The Cycling Holiday

The relevance of the boatyard being located in Stoke Golding, was that we lived in the next village; just a couple of miles from the boatyard.

"We can't impose on them like that. Anyway, we can't afford to pay our share, I bet this boat cost somewhere in the hundreds to hire."

Dave chipped in,

"One thousand, four hundred and fifty pounds for the two weeks."

"That's it then. There's no way we can pay our share of that."

Derek, the oldest of these men, said,

"I wouldn't expect you to. My people here haven't paid either. It's a long story, but being as my brewery has just been bought out by a big conglomerate, and I'm now just the MD, I'm using this holiday as a team building exercise for my new colleagues. So as it's a company funded venture, there's no need for either of you to pay a penny."

"We aren't beggars. We might be out of work, but we're not accepting charity."

Derek said,

"I think you're getting the cart before the horse my dear."

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, you can't be accused of begging. Neither of you has asked for a thing. It was our idea to offer this solution to you."

"Well offered or begged, we aren't going to sponge on anyone."

"How is it sponging? I've told you; the boats paid for. Whether you and your husband join us or not, won't affect our holiday arrangements. We will just follow the same route as we were going to. And as we'll be taking the boat back in two weeks time, and almost passing your doorstep, don't you think fate must be playing a hand somewhere along the line."

I paused with my reply, but in truth, it wasn't the begging aspect of sharing their boat I was worrying about.

"But what about sleeping arrangements?"

Again it was Derek who answered,

"It's a ten berth boat. That means five cabins, we each use a double cabin, but the fifth cabin is just used to store our cases. And that's just because we were too idle to lift up the storage bunks and stow them away. Come on. Kelly isn't it?"

"Yes. My name is Kelly, but don't think getting on first name terms, and a lot of clever talk will persuade me."

"Why ever not? What is it that makes the prospect of spending the rest of your holiday on our boat so objectionable?"

This put me on a spot, I daren't say, 'I don't feel safe, you're all going to rape me'. All I could cling onto was an excuse about not accepting charity. And then Dave scuppered this excuse,

"What if you both earn your keep?"

Tom was first to react,

"Doing what?"

"I don't know off the top of my head."

Derek said,

"I've an idea. None of us like getting up first thing in the morning. And you told us, you and Kelly get up at first light. If you can get the boat underway at first light, with Kelly's help, and then once underway, she could make our breakfast."

Steve said,

"We couldn't expect her to skivvy for us."

Tom said,

"Why not? In fact she could do all the cooking. I mean, she's the one who wants to pay her way."

Derek looked at me,

"It would solve your problem of conscience."

I knew they'd blown a hole in my reasoning, so reluctantly I said to Tom,

"Can we go and talk this through in private."

Then to the others,

"I'm sorry; I don't mean to be rude. But it's personal."

I actually thought this approach might faze Steve, thinking he'd worry that I was about to spill the beans. But as Tom handed over the steering to Ian, Steve said to Tom,

"You might as well both go and sit out in the front well. But before you go, do you drink draft Stout?"

Tom stopped in his tracks,

"If there isn't a decent real ale on hand pull. But it's a bit pricy for everyday drinking. Why's that?"

"Derek just told you, we work for a brewery and we're now part of the Stout group."

"And?"

"We've just come out with a new idea, it's gonna revolutionise peoples drinking habits."

"A new Stout? There's always some twat thinks he knows better, why don't they just leave well alone? Draft Stout is the best beer you can buy, and no new idea is going to make it better."

"We're not tampering with the cask beer in the pubs. But it means you can have draft Stout from a can, at home, or even like now on holiday."

"No way! Canned Stout is for old ladies, I've bought some, it's just bottled Stout in a can. It tastes vile."

"Ok Tom. I guess you know better. But when this stuff goes on sale in about a years time, you're gonna kick yourself."

"Go on then, let me see one. I'll know just by looking."

"Ok, carry on through to the galley, and I'll get you a glass and a can."

"If it's in a can, why do I need a glass?"

"You'll see."

So the three of us tramped through to the kitchen, where Steve got Tom a pint glass. Then he pulled a can out of the fridge, and holding it over the glass, he pulled off the ring-pull. I guess by 2010, everyone has seen or heard of a widget, but back then it was like magic. The liquid poured out, and the bubbles heaved and tossed in the glass, just like a real draft Stout. Tom was transfixed. Before it was settled, he wanted to try it.

