I glanced across to the driver’s side and saw Jeff curled up in a foetal position, wrapped up in his own jacket, his head tucked inside it for warmth. I hadn’t heard him getting in. The inside walls of the van were running with condensation.
I didn’t have the heart to wake anybody, so I climbed stiffly out on to the tarmac. I stood, then, at the side of the road and released a stream of hot urine on to the daffodils, watching steam rising into the sunlight. The scrape of a footfall in the lane turned my head and I saw Luke walking down from the road, hands pushed deep into his pockets. He nodded and stood beside me to unzip his fly and empty his bladder, too. Sunlight sparkled in the twin streams.
‘We’re not going to get far on twenty quid,’ he said. ‘Not with five of us to feed. And the Thames is a thirsty beast.’
I zipped up again. ‘So what do you think we should do?’
But he just shook his head. ‘I haven’t the first idea.’
I pushed open the farm gate and slithered down the bank to the stream that bubbled past the church, first dousing my hands in it, then slunging my face with ice-cold water. The shock of it brought blood stinging to my cheeks.
I looked back up at Luke, who stood watching me. ‘I wonder if Jeff found the keys?’
Luke pursed his lips. ‘He didn’t.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I was still awake when he got back in the van. He didn’t look for long. To be fair, he was never going to find them in the dark.’
I shook my head in despair. ‘Maybe we’re going to have to go home after all.’
Luke was unfazed. ‘You go if you want, but I’m not.’
And I knew that if Luke wasn’t, then neither was I.
I scrambled up the bank as Maurie and Dave jumped down from the back of the van. They both emptied their bladders and then joined us beside the stream.
Dave glared at Maurie. ‘He had a stonking bloody hard-on during the night.’
Luke and I both laughed.
I said, ‘How do you know that?’
Dave was indignant. ‘Cos it was sticking into my back, that’s how.’
Maurie blushed. ‘That wasn’t my fault.’
‘Well, it certainly wasn’t mine!’ Dave was not amused.
Luke controlled his laughter. ‘Nocturnal erections, otherwise known as nocturnal penile tumescence, Dave. We all have them. Three to five times a night, usually during REM sleep. Doesn’t mean Maurie’s in love with you. You must have woken up with one yourself a few times.’
Maurie growled, ‘Or when he’s got his face stuck in that Playboy magazine.’
Dave punched the fleshy part of his upper arm. ‘Shut up!’
Maurie clutched his arm. ‘Hey! That hurt!’
I changed the subject. ‘So did either of you bright sparks get any ideas during the night about what we’re going to do?’
Which brought an abrupt end to the juvenile banter. The lack of any serious suggestion was ominous, the four of us standing there with our hands thrust in our pockets feeling the early warmth of the sun make inroads into the legacy of cold left by the night.
Then Maurie said, ‘Do you think we could make it to Leeds?’
He had the oddest look in his eyes that I would remember many years later. But at the time I thought nothing of it. The rest of us gawped at him in disbelief.
‘Leeds?’ Dave said. ‘Why would we want to go there?’
At first Maurie seemed reluctant to tell us. But in the end he said, ‘My cousin’s there.’
I frowned. ‘Is that the lassie that ran off with her boyfriend?’
He nodded.
‘I thought no one knew where they’d gone.’
Maurie said, ‘They went to Leeds. That’s where he’s from. Andy McNeil. I’m the only one that knows. She called me, and made me swear not to tell anyone. You know, we were close when we were kids, so she trusted me. Then she wrote to me. Sent me her address and a phone number. I packed her letter to bring with me before we left, just in case my folks found it.’ He was struck by a sudden thought. ‘Shit, I hope those bastards didn’t take it.’
He rushed back to the van and disappeared inside, only to emerge a few moments later clutching a dog-eared blue envelope.
‘Got it.’ As he reached us again he took the letter out and looked at the untidy handwriting scrawled across the page in pencil. ‘Always had a feeling that things weren’t going quite right for her.’
He glanced up. And that same expression flickered briefly across his face, like a passing shadow.
‘What would be the point?’ Dave said.
‘Of what?’
‘Going tae see your cousin.’
Maurie turned on him. ‘A roof over our heads, food in our bellies. And maybe they can lend us money and help us get back on the road.’
I sensed Maurie’s anger. He had just broken his promise to his cousin for our common good, and maybe he felt the idea deserved a better reception.
I did, too. ‘I think it’s a brilliant idea. And in the absence of a better one, I say we go to Leeds.’
‘Me, too.’ Luke nodded his agreement
Dave shrugged. ‘Suppose so.’ And, as an afterthought, ‘What about Jobby Jeff?’
‘He doesn’t get a say.’ I was adamant about that. ‘We wouldn’t be in this mess if he hadn’t insisted on giving Dennis a lift.’
‘Good.’ Luke rubbed his hands together with renewed enthusiasm. ‘All we have to do now is find the keys for the van and we’ll be on our way. Someone better wake up Jobby Jeff.’
IV
We searched among the gravestones for more than half an hour without success. Great gnarled pines sent long shadows through grass that hadn’t yet been cut after the winter. It gave me a strange feeling to be searching like that among the dead, where people had been laid to rest for eternity. I felt like we were disturbing their peace. Thomas Bowe of Swinside Farm. Henry Herbert Jay and his wife, Jessie. Joseph Tickell of Thornthwaite, who died on 7th March 1901, at the age of seventy. It didn’t seem right to be tramping over their graves, stupid boys on a fool’s errand, naive and unworldly, taken for suckers on their first night away from home.
In the end it was Luke who solved our problem. We were simply searching randomly. Until he called on us to stop. We all raised expectant heads as he stooped to pick up a stone from the path, and weighed it in his palm.
‘This is probably close to the weight of the keys,’ he said. ‘I’ll go out there and throw it from where Dennis was standing. I think I remember roughly what direction he threw them. You lot watch out for where it lands, and we’ll concentrate our search there.’
We watched as he went back out into the turning area, positioning himself where he thought Dennis had been standing, and then throwing the stone just as hard as Dennis had thrown the keys. We watched where it landed, which was quite a bit further in than any of us had been looking. We found the keys nestling in the grass within three feet of the stone in less than two minutes.
Another ten minutes and we were on the road, following the signposts back to Keswick, where we stopped at a café and bought tea and bacon butties. I consulted the Reader’s Digest AA Book of the Road, and plotted a course. And then we were off, heading south out of Keswick on the A591 to Windermere and Kendal.
The first few miles passed in sombre silence, until someone in the back said, ‘It’s different with me and Veronica.’
And we all burst out laughing.
Except for Jeff, who looked both puzzled and aggrieved. ‘What?’ he said. ‘What!’
Which only made us laugh even harder.