Three weeks before I actually started at the University the phone rang.
"Hi, Martin."
"Oh, hallo Dad. Nice to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Bit of a surprise for you. And a nice one, too, I hope."
"Go on then."
"You remember the Evanses we last saw at Amberdale about…what…five years ago?"
For some reason my heart missed a beat. Even after five years I remembered my little brother. I'd been very much more than upset that he hadn't written to us from their new home.
"Yes, of course I do. Peter, Doreen and James. We never heard from them again after they went to Canada."
"No. There was a reason for that. And you'd remembered them better than me. I couldn't remember the son's name, although considering all we did together I should have done. Anyway, they're back in England and Peter phoned last night." My heart missed another beat. "He has a business proposition for me. He'd suddenly found our address, remembered what I do for a living and a chance meeting with a friend of his has opened up some possibilities. From what he says, it could be something quite big, and I'm very interested. I'm going up to talk to him tomorrow."
"Sounds good to me," I said, genuinely excited, although not for the reason Dad thought. "It could be just what you need to make the firm grow. Would it involve any more investment from your part?"
"No. I don't think so. That's one of the beauties of it. They're working on a new idea, and one that I think could really catch on. That's what we're hoping, naturally. I'll tell you of the details when I've got it straight in my own mind, after I've met with Peter.
"He also says they've started doing the local lottery where they are, and in their second week came up trumps. Typical. We've been doing it here ever since it started with never a sniff at a major prize, they do it twice and win. Anyway, it's not millions, but just enough to have a holiday plus a bit, and they thought about combining business with pleasure as all the meetings we'd have to go to are in the Midlands. They've come up with the idea of a canal holiday and they've asked mum and me to join them, especially as she and Doreen are needed at the meetings too. They asked if we thought you'd be interested in coming along too."
I thought for all of half a millisecond. Would James be there? Of course he would. "I certainly would. Give Mum something to think about, too. It's nice of them to ask me as well. I liked them. James was fun, too. He was tremendous fun on that holiday." I tried not to sound too enthusiastic, after all that had happened subsequently.
"I thought you liked them. So did your mother and I. Anyway, about the canals. Pete mentioned Napton, where you've started from before. He said they'd contacted a firm there and they've got availability next week. It's still school holidays — James is fourteen now, of course…" Fourteen! The age I'd been at Amberdale! What would he be like? Would he want my company still? "…so he can come too. So…can you get away?"
"I suppose he is." I said, in a rather unsteady voice. "I was fourteen when we were in Amberdale and we were both playing together like little kids….yes, he must be!"
"Pete says he is, and I suppose he should know. Anyway, he's made a provisional booking for those dates and asked me if I'd call you to see if you were available and wanted to go. There's a let-out if you don't, you see!"
"No, I'd like to go. I can get away. There'll be nothing to do here until Uni starts, and work on the flat can wait."
"Anything to avoid DIY! So I can call Pete and tell him we're all on for it, can I?"
"Yes. It should be good. I like the canals, and I like the Evans family. I'm looking forward to it already." To tell the truth, I was trembling on the other end of the phone. I was glad that Dad couldn't see me.
"So am I — I know what fun you've had on your trips. All right, I'll call Pete back and give him the good news. Strangely, he seemed to like you. Can't think why. And apparently James remembers you well, despite being only nine at Amberdale."
I thought back to everything we had done together and wasn't at all surprised he'd remembered our friendship. I recollected a small, thin little boy with light mousy hair…the idea of him at fourteen…what would have happened to that distinctive — not overtly attractive — face with its wide mouth and eyes, and that grin? Would the sense of humour and directness and his ability to love that was far in advance of his age still be there? Why had I never really tried to find the family from the new owners of their house in Britain? They must have left a forwarding address. Was it subconsciously done on my part — part of the self hate that I'd gone through, having been attracted by a child? Or was it my desperation at Mark's unnecessary death?
On the other hand I'd often wondered why they never wrote to us after the initial message that they were going, but thought it was probably to do with the move and starting a new life. James probably had made friends of his own age, too. He wouldn't want now to be lumbered with a friend as old as me, although he'd liked me well enough at the time…
"What do you mean, you can't think why he liked me? I'm Mr. Nice Guy, that's why!"
"And modest with it," said Dad, kindly. "Can I give them your number so they can come to you direct for any ideas about routes from Napton and so on? You've been on a lot, and you know more about what to look for and where to go."