"No wait. It's like I told you. Like real draft, you have to let it settle out."

Tom was champing at the bit, and then Steve said,

"Ok, go on. Now tell me that isn't real draft."

Tom almost drank half the glass in his first swallow,

"Ha h h h h h."

He let out a long protracted gasp of breath,

"My god Steve. That's like no other canned beer I've ever tasted."

"I told you. In years to come, people won't go to pubs; they'll be drinking at home."

Tom took another swallow, and the glass was empty,

"I don't know about that, but that's pure nectar. Shit, where can I buy some?"

"You can't, not yet. It'll be a year or so before we start selling it. But if you want another, just help yourself from the fridge."

"Are you sure? I mean, can I pay you for them?"

Steve walked back to the next cabin, and lifting up the cover of the side bunk,

"I don't think we'll run out."

As Tom and I joined him, and looked into the storage locker, we could see four large cardboard boxes. Steve saw the look of amazement on our faces,

"Forty-eight cans in each box, and nearly a pint a can. Best part of two hundred pints; compliments of the brewery."

Tom said,

"You nicked them?"

"Don't be silly. These are promotional tasters, to get customer reaction."

"You lucky bastard."

"So can you be if you want. I told you, stop with us on the boat, all the Stout you can drink, free of charge and there's only one condition."

Tom looked daggers, while I looked nervous.

"Why the scowl?"

"You mention anything about touching my wife; I'll plant one on you."

Steve gave a half hearted laugh,

"No Tom. Nothing like that. It's the fridge. It's only small. And you can't drink the cans unless they're chilled. So we're limited on how fast we drink it, by how quickly the fridge can chill it. So as soon as you take a can out, pop another one in. Go on help yourself to another, but take these two and put them in at the same time. And you luv, do you drink? Or can I get you a cold orange-squash or something?"

"Squash would be fine, but if you tell me where it is, I'll do it."

So I poured my own drink, and then after just a little more civil conversation, Tom and I headed for the front of the boat, whilst Steve went to the back to join his pals.

So sitting on our own out in the front well, Tom said,

"What the bloody hell has gotten into you? This is the first piece of good luck we've had in months, and all you can do is start nit picking. Surely doing a bit of cooking to earn your keep isn't asking too much?"

"It isn't the cooking."

"So what is it?"

"It doesn't feel right. You know, being the only woman on a boat with four strangers."

"I'm here. You aren't on your own."

"Maybe, but you can't be with me all the time."

His body language changed, and I knew I'd said too much. As he got to his feet, he downed the contents of his glass in one long gulp; over half a pint. And then holding the glass by its base, he asked,

"Which one was it, what did he do?"

"Calm down. Nobody has done anything."

I had to say that, I recognized the signs, his look and the way he was holding the glass. One swing of his arm would see the rim of the glass smashed against any hard surface; turning a drinking vessel into a lethal weapon.

"So if nobody has touched you, what are you scared of?"

"They're strangers. And they're men. I mean, just because they haven't done anything yet, doesn't mean they won't try something when you're not around."

"I think you've missed something."

"What d'you mean?"

"Four men, on their own in a boat. I reckon if neither Steve, Dave nor Ian have tried it on with you by now, it's me who aught to be nervous. All three of them have had the opportunity to try their luck. So unless you're keeping something from me, it's my guess they're playing at Jolly-Jack-Tars."

"I still don't get what you mean?"

"A bit queer."

"Oh. I see. I'm sure they're not."

"Well in Steve's shoes, I'd have tried it on."

"What? Are you saying if you'd have been in that situation with another woman, you'd have made a pass?"

"Too right I would, especially when you came out of that shower. Why d'you think I burst in on you. If he didn't try it on then, I think you've got nothing to worry about."

I wanted to tell Tom the truth, but I feared what he might do, and being as Steve would be on his guard, with three others to back him up, that fear was more for my Tom's safety than that of the others. But as I daren't come clean about Steve, I reacted to his remark,

"You're bloody animal. I can't believe you have the nerve to admit that."

"Why not? I'm a man, and if I'd have seen an opportunity like that, I'd be stupid to pass it up."

