Winter Holiday - 1. Winter Holiday

 

 

 

Winter Holiday

by Sinbad

 

Day 1

We were up near Alcock tarn. It's a small lake perched high on the hillside in the fells above Grasmere. I've seen Herdwick sheep before so I wasn't too surprised when I saw a small flock of them. What caught my eye about this flock of sheep was not their funny white faces looking out from above the big russet brown balls of wool which are their bodies, nor even the way they blended with the brown bracken that covers the hills from about October onwards until the new green growth in the spring. My eye was caught by the solitary man leaning back against the dry stone wall at the corner of the field just passively looking at the sheep. Like my sister Claire and me, he was well wrapped up against the winter cold, but unlike us, the colours of his clothes blended with his surroundings so you wouldn't notice him from a distance at all, particularly standing as still as he was. He had his chin resting on his fist supported by a long stick, and his other hand was behind his bottom, cushioning him against the wall behind him. He wore khaki cord trousers tucked into grey marl boot socks in walking boots. He had a green waxed cotton jacket, with a brown corduroy collar turned up against the bitter wind but he didn't look cold. He wore nothing on his head and his blond curly hair blew around over a lightly tanned face that I couldn't see very well from my vantage point but I knew I'd like to see closer. Everything about him spoke to me of contentment and I envied this stranger his life.

I pulled myself together out of my daydream and told myself to get real. I took some more pictures, including the shepherd in some of them, the back view so he wouldn't know I'd taken his picture. Then I re-joined Claire who'd been taking some pictures of her own on her point-and-shoot compact and we hiked back down to the cottage and to our parents in time for breakfast.

After we'd eaten we took a walk into the centre of the village. So of course we fetched up at the Grasmere Gingerbread shop on our way in to buy postcards. But by this time Mother had one of her headaches coming on and didn't want to go into the shop which is a bit small and smells strongly of baking so I offered to buy the gingerbread she wanted, and catch the others up after I returned.

I have to duck to get into the shop because the doorway is low and I'm just under 6 ft, and once in the shop there's room for about three people on our side of the counter, and about the same amount of space the other side of the counter. Lots of tourist attractions in the Lake District close for the winter but the gingerbread shop is open all year round. They don't get much custom in the shop in the winter but they do a lot of mail order business so they stay open. I was the only customer and there was nobody serving behind the counter when I walked in but the door rang a bell and a young guy breezed in from the bakery at the back of the shop almost immediately. He smiled broadly at me and with not a trace of a Westmorland accent asked “What can I do for you sir?” I love it when someone calls me Sir – I've never felt like a Sir and it feels all wrong but I like it anyway. I looked at him and returned his smile in return for the 'sir'. I asked for six small gift packs of gingerbread and he quickly and efficiently wrapped them, bagged them and handed them across the counter. I gave him cash, not sure if they would take plastic.

There's supposed to be a sixth sense – a 'gaydar' that gay people have that helps them identify other gay people. I think mine is cross-wired. I seem to be able to spot a lesbian pretty reliably but I usually can't tell a gay man from a lamp post. And identifying lesbians doesn't help my social life at all.

Anyway there in the gingerbread shop my gaydar was bleeping. This guy the other side of the counter was younger than me, probably early twenties, and about 5ft 8, slightly built, almost delicate, with dark brown straight hair tucked under one of those white mesh Trilby hats that food handlers have to wear. He had clear pale skin and dark eyes with a real cheeky sparkle in them and I think he was enjoying that I was looking at him the way I was. I have to say I took an instant liking to him with his infectious smile and go-for-it attitude. Not that he would be my type, mind you – I don't go for the pale and delicate type. Cute, but not my type. Anyway, hoping that my gaydar wasn't misbehaving I said hello.

It turned out his name's Stephen, he's a local lad who's lived down south for the last six years and he's at Bristol Uni studying nursing. His family own the shop and he spends most of his holidays helping out. He had to be back in Bristol by Monday for the start of the next term. I didn't find out if he's gay. Didn't matter anyway – he was going home Monday and I was going home Tuesday. No time to make friends.

I remembered I had to catch up with the family and buy my postcards so I grabbed my purchase and shot out the door, banging my head painfully as I went. So Stephen wasn't the only one who left an impression on me.

We bought cards and returned home in time for a light lunch. After that we all wrote our cards, then Mother and Dad wanted to nap, Claire settled to reading her book and I was sent back to the village to post the cards. I walked straight to the Post Office and bought stamps. Then I sat on a bench on the edge of the village green sticking stamps to the cards and watching some kids playing soccer. When I'd stamped all the cards I walked around the green to the pillarbox outside the post office and posted them.

Just as I was turning to head homewards I noticed a young guy come out from between two shops with a sack truck, wearing the brown cord trousers that I'd seen earlier in the day. The walking boots had gone, replaced by trainers, and instead of the waxed cotton jacket he wore a cream shetland jersey with a cable-knit pattern that showed a broad muscular chest off to its best advantage. This had to be my shepherd on the hillside or his twin. He was absorbed in his work, unloading sacks of potatoes from the delivery van and taking them around the back of the grocery store, and I took a moment to stare. Couldn't help it, actually, he was so beautiful. He had to be about my age, late twenties or possibly as much as 30. His blond hair, accentuated by a light tan, curled tightly across his forehead above his cute blond eyebrows. His eyes, focussed on the pathway as he manoeuvred his laden sack truck, were bright blue and deep set, above a straight cute nose, a small mouth with well-defined pink lips and a chin covered in blond stubble. He moved with grace and power, clearly having no trouble with the load on the truck. I checked my gaydar; not a peep out of it. Never mind, he was still nice to look at.

I looked away before (I hope) anyone noticed me staring, and headed homewards wondering who this guy was and why he would be up on the hillside at dawn minding sheep, and down in the village in the afternoon carting vegetables.

When I got back to the cottage Claire met me at the door and warned me to keep quiet. Mother's headache had developed into a migraine and she can't stand sudden noises when she gets like that. The meal out we'd planned was scrapped, and I went out to Ambleside to get a Chinese take-away for those of us with an appetite. We ate around the telly, with the sound down so mother wouldn't be disturbed upstairs.

