When Two Tribes...

"Ohhh, I see," drawled James, still smiling. "Work you hard, your tutors, do they?"

Kathy grabbed her bag, pulled it around to her other side and jammed the folder back into it. "Well, you know, Milord, art college is just a big long game. It's not proper work, is it? Us lefty students, well, we're all wasters, aren't we? We take drugs all day long and go to wild, depraved parties."

"Oh, so it's true what I heard about those art colleges then," beamed James. "I'm quite interested in these wild depraved parties though. Do you reckon you could invite me to the next one?"

"We'd eat you alive!" giggled Kathy. "Now shut up and let me get on with this."

"Okay, okay," said James. "One question though."

Kathy looked at him with exasperation and raised an eyebrow, her face still flushed, her breasts, James noted, heaving with deep breaths she as taking, straining against the laces of her top. "Well?"

"Why are you off school – I mean – college? It's term time, surely. It's only June, surely you haven't broken up yet?"

"I've been doing exams," said Kathy evenly. "I'm not due back for anymore for a fortnight, so I decided to come home, do a bit of course work and have a go at some freestyle stuff. Like now. If I can get on with it that is!"

She pulled her Walkman off and thrust the machine and the earphones into James' hands. "Here! Listen to some music for a while!" she snapped.

James nodded and slipped the headphones on, and soon realised that he needed to rewind the tape. Catching the sound of 'Two Tribes', he wound back to the beginning of the song, leaned back on his elbows again and quietly sang along with it.

Kathy frowned at the sound of James' tuneless singing, which was, in fact, far from quiet. She felt her heart hammering against her chest and her anger building up. It wasn't just James' infuriating manner, or his uninvited presence that bothered her so much – it was his apparent ignorance of why she was angry with him in the first place. The man can't be that ignorant, surely?

She suddenly could stand it no longer. Throwing down her drawing pad, she wrenched the headphones off James' head and yelled "For fuck's sake! Can't you shut up and leave me alone?"

James was taken aback at the savagery of Kathy's invective, and, despite his usual self-control, he felt his anger boiling up. He struggled to control it, protesting; "I'm sorry! I just like that song!"

"What do you know about Frankie Goes to Hollywood?" spat Kathy, angrily.

"Why shouldn't I know anything about them?" spluttered James indignantly. "Or aren't us toffs allowed to like pop music?"

As he flushed with anger, neither of them were aware of the sun disappearing behind an ominous looming cloud, which seemed to take up most of the horizon, broiling across the formerly clear, blue sky.

Kathy regarded him carefully. She'd never seen him angry before. Well, yes she had, but that was when he beat up Buggy Watson, the local bully – and that was all over her, aged just 11. I wonder if he remembers that? she thought, but secretly awarded herself a pat on the back for riling him sufficiently to snap at her. She was just about to add a verbal killer blow when James interjected again.

"I think 'Two Tribes' is the best song I've heard for ages. A real indictment of the futility of nuclear war and -"

"Oh get out of your own arse!"

"Wh-?"

"I mean," sneered Kathy, "that it could just as easily be all about the class struggle between the proletariat and the capitalist land-owning bourgeois. This is 1984, after all."

She gave a self-satisfied smile, and then suddenly became aware of some cold drops of water on her folded arms and then again on her cheek. One sneaky raindrop plummeted straight onto her left breast, soaking through her camisole top and freezing the nipple underneath into a hard protesting icicle.

She looked up, numbly uncomprehending at the violently dark sky and winced at the ominous rumble of thunder and the fizzing flicker of lightning some way off.

James looked up apprehensively, feeling raindrops pattering onto his back, freezing his warm skin into goose bumps. The horses whinnied and began to stamp their feet warningly.

"That got here bloody quickly!" he gasped. "Come on – get to the horses! If we ride fast enough, we can make it to Maddock's barn in the bottom field."

Kathy didn't protest. In fact, she felt a small thrill of excitement at the matter-of-fact way James took charge of the situation and the authoritative way he issued his instructions. She jammed her drawing pad and pencils into bag, stuffing the Walkman in on top and hared off across the field after him, up the slope towards the horses. Already she could feel the baked earth growing cooler, smell the unique odour of warmed soil being dampened by the rain. Her arms were a mass of goose bumps. Whereas a few minutes ago she'd have welcomed a cooling splash of water, this was too cold, too quickly.