I said nothing for a second or two, and then I asked,

"So what about me?"

"You? What d'you mean? You said he didn't touch you."

"No, I mean, what if I'd tried it on with Steve?"

"Don't be stupid. For one, why would you. Two, he's bent, so you'd have been disappointed. And three, if I'd have found out, I'd have ripped your fucking head off. And then done the same with Steve's balls."

I kept silent for the next minute, and then Tom said,

"I'm going to get another one of these. And unless you can think of a good reason while I'm gone, I think during the next two weeks, I'm gonna do my best to empty that locker."

So off he went, and I racked my brain to think of some reason that wouldn't cause a riot, but would get us off this boat. When he arrived back with another pint, I said,

"Look, I don't want you getting upset."

He instantly became agitated,

"What is it?"

"It's you. Well really it's both of us."

"What is?"

"We can't swim."

"So?"

"It's a boating holiday. People get drown in canals."

"Yeh, tell me about it. The water came up to Steve's waist."

"That was at the edge, it's deeper in the middle."

"So be careful. Don't fall in. Anyway if you're afraid, I saw some life jackets hanging up; put one of them on."

He turned,

"I'm going to tell them we're stopping on board; you might as well get the stuff out of your pack, and get it washed. Then Ian can hang it on the line for you."

And with that he went inside, and made his way to the back of the boat. I pondered on what my fate would be, but within a minute of Tom leaving, I could tell by the noisy reaction at the back of the boat, he'd told them, and there appeared to be a bit of merriment taking place. (This was another thing about the way sound travels on these boats. Although in the cabins you can't hear noises from out side, or they can't hear you, because of the engine. Out in the front well, the sound of loud voices travels from the back deck, and can be heard over the sound of the engine. This was something I should have remembered later.) But back to when I heard the reaction at the back of the boat. I stepped up onto the seating to get a view of what was going on. As they saw me, they all appeared to be drinking from pint glasses like Tom, and all of them, including Tom raised their glasses in a kind of salute. I climbed down, and took my pack into the kitchen, where I began to wash all of my clothes through one by one.

I hadn't finished washing before Tom appeared, followed by Ian Steve and Dave. Tom had another can in his hand, and as he put it in the fridge, he took out a can and poured it into his glass.

"Do you think you ought to be drinking so much, that's your fourth, and its not even dinner time yet."

"Bloody women. If they see you enjoying yourself, they just have to try to spoil it. I don't care what time it is, if I want a drink, I'll have a drink. And if you ever try to count my drinks for me again, I'll give you something your dad should have dished out."

Steve said,

"That's a bit harsh, I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it."

Whereas Ian then said,

"Harsh be buggered. It makes a change to hear a man who knows how to keep his wife under control."

It was obvious by Ian's voice, he'd had a little more of those cans than was good for him, and then he added,

"Anyway Tom, what was it that her dad missed out giving her?"

"Her old man was soft as shit. He spoilt her rotten, she only had to stick out her pet lip, and he was pandering to anything she wanted. If she'd have had a dad like mine, she'd have known about it. He'd take the belt to you as soon as look at you. And many is the time I've seen my older sister over his knee with her knickers around her ankles while he laid into her arse with his belt. I mean right up until she left home at the age of eighteen. I tell you, hers was the first fanny I ever saw. I used to hide at the end of the settee, and watch him whacking it."

"I'm sure they don't want to hear your juvenile stories. You ought to listen to yourself, you're half pissed already."

I'd hardly got the words from my lips before Tom cracked his glass down on the work surface, and grabbed my wrist.

"Tom, stop it. Let me go."

"I'll teach you. I told you you're getting too big for your boots."

"Tom let me go. I'll scream."

"To bloody right you'll scream, I'm gonna thrash your fanny till you can't sit down."

By now he'd dragged me into a cabin area with a seat to one side, and he was pulling me down across his knee. I was fighting and still protesting, but I was having no affect at all. I felt him pulling at the back of the shorts, but the belt was tight around my waist, and they weren't coming down as easy as he'd expected.

And then the unexpected happened as far as I was concerned. Steve said,

"Ok Tom, I think she's learnt her lesson."

Tom was still struggling, and by now he'd realised and was fumbling with one hand to try to release my belt buckle,

"Lesson. She'll learn her lesson once I get these shorts off."

