Imperfection

        start of  **IMPERFECTION**

 🎠 Saskia's Fiat was still in decent running order, and despite the rather stiff exchange they had a few months ago on replacing it, Neil still dared to ask about its performance from time to time. Nothing too intense, just a mild, usually one-off inquiry in the hope it was perchance on its way out. But part of his 'punishment' for having had that dig at her beloved car and wishing its demise, came swiftly - just a few days afterwards. 

  While driving with him in tow, at every nifty left corner she took, she would deliberately and dramatically keel over, head flopping close to his shoulder  just to unnerve him. Of course, he soon became used to it and that particular silliness dropped, only making the very occasional appearance when he wasn't expecting it; like tonight on their way home from picking up their usual bottle of wine or two.  He was in the middle of telling her how unfunny that was and she really shouldn't be such an idiot in the dark, when bright lights and movement up ahead waylaid their conversation, drawing her into even more immaturity.

   'Oh, look!' Saskia said briskly.

   'What?' Neil answered, suddenly aware of fairground lights and movements peeking over some tree tops.  Now, around two yards closer, Neil could actually feel thudding vibrations from inside this potential rust-bucket; it seemed to absorb the pounding rather than bounce it off (decision made, she was getting a new car like it or not!)  The child within her stirring, and Saskia indicated to go right, and he protested instantly.  

   'We've no time for this, I've got that lamb marinating!'

   'Oh, come on grumpy-lamb-chops, I think you'll survive being a half-hour hungrier!' 

   Neil looked at her askance, catching her determined smile in profile, sighed and succumbed, knowing he'd do anything to please her. Luckily she found a space despite the only luminosity coming from the fair itself.

   Just as they made their way over the gravel to the entrance, Neil squished a white trainer straight into that infamous muddy grass, forgetting that they were returning from a modern gallery visit, in casual clothes. As long as he didn't look down at his feet after each step, he might survive this. His presence beside her, however, came with a stipulation,  

   'I'm telling you here and now that my arse has never gone higher than the dodgems and won't be sat upon any time here!'

   'Relax, Raptor, we'll stick to the arcades.'

   Then a smell, all sweet and strawberry-like wafted toward them, and just a few yards on a strategically placed van selling candy-floss lured you over, the essence alone stopping you in your tracks. And candy-floss was no ageist but a clever temptress, as plenty of adults were walking about picking off tufts of their childhood, till only the stick was left. Watching the skilled seller twist and shape with ease, it took only ten seconds until that cloud of pink delight was in her hand.

   'Want one?' Saskia asked, genuinely considering he might. 'They have them in blue, too.'

   'Why would I want one?' he piqued, becoming a little piqued.

   She shrugged, with an expression of pure mischief that simply irked him more.

   'And you shouldn't either, you'll ruin your appetite!'

   She couldn't help but laugh at his response, he sounded soooo ridiculously parental.  

   'What am I... ten!' she scoffed. 'There's no weight to this stuff, just melts the second it's in, there'll be plenty room for that lamb-thingy you're making.'

   If things weren't sugary-bad enough for him, while merging into the thick of the fair in their search for arcades, she turned at some screams, gluing her floss to the shoulder of Neil's black leather bomber jacket; they had hardly been in the place five minutes.

   'Oh, for fuck's sake!' he said loudly, (forgetting there were kids around) and gave a loud sigh as Saskia lapsed into panic mode, feeling bad about it.

   'Hold on,' she said, rustling in her shoulder bag while the floss, still in one hand, was flitting all over the place. 'I'll get that off right away!' But the makeup wipe just stained the leather even more.

   'Och, it's in your hair too! Right... ' He snatched the pesky stick from her and chucked it out of harms way onto grass between stalls, 'that's got rid of that!' Saskia made no protest, just gave him a piteous look as he said,  'I can only imagine you were raised a very sticky child!'

     

Making their way through the crowd, colour jumped out at them from every near-blindingly lit stall.  Beats from typical rave-like songs thumped through their chest, while piercing screams entered Neil's head and stabbed needle-like to his ears. He didn't know why, but he felt rather nervous passing some of these huge, maniacal-looking rides - especially with the wind that whipped from them -  preferring constructions of the still and solid kind.  But Saskia knew from the arcades, juvenescence would still spread and make way for older heads when the body can't risk speed or height. 

