Return of the Sun - 14. Chapter 14

He had been expecting a small round camper caravan, the kind normally seen in holiday parks all over England at this time of the year. Instead he was looking at a stylish and quite modern Winnebago. It was tucked at the back end of a rustic field under a huge oak tree, spitting distance from a small river that had once been a part of the canal network.

The Rover bounded down the dirt track, handling the rough terrain easily; it was designed for this kind of off-roading, and Rovers like this one had competed in the Amazon Cup for years. It ground to a halt alongside the camper surprising Darren who was busily unloading the Metro and ferrying stuff inside.

"Alright then, slacker?" Scott called out of the window smirking at him.

"Finally," Darren replied, "Dickie and Fleur buggered off, and Serena is inside storing shit." He struggled with a particularly heavy bag that slipped from his hand spilling its contents on the ground. Darren cursed up a storm as Luke hurried to give him a hand.

Scott bent down to start repacking the bag, picking up makeup boxes, a hair drier and more combs than one person could ever use in a single lifetime. He looked up at Luke who was wrestling with a couple of sleeping bags; he furrowed his brow at the collection of beauty products.

"Trying to impress someone, Scott?" he asked, pushing the sunglasses down his nose to get a better look.

"I don't think..." Scott picked up a tube of lipstick and looked at the label, "Passion Red is my colour."

"You're more an ochre kind of bloke," Darren grinned as he walked out of the camper and opened the Rover's trunk to get at the bags loaded there.

Serena stepped down out of the Winnebago, talking into a cell phone, no doubt informing her mother that they had made it. She started when she saw her cosmetics spread all over the grass, and shot Scott an accusing look. "I have to go Mum, Scott's trying on my makeup."

Scott shook his head and grinned as he tossed the kits into the bag, "You know I was just trying to make myself look pretty." He laughed as he handed her the bag.

She looked at the mess; the spilled compacts and blush that had spilled out over the rest of it; and she looked at him, setting her jaw. "How am I supposed to attract a really fit guy now?"

"Don't worry," Scott said standing up and brushing off the dust from his pants, "I'll still love you."

"Fat lot of good that does me, you're queer." Serena sniffed, holding up a rather expensive looking makeup kit that had broken open.

Luke stopped dead in the doorway of the camper, and he looked at Scott in genuine surprise. Darren coming up behind him collided and stumbled backwards, "Don't just stand there gawking!" Darren complained, "Move your arse." They both clambered aboard and Scott shook his head at Serena as he fished in the back of the rover for his own bags.

"Where'd Dickie go?" he asked, walking with her.

"He said something about taking Fleur for a walk, but they're probably just shagging in the woods." Serena shook her head, "Not even here five minutes and they're at it, and I knew I should have brought a hose."

Scott glanced towards the trees and brush bordering the far end of the field and shuddered at the thought of what was going on in there. "That's gross," he commented.

* * *

Serena had insisted they take a trip into Royal Tunbridge Wells because she wanted to see the Pantiles shopping district. Unfortunately Scott had been the poor sod who had ended up going with her. Darren and Luke broke out their fishing rods, adamant that they were going to rough it for the weekend, and Fleur and Dickie hadn't returned from their 'Nature' walk.

"It's a beautiful town," Scott commented, hands in his pockets looking about him. There were a lot of tourists about snapping pictures of the Georgian shopping precinct, or browsing through the multitude of antiques shops that seemed to be everywhere.

The sun was warm and Serena, still in her hat, was looking to and fro with a decided purpose. "Yes," she commented, looking about her again, "there's supposed to be an opera house around here somewhere."

"Opera?" Scott asked, suddenly wondering what he had been gotten himself into. Perhaps if he made a run for the Rover... if he reached it he could probably make Dover, from there the continent. One glance at Serena's long legs told him he wouldn't get five steps.

"Not actual opera," Serena replied in exasperation, "it's a restaurant; we could get something to eat before heading back to the caravan."

"Oh," Scott replied, as they passed a couple of restaurants in the Pantiles that looked just as appetizing to him. He tipped his sunglasses further down his nose and looked at the food realizing he was starving.

"Shouldn't we be getting back?" he asked, glancing at his watch to see it was getting closer to seven in the evening. They were really just browsing now anyway, and they had promised they would stop and pick up some drinks for the night.

Serena looked forlornly about her, obviously disappointed at not being able to have supper in an opera house; finally she agreed and they wandered back to the Rover to find a Sainsbury's supermarket.

They were making the return trip and Serena was holding on to the bag of marshmallows, turning them over in her hand. "You what?" she asked again.

Scott sighed; some things he had just grown accustomed to taking for granted growing up in the States. The great outdoors was just a stone's throw away, and if you wanted to travel you had to be prepared for long drives. But once you got out into the country there was an entire subculture to enjoy. Roasting marshmallows and wieners over a campfire was a part of the experience. And although he couldn't find wieners, or even graham crackers for s'mores, he was adamant that if he was camping at least one of his traditions would stay alive.

After that they had stopped for Chinese take-out which filled the cab of the Rover with mouth-watering smells. He felt his stomach rumble loudly and Serena grinned as she looked down at it.

"I told you we should have stopped at the Opera house," she quipped.

Scott turned the Rover off the road and they bounced along the dirt track into the field, "It's ok, we're nearly there."

Serena was giving him one of her looks; a look Scott had learned from experience meant she was about to tell him something, "What?" he asked, looking at her.

She opened her mouth, as if working up the courage, but faltered and looked away, embarrassed. He frowned at her as they drew up at the camper; she had been doing that all evening, working up to telling him something but dancing away from it whenever he gave her a chance to tell him. He sighed and grabbed the bags of Chinese before hopping down.

