Peter May - Runaway

When we had eaten we sauntered off through the falling evening, and I was aware for the first time that it was warmer here. There was a softness in the air that remained in spite of the gathering dusk. The city was alive. People and lights. Diners crowding tables in the windows of expensive restaurants, drinkers spilling out of pubs to head for West End shows.

At the end of Park Lane we arrived at Marble Arch without passing Go or collecting £200, and crossed into Hyde Park, where we set up to busk for the crowds at Speakers’ Corner. Jeff squatted on the grass beside an open guitar case and the rest of us gathered around to start playing through our repertoire.

It’s not really for me to judge, but I think we were pretty good, in spite of our acoustic constraints. At least, I could see from Rachel’s face that she thought so. It was clear that we exceeded any of her expectations, and she stood watching us with a kind of wide-eyed astonishment. She saw me looking at her, and we locked eyes for a moment. I felt as if something were kicking in my stomach trying to get out. Butterflies with hooves.

Pennies and threepenny bits, sixpenny pieces and the occasional shilling showered into our guitar case, and I almost started to believe we could make a living just doing this. We played for half an hour and made almost three quid before two London bobbies wearing tall helmets with silver Brunswick stars moved us on. Jeff gave up some cheek and they told us to scarper, and we went running off across the grass, jumping and whooping and shouting obscenities at the coming night. Until we settled ourselves on the bank of the Serpentine, lying on our backs in the grass and watching the sky overhead clear itself as darkness drew a veil over the park.

With the arrival of night, and the first chill breath of damp air rising from the water, the euphoria of just being there began to fade, and a more sombre reality settled itself on us like down after a pillow fight.

‘Where are we going to sleep tonight?’ Luke said.

Nobody knew.

‘There’s bound to be cheap hotels somewhere, or a youth hostel or something,’ Jeff suggested.

But I was the one who quickly dispelled dreams of a soft bed for the night. ‘We can’t afford it. Even somewhere cheap would go through our cash in no time.’

‘So what do you suggest, smart arse?’ Maurie cocked an eyebrow in my direction.

‘We passed an eatery earlier. The Serpentine Restaurant, I think. Overlooking the lake. Weird thing with glass pyramids on the roof. It’ll be closed by now.’

Jeff’s voice was derisive in the dark. ‘Well, if it’s closed, what use is that to us?’

‘It had kind of open terraces under concrete eaves. It would give us shelter for the night.’

‘Mmmmh, concrete pillows,’ Rachel said. ‘Just what I’ve always dreamed of. You boys really know how to show a girl a good time.’

I said, ‘Just for one night. Maybe we can get ourselves sorted out with something better tomorrow.’

It must have been after midnight by the time we got ourselves settled among the shadows on the terrace of the Serpentine Restaurant. Coats laid on concrete, underwear balled up inside shirts for pillows. Rachel and I shared my coat but sat awake for a long time, smoking in the dark and listening to the heavy breathing of the others as one by one they drifted off. It was an extraordinary journey that had brought us here, and I had never for one minute expected to meet someone like Rachel on the way.

Moonlight dappled the water, and its silvery reflection shimmered under the eaves of the restaurant. I stole a glance at her as she gazed out across the lake.

‘How are you feeling?’

She shrugged. ‘Okay.’ But she didn’t really look it.

I took her hand. It was ice cold, and I could feel her trembling. ‘Is it still bad?’

She pressed her lips together as if trying to stop herself from speaking. ‘I’m alright. Last night was worse. Give me another fag.’

I lit one and passed it to her. She sucked on it savagely and drew the smoke deep into her lungs.

‘What did you dream of?’ I said.

She gave me an odd look. ‘What? Last night?’

I smiled. ‘When you were young. What was your dream? What did you want to do with your life? Who did you want to be?’

Her smile was wry as she lifted her eyes towards the stars. ‘To be famous. A star of the silver screen. To be someone people looked at and envied. To be rich. To be in love with a beautiful man who loved me back.’

‘Didn’t want much, then.’

She laughed. ‘I was just a kid. You know what it’s like when you’re just a wee lassie.’

‘No!’ It was my turn to laugh. ‘I was always a wee laddie. No matter how much my mother would have liked to dress me up in a skirt and tie my hair in pigtails.’

‘You don’t have any brothers or sisters, then?’

‘No. Just after I was born my dad got TB and spent two years in the sanatorium at Peesweep. I suppose he was lucky to survive it in those days, but I don’t think he could have any more kids afterwards. And I’m sure my mum wanted a wee girl.’

Rachel said, ‘We should have swapped parents.’

‘Hmmm,’ I said doubtfully. ‘Not sure I would have been very happy about the circumcision.’

She laughed. ‘Don’t be such a baby. Actually, I’ve never seen one without a foreskin.’

‘And, of course, you’re such an expert.’

She smiled.

And I said, ‘Andy wasn’t Jewish, then?’

‘No.’

‘And you and he...’

She turned to look at me, amusement twinkling in her big dark eyes. ‘He and me what?’

‘You know...’

Now she laughed. ‘Of course we did.’

I nodded and didn’t like to think about it, or the irrational jealousy it stirred inside me.

‘What about you?’

I looked at her. ‘What about me?

‘Do you have a girlfriend?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Well, either you do or you don’t.’

I shrugged my shoulders in the dark. ‘Well, I did before we ran away.’

‘And were you and she...?’

‘She and me what?’

‘You know.’

I grinned, in spite of my embarrassment. ‘No, we weren’t.’

Suddenly I felt her whole body turn towards me. ‘You’re a virgin!’

‘I’m not!’ My denial was too hot and too fast.

‘Ohhh, Jack.’ She stroked my cheek with the back of her hand, and it felt cold on my hot face. ‘My very own little virgin.’

‘I’m not,’ I said again. With less force this time, but no more conviction.

‘We’ll see.’

And I turned to meet her eyes. They almost glowed in the dark. Darker than the night itself. Gathering, as they always seemed to, every bit of light to reflect somewhere in their hidden depths. And I wondered what she had meant by that. While I am sure I knew really, such was my insecurity when it came to girls that I was always riddled with uncertainty.

But in that moment I was emboldened by her words, and kissed her for the second time. A very different kiss from the one the previous night. A soft kiss full of tenderness, and I felt her tongue in my mouth, sending little electric messages to my loins where an erection quickly burgeoned to push hard against my trousers.

Stupidly, Luke’s words from two days before came into my head. Penile tumescence . I almost laughed.

She pulled back and looked at me quizzically. ‘What?’

I grinned, feeling sheepish, and told her. About Maurie and Dave and the nocturnal erection, and Luke’s description of it as ‘penile tumescence’. We stifled our giggles like children in the dark. And suddenly she reached her hand over to slip it between my legs, taking me completely by surprise.