   It took them a little while to actually locate the arcades which were sited at the far end of the ever-worsening muddy ground, and they entered the nearest one filled mostly with old-school-type entertainment. Even Neil, old as he was, felt retrospectively suited here. And Saskia jumped for joy with excitement at a vintage two-penny falls machine and cashed two pound coins into pence, leaving Neil to amuse himself at the bandits, where he eventually come across one he could more or less associate with his underage pub visits.

   After a quick £20 worth of what he called hee haw (Scottish vernacular for nothing), Neil re-emerged at Saskia's side to check up on her luck. Every so often he heard her winning coins, and was immediately rapt by the challenge before her.

   Bringing his architectural side to the fore, he carefully studied the way the coins had settled. Her monetary plight had her down to her last two coins, and the pile through the glass in front of her teetered on the brink of throwing themselves off the edge. If his calculations on the way the stud placements were fixed, she just had to drop a coin and let it land nearer the left and the forwarding slide (or slightest vibration) should do the trick.

   'Right there!' Neil tapped with his finger the slot to fire it down. It zigzagged down, landing perfectly for success, but the push bar only managed to make it ride over other coins. Now she was down to her last twopence piece. Success this time, surely? But watching it bump down with baited breath, all that resulted in was a mild shift at the front.

   'Again!' ordered Neil, 'It has to go this time.'

   'I've no more!' she screeched, frisking herself madly for a spare coin but coming up with nothing; there was no way she was leaving the win for anyone else! Neil popped his hands into his jacket pockets for a check, and while doing so she in her frenzy plunged hers into his front jeans pockets, and with blithe unconcern was brushing his penis with her fingers in her mad search to find that elusive coin! He just stared at her in disbelief and she drew them free. 

'What?! I can't leave it like this!' she squealed. 

   'Calm down, woman,' he tutted, 'there's one at your feet - look!' By Christ, the girl was irrepressible!

   She quickly picked it up, rubbed it off her lapel for luck and shoved it down the same 'winning' slot.  Even Neil's heart was in his mouth. 

   Nothing. 

   Nothing but a shuffle closer to the edge.

   'What!' he said, long and loud.  'That should have dropped... sod this!'  He twisted his head around, checking the joint out. Everyone seemed transfixed with their own battles in the arcade, so gave the unjust machine a thud with his fist.

   'There you go!'  

   A hail of twopence pieces tumbled loudly into the winning dish near her knees, and she grinned hugely at the dastardly deed. There he was, this multi-millionaire thumping a machine for a pittance so his daughter wasn't disappointedly duped.  'Bloody thing's probably fixed with magnets!'

   She scooped her 'win' into her pockets, contented enough even though she didn't even break-even. They'd go into the charity jar at the cafe.

Their venture after the arcade led only to the paltry stalls on their way out.  Feeling elated, (Saskia scored surprisingly well at the rifle range where she trounced him) she walked with a stuffed-something-or-other under her armpit for the collective price of £12.  The furry horse-like thing would no doubt have cost a pittance to manufacture, yet she still felt it money well spent.

   'What is that anyway?' Neil asked, puzzled by its appearance. 

   'It's a unicorn, got a gold horn coming out of its head - look.'

   Hmm... doesn't look much like it to me. Anyhow, you're lucky. In the seventies you won a gonk.'

   'A what?'

   'Gonk', he repeated, bringing unfortunate tubular hand movement in on his description. 'Basically it was a toilet roll tube with some fur wrapped round it and a paper face stuck to it.'  

   'What was it suppose to do?'

   'Nothing. Just stood there staring scarily at you. Think my mum eventually used it to clean her blinds.'

   Saskia smiled, enjoying these strange tales of yore. He often brought his mother up in his memories though asking of her out of the blue could noticeably upset him. With his parents splitting when he was young could upset the balance of his loyalty. Though his mother never bad-mouthed his father, nor interfered in their relationship, Neil still felt a guilt factor for ever having trusted him.

Just ahead of them while making their way back to the car (dinner would be extra-late tonight!) a woman was trying to exit the grounds with her grandson, but the boy was protesting and pleading with her to let him on this certain ride.

   'But look, Nana...'  He stood in front of a paper height gauge glued to a post. 'I'm tall enough for this one!'    

   'Yes, I see that,' she emphasised, 'but it also states that you're too young to go it alone. I really couldn't stomach going on, son, I told you that before we even come here.'  The agreement was that dear old grandma would only partake in things that didn't include velocity nor heights.