"Yes, why not? I'd like to talk to them again." Him again, I substituted mentally.
"OK. I'll call Pete back now. He'll probably want to confirm the arrangements with the boatyard before he calls you, but I'm sure he will phone. Are you going to be at home tomorrow night?"
"Yes, I'll be here."
"I'll tell him. He'll probably call then. I'm sure we'll be talking before the weekend."
"Yes, indeed. Love to mum."
"And you, old son. Cheerio."
"'Bye, Dad." And I rang off, as usual wondering why my father still used such outdated words as 'Cheerio'.
When my mind had regained as much equilibrium as it could given the thought of my little brother grown big, I went back to my TV programme and tried to pick up the threads. But my mind kept wandering back, first to the canals and the holidays I'd enjoyed so much with some of my school friends, but also to Amberdale, and the Evans family. And particularly to the little boy who I'd thought was going to be such a millstone round my neck for the fortnight, but who'd turned out to be such good fun, then to be such a genuinely wonderful friend, then to be my little brother. Despite my earlier thoughts on attraction to a child I could hardly wait to see him and be with him again. But then, if he was fourteen would he still want to know me, and in the way we used to know each other? I was once again turning back to my programme when the phone rang. "Dad, again," I thought.
"Hallo Dad. Now what's up? They haven't changed their minds, have they?"
And a young, just broken, voice said: "I don't think I'm quite old enough to be your father, Martin. But you can check your birth certificate to make sure, if you like. I'll wait."
I looked stupidly at the receiver in surprise. "You don't sound like my father, either, unless he's shed about fifty years in ten minutes……who is that?"
"And no, they haven't changed their minds, either."
I paused. Suddenly the penny dropped. "James?" I whispered hoarsely. "James…is that you?"
"It most certainly is, son. And are you well?"
"Yeah…great. But how……"
"Your Dad just phoned back asking for mine, but they both had to nip out to buy something, so he got me instead. He gave me the news and your phone number so I thought I'd phone and see if you were still the same guy as you used to be the year you suddenly rescued my holiday for me."
A moment as I got used to the idea of actually talking to him.
"Did I? How's that? I didn't realise that's what I'd done."
"Did you? I'll say you did. All I had to look forward to was a week on the beach or visiting stately homes. It looked like being as boring as I'd imagined, then this couple start talking to the parents, and their son comes and startles me out of a bush and starts chatting to me. And then, before I knew it, we were getting around, sailing, swimming, and doing…well…all sorts of things. And because there's someone around and we're meeting people and both enjoying the same things it made it ten times better. I enjoyed that holiday more than you'll know."
Could this really work? Could we get back to where we were? It sounded like it might just…"Funny," I said. "I've just been talking to my father and I've said something very similar to him. Yes, I enjoyed that fortnight very much, too. You know, it's great to hear from you again." And I meant it, and thought the warmth of my tone would tell him so. I thought I wouldn't tell him about Mark. Not yet.
"You too. When you never wrote after we'd sent that card I thought you were just glad to get shot of me after the holiday and get back to old people again — you know, your own age."
"Cheeky sod," I laughed. "If you were here I'd hang you up by the ears."
"You'll have the chance soon. But if you do, I'll push you in!"
I laughed again. "You and whose army?"
"I've got two armies of my own, thanks, and handies on the end of them. Why didn't you write back to me?"
"'Cos I never got the card or whatever. We were all surprised none of you wrote any more."
"Huh! Someone stole our address book, and we couldn't remember the road name or number. We guessed and sent some, but they can't have got to you. But then when we were packing to come back, Dad found the scrap of paper he'd written it on at Amberdale, so we phoned you almost as soon as we got back. But look, your Dad says you've been on the canals lots of times. Have you?"
"Quite a few. It's great; you'll enjoy it."
"From what Dad says it's very slow."
"Well, maximum speed's about four m.p.h., but there are locks and bridges to operate, things to see, a seven feet wide boat to steer through eight feet wide bridges, pubs to visit…no, you'll not find it boring."
"That's all right then. `Cos if I get bored you'll just have to take me on the swings again."
"Are you a mind reader, or what? When Dad called and told me about the holiday that's one of the things I remembered. Although I don't know why, compared to all the other things we got up to!"
