had caused the fabric of his shorts to contract further and he tried to use his hands to protect his modesty.
“Mummy, is he wearing your knickers?” asked the young girl.
“Go inside, Imogen!”
Jack began to apologise as the woman showed him her key and booking confirmation. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m some sort of weirdo, but we saw the door open. It’s pretty confusing. Don’t panic, though, and I promise I’m not wearing your knickers,” he said, laughing nervously.
His claim of not being a weirdo was dinted slightly when Pete appeared in his outfit. “Are we having a party?” he asked.
Pete stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips. He’d become accustomed to his outfit, almost comfortable. The young family huddled closer, for protection, as Pete grinned, dressed in a red catsuit that looked like a ‘gimp costume’ from Pulp Fiction.
A few hours later and the party were comfortably submerged in their hot tub — in the correct lodge — with John, Julio, and Kelvin who’d just arrived.
“Emma, come on in, it’s wonderful!” insisted Pete.
She’d done well to hide the fact that she wasn’t drinking for this long, however, and the hot tub was not ideal for a pregnant lady who wished not to reveal that she was, in fact, a pregnant lady (not to mention, expectant mothers are advised to steer clear of hot tubs and saunas anyways). She didn’t think her baby bump was apparent, though, and with the sunlight disappearing, she slipped into her swimming c
ostume — deeming it safe to do so — and sat on the table next to them to put them off the scent. “I’m okay for now, maybe later?” she said.
Pete was in full flow, regaling the group with tales of the theatre, his hands animated like a choir conductor. He gawped as Emma reached for a robe hung next to the door. He held his gaze, which was now clearly apparent to the others.
For Jack, the beauty of Emma’s eyes was equalled only by the beauty of her breasts. Still, he was surprised that Pete, such as he was, would be as interested for as long as he was. But Pete continued to stare.
It was getting awkward.
“Are you pregnant?” asked Pete, finally.
It’s a gamble that most have taken at some point in life. A friend or colleague that’s carrying a little extra weight could easily be confused as ‘with child’. The suggestion is given with good intention, but, as Emma delayed her response, Pete began to panic that he’d humiliated her in front of everyone.
Emma looked at Jack and smiled before turning back to Pete. “Bloody hell, Pete. Nothing gets by you, yes, we’re having a baby, but it’s still quite early. At least now I don’t need to pretend I’m drinking or getting into the hot tub,” she said.
Pete lurched across the water and peppered Jack with kisses. “That’s brilliant news, brilliant.” He raised his plastic flute filled with champagne: “To Jack and Emma!”
The drinks flowed into the evening and a questionable choice of music filled the warm night air. It was an unusual mix of people, and both Jack and Emma had been apprehensive about the weekend but quickly realised they needn’t have been. John and Julio were amazing. They were like two characters from the Muppets — bouncing off each other’s every word. It was clear they were very much in love, and like Pete, you’d struggle to be despondent in their company.
They weren’t a couple you’d immediately put together, John and Julio. John was short, with wispy blond hair and a small paunch around the midriff. He had a happy, expressive face with exuberant eyebrows and a warm Irish accent. Julio, by way of comparison, was Spanish, olive-skinned like Emma, and exotic-looking with a captivating accent. They’d known Pete for years and were delighted that he’d met Kelvin.
“You will dance with me, Jack?” said Julio, moving closer. It was a statement rather than a question and Jack didn’t hesitate. He was an honorary gay man for the evening, and he didn’t disappoint.
Emma sat next to the log burner, which not only warmed her legs but also kept the infamous Scottish midges at bay.
“You look radiant,” said Pete, sitting in the wooden chair next to her. “I can’t believe you’re having a baby, honestly, that’s made my weekend. I’m so happy for you both. Was Jack shocked?”
“He took it surprisingly well! It’s going to be hard for me, though, what with having two children in the house to look after,” she said, looking at Jack who was now juggling with empty beer cans. “Are you having a good time, Pete? I know it’s not exactly a traditional stag do…”
“I love it, thank you both for arranging it. I’ve got the people that mean the most to me, right here. If there were loads of people, you’d never get to speak with everyone and different groups want to go and do different things. Honestly, it’s wonderful.”
Jack was worn out after the juggling of things, and joined Pete and Emma for a rest. He took Emma’s hand and placed his ear on her stomach.
She wasn’t sure if he was talking to Baby Bump or using her as a pillow.
“Kelvin, please come and join us,” asked Emma. “I’m sorry, we’ve hardly spoken, how was the journey up?”
“No problem at all,” Kelvin said, entering into the group. “It was a pleasant drive up. You’ve chosen a wonderful venue, it’s stunning around here.”
Like many, Jack was somewhat star-struck by Kelvin. After all, he was an institution. Since the nonsense about his previous sexual transgressions had been cleared up, he was, without doubt, one of the biggest names on television. He was a national treasure. He was far from being old enough to be Jack’s father, but Jack looked up to him like one. He wanted to try and please him, to impress him, like a Labrador looking for a tummy tickle from its owner. Kelvin wasn’t overly muscular, but he was well built and rugged. He had hands like shovels and you knew that he would be able to start a fire in the wilderness with a dessert spoon and a discarded teabag.