  'Please, Nana! All my friends at school have been on it.'  

   The older lady - a woman in her latter fifties - stood and watched in terror at the vicious speed and twists of these lethal-looking contraptions; even the carousel had looked too rough for her liking.

   'I'm sorry, Simon, it's not happening. Come on... let's some ice cream or rock candy.' 

    The look on the little lad's face radiated devastation, and she was sure there was going to be guilt-inducing tears to follow; sugar was no trade off, no substitute for the thrill of his life. 

   'I'll take him on!' Saskia, said with alacrity. 'Can't have him being the odd one out in class now, can we?' 

   'Oh no, really, I couldn't possibly— '

   'Nonsense,' Saskia said, taking the situation in hand by slinging her toy into Neil's chest and hanging her strapped bag over his head to hold too. Grabbing the boy by his sleeve, she led him through the barrier before his over-fussing nana could do much about it.

   'I'll have to pay for him! ' she called after them.

   'I'll get it!' Saskia called back.   

   The young lad's face lit up. Not only had he just met his own Joan-of-Arc-in-a-park, but she was a babe - the kind of girl boy's on the cusp of teenage-hood giggled senselessly over. Out came his phone for a selfie, lest his friends think he was bullshitting them! 

   'Zip that phone safely before the ride takes off - put it in your chest pocket!' The uneasy gran called out to him. Thirty seconds later they took off with a mighty whoosh!

   Neil just stood there like a lemon next to the woman, adjusting his 'handbag' to the front, an oversized smile on his face.

   'It really was nice of her to take Simon on the ride. I told him it was out of the question before we even came here and he still chanced his luck.'

   'Kid's eh, what are they like?' Neil quipped back, as if he was some sort of expert.

   'Mind you,' she continued, 'it must be a little less worrying with your granddaughter being that bit older.'

   'Oh, she's not... ' He suddenly stopped his correction, guessing the changing lights and shadows did his age no favours, '...afraid of heights in the least.' It was all he could think of to fill in with. 

   During the pleasantries with the woman, a small fountain of what looked and sounded like nails or rivets hit the barrier enclosing the ride. On further inspection, he saw it that it was a spattering of twopence pieces.  

   Coming off the ride jelly-legged and adrenaline-rushed, the beam on the contented little lad's face was well earned.  Job done, thought Saskia. The woman once again thanked her and gave Neil a fond goodbye.

   'Here...' he threw the shoddily stitched unicorn for her to catch, and as he did so she noticed a silly grin on his face. She had to ask;

   'Okay. What's the Cheshire-cat face in aid of?'

   'I'm pretty sure she was chatting me up.'

   Saskia froze to consider this, then jerked her head up to look at him.

   'Really? Mind you, you two did look cozy, even from high up. You could have been in there, Dad!'

   'Nah!' he shook his head, 'wouldn't have worked.'

   'Why not?'

   'She thought you were my granddaughter.'  

   Saskia laughed, then put on a deep voice. 'Raptor!' she teased and gave a yelp as Neil got her in a sudden headlock and knuckled her skull. It was an impulsive move on his part; quite beneath him to show such ribaldry in public. Freeing her head, he put an arm around her shoulders and walked on.      'Besides, I've no time for another woman in my life - not with you around!'

   'Phew!' She mocked swiping sweat from her forehead, not quite realising how potently he meant it.

   As for his daytime hours he seemed to be conforming, building layer after layer of the homey, unscripted life he once knew. He'd enjoyed his evening far more than he'd dreaded it and was rather sorry to be leaving all the chromatic and recrudescence behind them. Tonight was a fifty minute lesson in fun - even with her panic-stricken sexual assault on him - despite the only things he was taking home were an empty stomach and mushy-muck from his shoes and she a bout of relief.

                                                           

The over-marinated lamb was too late to prepare, so The Bamboo Panda Chinese takeaway had taken over for tonight's choice of meal. The giggles were very much still with her but intensifying now as double-gauged glasses of wine were making up for lost time. Saskia sat by Neil's feet on the floor as he bent forward from the settee, laptop on the coffee table, moiling at some next-day scheduling. But nothing of interest on TV or her phone gave him the scope needed for full concentration and he had no choice but to acquit himself due to her endless chatting. 

   'Can't you amuse yourself for ten minutes?'

