Page 30 of All Summer Long

Alice reached for the wine bottle and topped up their glasses.

Funny, Robinson hadn’t mentioned anything about expecting visitors.

She shrugged the thought away, along with the tingle of disappointment that glittered down her spine at the realisation that her plans to give him the grand tour of the yurt might need to go on ice for the evening.

‘Robster!’

Robinson looked up in surprise at the voice outside the kitchen door, his knife poised over some nameless ready meal he planned to bang in the microwave for his dinner.

He knew before he even opened the door that Stewie would be on the other side of it.

No one else in his life had ever called him Robster, and no one else would get away with it in the future.

Would it be wrong to hide underneath the kitchen table until Stewie gave up and went away?

‘Come on, Robbie, don’t keep an old man waiting on the doorstep!’

Robinson sighed as his southern manners won out, sending him across the room to open the door for his unexpected visitor.

Except when he opened the door he found not just one visitor but three, two of whom he didn’t recognise.

Instantly on his guard, Robinson gripped the handle of the knife he hadn’t thought to put down.

‘Steady on there, Robster,’ Stewie said, alarmed, his eyes on the blade. ‘We come in peace!’

‘With dinner,’ one of the guys behind Stewie piped up with a disarming grin. What was going on? Robinson placed the knife down on the countertop and frowned lightly.

‘What is this?’ he asked, looking between the three guys at the pizza and beer, not to mention the glass dish covered in foil in Stewie’s hands.

‘Boys’ night in,’ Stewie supplied. ‘Stand aside, lad, this dish is taking the skin off my hands.’

All three men trooped into the kitchen and placed their spoils down on the table as Robinson closed the door.

‘Robster, meet Dessy and Jase, my dear, queer friends, fine landlords of The Siren on the Rocks and proud members of the BS.’

Robinson was pretty sure that was a completely politically incorrect thing to say, but the two guys obviously took no offence as they shouldered each other out of the way to be first to shake hands with him.

‘Dessy,’ the guy closest to him said, winning the battle and pumping Robinson’s hand enthusiastically. He looked as if he was going to say more and then closed his mouth again and just kept on silently shaking hands.

‘Jase,’ his friend cut in, clearing his throat and rolling his eyes towards Dessy. ‘You’ll have to excuse Des. He’s been playing your music all day and worked himself up into a state this afternoon in case he barfs all over you when he sees you in person.’

‘I so have not,’ Dessy hissed. ‘I brought you pizza,’ he said, turning back to Robinson.

‘There’s Hawaiian if you like it fruity, margarita in case you’re more of a plain Jane lover, and of course a good old meat feast in case you prefer it, err, nice and meaty,’ he said, almost squeaking by the end of his sentence in a way that had Jase laughing into his muscled shoulder.

‘You’ll have to excuse my husband’s fan-girling. He really doesn’t mean to ask you for sex by pizza toppings, he’s just nervous.’

‘And anyway, who needs pizza!’ Stewie said, peeling back the foil on the glass dish he’d been carrying to reveal a gloopy brown curry.

Jase cracked the slab of beer and handed Robinson a can. ‘Trust me. You’re going to need this,’ he said, ‘for that.’ He gestured towards Stewie’s dish.

‘Nut curry,’ Dessy said.

Robinson baulked. ‘You know, I’m really not so much of a vegetarian kind of guy.’ The garlic waft from the curry hit the back of his throat and took his breath.

‘Course you’re not, Robster,’ Stewie thundered, slapping him hard on the shoulder.

‘I wouldn’t insult a cowboy with vegetables.

This here curry isn’t squirrel nuts. It’s goat.

Goat balls. Testicles. Melts in your mouth.

Tender as scrambled eggs and rammed full of testosterone and protein, guaranteed to put hairs on your chest.’

Dessy looked physically pained as he peeped down the front of his neon green vest. ‘I paid a fortune last week to have this baby waxed, I’m smooth as a peach all over.

Keep that bowl of balls to yourself, thank you very much, Stewart, I’ll stick to the salami.

’ He patted the pizza box affectionately.

‘You boys today don’t know what’s good for you,’ Stewie said. ‘Grab some plates would you, Rob?’

Jase caught Robinson’s eye, a moment of understanding and humour, and Robinson relaxed and gave up.

The beer was cold, the sun was out and Dessy and Jase seemed decent enough guys.

He hadn’t realised it until now, but he missed the simple act of having a beer with the boys.

He didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that most of his beers back home had been shared with the guy he’d found banging his wife in his kitchen.

Some lessons were just harder learned than others.

Over at the Airstream, Alice and Niamh shared a huge prawn and avocado salad and the rest of the bottle of wine, lazing in the balmy evening sun and speculating over what was happening in the manor.

