18. Very Naughty, Possibly...

18. Very Naughty, Possibly...

A Chapter by Peter Rogerson
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A SUMMER UNDER THE SUN Part 18

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The afternoon was wearing towards evening when Darren and Jennifer decided to explore their immediate environment. Darren was still in his white PE shorts but Jennifer had changed into jeans and a tee-shirt, for a change. It didn’t seem to matter what she wore, Darren thought she was practically perfect in every conceivable way.

There were still only two touring caravans on the site, and, in a far corner, a second tent had appeared whilst they had been cuddling in each others arms and whispering about everything and nothing in way that was both exciting and meaningless. But they had made one concrete plan: to explore, but not to go too far from their tent. And this is what they were doing.

Jennifer popped into the toilet block and pronounced, on her return, that it was clean enough for her, which all that knew her would have taken as praise indeed.

Sauntering along the border of the field towards the entrance to the site, they were disturbed by a sudden outburst of rather noisy voices, a man’s and a woman’s, and rather than be just that, a sudden and brief outburst, it continued until it could only be called a slanging match.

Aye aye,” murmured Darren, “someone’s happy!”

Shh!” whispered Jennifer, “they might hear you!”

Only if they’ve got hearing that’s out of this world,” he replied, “they’re making so much noise they’d drown out a lioness on heat!”

It’s coming from that other tent,” said Jennifer, “and I think someone there isn’t at all fond of another someone there.”

The entrance flap to the tent in question burst open and a young women crawled out, and stood upright, her face, or as much of it as they could see, a mask of anger.

I haven’t a clue why I chose you to marry!” she shrieked, “you’ve got the understanding of a gnat!

At least a gnat’s got a chance of understanding his partner because that partner’s got a decent sized brain!” bellowed the male voice from inside the tent.

I only wish I’d found out how ignorant you were before I accompanied you down the aisle,” continued the young woman, “do this, Jenny, do that Jenny, you’re the woman and I’m the boss! Well, if that’s how you want things to be I’ve got another think for you! I am not your servant! And I will not be your slave!”

I only wanted to have a bite to eat,” came the man’s voice. almost pleading, “and you know I don’t know much about cooking stuff. Anything else and I’ll do it for myself, but cooking!”

Then you should have told me you were marrying a slave!”

But I wasn’t!”

Then what is there about being chief cook and bottle washer but being a slave, Darby?”

The same as being the wage-earner and gardener in chief at home, Jenny!”

Then why did you marry me?”

Because I love you, silly.”

As Jennifer and Darren watched the girl sobbed and ran back towards the open entrance to her tent.

And I love you, Darby, but we mustn’t argue…”

Crikey,” whispered Darren, “what do you make of that? I wonder how long they’ve been married? She didn’t look much older than you, and she’s a wife questioning her role in their marriage.”

What do you think of the role of a man in life?” asked Jennifer.

The same as a woman’s, and each to their own strengths,” came his reply, “and we needn’t row about you not wanting to cook my lunch because, beloved, I’m quite capable of cooking my own, and yours as well.”

You are the perfect man aren’t you, Darren?”

He took her by one hand and gently squeezed her fingers. “Would you ever think of getting married to me?” he asked, slightly awkwardly.

Why, Darren, is that a proposal?” she asked, teasingly.

I mean, if you did think of marrying me, we wouldn’t row like what we just heard, would we?”

He shook his head. “I don’t do rowing,” he said simply, “I don’t now, and I never will. And if you were to ask me whether I’d ever dream of marrying you…?”

Well? Do you have that kind of dream?” she asked.

I might,” he conceded. “I like kissing you … no, correction, I love kissing you!”

They were passing the small hut that did as an office and, apparently, a very diminutive store where a wide range of camping stuff was on display. This time the ill-tempered woman had gone, to be replace by an equally geriatric man.

Hi there, you youngsters,” he called as they passed, “lovely evening for it!”

It is,” agreed Darren, not at all sure what it might be.

You met my old woman when you arrived,” he said, “I’m Davy Braithwaite and she’s Ada, and the light of my life.”

Darren couldn’t understand how the woman who’d greeted them could the light of anything, but then he was wise enough to be beginning to understands that it takes all sorts to make a world.

We’re just going to see what’s what,” he told Davy, “you know, case the joint!”

Davy Braithewaite cackled. “You’ll find a bit of beach across the road, and then a lot of water,” he said, “it’s called the sea! And if you look out into it you’ll see hundreds of them there turbine things jutting out o’ the waters like so many stray Martians!”

We’ll take a look then,” smiled Jennifer.

It’s the wind that makes them turn,” said Davy, as if they didn’t know. “And they reckon it’s stuff like them that’ll save the planet. Hope it does, too, while I’ve still got breath in my body!”

I’m sure they will,” assured Darren, and, holding Jennifer’s hand quite firmly he gave her a little tug. “Come on, darling, let’s watch the sun set,” he said.

It sets in the west, and this is the east coast so that is the east!” she grinned.

Okay brainbox! I was only testing!” he said, and the two of them crossed a road that was probably never busy, and found the sandy beach.

Isn’t it lovely?” she asked, meaning the vista before them, “we’ll have to come when the sun’s shining overhead. I need to get a tan!”

You’ve always got one, at least your legs have when they’re not covered in jeans,” he assured her.

Let’s walk along a bit, and then go back to the tent. I want to whisper a few things to you that I don’t want to be overheard.

Saucy things?”

Could be.”

What my mum would call naughty?” he asked.

Possibly,” she murmured, and squeezed his fingers as they walked along the beach. “Very naughty, possibly,” she added.

© Peter Rogerson 16.05.21

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© 2021 Peter Rogerson


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Author

Peter Rogerson
Peter Rogerson

Forest Town, Nottinghamshire, United Kingdom



About
I am 77 years old, but as a single dad with four children that I had sole responsibility for I found myself driving insanity away by writing. At first it was short stories (all lost now, unfortunately.. more..

Writing