   'Nope. Bored. Besides, you said you didn't have any catching up to do.'

   He sighed and slowly folded down the screen. 'Old habits. But you're right. I did.' Nothing was so imperative that it couldn't wait.

   Quickly, she turned round on her knees to face him, one arm draped over his left  knee, the other sipping away at her wine. Looking up at him with those over-mascara'd big green eyes. 'You work too hard. All you'd achieve by doing that now is fitting in an extra coffee in the morning.'

   Gently he brushed a stray bit of hair from her eyes. Even yet, there were times he still couldn't believe just how radiant she looked, how mind-blowingly immersing she could be. Then he took sudden rise, giving Saskia cause to quickly swoop her wine from any spillage on the settee.

   'Wow, Dad! A little warning wouldn't have gone amiss - nearly caused a map of Bali on the couch! Hey, are you okay?'

   'Bit of a headache, actually. You know I don't mind you staying up, but I'm off to bed.'

   'Oh,' she frowned, he rarely complained of such. 'God, I hope all that fairground noise has helped do that... '

   'No, it's more likely to be the wine. We got through almost three bottles.'

   'I'll get you some paracetamol.' 

   She stood to head to a kitchen drawer, but he gently grabbed her wrist as she tried to pass. 

   'No, really,' he said, pulling her into a hug, 'it's fine, I'm fine... I'm always fine with you, you're all the medicine I need, just don't know the right dosage, I'd probably be tempted to peel the label off, - then where would we be?'

   Saskia frowned, pulling back to look at him. 'Dad... you're sounding gibberish, I don't know what on earth you're on about. Are you sure you're okay?''

   A plaintive smile crossed his face and he made a dismissive gesture.  'Ah, just ignore me. Think I might be a tad too drunk. I'll see you in the morning ... strong coffee.' He kissed her head, headed off and she watched until he slid under the sheets, making just a small bump under the spacious king size, where he lay staring at the nighttime sky. 

   Picking up the TV control, she lowered the volume and did her own staring at nothing in particular, trying to fathom out his drunken bosh. Then she shook the puzzler - and it's feeling of something left unsaid - from her mind and made a latte to take to bed. One thing was perfectly fathomable; goodnight's were getting harder.

            end of  **IMPERFECTION**

SATELLITE

                       **SATELLITE**

 📡 On his 56th birthday last year, he spent the whole day at work with not one iota of a hint to anyone that it was so. For his 57th this year, he decided he would push the boat out. Literally.  It seemed forever since the 'Sirena' had last passed along the Thames, and at Saskia's insistence that he had to mark the day somehow, he suggested they do just that. It had an upper function deck with room to facilitate a party of ten people, which was ideal as Neil only ever permitted the closest friends on board.  At one time he never skipped a birthday on his boat, it was a regular occasion when he was married, but despite the long absence he had it maintained and managed at a docking marina - a kind of nursing home for unwanted vessels with can't-be-arsed-with-it-now owners. He gave permission for the business to run it for engine and structure purposes four times a year, but in true probability it would be more like a dozen times.  

   So that was another money-spun buy Saskia was becoming inured to; gloriously rich people and their 'Oh, by the way, I've just remembered - I've a £100,000 boat tucked away somewhere, let's take a trip on it' - as if they'd just remembered nonchalantly that there was a packet of biscuits tucked away at the back of a cupboard.  Still, excitement loomed in a hard-to-contain fashion; this was to be his celebration, yet she was the overexcited one.  A while back she'd been perplexed; what do you buy a man who wants for nothing for his birthday?  A card, company, and the night remaining dry would be enough of a gift, he said. Nah. It needs to be stated personally too, she quietly mulled to herself.

   The part of the Thames he planned to journey along was scenic for a good few miles - his favourite sight being willow tree branches bowing down to bob on ripples, and houses along the river's edge had a glorious view of the boats that passed; a perfect accompaniment to garden Pimms and cucumber. 

   Neil also suggested to her to bring a friend for company (as he invited six of his own along), but weekday nights were unsuitable. As was she, most of her friends were at the latter side of twenty, and mostly married with children, and as she was one of the few that shuddered at the thought of babies (she'd never go gaga at all that goo-goo malarkey), so she was happy to endure a bunch of wrinklies instead of mini-shit machines for one night.  A car was to be sent to pick her up from the train station rather than straight from work (which she deemed would be 'embarrassing!), and it was only right she enjoyed a pre-drink with her father (who couldn't really wait to vaunt her off) while on board too.  A licensed driver from the marina was hired to steer the boat, allowing him to savour his night of endless champagne.