‘Pizza and beer. Man stuff going down,’ Niamh said, eyes closed and deckchair cranked back almost horizontal.

‘You reckon?’ Alice lay alongside her, stuffed full of dinner and sleepily relaxed by the pinot grigio.

‘Wig trying on sesh?’ Niamh said, giggling and then hiccupping. ‘Imagine Jase might look pretty good in that Rod Stewart thing Stewie had on the other day.’

‘You think?’ Alice said, wondering if Robinson could carry off the ginger eighties mullet Stewie sometimes sported around the village. ‘Should we go over there and see if Robinson needs rescuing?’

‘He’s a big boy, Alice. Leave him to look after himself. Just make sure you remember all of the juicy gossip afterwards, I’m dying to hear all about it in the morning.’

Robinson squinted at his watch. It was just after ten, the sun had gone down, and he was as drunk as he could remember being in years.

They’d ploughed through the beer and pizza then moved on to a now almost empty bottle of bourbon produced from nowhere by Jase an hour or two back.

Robinson had tactfully suggested they keep the curry back for a late-night snack, and then covered it over with the fervent hope that he’d never have to see it again.

They were crashed out on the sofas in the lounge, and one of Stewie’s Hawaiian shirt buttons had pinged off to let his furry, orange-tanned belly spill out. Dessy gesticulated in his general direction with his whisky glass.

‘Did any actual hamsters die in the production of that wig, Stewie?’

Stewie groped for his head, missed it the first time and then swiped the wig off and peered at it.

‘I can’t be one hundred per cent certain, Desmond, but I seem to recall that this one is Himalayan yak.’

Dessy, Jase and Robinson all stared at Stewie.

‘Do you know, Stewie, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you without a wig on, and you have the most delightful head,’ Jase slurred, blinking. ‘It’s like a freshly boiled egg.’

‘Can I touch it?’ Dessy said, leaning over and giving Stewie’s head an approving buff. ‘You should dare to go bare more often, it looks good on you.’

‘Alice looks so damn good bare,’ Robinson said to no one in particular from the recesses of the armchair.

All eyes swung from Stewie to Robinson.

‘O.M.G.!’ Dessy said, clapping his hands in delight. ‘Have you been getting down and dirty with the lady of the house?’

Robinson realised too late the words hadn’t just stayed in his head as he’d thought.

Stewie clutched his wig in both hands, misty eyed.

‘Marvellous news, marvellous news, mon cherries! Just between us boys, our Alice is a dead ringer for one of my favourite co-stars from back in the day. Went like a bloody racehorse, she did, all hair and teeth and sexy rump. Fine filly. Wasn’t averse to a good flogging, either, if I remember rightly. ’

Jase took Stewie’s wig and tried it on for size. ‘So, just so we’re clear as crystal chandeliers … you and Alice are …’ He screwed up his nose in distaste and made a lewd poking gesture with his hands.

Robinson frowned. ‘I don’t think I actually said that, did I?’

Dessy sidled up to Jase and stroked his hair. ‘God, that suits you, sexy boy, you look like Marilyn Monroe,’ he purred. ‘Give us a go.’ He moved the wig from Jase’s head to his own and blew Robinson a kiss. ‘Err, sailor? You so did say that you were boffing our chatelaine.’

Robinson scratched his head, confused. ‘All I said was that she looked good bare.’

‘That’s right, good boy,’ Jase laughed. ‘And unless you’ve taken to perving through caravan windows, that means you’ve taken her clothes off.’

Robinson closed his eyes, wishing Alice was there right now so he could take her clothes off.

Dessy stood up, unsteady on his feet, and picked up Robinson’s guitar.

’I’m gonna play you a song,’ he said, his feet planted wide apart.

Jase jumped up and took the guitar from Dessy’s uncertain fingers. ‘You know how much this thing must be worth?’ he said, passing it carefully to Robinson.

‘Firewood,’ Robinson croaked, holding his old familiar friend more like gold than kindling nonetheless.

‘Know any Elvis, Robster?’ Stewie said. ‘I’m sure I met him once.’

‘Where, down the chip shop?’ Dessy said, smirking.

Robinson had lost the thread of the conversation, because he had his guitar in his hands and his defences were down and someone had mentioned Elvis.

His fingers moved unaided by his brain, striking up the opening notes of ‘Jailhouse Rock’, and he didn’t even think about whether or not to sing, the words just fell out of his mouth unbidden.

He was singing, and everyone was clapping and drunk singing with him, and then he was on his feet, and somehow he was wearing Stewie’s wig, and that was precisely, exactly how he looked when he stumbled, laughing, to answer the front door when Alice who looked good naked knocked five minutes later.

Except it wasn’t Alice.