Day 2

The next morning Mother was not better. She and Dad decided to cut the holiday short and return and Claire decided she would drive them. Which left me to enjoy the rest of the holiday as best I could alone. I was going to get to turn the rest of the holiday into a photography-fest.

We spent the morning packing and by noon I was waving them off in the car. Once they'd gone I had to decide how to use the rest of the day so I started by walking into the village to the pub, looking for some lunch. I'm a bit shy and don't really like pubs, but I was hungry so I took a deep breath and walked into the Fallen Poet. I promised myself I'd ask someone how it got that strange name, and looked around. Quite a few people were there, and there was a hubbub of chat. It was a smallish pub with one bar and a lot of tables around which groups of people were sat drinking and talking. I went up to the bar and ordered a bottle of Budweiser and a steak and kidney pie before finding a table to myself in a corner from where I could observe the room quietly.

My food arrived, and I tucked into my pie and enjoyed it. When I pushed my empty plate away I took another look around the room. It had filled since I arrived and there were now other people eating. A group of locals drinking around a large table across the room caught my attention when they burst out laughing about something and to my surprise I saw my shepherd from the day before among them. I have no idea what they were talking about but it gave me a great opportunity to watch discreetly as he laughed and joked with his companions. I wondered what it would be like to be a part of that social circle. Who were these people? What sort of lives did they lead? Did I have anything in common with them? What would it be like to sit next to him and brush that rebellious curl of hair back off his forehead for him?...

I realised I was staring and forced my eyes away, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Hopefully not but I decided it was time to leave so I finished my beer and walked home. The cottage seemed colder and less cozy than it usually does and I watched some television and turned in early.

Day 3

I woke to sunlight streaming through the window because I'd forgotten to close the curtains, and immediately I knew something was wrong. There was an eerie silence. I got up and squinted out of the window at a surreal landscape of white on white. There must have been a very heavy snowfall all night because everything was coated with a thick layer of snow. Maybe a foot deep. The view was absolutely beautiful and I ran to dress, pulling jeans over the boxers I'd been wearing in bed, and grabbing a clean white T and a fawn check shirt to go over the top. I ran downstairs and grabbed my quilted ski jacket and my camera rucksack and rushed to the front door – which I found I couldn't open. I had to crawl out of a window to clear the snow before the door would open.

It didn't take long to decide that I needed to make the best of the snow so I spent the morning striding around trying to capture the beauty of it without trampling the pristine snow too badly. It was well past lunchtime when I noticed I was hungry, and I was by now beginning to feel my toes getting painfully cold. So I set up a brisk pace to get down to the village and by about 3pm I was in the Fallen Poet, leaning into the roaring fire along with several other guys trying to warm the extremities.

The atmosphere in the pub was quite different than the previous day. As soon as I walked in I asked the barman for a bowl of soup. Among the customers there was no laughing and joking, and there were far fewer of them – in fact to my surprise looking around me the five other customers in the pub were all guys about my age. It could have been the YMCA. No, perhaps not.

My soup arrived with a big fresh bread roll and plenty of butter and a fresh green salad too. I ate hungrily and soon began to feel warm again.

There was a tension between the men sharing the fire with me. There wasn't much talking but occasionally they'd look at each other with an anxious expression and I was curious. I'm shy enough to keep myself to myself normally, but I was sitting shoulder to shoulder with these guys and I felt I had to either talk to them or move away to give them space. So I asked:

“What's going on, then?”

I didn't know who to speak to so I just threw my question into the fire to see who would pick it up. The guy to my right answered me

“There are two climbers missing on Helvellyn.”

He went silent again and I wondered for a moment if I should let it drop. He clearly didn't want to talk. But something made me try again.

“Hi,” I said. “I'm Joel”.

It was a palpable moment before he sat upright and turned and smiled.

“Pleased to meet you, I'm Dave. That's Tom, beside him is Andy and the goof on the end is Brad. We're the Patterdale Mountain Rescue Team and we're waiting to hear if we're needed.”

So now I understood the tension. Helvellyn is the highest mountain in the Lake District and although I've climbed many of the hills over the years I'd never tackled Helvellyn in the summer let alone in January.

“Whereabouts are these guys?” I asked.

“All we know is they left their hotel in Ambleside yesterday morning and didn't arrive back last night. They'd told the receptionist they were going to tackle the mountain and no-one's heard from them since. We don't know if they've got decent emergency kit with them or even if they've got a mobile phone.”

“So what happens next?”

It was Tom who answered this time.

“We wait. Maybe they'll come down under their own steam – it happens sometimes. Maybe they have got a mobile and they'll have the sense to use it. Maybe somebody will spot them on the slope and call in. We haven't actually received a distress call so we don't act unless we do. But we've got another problem just now, we're below strength.”

Brad joined in. “The team is twelve men and we need eight to make up a rescue team. But we've got several guys out of action at the moment and we can't get hold of two more which brings us down to six which isn't enough. Even if we're called, we can't go with only six, it's the rule.”

“Where's your sixth man?” I asked, counting again the five men with me.

“Gary's in the other room talking to the military base about using their helicopter. He's our team leader. I don't think even Gary'll be able to persuade them to fly the helicopter for us though. For one thing we haven't had a distress call, and for another, the forecast is for more snow. Apparently we're going to be in a blizzard by nightfall.”

I thought back to the dark clouds I'd seen building earlier in the day. Since then I hadn't really looked into the sky. What a townie.

I looked into their faces. These guys were brave and well-motivated, that much showed on their faces. And they were here ready to risk their lives to help somebody out. Somebody who had probably got themselves into a mess through their own foolhardiness or incompetence. I was filled with admiration for them.

I don't know to this day what made me speak up then. Like I've said, I'm shy. I'm also not particularly brave and I'm certainly not an experienced climber but I'm fit and healthy and I've got good stamina from all the cycling I do around the country lanes in Surrey. So I said it:

“I'll come with you if it would help.”

They all turned to look me in the eye and Tom reached across and shook me by the hand. “Well said, Joel and thanks. But we really need the guys we've trained with. If we can't get hold of them it'll be up to Gary to decide what to do about it. But I'll tell him you've offered if you're sure?”

“Yes I'd like that. I'll hang around until you hear one way or the other.”