Tentatively, she climbed aboard, Neil holding her hand as he commented how fetching she looked in her flowing turquoise dress, though not quite enamoured with shoes looking unsuitable for climbing deck steps, or even dancing in. This was her first experience on a river boat, and it was less wobbly than she'd imagined. In fact, it felt comparatively as sound as solid ground. There was a mini-bar under deck and it looked relatively homely once you were down the steps. 

   Holding drinks while tagging along, he gave her a quick feel of the boat before the guests arrived - including a shot at steering, where she felt assuredly smug, borderline upper-crust almost, as she floated by feeling  - without looking -  the wishful eyes of those on the river's paths as she passed.  Another little taste of luxury that began to teach her that money can buy happiness.

   

They soon came to a stop at a car park by the waterside to pick up Fran and Delia. A delightful couple, but an oddly paired one. Saskia couldn't help but stare at Fran with his head looking too big for the rest of him. Barely over five feet in height, with sand coloured hair and fuzzy chin, but with, strangely, very dark eyes setting below his orange brows. Saskia couldn't help wondering if he'd just had a nice little spin on his wheel!  

   With them, an unexpected guest lingered at which Neil gave a rather deflated sigh, you've gotta be joking, playing in his head, as he forced a 'genuine smile' at the same time. Delia, his mother (a good two heads higher than her husband) was a well groomed woman forever in flat shoes and a wind-defying beehive structured meticulously on her head. She kissed Neil's cheek with fragility and made a huge fuss at her introduction to Saskia, grabbing her hands, taking one step back and ran eyes up and down her.  

   'My, my, what a young beauty you are - that dress is adorable!' She gently slipped her hands free from Saskia's, a sudden serious face near drew her eyebrows to touching point. 'I was sorry to hear of your mum's illness, but it must be a comfort to have your father in your life now.'

   Neil had filled them in on Saskia before their arrival. As Delia's manner was rather stuffy and direct, he thought it best to try pre-damage limitation so she didn't pick at Saskia with her rather luvvie- darling tone, too much. Delia was a woman often mocked at the golf club when Fran was not around, but she was an old friend's choice of wife - what could one do? 

   'Neil, honey, you don't mind us bringing Howard along, do you?' She smiled and turned round to her goof of a son and flicked him under the chin. 'His archery class was cancelled, tutor felt poorly, so he was at a bit of a loose end.'  

   'Of course not,' Neil lied, an effing big one with bells on - the boy was a posh, post-Eton nightmare!

   'Thought he might be a bit company for the lovely Saskia.'

   'I'm sure he will!'

   The flared-chino and corduroy-jacketed un-invitee briskly shook Saskia's hand (his firm grip flapping the under skin of the top half of her arm) and gave three hello's in a row. Fran, the mild mannered father was much smoother in his approach, so it was plain to see where his son's eccentricity comes from. With intro's over, they all headed for drinks, Neil exuding an apologetic grimace to Saskia in advance. 

   After two other guests, Rob and Sue, (who were blissfully down to earth) were picked up further along, and a few drinks had coloured the senses, Saskia took it upon herself to invite Howie - as he now asked to be called - up onto the main deck for a drink.  It was probably the most exciting offer he had had in years, so he readily led the way.  Once sitting down on the side bench he grinned constantly, catching her eye then looking away like a poorly controlled glove puppet. As much as his nervous manner was amusing Saskia, she thought she'd better help break the poor guy's ice as there was no way he was going to break it on his own; he'd most likely just sit there and melt. Then all it took was one question. One perfectly innocent, respectful query:

   'So, Howie, what is it you do?'

   Chuffing hell, he just galloped off, full speed ahead; she thought the bloke was never gonna take a breather. He banged on about about how he was in his last year of study in marine biology, having taken samples of seawater from all over the world and did she know that even the Thames had amazing organisms, and diapods?  All Saskia could fit in response was random: 'oh' 'yep' 'really' 'mmm' 'uh-huh'  kinds of input. When he told her he might even scoop a sample of the Thames to take home and microscope it tonight, she ashamedly pictured him falling overboard! She thought Neil was bad with hand gestures, but Howie was wildly throwing his arms during his convo - a hand even clipped her hair twice! As if things weren't bad enough, she also sat through his love of archery and a history of bow and arrows. After what felt like forever to her, he now felt satisfaction in himself that he'd 'impressed' her enough and at last directed a question her way.