“I must apologise for being late,” Kelvin said. “I had to go to the police station.”
“What for?” asked Emma.
Kelvin gave a wry smile. “I’m being stalked,” he explained.
Jack laughed, but then quickly realised his mistake. “Oh. You’re being serious. Sorry.”
“One of the perils of being well known, sadly.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“Well, that’s the thing, I do. It’s a married couple, in their sixties. They’re everywhere I go. I don’t mean just public events, either. If I go to the shop or the chemist, they’re there. I’ve started getting some pretty messed up letters too, like threatening to poison the garden. I can put up with that, but then they threatened to poison some meat and throw it to my dog. It’s all a bit crazy. So, again, my apologies for being late!”
“Shit!” said Emma. “I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll look after you this weekend.”
“We’ve got some good news for you, also!” said Pete, taking Kelvin’s hand. “Can I tell them?” he asked.
Kelvin nodded and smiled. “Kelvin is definitely moving to the Isle of Man,” said Pete with a broad smile.
“That’s brilliant news,” said Jack. “We can go hunting.”
Emma gave Jack a look of discountenance; he’d never even picked up a gun before, but was trying to impress. “That’s really great news, Kelvin,” she said. “What made your mind up?”
“Well, apart from this wonderful man, it’s your island and the people that live on it. I said the last time I was over, they don’t judge you and you can go about your business. I think this stalking thing has also brought things to a head. I can commute for my filming commitments and, I hate to say it, but I think you’ll be getting a new postman, also.”
“No way, why?” asked Jack.
Pete was bursting in his seat and could hardly contain himself, and then, “Kelvin and I are going to open a garden centre!” he exclaimed. “And I’m going to be the general manager!”
“I’m really pleased for you,” said Emma. “But it will be awful not seeing your happy face every day.”
“And who’s going to provide the gossip if you’re off the scene?” asked Jack.
“Don’t you worry about that, we’ll be working closely with the independent florists, like Hayley’s, so I’ll be in town all the time, you’ll probably see even more of me!”
One of the many benefits of being pregnant was that you didn’t have the pitfall of a stinking hangover. Emma was up with the lark and sat on the balcony, enjoying the morning chorus. At a little after 8 a.m., Jack surfaced and placed a kiss on her cheek.
“Morning, how’s the head?” she said.
“Wonderful! Which is a bit surprising!” Jack replied, performing a series of star-jumps dressed in his gym kit.
“Are you seriously hiring bikes?” asked Emma.
“Yup!” he said, continuing his warm-up. “Kelvin and I are going to cycle around the lake. Twenty-seven miles.”
“You two were talking about that just before I went to bed. You’ll excuse my scepticism, but you were both steaming and drinking double whiskies at the time.”
Kelvin appeared soon after — equally as fresh-faced — and Emma packed them off with sandwiches like two boys going to school. The thought of a cycle was appealing, but a more sedate morning on the sofa with a good book was the eventual victor for Emma.
A cycleway skirted the perimeter of Kielder Water but it wasn’t, as it turned out, a gentle meander as Jack initially thought. The path was smooth enough, but littered with sharp inclines that soon had him gasping f
or breath.
“Are you okay?” asked Kelvin. “Do you need to stop?”
“No, I’m good,” Jack shouted, with his thumb up. His lungs were screaming, but he was determined to push on — partly because he didn’t want to disappoint Kelvin! The exercise dispelled any lingering remnant of a hangover and, before long, Jack was enjoying it. Around the nine-mile mark from their lodge stood the sprawling dam wall, along with a series of picnic tables.
“Should we stop for a refuel?” asked Kelvin, who looked fresh as a daisy.
“Well… okay… if you need a rest?” said Jack, already dismounting.
“I meant to tell you some good news last night, Jack. You know how I said I’d mentioned about your Wrinkly Olympics to a colleague at BBC Sport?”
Jack was hanging on his every word. “Yes!” he said.
“Well, he spoke to me the other day and asked me for your details. He was initially going to give it a miss, but he saw your appearance on BBC Breakfast and he was impressed. He loved how you’re helping the vulnerable avoid scams and, even more so, how you’re getting the elderly into activity with the Silver Sprinters group. He thinks that it’s a real, feel-good story.”
“That’s amazing!” said Jack.
“Well, that’s not the good bit,” Kelvin teased. “I spoke to another colleague who was on the organising committee for the Commonwealth Games, in Glasgow, a few years back.”
Jack was now virtually sat in Kelvin’s lap.
“His mother was caught out in an elaborate scam where she nearly lost her life savings. As soon as he heard about you, Emma, and the club, he was desperate to get involved. He’s asked if he can help you organise your Olympics?”
“What!” gushed Jack. “That’s bloody amazing!”
“I’ll arrange a meeting for you all to sort out the finer details. Jack, you’ve probably heard this before, but what you and Emma are doing is special. You could have easily just stopped after the record attempt, but you didn’t. You could see how this could replicate all over the country, and you’ve done something about it. You’re making a real difference to people’s lives. You should be very proud of yourself.”