Fleur was sitting on the steps of the Winnebago, and she smiled at Serena. Well, Scott thought it was a smile, with Fleur you could never be sure. Wednesday from the Addam's Family, all in black with pale skin and dark rings around her eyes; Scott had to get inside before he burst into giggles at that thought.

"Where are Dickie and the other boys?" Serena asked as she began to put six-packs in the battery-operated fridge alongside the bottles they had brought with them.

"They're still fishing," Fleur replied in her timid voice.

"Are they still going to rough it?" Scott said, opening cartons of Chinese food and bending down to smell the roast duck.

Serena grinned, "You're evil," she said, watching as he began to dish out three plates.

Fleur looked hesitant as Scott handed her a plate, but after a moment she accepted it and began to tuck in. She acted like a squirrel munching on an acorn, taking quick small bites while cradling the plate against her and looking about in case a larger animal tried to take it from her.

Serena accepted her plate and sat down on one of the bench seats, "Reckon they are going to catch anything?" she asked as she expertly wielded chopsticks and sampled some of the duck.

"I doubt it," Scott replied, hopping up to sit on the countertop, holding his plate in front of him, also preferring chopsticks. Too many years of good Chinese food in Brooklyn had forced him to learn. His friend Yin had shown him one lunch hour at school and since then he had become adept at it.

The camper door rattled open as the triumphant hunter-gatherers returned from their expedition. Darren was in the lead, holding up the fruits of their labours: a tiny perch no bigger than Scott's hand. They seemed entirely too pleased with themselves till they noticed the three others holding plates of cooked food.

Dickie, obviously the makeshift ringleader, looked at his men. "Remember to be strong, men," he said, even though his eyes were locked on the chicken ball Serena was lifting to her mouth.

"Bugger that," Luke said, abandoning his fellow men and grabbing a plate that he began to load with food.

"But what about the pact?" Darren protested, looking hopelessly at his fish.

Luke turned and held up his plate, "I'm the gatherer," he replied, skewering a piece of duck with a chopstick and tasting it. He sighed in relief as he leaned back on the counter; his arm gently brushed Scott's leg, and Scott relaxed just enjoying the presence.

"Sleeping arrangements," Serena said, as Dickie abandoned Darren's fish and joined the others in the Chinese.

"Bagsey on the bedroom," Dickie said, turning.

Serena looked through to the double-bed sitting at the back of the camper, and she sighed, "So much for comfort, I call the bench here in the lounge. I am a girl after all."

Darren's face fell a little, "Does this mean I have to pitch the tent?"

Scott sighed reluctantly, "I'll do it, but if I put it up, I get to sleep in it. It'll barely fit two as it is."

Scott and Darren exchanged looks, Scott lifting his balled fist, "Rock, paper, or scissors..."

* * *

Cramped into the backseat of the Rover wrapped in a borrowed sleeping bag, Scott tossed, trying desperately to get some sleep. He sat up sleepily pushing his hair out of his eyes, picking up the balled-up jacket he was using as a pillow and thumping it a few times before he collapsed back to try to sleep again.

He had been tossing and turning all night trying to get comfortable. It was proving to be an impossible feat, and dawn was beginning to tinge the sky a light shade of blue; he was going to hate the day, especially since he knew there was no real coffee within a five-mile radius of them. He would give his right arm at that point for a decent Starbucks or something close by.

He blew out a sigh, realizing he had to pee. Reluctantly sitting upright again and pulling the sleeping bag around his shoulders like a cloak, he thrust his bare feet into his sneakers and opened the door, stamping out into the cold morning air.

There was a ground fog curling around the field, rising up amidst the grass, and a cow was happily munching on it, casting him a big-eyed glare and snorting before bending back to its grazing. He returned the stare, rubbing his jaw and eyes to clear the sleep that lingered there, trying to remember why he had gotten out of the warm Rover. That's right, he needed to pee.

He debated slipping into the camper, but he would probably disturb the sleeping occupants. He looked around, and decided ducking behind the tree line would be the best thing for him. And so he crept past the tent where Darren's feet were sticking out of one end and loud snoring emanating from within.

Scott took another few steps coming around the tent and seeing a sleeping bag tucked outside of it; obviously there had been even less room in the tent than they had assumed and Luke had wrapped himself up outside. There was a stirring in the sleeping bag as Luke opened a bleary-eyed head out of the flap and looked at him; he yawned and the eye closed again, followed by rhythmic breathing as he fell back asleep.

At least someone was getting some sleep, Scott thought, mildly annoyed that he couldn't do that. But then Luke was a Scout leader, he was probably used to sleeping outdoors. Give him a knife and drop him in the middle of the Amazon and he would survive; Scott felt a little jealous of that. Luke was a survivor.

He sighed, hugging as he found a tree and began to relieve himself, licking his lips and looking up at the ancient oak tree he was watering. He had enjoyed the night sitting around talking with his friends; they were all going out of their way to make him feel part of their circle, strangely fitting into the odd mixture of very different people.

A low moan caused him to look about him puzzled. Had he really heard something, or was he just imagining it. He leaned around the tree, zipping himself up and stopped, his jaw hanging open. Dickie, as naked as the day he was born, rising and falling in a particular rhythm that was unmistakable. The gasps from his partner confirmed it.

Scott went red as he gaped for a second, not exactly sure what he should do. They had obviously not heard him, so if he could just slip away and leave Dickie and Fleur alone to their morning liaison, no one would ever have to mention the fact that he had...

Dickie dropped and the pair rolled over and she lifted her head, curving her back, the long curly black hair and face twisting in ecstasy. And for the second time that morning Scott was shocked: Serena.

He slipped back to the camp site as quietly as he could; it was far too early, and he was certain all he wanted to do was climb back into the Rover and not think about what he had just seen, and what it meant.