"It's what finally persuaded me you were really an eleven-year-old in disguise, who just happened to have a sailing boat."
"I've grown up since then. I'm twelve-and-three-quarters and I've got a bike."
"Goodie. Can I ride it?"
"Only if you give me some chocolate."
"Martin, you're quite as much of a pillock as you were five years ago, and I'm looking forward to the canals very much."
"So am I, believe me, so am I."
"I'll see you next week."
"Too right you will. 'Bye."
"Cheerio, as your father just said to me. `Bye."
I switched the television off, all hope of returning to my programme forgotten.
Our two families and I arranged to meet in Oxford, have lunch together, do the first bits of shopping and then set off to Napton in convoy if possible. A large store in a suburb of the City had seemed to be the best place to meet so as to avoid the traffic congestion, and as I lived the nearest I arrived there first. I thought I'd have a fair wait because there were the usual delays on the A40 which would affect my parents and the Evanses, so I settled down to wait by my car. I'd found a spot in a car park near the shop which was within sight of the entrance, so I could lean against its cooling bonnet and try to spot the Evanses before they saw me. I really wanted to size James up before we got talking as, apart from the phone call, I had no idea what he'd be like or even if I'd still like him.
I watched the area casually, as shoppers and summer visitors scurried around like ants. I tried to imagine what James looked like now, and realised that I probably wouldn't recognise him at all. To while away the time I started looking for any teenagers with parents attached. A ginger headed lad, about five feet….no….a tallish, thin kid, brown hair over his brow, pleasant face….could be…but no parents….a black haired kid, heavy features, about 17….no….a fat boy, wide eyes…dark hair swept back…hope not…tall lad, blond hair, incredibly good looks…I wish it was…I looked away, then realised that the tallish thin boy with the brown hair was looking at me with his head on one side. All of a sudden something struck a chord; perhaps something in the expression from five years previously.
Suddenly the face broke into a that grin, and James Evans was running towards me. I knew he'd have to have grown, I thought, but he's very far from the puny little lad he was! And what a distinctive face! He's turned into a good looking young man now.
James stopped two paces from me, suddenly shy. "It is you, isn't it?"
Suddenly I was confident. "I think so. I'll just check my birth certificate." I extended both arms to embrace him as if he were still nine. Suddenly realising what I was doing, I let my left arm drop.
"You've not changed a bit," said James and closed the gap between us to engage me in the bear hug I had thought I shouldn't use. "It's good to see you."
"And you too," I said when I'd recovered my breath. "I nearly didn't recognise you."
"If you say 'Haven't you grown', like my aunts do, I really shall push you in the water when we get there."
I paused, only for a second: "Haven't you grown! You used to be such a nice little boy!"
"I'll remember that. Just wait 'til you're standing by the canal! Come on, mum and Dad are round the corner. We couldn't park any nearer."
As we walked off he said something else cheeky, and I responded, and we both laughed, and before long we were teasing each other as if the five years had contracted to just five minutes' absence. We crossed the car park toward the Evans' car. I heard later how his parents' conversation went as we approached.
"Just look at that, Doreen, it looks as though they've just come in from sailing at Amberdale!"
"I hope they get on as well as they did last time. Although James has changed a lot, got even more friends, I think Martin was always his special hero, even if they haven't spoken since."
"I shouldn't say that to him, you know. He is fourteen. And don't tell Martin how much he's grown!
"What do you take me for, dear? I'm not that stupid!"
"It's good to see you again," I said as I got within range. "Thank you for asking us along. I've been looking forward to this since Dad phoned. I say, hasn't James grown?"
"That's twice you're in," hissed a voice at my back.
Doreen and Peter looked at each other, then at my wicked grin, and burst into laughter. "I'm saying nothing," said Doreen.
"Just as well," said the voice behind me.
"Shall we go and see if my parents have arrived yet?" I said, conscious of having got all I could out of the situation to James' discomfiture. I looked at the latter, who glowered back as best he could with the unzipped grin half round his head, just as I remembered it, but this time with the more pronounced features around it that spoke of burgeoning manhood.
"Right. I'll lock up the car and we'll have a wander round. I could do with stretching my legs."
They followed me toward my car. James was waking ahead with his mother, and I looked at his back view, his muscularly rounded bottom, slim waist and broadening back, topped by already broad shoulders, still hardly able to believe that this good looking young man was the same person as the young child of five years previously.