The room went quiet again as we all went back to our thoughts. What had I let myself in for, I asked myself? I was way out of my depth and I realised I could get myself in serious trouble for opening my big mouth. So I calmed myself down remembering that they were not going to take me up on my offer. Relax, Joel, breathe.

Minutes passed and the place began to feel like a dentist's waiting room. Then a door opened beside the bar and Tom got up and began talking quietly to the man who walked in. The two walked across the room towards me and Tom called out to me:

“Joel, this is Gary, our team leader. I've just told him you've volunteered to join the team.”

I stood up and turned, raising my hand to shake the hand of the team leader. Our eyes met and for a moment I froze. Here was my shepherd again. He was shaking my hand but I wasn't shaking his back. Pulling myself together I gave his hand what I hoped was a manly grip and shook it once and then dropped it. I was still looking into his eyes, piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through me. A frown passed over his face and he turned away, leaving me gaping stupidly. I looked down at my hand which was tingling slightly. What had just happened? Nothing, I told myself – but I couldn't quite believe that.

So had I just joined the team or not? I had no idea. A phone rang. Gary spun his broad shoulders and headed back into the back room. A moment later the ringing stopped and the room went silent.

We didn't have long to wait. Gary cannoned through the door and barked out the news

“There are two of them. They're fifty metres below Striding Edge near the summit of Helvellyn. One has a probable broken leg, the other is staying with him. He's used his mobile phone but why the hell he left it till now I don't know. They're both okay but they can't move and the weather's deteriorating fast. We're going.”

He was looking like thunder and I felt I should be somewhere else. I was an intruder and these guys had a job to do that I could have no part of and would only be in the way. I turned to pick up my rucksack. I could go back to the cottage and sit by the fire and wait for the storm to pass. But now Gary was in front of me again and speaking.

“Have you any experience on mountains?”

“I've climbed Scafell and Ben Nevis but in good summer conditions. I've never climbed Helvellyn and I've never climbed any Munro in winter.” I knew I must give him accurate information – no good trying to talk up my abilities.

“You look like you've got good clothing. Have you any emergency equipment?”

“I have an emergency foil blanket in my rucksack, a sit mat and whistle, and my mobile phone. That's all.”

“How strong are you?” He grabbed my upper arm and squeezed. Through two jerseys I don't know what he could tell but I do have strong arms so I flexed my biceps against his grip. One of those blond eyebrows lifted momentarily before he let me go.

“Okay,” he muttered, “you're in. It's against the rules but I don't see that we have any choice. I want you right by me always – and whatever I tell you, you do, immediately and without question. If you fall behind or in any way hold us up, we'll leave you behind. Have you got that?”

I nodded without speaking. I was being shown quickly and brutally that this was for real and I would need to shape up to work with these guys. A shiver ran down my spine despite the heat from the fire and I knew I was frightened.

Then suddenly things started happening very fast. “Follow me,” called Gary, and I followed the whole team as we filed out to the back room where Gary had taken his phone call. On one wall were a line of lockers and on the opposite wall was an Ordnance Survey walker's map of the southern lakes with Helvellyn at the top right corner looking big and ominous even as a series of lines on a map.

The other team members were ignoring me completely now, so Gary opened a locker and pulled out a rucksack. He passed it to me saying: “Empty this and re-load it so you know exactly what's in it and where.” I did as I was told, carefully opening the main compartment and the zipped side pockets and finding maps, compass, GPS receiver, torch, whistle, a folding shovel, a foil emergency blanket like mine, a sleeping bag and some clothes – socks, underwear and two jerseys. I wondered why I would need to change my underwear up a mountain in a blizzard.

Something was definitely up – the team members were talking happily together, laughing and joking, but I got the impression they were talking to Gary only when necessary, and no-one even acknowledged that I was there. Once everyone had their equipment, we barrelled out of the little room into the yard at the back of the pub and into a battered old Land Rover. Tom took the driver's seat and we were off up the road. We came to the foot of Helvellyn and turned off the main road onto a narrow lane and the Land Rover's knobbly tyres struggled to grip on the packed snow. Tom parked the Land Rover at a point where the lane widened a little and we started up the mountain on foot.

I just followed the man ahead. It was clear that these guys knew exactly what they were doing. I noticed that the bad atmosphere I thought there had been in the pub had definitely dissolved now. Brad tapped me on the shoulder as we set off and grinned which I took as a friendly sign, and Andy smiled at me and asked:

“You ready?” and when I nodded he led the way along a footpath that I couldn't even see because of the snow.

The light was beginning to fail and Gary was up ahead talking on a walkie-talkie. As we walked I called out to Brad ahead of me and asked who Gary was talking to.

“That's Stephen back at base. We're lucky to have him. He used to be a regular on the team but he's left the village to go studying medicine at university and he'll be gone again in a day or so. We couldn't have done this without him.”

I thought for a moment.

“Stephen? You don't mean the Grasmere Gingerbread Stephen?”

“That's the man.”

I smiled.

By the time we reached the treacherous Striding Edge it was snowing again, but up here it was snowing sideways. This was the forecast blizzard: the snow was being driven horizontally into our faces making progress twice as difficult. Striding Edge is a narrow ridge sloping away sharply both sides leading up to the very summit of Helvellyn. There's scarcely safe foothold to walk along it single-file in good conditions, and if you lose your grip and slip off the ridge you fall about 200 feet before the slope eases and you can get a purchase. It's a deathtrap, and what these two climbers thought they were doing on it in these conditions I couldn't imagine.

The wind was now howling in our ears, the light was failing fast and the snow was falling thicker which made visibility a further problem. Eventually Andy called out and moved forward quickly. When we caught up we found him gently moving his hands along the right leg of a young man whose face was grey and pinched and who looked only half conscious. He looked in a bad way and I wondered how we were going to get him off the mountain – it was going to be hard enough getting ourselves off. The wounded lad's companion was a girl who couldn't have been more than 16 and was shaking and crying and getting in Andy's way. Gary called us to him and everyone except Andy and the girl gathered around. Shouting, he told us the military had agreed to scramble their helicopter, that it would be with us in ten minutes and would take the wounded man on a stretcher and five others off the mountain. Two of us couldn't go in the copter, and Gary told the team that he and I would stay and walk off the hill.

