Wyld Dreamers

a van, neither of which she recognises, parked in the yard. She’d hoped for a night with her friends rather than a party. Telling herself she’s being uncool, she follows David into the hall. It’s patterned with muddy footprints. David and Simon don’t notice her hanging back. They disappear into the sitting room, Rod Stewart’s voice fading as the door shuts behind them.
Squealing sounds in the office. Peering round the door, she sees chicken wire and wooden boxes have been fashioned into a makeshift pen. Three puppies nip at the jacket of a man who sits in their midst apparently indifferent to the puppy mess littering the floor. The man is bleary-eyed. It’s Gerald, an old friend of Julian’s who lives nearby. When he drops into the farm which is often, he is either stoned or drunk, it’s never clear which.
‘Hi. Far out,’ he says to her. ‘Lovely pups, eh? Come and say hallo. I can show…’
She shakes her head and carries on down the hallway; it’s crunchy underfoot. She heads for the part of the house she’s missed the most, the kitchen. Its soft-coloured walls, the patterned plates, the Aga purring like an over-sized cat.
It’s more dilapidated and chaotic than she remembered. Furniture is scattered as though a gale has been through the room. The windows are smeared, the sink is piled with plates and there are dirty pans stacked on the floor. But familiar and oddly grand. She touches each surface: the grain of wood on the table, the smooth tiles round the sink, the soft cushions on the settle.
‘Amy…’
She is expecting to see David. But it is Julian who is rubbing his mouth with his fingers, a habit he has when he’s taken speed. It will be a late night then.
‘How are you? Long time, no see,’ he says. ‘Yeah, ah… fine, I suppose.’
He does not mention her mother’s death and it feels awkward for her to do so. Instead she says: ‘The puppies are lovely. Where’s Millie, Julian?’
‘Tied up in the barn. Her puppies are being weaned. They’ve been sold and are going to their new owners any day.’
‘Oh really? No! I want to play with them. They’re so adorable.’ She’s trying to sound jolly.
‘We’ve got Pilot and Millie, that’s enough dogs. I should have drowned the puppies really. It’s been a hassle to get rid of them,’ he says dismissively.
Halfway out of the door, he turns back. ‘Ah yeah, there are some people working here now, Bob and Helen. Why don’t you come and meet them, they’re cool.’
‘I will, I’ll come in a minute,’ she says, knowing she won’t.
The door is ajar. The music has stopped and David is playing the guitar. People are talking.
She heads for their bedroom, pushes David’s clothes off the bed and miserable, falls asleep.
It takes Gerald a few moments to realise that the girl leaving the village shop is the same one he saw at Julian’s house a few nights ago. Her name eludes him, Joanna possibly, he was a little inebriated. He swings his Mini on to the verge and winds down the window.
‘Oh hallo,’ he calls out as Amy walks by.
While minded to ignore her father’s warnings about not talking to strangers, Amy still looks warily at the driver of the car. She sees Gerald.
She’s never had a conversation with the man, what would she say? She knows he and Julian were at school together and that Gerald lives on his parents’ estate in a cottage. He doesn’t seem to work, Julian mentioned an inheritance. Gerald like a mysterious creature from another world. Gerald often arrives with dope, a bottle of wine and once with half a fruit cake in a tin; peculiarly domestic, he cut them each a piece but left his own uneaten on a plate. Sometimes he stays the night if he’s too smashed to drive home. Amy doesn’t like his crumpled body on the sofa but she isn’t sure why.
‘I’m going to the pub for a quick drink before chasing up to the house. Care to join me?’
‘Yes, please,’ she says, wondering why she’s agreed.
There are three men at the bar and another group playing darts. She feels conscious of their stares as she sits at a table. Perhaps it’s what she’s wearing: dungarees, a skimpy singlet and boots.
‘I’ll get you a gin, it’s a good sharpener at this time of day.’
She hesitates. She usually asks for cider as it’s cheap. ‘Really? Thanks.’
The men move aside to let Gerald in. Gerald’s fingers stroke the head of Jackson, his greyhound. Elegant and aloof, the dog is always at his side.
‘Here you are. Only a single. Cheers.’ Gerald is still unsure of her name. ‘I was born two drinks behind everyone else, so just catching up.’
He downs half a lager, then sips a gin. ‘The first drink is bettered only by the second. So you’re at the farm for the summer? Enjoying yourself, I trust.’
He opens a packet of Players cigarettes. ‘Want one?’
‘Thanks.’
Her lips form a soft moue around the cigarette. ‘I’m staying a bit longer, not sure how long. It’s such a beautiful place and, well, I’ve never lived anywhere with so much space and land.’
‘So Julian’s back down here again. The country can get dull without good chums. Never sure university suited him all that well. It’s where you met him, I think?’
‘My boyfriend David and he were studying at the same place.’ Amy remembers her ‘A’ level results lie unopened in her pocket.
‘I was never sure if Julian was cut out for academics but he’s bloody good with machines. He tells me Seymour wants to renovate that cottage. Can’t think how long that’ll take, isn’t it a lost cause? But Seymour is a man with plans, that’s one thing you can say about him. David and the other chap, what’s his name?’
‘Simon.’
‘Yes, boy Simon. They’ve experience with this sort of thing, have they, building and all that?’
‘Not exactly. But we can help, all of us …’
‘Course you will, I’m sure you’ll