"You know, when we first talked about this holiday, when we had our bit of luck, it was James who first suggested we contacted you all to see if you'd be interested. He was most insistent we told your parents you were expected as well. And he's been on edge over the last few weeks, waiting to see you again. It's all he could talk about. Exams? No, he had to have progress prised out of him. But mention the canals and sooner or later your name would come up."
I smiled, my heart warming to my little brother even more. "Seems to have taken quite a shine to me. He phoned me, you know, that evening you'd phoned my Dad and then had to go out."
"Yes, he said. He told us you'd not changed a bit. Although he's grown up a lot, he's still the same happy boy he used to be. He's one of the few of his age who don't seem to be moody. You can imagine how much of a relief that is! Ah, here's Mary and George!" as my parents passed them in their car, looking for a vacant parking space and waving as they did so much to the detriment of my father's driving as a car reversed out of a space immediately in front of him.
"Oh, no," I breathed as the tyres screeched to a halt.
"It's all right, Mart. He missed him," said James as he ran into the now vacant space to reserve it.
Dad recovered and soon was reversing into the space. He and Mum got out of the car and there was handshaking all round and a hug for me.
Mum found herself looking at James. "Oh, haven't you…."
"Don't say it, Mother. You know how I used to detest that. James is the same, you know."
"I'm sorry, dear. After all this time I should be used to the idea that people get bigger as they get older. But it's still a shock when you've not seen the person concerned for five years. Sorry, James. It's good to see you again. I see you've met my reprobate son again, and by the sound of it he's still on your side. He was delighted when we called him, and he probably won't say it but I know he's been looking forward to seeing you again."
"Mother! Don't let me down completely! You'll be getting the baby photos out next."
"Oh yes, Mrs Finch," said my cheeky friend. "I've got to see those!"
"If I thought you'd be interested I'd have brought the album, James. But now you mention it, I always carry one around with me. I'll try and find it."
"Mother, if you dare, I'll throw you overboard!"
"Yes, dear. I'm sure you will. Anyway, shall we get on and have some lunch? Your father and I haven't eaten since eight."
We found a table and had a light lunch, swapping reminiscences about the Amberdale holiday — well, the publicly consumable ones - and some of what had happened since. I was glad that my parents didn't mention Mark or the others. Eventually, as so often happens, the two sets of parents, being about the same age, were leaving their sons out of the conversation, despite my being so much older than James. So I wasn't surprised when he raised his eyebrows at me meaningfully, and we drew to one side to chat.
"I've been reading a lot about the canals, you know. Oh. Wait a minute, you haven't even seen what sort of boat we've got, have you? I know Dad's been talking to you about what to look for and ask for, but he's never actually shown any of you the result, has he?"
"No. And I must say I'm intrigued. All he would say was that he thought we'd all like it."
James waited for a gap in the flow of talk and asked for the boatyard's brochure. He thumbed through it, and held up the page for me to read.
"Sixty-five feet…two doubles and two lots of bunks in one cabin…dinette double conversion from the kitchen table….well, we shan't need that, and that'll be a relief."
"Why? I missed that."
"Well, if someone's having to use that as a bed it means that they've got to be first up in the morning so that anyone else can come in and make tea or breakfast. It's not too bad when it's only one person, but when there's a couple nobody likes to burst in on them, even if it's ten in the morning and they want their breakfast."
James grinned. "I see what you mean. It's all right me bursting into your hotel room wearing nothing, like at Amberdale, but I don't think I'd do it to your parents now!"
I flashed back to those holiday mornings, when an excited nine year old would knock perfunctorily on my bedroom door (sometimes) and come in like a whirlwind, wearing not a stitch, and climb into my bed. Those were the times when he wasn't already sleeping in it on the pretext of thunderstorms or just plain preference.
"I suppose you're going to do that this holiday too, are you? Or have you grown some decorum as well as everything else?"
"No, not really. And I might. It all depends on you."
"Right," I evaded automatically, my mind racing. Was he really saying or suggesting what I thought he was? Did he know what he was suggesting? Might heart thumped uncomfortably, and I had to make myself continue as if nothing had happened. "Anyway, looking at this brochure it seems to be a very nice boat, and a well organised firm. They certainly offer a lot."
"That's what Dad said. He was quite impressed."