In no time at all the machine loomed above us and lit us up in its searchlight. The pilot seemed quite unaffected by the snowstorm and dropped his machine right beside us. We loaded the stretcher into the craft, then Andy climbed in next to the patient, and Brad Tom and Dave got in next, and Dave gave the girl his hand helping her up into the machine. Gary and I were left to wave to the big chopper as it rose up into the dusk and became quickly invisible through the snowstorm. I looked at Gary who didn't seem at all perturbed at our predicament.

“What now?” I asked.

“Take my hand and don't let go,” he ordered. I bit back a protest – it was hard enough making yourself heard in the storm without me questioning his orders. So like a little child I put my hand in his and trotted along behind him as best I could.

I could see his broad shoulders pushing through the storm in front of me but not much more. In one hand he was holding mine, in his other hand he held his GPS receiver. I occasionally caught a glimpse of the illuminated display as he moved onwards. The storm was worsening, though, and I felt sure we couldn't get all the way down off the mountain safely in these conditions.

All of a sudden Gary stopped and crouched down behind a dry stone wall, sheltering from the worst of the blizzard. I joined him hunkered down in the lee of the wall. He called, “Give me your emergency blanket and sleeping bag and follow me!” so I swung my rucksack off my shoulders and passed him both items. He took them from me and disappeared through a hole in the wall into what looked like a dark cave.

I crouched and half-crawled through the hole and found myself in a small square room formed from four sides of dry stone walling about 3ft high and a crazy roof made of logs, corrugated iron sheets and turf far too low to stand under. Parts of the roof had long since given way so the snow had piled up below the holes but there was enough roof left to form an effective shelter from the storm in one corner of the little room. Here Gary had spread out the foil blanket on the ground and he motioned for me to sit next to him on it.

“This is an old sheepfold the shepherds used to use in winter. We'll stay here for the night, and in the morning the storm may have blown itself out, and we can walk back down easily. Are you alright?” He didn't need to shout, the noise of the wind and snow was less inside the ramshackle old structure.

“I'm okay but I'm getting cold!” I replied. He nodded and I thought he was about to speak again, but instead he slid his rucksack off his back and pulled the walkie-talkie I'd seen him use earlier from a mesh pocket.

“Gary to base. Can you hear me?”

“Base here. Clear signal. Are you alright?” the tinny loudspeaker distorted the voice and Gary turned down the volume a little.

“We're fine. We're at Donald's Pen. We'll stay here until the storm blows out or until daylight and we'll walk down then. I'll call you again at 8am.”

“Okay Gary, take care and we'll see you at the Poet when you get down.”

“Good one, Stephen. 'Bye!”

Gary waited a moment in case there was a further reply and then turned the radio off. I'd felt considerable relief hearing the voice on the radio and knowing that we were not out of touch with civilisation, and now that lifeline was cut off again I felt very alone. I looked across to Gary and was surprised to see that he looked strained. The sparkle had gone out of his eyes and he looked spent. He saw me looking at him and frowned.

“We'll have to ward off hypothermia. Take off your boots.”

I was getting used to obeying orders without question because I took off my boots and he did the same. Then he really took me by surprise.

“Come closer,” he commanded. I shuffled across the foil until we were sat next to each other. He picked up the sleeping bag and fed his feet into the neck of the bag. “You too,” he commanded and I put my feet in. Now he slid the bag up our legs until he couldn't get it any higher. “Hold me close!” he said. When I didn't respond, trying to make sense of what he'd just said, he leaned across me and wrapped me in a bear-hug. His mouth just an inch or two from my ear, he spoke through gritted teeth. “Hold me close, I said.”

I put my arms around him and there we were, hugging each other in a blizzard in the dark on the slopes of Helvellyn.

Once we were wrapped together, Gary wriggled the sleeping bag higher and higher until we were fully in the bag. He tightened the drawstring at the top a little and pulled my now half-empty rucksack under the sleeping bag opening so we could use it as a pillow.

“Are you comfy?” he asked. “Mm, yes I guess,” I replied. A broad grin was spreading across my face, I couldn't help it and I knew he couldn't see so I didn't try to suppress it. I closed my eyes.

“It's the best way to keep warm when you've got to sleep. Otherwise hypothermia can take over and you go to sleep and never wake up. This way we benefit from each other's body heat. You don't mind, do you?”

“No, since you put it that way.” I said, resisting the urge to giggle.

“Okay, so get some sleep. We'll see what the weather's doing in the morning.”

Despite my exhaustion, I didn't fall asleep straight away. Well I've never been in such a situation before – hugging a cute studly guy in a sleeping bag in a blizzard up a mountain. So I lay there hoping I wasn't keeping him awake. I thought he'd gone to sleep, his breathing became very regular. But a few minutes later he spoke.

“So, you're gay, right?”

“Whaa..?” I did my rabbit-caught-in-headlights impression.

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Forget I asked that. Bad idea, considering our position just now. Just don't freak out on me okay? I'm sorry.”

When I felt it was safe to try speaking, I tried a question.

“Er... What made you think I was gay?”

“Well, I've done this lots of times in training with most of the guys on the team and I find straight men get freaked by it and they go very rigid. They can't relax hugging another man like this. But when I hugged you, you hugged me back. That's cool – it's what you're supposed to do – maximum body-to-body contact to preserve heat. But I just hoped you might be gay. Up to now, I'm the only gay guy on the team and it gets a bit lonely seeing the guys with their wives and girlfriends, or listening to some of the stories they tell. But I'm cool – I'm sorry, I won't bring the subject up again.”

This was a lot to take in and I took my time over it. Gary had just told me he was gay and he hoped I was gay too. I on the other hand had as good as denied it. Typical. I'd have to try to put that right.

“Well, I'm gay too.” I almost whispered. But he heard me. Cheek to cheek, stubble to stubble, my mouth was so close to his ear he couldn't help but hear me. And he hugged me a little tighter. Neither of us said anything more until first he and then I fell asleep.

Day 4

I awoke very slowly, regaining consciousness bit by bit.

It took a while before I realised where I was and how I got there. I raised my head a little, wincing from the pain of a stiff neck. I looked through bleary eyes at two bright blue jewels looking back at me.

“You awake, then?”

“Yup, just about.”