"Well ok, but I hope you realise Ian has one of those new Polaroid cameras. You pull her shorts off, and he'll be snapping away taking pictures to wank over later."

I couldn't see Tom's face, but even with out seeing him, just his bodily reaction told me this had brought home the reality of the situation to him. And as Tom then rolled me off his knee, and I landed on the floor, he said,

"Fuck her; she's not worth wasting good drinking time over."

So Steve helped me to my feet, while Tom went back to collect his glass. And as soon as Tom was out of earshot, Steve whispered in my ear,

"See. Now I've even got your husbands permission to fuck you."

I didn't get chance to reply before Tom was on his way back, and as he approached me making his way to the front, I stepped back into a recess to keep out of his way. So they all went out, and I returned to finish my washing. I was so angry with Tom, I knew it was just the drink talking, and in truth when he was sober, he'd never behave like that. But once the alcohol gets to his head, and there are other men around, especially if he feels a little intimidated, he acts the big man and goes all Neanderthal. But even though I'm now making excuses for his behaviour, at the time I was livid. I even began to think I'd go with Steve, just to spite Tom. But as I resumed washing my clothes, I calmed down, and just resigned myself to trying to survive the time on the boat, without getting involved with any of these men.

Whilst I was washing, Dave came into the kitchen and took another four cans of Stout from the fridge. I made a remark about the rate they were drinking at, but all I got was a curt,

"I'd keep my trap shut if I was you."

So that is what I did, kept quiet, and got on with the washing. Once all the clothes were ready, I made my way out to the front, where they were all laughing and joking, but the second I appeared, it all went silent. Ian again took the clothes from me and began to hang them with the others on the make-shift clothes line he'd rigged up. But what I wasn't privilege to, was the conversation that had taken place in the front well, before I'd arrived.

Apparently it had all started with Ian and Steve arguing about the way Tom had treated me, Ian saying I got off lucky, and Steve saying the whole thing was un-called-for. And then Tom had joined in, telling them all how naïve I'd been when he'd met me. You see he lived in a notorious area of Nuneaton, Camp Hill, and as he would always quote, 'Girls in Camp Hill usually lost their virginity before they were old enough to know what virginity was.' Whereas, out in the sticks (bearing in mind, the village where I lived was only five miles from Camp Hill) where I lived, I didn't think I was unusual, being an eighteen year old virgin. But he loved to brag how he'd taken me to a party, got me drunk, and taken my cherry. (Even though his version of how it happened, never bore any resemblance to the real truth.) And when he was drunk, like now, it wasn't unusual for him to tell total strangers about how he'd educated me in various sexual acts. Luckily, this time he'd done it while I wasn't present.

You might wonder why or how we ever got together, and why I married him. Like I say, back when I was just eighteen, I was very naïve. And although I'd gone out with boys before Tom, I'd never allowed any of them to get some much as a feel inside my blouse. And anyone who'd even hinted at getting a hand up my skirt was dropped like a red hot coal. But this night, I was at a young farmer's barn dance, held in the next village. And Tom had arrived with six pals. There'd been a bit of trouble at first, as this was an invitation only event. But the two main organisers, defused the situation by allowing Tom and his friends to stay, provided they paid the admission. I think they'd not wanted a full scale fight to break out. I was also told some time later, they'd feared sparking off a feud. Knowing that although they could easily have prevented them on the night, lads from this area, humiliated in this way were rumoured to take revenge some time in the future; burning down barns or some other equally frightening act.

But back to the night of the dance, and me being so naïve, I saw there brash swaggering attitude as very attractive, and when I was asked to dance by one of them I didn't hesitate in accepting. And by the by, I wasn't the only girl who was won over in this way. Well after dancing with one of their group, I was passed to another. And this one insisted on buying me a drink. I told him I didn't drink alcohol, and he bought me what he said was a lemon and lime. I told him it tasted funny. But he blamed the make-shift bar.

"They use cheap drinks they buy from the cash and carry. Get it down you, it might not taste good, but it won't be poisonous."

What I didn't know, was that it was a well known trick to give a girl vodka and lime, as vodka has little actual taste. And so as I was passed from one of these lads to the next, they kept supplying plenty of these drinks.