James had already untethered Tanya for her and handed her the reins. Kathy quickly patted Tanya's muzzle, whispering calming words, strapped her bag to the saddle pannier and then hauled herself up onto Tanya's back, bundling her skirt and petticoat up and trying to layer it down each side of the saddle best she could. She thought, perhaps a bit belatedly, that her deliberately sexy outfit wasn't perhaps the most practical one for riding, or at least not in a hurry. In fact, the warm saddle was now rather damp and she felt the raindrops soaking through her panties, but it was a not unpleasant sensation.

She felt a small thrill of excitement, despite her antipathy towards James as she saw him effortlessly swing up into Mercury's saddle, his muscles ripping under the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt as he brought the twitchy horse under control.

"Follow me!" he shouted, as a deafening clap of thunder broke overhead, the vibrations jarring through the rapidly softening earth. Mercury galloped down the slope, and Kathy urged Tanya after him, jerking the reins back as best she could to prevent Tanya from bolting.

She had to admit, she had no idea where Maddock's bottom field was, but James seemed to know, so she urged Tanya onwards, almost catching up with the swiftly moving grey. Over the fence went Mercury, clearing it easily, juddering to the ground beyond, past the gnarled oak and ever onwards. Tanya cleared the fence, but not with as much ground to spare as the stallion.

A harsh, long flash of lightening strobed the darkening landscape into monochrome, the thunderclap rolling after it, driving displaced ozone before it, prickling both riders' and horses' skin.

Within seconds the field had been covered and the horses were over the hedgerow and galloping down a deeply sloping, overgrown fallow field towards a dilapidated building in the bottom corner.

The rain suddenly burst forth from the clouds in a steady, icy stream, as though someone had turned a tap or a sprinkler system on, just for the sheer hell of it.

James bent low over his mount, Kathy involuntarily crying out as her camisole top became suddenly saturated and clung coldly to her body, pinching her nipples as though in icy steel clamps, her bra offering her no protection whatsoever.

"Nearly there!" yelled James, slowly slightly to allow Kathy to draw alongside. "It's open at one side – ride straight in!"

"Okay!" Kathy yelled back, digging her heels into Tanya's flanks to urge her to go that bit faster, not that a speedier arrival at the barn would prevent her from becoming any wetter. She savagely brushed long, wet strands of hair out of her eyes and over her head, wishing she hadn't, as a large amount of displaced rainwater trickled down her neck.

At last the dilapidated barn filled her vision. The wooden walls were pockmarked with holes, and a large section where the doors would once have been was open and exposed. Rain drummed madly on the rusty corrugated tin roof, cascading down from broken guttering onto the bare earth outside, threatening to turn the soil into a quagmire.

James urged Mercury through the gap into the barn, reining him back and slowing him with expert ease. Kathy began to slow Tanya several yards from the barn, knowing that her mount was a bit skittish when entering strange buildings, even large ones like the barn. Thankfully, Tanya slowed to a steady trot and gratefully entered the barn, shaking her drenched mane and tail, flicking cold water over Kathy. Not that it made much difference to her overall general demeanour. However, to be out of the driving rain and the overcharged atmosphere was a palpable relief for both riders.

"Thank God for that!" exclaimed Kathy, stiffly dismounting and wincing as her bare leg contracted a friction burn against the dripping saddle.

She looked around the barn. It would have been gloomier, but the holes in the rickety wooden walls and from certain points of the roof admitted what daylight there was, although this was now muted to almost twilight conditions by the looming storm clouds outside. However, the interior of the barn, although obviously neglected, was not as Spartan as she'd first thought it would be. There were several bales of dusty hay stacked up against one wall, whilst a great deal of loose hay was strewn across the floor. A small group of bales were placed close to the opposite wall, as though they'd been hauled out for possible use, but then simply left to stand.

The overall smell was unmistakably that of hay, but mingled with neglect and misuse. The rainwater trickling down onto the dusty floor added a freshness that the barn had not experienced for many a long time.

Kathy tethered Tanya next to an old hayrack and cast about for some halfway decent hay to put in it for her to eat. James had tethered Mercury to a support post and the stallion seemed content to pick up mouthfuls of strewn hay and munch lazily on this less than salubrious fare.