“Okay, time to get up then.” Between us we shifted around in the sleeping bag and sat up, shucking the bag off us and then shuffling it under our bums and then kicked the last of it down off our legs. We looked across at each other and grinned.

Gary had a fine growth of stubble over his chin. Like the rest of his hair it was fine and blond and he looked very kissable like that. His hair stuck up all over the place, a curl matted against his temple. I acted on impulse and reached across to brush it back for him – and stopped myself just in time. What was I thinking of? We'd established we were both gay but he'd given me no reason to assume I could take liberties with him. He didn't seem even to like me much of the time. I needed to wake up a bit more and get my normal reserve back in place properly.

Remembering something from the night before, I paused a moment, and waited to catch Gary's eye before saying quietly

“About last night – about me being gay. You need to know… I'm not 'out' at all. Not to anyone.”

Gary returned my look with a slight frown.

“Not even your family?”

“Not even my sister and she knows me better than anyone. I'm sorry, I must seem such a wuss, but I've not long been out to myself and I'm not ready to brave the big wide world. Are you out?”

“I'm 'the only gay in the village', and it doesn't seem to be much of a problem. I haven't made an announcement or anything but I'm pretty sure all the guys on the team have worked it out and they're cool.”

“Thanks. For telling me.”

“Thank you. Am I the first person you've come out to, then?

“I guess. Yes.”

“I'm honoured.”

He turned away and a moment later he was talking into the walkie talkie radio.

“Hi, Stephen, 8am as promised. All's well here. The conditions are good, we're both fine and we'll be down by mid-morning. See you in the Poet?”

“Okay the Poet it is.”

“Bye”.

Gary turned the radio off.

“Do you live alone?”

“No I live with my dog. But otherwise, yes.”

“So, no partner then.”

“No.”

I thought best to let the subject drop.

“So, what's with the weird pub name?”

“The Fallen Poet? Haven't you heard the story? It goes back centuries to the Lakeland poets. Are you into poetry at all?”

I'd majored in English language and literature but somehow with a few exceptions poetry has passed me by.

“Not much. The First World War poets wrote some great stuff, but wandering lonely as a cloud isn't really my thing.”

“Don't say that too loudly around here – we live off the tourism that results from that field of daffodils! When Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey became very famous, lots of other would-be poets came here to try their luck. There was this one young guy – I think he was still in his teens – who walked up one of the fells in search of inspiration, alone with his faithful dog. He went missing and it was weeks later that his broken body, or rather his skeleton, was found at the bottom of a cliff where he'd fallen. His dog was still guarding the body and wouldn't let anyone near him. That's the end of the story that gets told to the tourists but the locals add that the dog was suspiciously fatter than it had been.”

“Eugh, that's gross!”

“I'm not saying how much of it is true. But there are several famous paintings of the dead poet and his dog. One is on the wall in one of the rooms in Dove Cottage where Wordsworth lived. Have you been there?”

I had, several times, and said so.

“So – you're here on holiday with your family?”

“Nope. They were here, but they went home yesterday and I stayed on.”

“Cool.”

I folded the survival blanket, taking care to fold the underside in on itself so that the carpet of sheep droppings squashed against it wouldn't soil anything else in my rucksack. An item for disposal once we got down the hill.

We set off down the mountain. I knew I was going to enjoy the walk down so much more than the trek up the previous evening in the storm. On a whim I reached for Gary's hand and held it, matching his pace and walking side by side with him.

“You did say you're not out, right?”

“Yes, but out here on our own I feel liberated. Do you mind?” I pulled my hand away, suddenly unsure if I'd annoyed him. I didn't want him to think I was coming on to him, just a friendly gesture, really.

“It's fine by me, but we're not alone. There are probably a couple of telescopes in the village trained on us right now. You see, the team doesn't go off duty until the last man is down off the hill and that's us. So they'll be keeping a check on us until we return.”

I felt my face turn beetroot. I looked sideways at Gary and we both burst out laughing together. It was a good moment.

We reached the narrow lane where we'd parked the Land Rover, which was still there but covered in snow. From the back we took two shovels and cleared a path for the vehicle and then jumped in. It started immediately and Gary wound the heater up full as he set off towards the village. Talking was easier in the cab.

“What was it with the guys on the team last night? What were they so cross about?”

“Sorry that was my fault. Don't worry it was nothing to do with you.”

“Well it sure felt like it. If looks could kill I wouldn't have made it as far as the Land Rover.”

“Sorry about that. They're all good guys and good friends. I'm the team leader and spot decisions are mine to make. When I decided to take you as our sixth team member I was breaking the rules – you've had no training and we don't take untrained men on jobs like this. It seems that I was the only one in favour of that particular decision and the guys were just letting their view be known.”

“What the hell right did they have to judge me unfit? They didn't know zit about me. And you're making excuses for them!”

“No, no, it's not like that, really. No-one has anything against you I promise. Look, I think they all thought I invited you along just because I wanted to get into your trousers. Damn, I've said it now.”

I was staring at him and for the first time he couldn't meet my eye. I was noticing his long eyelashes and the way they fluttered a little in the breeze as he tried to look away without turning his back. He gave up and looked back at me and I laughed at him. A moment's shock showed on his face and then he joined me and we laughed together as we drove homewards.

We pulled into the yard at the back of the Fallen Poet and walked into the pub through the back door. Waiting for us was Stephen with a big grin and a thump on the back for Gary, and a warm handshake for me.

“Hi there, good to meet you again!”

“Hi, Stephen, I'm Joel.”

“Yes I know. We've met, haven't we? Get out of your wet things and come into the snug. Most of the lads are here. What'll you have?”

“Er, mine's a pint of best, thanks!”

“And I'll have my usual!” Gary chimed in.

Our arrival brought the team buzzing around us with lots of handshakes and back slaps and greetings. No trace of animosity towards me, they all seemed to consider me one of the team and I felt a warm glow of belonging – something I haven't often experienced. Once we'd told our story, gradually they left us to recover and gravitated back to the fire and their drinks.

Gary and I happily sat silent together relaxing. I knew I wanted a hot bath and a bed pretty soon, but it could wait a while so I could enjoy the moment a little longer.

Stephen arrived with drinks and he drew up a stool close to us and the settle, moving the little table aside so he could scoot his stool really close. Leaning closer still, and with a wicked lopside grin he threw me into panic with

“So, spill the beans!”