"I hope they're a good as they look," I said, as we prepared to leave the table. "Peter's certainly done his best, anyway."
We shopped around for the groceries they thought they'd need for the first few days, then loaded up the cars. James asked me if he could join me in my car, so we continued the journey with two people in each.
At the boatyard we found turmoil. People coming, people going, people gongoozling (I had to explain to James that this was Canal-Speak for sightseeing.) and people arguing. That worried me a bit.
"Mr Evans, Mr Finch, it's good to see you." said a harassed looking man who we had managed to run to earth. "Before you start unloading, could you come into the office, please?"
"Yes, of course. Forms to sign and so on, I expect." James and I followed as he led the way into the office and closed the door before Mary and Doreen had a chance to get out of their respective cars.
"Gentlemen, I won't beat about the bush; I have a major problem." The manager looked worried. Peter and Dad looked at each other. "It's like this. The hirers who had your boat last week had intruders last night. They succeeded in smashing all the kitchen area up and doing a lot of damage before our clients were able to wake up and stop them. Fortunately, they're policemen — the hirers, that is — and actually arrested the two, and kept them there until the local police arrived. I'm glad they did, because the two men are known to us and, we think, have been doing a lot of damage to local boats.
"Well I'm glad they've got them, for our sake as well as yours," said Peter. "But what you're saying is that the boat isn't ready for us yet."
"Worse, I'm afraid. They managed to do so much damage to the gas lines that we're having to strip out all the kitchen on one side and replace the lot. It's going to take at least a week to put right."
"Oh dear," said Dad. "So where does that leave us?"
"My problem is that all our other boats are out, hired by clients who booked before you. Now, I know that's not your fault, but we had to find the most ethical solution, and it seemed fairest that those who booked first should, if you like, have their boat first. I couldn't see a better way out of it. However…." He paused, as if for breath. "We've got a solution you might consider, although it's not the sort of thing I like doing. One of the owners whose boat we look after has agreed to lend it to us to help out, if that's acceptable to you and your family.
"Now this boat is very well fitted out and has everything you'd want, in fact I dare say it's probably better than our hire craft. The drawback is that it's only got three double berths, and there's no provision in the kitchen for a berth as there is with ours. It's all very comfortable, though, and I'm hoping that you might be able to accept it and work round the accommodation problem somehow."
"Well," said Peter, looking at Dad. "What do you think?"
"I suppose the only two people who would be affected would be Martin and James. They're the ones who wouldn't have a bed each. What about it, lads?"
I smiled to myself at being described as a `lad' by my father, as if I were fourteen again. As I said, it seemed that once James and I were together again both sets of parents seemed to class us as being the same age. "Let's have a look at the boat, shall we?" I said. "James and I'll discuss it."
The manager started to look relieved. "Certainly," he said. "Thank you for taking it so well. I'll take you to look over her at your leisure. And….I'm sorry I ignored your wives, but I was so het up abut the whole affair that I just wanted to talk to you as soon as you appeared."
"That's OK. You can't help vandalism, we all realise that. But we do need to be sure the replacement boat is acceptable. And of course it'll be up to our sons here whether they're prepared to share."
"I quite understand that." And he led us out toward our cars where Doreen and mum were waiting, looking rather put out. Swiftly he apologised to them for his rudeness, and briefly explained the problem and his suggestions for solving it.
As he was talking, James nudged me . "So we're going to be sharing a bed for the next week, are we?"
I grinned at him, once again exulting. But then the common sense side of me thought again. Was this such a good idea? I knew that I was again attracted to him, very much more so now that he had grown into such a good looking lad, with a broken voice too…And at fourteen…
"Only if you feel OK about it after all this time," I said seriously. "It doesn't worry me, even if it is five years since we really knew each other. But sharing a bed isn't everyone's cup of tea if the other person's the same sex."
James looked thoughtful. "You've not changed a bit since Amberdale, well, not really. You've just got bigger." I looked at him sharply, but he appeared innocent. "You were okay then, so I don't see why it should be any different now. You're all right. I'm happy to go for it."
My heart started beating hard again. Wow! Was it my birthday or something? "So am I, then," I told him rather shakily. "We'll look at the boat, and then confess that we're happy to share. Well, I suppose we'd better not be too enthusiastic about it or Pete and Doreen will start wondering."
"Oh, they know you're a raving queen anyway. I've told them so."