"Are you okay?" asked James, shaking his shirt by the collar in a vain attempt to shake some of the rainwater out of it.

"Mmm, yeah, I'm okay," muttered Kathy, fiddling with the pannier buckle and pulling her bag free. She crossed over to the little pile of hay bales and began to empty the damp bag, carefully laying her drawing pad and folder out on their own bales.

"Are they wet?" enquired James with genuine concern.

"Nah, they're okay," said Kathy, tipping out the Walkman, the lemonade bottle, crisps and apple. "Might've got wet if we'd been out in it a bit longer."

She waked over to the wide-open doorway and leaned against the remains of the doorframe. Looking out at the rain blurred landscape, twitching involuntarily as the lightning streaked across land ands ski with its ghostly blue light yet again.

James cautiously approached her and slowly, tentatively, reached out and brushed her upper arm with the palm of his hand. To his relief Kathy didn't twitch him off. She turned and looked down at his hand and he gently rubbed her arm up and down.

"You're cold," he said, concerned. "Come and sit down. I can – er –warm you up, I – er- " He blushed slightly.

Kathy smiled. "It's okay James. I've got a poncho in my saddlebag. If I get too cold I'll put it on. It'll still be dry." Then she added, conversationally: "It's a genuine Peruvian one. My mate Sue bought it for me when she was out there last year on her gap year."

She idly stepped over to the pile of bales and sat down, looking up at James, noticing that, although he wasn't exactly broadly built – slender, if anything – he was very well muscled. It was all pretty latent with him, under the surface. His damp hair had flopped over his eyes and it was quite endearing to see him brush it away irritably. "Come and sit down." she said. "Want to share my apple?"

"What's your name then? Eve?" he grinned and sat down next to her, gratefully accepting the apple and taking a bite. "Temptress woman!" He proffered the apple back to Kathy, who took it, brushing his hand with her long fingers, then putting the apple to her mouth taking a generous bite from the smooth green fruit, licking the juice from her pink lips. James swallowed. It was all getting to be a bit much for him.

"Er – Kathy…." He began, hesitantly.

"Mmm?" responded Kathy, her mouth full of apple.

"Why are you so, so – well – so hostile towards me?"

Kathy's face hardened and she plonked the apple down next to her, not offering it back to him.

"Honestly!" she snapped. "You really haven't got a bloody clue, have you?"

"Er – no. Sorry. I mean, if I've offended you, I'm-" stammered James.

"When did you last see me? Before today, I mean". Kathy was unconsciously tapping one foot on the dusty barn floor, with growing impatience.

James thought hard. "It must've been the Young Farmers' Summer Ball. About a year ago. Why?"

"And what happened there? Do you remember dancing with me?" Kathy was firing the words at him, staccato-fashion.

"Well yes, I thought we were getting along fine and then you, well, you went off. Danced with your friend."

"Yes, I went and danced with Sue for the rest of the evening because you started slow dancing with that leggy blonde in the little black strapless number. She cut in on us, and you stayed glued to her for three dances. I'm not being made a mug of, James. Never have, never will."

"You mean Petriona?" he asked, suddenly recalling that fateful evening, the blur of the disco lights, the haw-haw-haws from the Young Fogies and the palpable lack of decent looking girls except for Kathy and, possibly, the Honourable Lady Petriona Simcock. "But – but she wanted a dance. And you didn't want to seem to dance with me anymore. You seemed – well – quite happy to dance with your friend."

Kathy finally snapped with impatience. "She was all over you, you twat!" she yelled. "And you both kept looking over at me and giggling with each other. How do you think that made me feel?"

"She – she – I – well, we didn't do anything," said James, sheepishly. "She may have wanted to – I don't know – but she's not my type."

"But what were you saying about me?" demanded Kathy, taking a savage bite of the apple.

"I didn't really say anything about you, and that's the truth," responded James. "But she asked me if you and Sue were –well – close."

"Close? What did she mean by that?"

"Well, intimate, I think."

"Intimate? Intimate?" roared Sue. "She thought I was a fucking lesbian, because I was dancing with my mate because you – because you'd given me the old heave-ho for her! Cheeky fucking cow! I'll fucking pummel her if I ever see her again! Fucking cheek!"

"Look, I had no idea. I'm so sorry," began James, putting his arm around Kathy's shoulder to placate her."