“Sorry?”

“Spill the beans! Come on, I saw you two lovebirds on the hill earlier. You're an item, right? So is it the real thing? Tell me!”

Gary scowled suddenly.

“Stephen shut up!” he forced through his teeth. “Who else was watching the hill?”

“Just little old me this time – we're short-handed, remember? Don't get your hair off, your secret's safe with me, though why I shouldn't shout it from the housetops escapes me. You've been miserable far too long and I think it’s fabulous news. What's so hush-hush?”

“You wouldn't understand. Look, we only just met, nothing happened, we're taking it slow. Joel's not out at home so you have to give him his privacy. Don't worry – if and when there's anything at all to tell, we'll tell you first. Just pipe down, and try not to look so excited. You'll pee your pants!”

... which seemed to work. Stephen gave us an exaggerated wink and moved off, tidying some empty glasses and then joining the increasingly noisy crowd around the fire.

I was speechless. I didn't know where to look and I was furious with Gary. It had taken all my courage to confess to him I'm gay and I'd only done it because I thought there was some kind of bond between us and that he'd respect my confidence. And now the moment we return to civilisation he casually announces to this … gossip-monger … that I'm 'not out at home'. So, I felt, that was it. My life was ruined. The life I'd built up for myself tumbled around my ears as I imagined so many people I cared for hearing from some gossip or other that Joel's gay. And I'd never be able to look them in the face again.

There are some people who I know and care for, I know could never be accepting of me being gay. Others of my friends and family have no particular problem with gay people, but I could never hold my head up in their company when they knew that I'd been lying to them for years. That's why once I finally got my own head straightened out a little while ago and accepted that I am gay and that's not going to change, I found I couldn't go any further and tell anyone else.

The more I thought about what Gary had just done the more angry I got. As if it wasn't bad enough being outed that way, he'd also casually claimed a relationship that wasn't there. We weren't 'taking it slow' – there was nothing going on between us. Just an acquaintance which might progress to something else, or might not.

I glanced in Gary's direction. Real distress showed on his face and he whispered

“Joel ...”

I fired a look as dirty as I could muster and spat,“Go to hell!” and walked out the front door into the snow.

I hadn't gone five yards across the car park when Gary caught up with me and, tugging my elbow, swung me round to face him.

“Joel, listen.”

“What? You think it's alright to broadcast other people's secrets? Who do you think you are? And what, exactly, are we 'taking slow'? Are you planning to let me know at some point? You're just full of shit, you know that?”

“I'm sorry, but it's not what you think. You've got to understand Stephen. Joel, won't you just listen to what I have to say?”

Perhaps, just perhaps, I'd over-reacted. I do that sometimes. So I breathed deep a moment.

“Okay, talk.”

“Joel, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, but I was as surprised as you that Stephen saw us – I guess he must have seen us holding hands on the hill. He's excitable and he knows I'm out and he's pleased for us so he was all ready to tell everyone. He had kept quiet until speaking to us first, but he wasn't expecting there would be a problem and I had to stop him quickly. I had no time to think but I know Stephen. He loves a good romance and I knew if he smelled one he wouldn't give up until he found it, so I gave him just enough to shut him up. I'm sorry, perhaps I could have handled it better, but I panicked. I was only trying to protect you. If I hadn't said something Stephen would have told all the team we're going out together. You didn't want that did you?”

“How do you know he still won't?”

“Stephen's not like that, really. I know he's a bit over the top but he's not a gossip. You'll see that when you get to know him better. Now he knows it's not public he won't mention it even to his pillow. He's been a good friend to me and he wouldn't do anything to compromise my happiness. You heard what he said – he's happy for us. I want you to be happy for us too – can you do that?”

The anxious, haunted look in those eyes of his melted my resolve and I knew I'd blown up over nothing again. So I apologised.

“I'm sorry. It's my fault I should have trusted you. There's no harm done if Stephen can keep quiet. He does seem like a nice lad. It's just ... I'm pioneering here. So much has happened in the last 24 hours that's never happened to me. It's a little frightening that another human being knows my innermost secret – I'm laid bare to someone else's gaze. And now there's two of you. It'll take some getting used to. I'm sorry I freaked out. I've calmed down now. Thanks for chasing after me. Can you give me a lift home?”

“I'll do better than that.”

“Huh?”

“I'll give you a lift to my home.”

“Are you kidnapping me?”

“Would you like me to?”

“Hmm, I think so. Does it hurt?”

“Not unless you want it to.”

“Okay, whatever.”

“Give me a moment to make a phone call and we'll go.”

We walked back together to the pub, and through the public bar to the locker room at the back. Gary picked up the phone on the table in the corner, and I went to the locker and collected my camera rucksack and swung it over one shoulder and turned to wait for Gary, who was talking into the phone.

“Thanks, Uncle Terry. It's just we've only just got off the mountain and I'm whacked. I could do with a lie in tomorrow. I'll make it up to you. Love to all. G'bye!”

Gary put the phone down. Looking across to me, he explained

“Just clearing it to have tomorrow off work.”

“You're a shepherd, aren't you?”

“I just fill in for my uncle. I do the early patrol up over the hill to check on his flocks most days. It keeps me fit.”

“I've seen you. I've got a photo of you up there”

Gary looked a question at me and I got a strong impression that if we'd still been in the bar he would have asked me about it. But we were striding out through the door and he said nothing.

We bundled into the old Land Rover and Gary drove a short distance to a large elegant mansion house in extensive grounds with a view over the village and beyond it to the lake.

“That? No, that's not mine I live here!” Gary grinned, parking the big Land Rover in one of the four garages in a separate building to one side of the house, slamming the garage door and pointing to a small doorway on the side of the garage block. He opened the door with a key and swung it open, gesturing to me to go inside. Excited barking came from above and a ball of golden fur cannoned into me as I crossed the doorway.

“Don't mind her, that's Candy my flatmate. Go on, Candy, go stretch your legs!”

The dog bounded off down the drive and I wondered if she'd be safe near the road.

Gary noticed my look of concern. “She won't go outside the grounds”.

The rooms were clean, amazingly tidy for a bachelor residence and comfortably furnished. In one corner of the living room stood an artist's easel and behind it a stack of half a dozen canvasses leant with their faces against the wall.

“You're an artist too?” I asked.

“Like I think I mentioned, I'm in the business of fleecing the grockles, and that's one of the better ways.”

“Can I see?”

“No!” he said a little too quickly. Wondering, I decided to ignore him, and tipped the first canvas forward and peered over to see it. I was just deciding it was a rather well-executed view of Grasmere from the viewpoint at the south end known as the terrace, when Gary shot between me and the picture, forcing me to step back a little, releasing the picture to settle back against its neighbour.

“Please?” he looked anxious and I didn't want to press the point. I thought the picture I'd seen was rather good but if he didn't want me to see it that was okay. I don't like people seeing my photos if they're not the ones I'm happiest with. “Sorry” I said.

His face relaxed and he smiled. I was lost.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Actually no, thanks.” I smiled at him. I couldn't help it. “But I would love a bath. Is such a thing possible?”

“Hmm, sorry, no. Don't have one of those. But there's a serviceable shower in the bathroom. I'll get you fresh towels and you can use all my stuff.”

In the bathroom I pulled my clothes off letting them drop to the floor and then stepped into the shower. It had a control panel on the wall and I struggled with it for a moment before I got the water to a useful temperature. I found shower gel and lathered myself all over, enjoying the clean, fresh smell of soapy skin. Then I just stood under the shower head and felt the water beating on my face and chest. Wonderful.

I became vaguely aware of a draught around the ankles which was unexpected, but I didn't turn around until I heard movement close by. I cleared the water from my eyes with one hand and reflexively moved my other to cover my privates when I saw that Gary was in the room, dressed in a robe, gathering my clothes from the floor.

“You don't mind, do you? I'm putting a batch in the wash and I thought you might like me to do yours while I'm at it.”

Gary didn't seem to find it odd to be discussing laundry with a naked and dripping man, but I found myself painfully self-conscious. I hadn't showered in the presence of another man since I was 18 and finished boarding school and since then I had grown to value my privacy at such times. So I was blushing furiously. But Gary wasn't retreating.

“Turn around a minute.” he commanded and because of the matter-of-fact way he said it, to my own amazement I just turned around. I felt his hand gently stroke my buttock. I jumped and spun around angrily. He stopped me by putting both hands on my shoulders and turning me back around firmly, and rather nervously I stood in the shower with the water playing over my stomach and genitals while my bum pointed directly at Gary who stroked my buttock again, moving on down the outside of my thigh. Very sexy, except that those particular parts of me were aching quite badly.

“You're quite badly bruised there. How did that happen?”

I'm not sure, if I'm strictly honest, if I was relieved to find his actions had no lascivious intent but I hope I was. I didn't know for sure how I got the bruises but twisting around I could see they were big, blue and angry. Probably from lying on stones in the sheepfold last night, and I said as much.

“I've got some ointment for that, when you come out I'll put some on for you. I'm not sure if it's any good but it won't hurt.”

A few minutes later I was lying face down on the living room couch and Gary was smoothing some evil-smelling goo over my bum and my leg. He was touching me gently but firmly, following the curves of my body with his hand as he spread the ointment which felt cool and soothing. I felt little shivers running across my skin at his touch. This was a completely new experience for me - I'd never felt so intensely aware of tactile sensations. Finished, he slapped my bottom and headed for the bathroom himself. Just as well he left the room because I couldn't have turned over in front of him without embarrassing myself.

“Get dressed – you'll have to borrow my clothes. Just take anything you find in the bedroom.” I heard him call from the bathroom.

I found underwear, jeans, a button-down check shirt and a jersey that fitted me well enough and by the time Gary appeared out of the shower wearing a towel I was fully dressed.

It turned out Gary had some bruises too, some up his side that I could see clearly above his towel so I got to do the thing with the ointment. And for the first time I got to see Gary without his clothes. It was as much as I could do to spread the ointment in roughly the right areas, my hands were shaking so much. The way his shoulders were defined by muscles that flexed each time he shifted his position on the couch. The way the short hairs on the back of his head gradually turned to soft fur as the line of his hair ran down his neck to his back. The way his tanned back curved down to his waist and then back up to his buttocks, small, pale lobes of perfect form and symmetry, with a tiny dimple just above them either side of the base of his spine. I wanted to kiss each little feature of his form but instead I spread smelly goo onto it with shaky fingers. He had a nasty bruise on the outside of his thigh just above the knee so I got to focus on his legs a little. He had long, slim legs with an even coating of blond fur which showed up against the tan on his calves but almost disappeared on his upper thighs which were not so tanned. His feet had long elegant toes, each with a little topknot of blond hair on the top. I wanted to take him to bed like a teddy bear. He was lying there accepting my ministrations and looking 100% huggable. My self-control was taking a beating and I wasn't sure how long it could hold out.

Perhaps unwittingly Gary came to my rescue by asking, “What would you like to do for a meal?”

“Can we eat here?”

“Sure, if you're prepared to brave my cooking. I'm sure I've got something I could rustle up.”

“Chez Gary it is, then. Shall I lay the table or shall we put a DVD in and eat on our laps?”

“You see what you can find in the video rack and I'll start the meal.”

I was looking through his collection of old films when he called out, “Would spaghetti do? I don't seem to have much else in at the moment. I'll have to do a shop run tomorrow.”

“Fine,” I said. I was really hungry and I wasn't going to be fussy about what I ate.

So we watched Casablanca together on the sofa and ate an excellent spaghetti carbonara. When we'd both finished and slid our trays to one side on the floor, I complimented the chef who admitted he'd got the sauce from a jar but claimed the Chardonnay we opened to go with it was made from grapes trodden by his own bare feet. Lucky grapes, I thought, but I didn't say so. Instead I just called him a liar. He grinned and swung a cushion at my head. I ducked and brought both arms up to ward off the blow – which never came. Gary followed through his swing, launching his whole body forwards. I caught him in my arms. We kissed.

It wasn't an epic kiss, slightly awkward actually, but the touch of his lips on mine ran an electric charge through me. I pulled back and looked into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, quizzically and hesitated a little before I touched my lips to his once more, then pressed a little harder, pulling him to me with my hand behind his head, as he pulled me to him with both his arms around my back.