Kathy viciously shook his hand off. "You said she wasn't your type," she snapped. "Petriona, I mean. What is your type then? Big and brawny? Or Brideshead Revisited? You know Frankies are gay, don't you? Maybe that's why you like them so much!"

"How dare you!" bridled James. "Just because I wasn't all over you or didn't find Petriona attractive doesn't mean I'm gay!"

"Well, you know," said Kathy wickedly, "All-boys boarding schools and all that." She smirked. "Tell you what James, I'll re-do my make up, then why don't you kiss me, then you can mince around with my pink lippy on. It'll suit you. A good way of coming out."

She was surprised at the speed with which James grabbed both her upper arms and even more surprised at the strength of his grip. He brought his face close to hers, no hint of a smile, sardonic or otherwise on his features now. "I'll kiss you," he said, his voice hard. "It's what you've wanted all afternoon anyway!"

With that he lunged towards her, pressing his lips hard against hers. She resisted for all of two seconds then slowly and gratefully opened her lips to admit his tongue… but instead felt herself falling backwards, propelled over the bale by James who pulled himself back, letting her sprawl in the strewn hay, her legs sticking up over the bale, her skirt and petticoat riding up around her waist, her damp panties revealed for him to clearly see.

"What are you doing?" she yelled.

"Taking a peek!" smirked James, missing the display of undergarments, instead grabbing her drawing portfolio from the adjacent hay bale and yanking the ribbon undone. "Hey! Not bad," he exclaimed, leafing through the drawings and paintings hurriedly as Kathy struggled to sit up, dragging her legs to one side and pulling her skirt down.

"Bastard!" she spat.

Kathy made a lunge for the folder, but James held it away from her. "Hey! The old pile!" he said, looking I admiration at a watercolour of his family's stately home, perfectly captured from the East, if he wasn't mistaken.

Kathy leapt over the bale and cannoned into James, wrenching the folder away from him. She snatched the painting of Brenmore Manor from him as he sheepishly held it out to her.

"I told you no-one sees my work!" shouted Kathy. "Are you fucking deaf and stupid? This is my work, my hard graft. Not yours!"

"You're very talented," said James, placatingly.

"Oh yeah? Me, a simple farmer's girl? I suppose you need talent to inherit a great big bloody estate, do you?"

James swatted the folder from Kathy's hands with a backward stroke of his hand, silencing her protests with a snarl and a jab of his finger at her, forcing her to take two steps away from him. "Will you shut up?!" he bellowed. "You haven't got the fucking monopoly on hard graft, you know!"

"Monopoly?" began Kathy. "Oooh, better get your idol Maggie Thatcher to privatise me then, cos –"

"I said – shut up!" James was fuming now. "I said you were talented, yes, you are. And yes, I know you work bloody hard at your art, and I'm impressed. I always have been, that's why I ask your folks about you and how you're getting on whenever I see them! That's why they're so proud of you 'bettering yourself' as you call it! I work hard too, I'm studying at agricultural college, but it's hard going for me, I never hit the top grades. I don't have a natural talent like you do, but I'm trying bloody hard to learn estate management, farming, dairy yields, even bloody EEC regulations. I want to do my best to be able to run this estate for my Pa!"

Kathy recoiled, then hit back. "What's your point? And come on rich boy, your Daddy's hardly likely to say you can't run the estate for him even if you do fail all your exams, is he? You'll just bloody well inherit it all one day and get someone to run it, like you've got an Estate Manager now. It still is Geoff Malloy, isn't it?"

James turned away, took a deep breath to calm himself and then turned back to her, struggling to keep his voice at a calm, even pitch.

"My point is, I want to do a good job of running this estate for my Pa, or more specifically, for the tenants. Yes, I will inherit it all one day and yes, I'll employ an estate manager, but I want to know how it works, I want to fulfil my obligations as a landlord, like my father does. He's been in and out of hospital for tests the past few weeks. I'm sure it's all okay and nothing to worry about, but that's why I'm back here doing my best to learn, because I might just inherit it sooner rather than later."

Kathy's face fell. She realised she'd provoked James too far. She looked at him now, his face still flushed, shaking with anger, his damp hair plastered to his forehead, his lean body looking so inviting and – and was there a bulge in his jeans? She so wanted him just to grab her and shag her stupid, but still that fiery, volatile streak in her demanded satisfaction of its own.