This time he pulled back.

“Will you stay, at least tonight?”

I had to fight back a moment's panic. But I knew what I wanted to do.

“I'd like to.”

“Good. That's great. Really great.” He beamed his pleasure. “There's a problem though.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. There's only one bed and this couch is impossible to sleep on. I've tried it and it can't be done.”

“Okay. Well, look, I've seen the bed and it's a good-sized double. Why can't we just share that?”

Gary went silent for a moment looking at his feet. Then he looked up at me shyly under those blond eyebrows.

“I don't want to scare you off. The last thing I want is for you to think I'm trying to push the agenda here. I don't want the guys on the team to be right about us.”

I'd forgotten. “You don't want them to be right about what?”

“That I'm only trying to get into your trousers!”

I had a mental image involving bruises and ointment. “Isn't it a little late to be worrying about that?”

“You know what I mean. I really do think we should take things slowly. I find I really do like you, a lot, and I want to get to know you better, much better. So I don't want you to think I'm in a rush to leap into bed with you.”

“Okay, point taken. So shall we just share a bed, on the understanding that there's to be no activity beyond sleep?”

“Would that be okay with you?”

“Absolutely. After all it won't be our first shared bed, will it? And tonight we'll have much more space and comfort. And the cuddle will be an optional extra instead of an essential!”

We both giggled like schoolboys.

But we shared Gary's bed and just lay there talking for an hour until our conversation began to lag and sleep overtook us.

Day 5

I woke after the most satisfying night's sleep in a long while. My arm was draped over another body with its back to me. I broke into a smile and hitched myself closer, tucking my chest against Gary's back and my legs up against the back of his knees. I allowed my hand to wander over his broad flat chest, feeling the v-shaped patch of fur just below his collar bones and the two sharply defined pectoral muscles each with a little reactive nipple like a cherry on a cake. A little sigh of contentment escaped from me.

Gary's form in front of me was inert. He was still sleeping. I wondered if he'd like to wake to a cup of tea. I slipped gently off the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb him. I pulled the jeans I'd been wearing the evening before over Gary's boxers that I was still wearing, and grabbed a white tee from the drawer as I headed through the flat to the kitchen. In the living room, Candy was standing with her tail wagging furiously and a happily expectant look on her face. I let her out and made the tea.

Gary surprised me by showing up in the kitchen. “Thanks!” he said as I handed him a mug of tea.

“Sorry I was hoping not to wake you and to bring you one of those in bed!”

I moved to the living room window with its view out over the village below and the lake beyond it. I flinched very slightly when a pair of arms snaked around my waist and a body pressed against mine gently. Gary tucked his chin over my shoulder and nuzzled against my cheek.

“Turn around, handsome!” he ordered.

I turned, leaned the backs of my legs against the radiator under the window, and pulled him to me, my arms around his back and my lips against his. I tasted toothpaste and I smelled warm body.

Gary spoke first. “I think I'm falling in love.”

He leaned in and kissed me again, pressing his hips and chest hard against mine.

“Ow!” I jumped and Gary stood back, with concern all over his face.

“Sorry, sorry, what's wrong? What have I done? Are you alright?”

I collapsed in giggles. “It's okay, really, not your fault at all. It's just the radiator – the heat just got through my jeans and...”

Gary reached around me and rubbed my buttocks, and moved in again for another kiss. This time I shied away, still giggling.

“Are you going to calm down, or am I going to have to hose you down?”

“Okay.” He backed off half a pace, releasing me to stand upright. “Breakfast?” he asked.

“Please. I want to shower first though.”

“Be my guest. Bacon and egg?”

“Mmm. Great. See you in a minute.”

“Here. Take your tea with you.”

Some time later I emerged from the bathroom to the aroma of frying bacon. With a towel wrapped around my waist, I dived into Gary's bedroom to raid his clothes drawers again. I came out wearing a pair of black chinos and a thin black v-neck jersey.

Gary looked up as I walked into the living room and motioned me to the table.

“You look good in those – better than I do!”

“Thanks, I like black. I really love this jumper.”

Gary served a breakfast of bacon, eggs, fried bread, beans and tomatoes. Just the way I like them. We ate silently for a while. Finishing the food on my plate, I said, “We need to talk.”

Gary glanced up with an unreadable expression.

“Okay, let's sit on the sofa.”

I poured us each a cup of coffee and we made ourselves comfortable at either end of the sofa, our legs stretched out at an angle towards each other so that our toes could touch.

“Gary, “ I started. “Something special has happened this weekend.” I glanced at him and he just nodded, giving me time. Looking down at our toes and extending mine so that my toes could stroke the little blond hairs on the top of each of his, I continued

“This is so far away from what I expected from this weekend. I'm blown away and I don't know how to handle it. I'm really sorry if I'm making a mess of this, but what I want to say is that I think I'm falling in love with you,”

Gary interrupted. “That makes two of us!”

“Really?” My eyes snapped up to his and we both grinned broadly.

I forced myself back under control. “… But I think we should take it slowly. We hardly know each other yet and there's a lot against us here. And the worst is – I have to go home. Now.”

“What? Why? You've only just got here!” he protested, grabbing my hand and holding it.

“It's the university term. It starts tomorrow. This was only ever going to be a long weekend holiday and I have to get home today and head onwards tomorrow early. It's the only way I can avoid missing lectures. I'm sorry.”

There was a long pause before Gary spoke.

“I won't pretend I'm not disappointed. But it's okay, really it is. Just promise me please, come back to me, and as soon as you can? You've no idea how lonely it is here with no-one I can really talk to.”

“Thanks, Gary.” I leaned across the couch and kissed him, gently, on the lips – and the sudden shock like an electric discharge ran through me again.

Gary took me to the cottage and from there to the station. I boarded the train when it pulled into the station. Gary came in with me and helped me tuck my luggage in the gap between the seats. Then he sat with me until the whistle blew. And he leaned across and gave me a final kiss that lasted the longest ten seconds in the history of time and left me to my seat. As the train moved slowly off we waved to each other through the window. I stood up so I could see him better and waved until the train curved a little and I lost sight of him. I sat down and blew my nose, wiping my eyes as I did so. I love you, Gary.

© 2006 Sinbad

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