   'Is it okay to ask, Saskia, - very nice name, I'm sure it's Russian - what profession are you in?'

   'Profession? Um ...  I'm kind of a, well, public server, you could say.'

   'Oh, I see, for the government?'

   'Not quite,' she gave a mild shake of her head. 'I serve tea and cakes in my mum's cafe.'

   'Oh, that's quite...' he struggled for a word to compliment this menial 'profession', '... noble.'

   Saskia curled her lips inwards, trying to ward off her desire to laugh, while Neil was hovering at the bottom of the steps, listening in on Saskia's agony. He reckoned he would give it another ten minutes before thinking up a rescue for her, but right now he was enjoying his eavesdropping.

   While the 'friendship' was forming, Howie was also getting another thrill from all the outsiders that enviously eyed the privileged boaters that passed, simply by sitting next to such an attractive girl, allowing himself the fantasy of them being perceived as an actual couple. Things were getting cringingly worse, as every time the wind blew hair around her face, he kept fishing strands from her mouth in what he considered a gallant gesture.

At long last the rest of the soiree came up the steps and joined them on the upper deck; she'd never been so relieved to hear company approach. The garrulousness of Howie was genuinely giving her a headache and she needed a break. Saskia stood as his mother stopped to smile at them both. 'And how are you two getting along? Famously, it looks like! Was he telling you about his hopes of becoming a professor soon?'

   'Mum!' he protested, giving some sort of a snort that doubled for laughter, while the boy flush furiously.

   A sudden vision of her cleaning her son's face with spit and a hankie sprung suddenly to Saskia's mind. 'Yes, he has,' she replied through curled-in lips, praying the microbe-talk was about done; she was rather brained out by his knowledge of all things boring. 'very much so.' 

   Taking a quick peek down the hatch she saw Neil staring up at her, a smirk of biting ridicule on his face. Calculating by this point that she would be in need of more alcohol, he ascended on deck to refill glasses with champagne. Delia sat down next to Howard for her top up, but a panic-stricken Saskia moved sharply, excusing herself. 

   Spending more time than necessary in the rather incapacious toilet, she tried to gear herself up for watery round two.  The boat's motion had stopped while she was sitting on the bowl as the last two of Neil's friends come aboard, so reluctantly released herself from the time-wasting latrine. Nipping a quick vodka into a glass from the drinks tray -  double; maybe even triple - she swirled the drink round in the glass, counted to three and downed it.

   Bracing herself - hoping the vodka would hit her quickly - she gingerly climbed the stairs, popping her head up like a periscope to seek out the whereabouts of Howard, relieved to see he had joined the newcomers in conversation. Neil espied the head of his daughter emerging gingerly from the hatch, walked over and reached a hand down to help her up, duly walking her over to meet Paul and Rosemary. It didn't take long for Howard to reattach himself to her and resigned herself ipso facto to it. 

Darkness was descending a few hours later and the boat's music and lights were upping the mood. The alcohol had very much soothed Saskia, and now she was up for anything. So when the mellowed birthday boy got her up to dance to a contemporary, catchy song - whose beat demanded 1950's type twirling - she did not demur. It was strange how his inhibitions and stoic manner transposed into an embarrassing-dad type, not giving a toss who was watching (or shouting to) them. After the dance, she followed her dad and they rested over the edge of the boat to catch their breath.

   'Dad, I didn't think you had all that energy in you, I could hardly keep up!'

   'Ach, there's life in the old dog yet! Has Hapless Howie asked you for a dance?'

   'Nah. I don't think dancing's ever been his niche.' Poor lad. His offbeat ways and clothes (hard to decide which was worse) didn't exactly warrant a wow. Mind you, the fascination that stemmed from a tiny sea monkey tank he got at eleven was at least assuring him a financial future; he was gregarious enough - for like-minded company.  'By the way... did he really just turn up out of the blue?'

   'Why? Did you think it was a set up, hoping you two would click?' he said with a huge grin. 'Maybe Delia did, she's been trying to marry him off for years. Quite taken by you, she was. Bet she's planning the wedding already!' 

   'Oi! I'd probably need an encyclopedia and be constantly pissed for that.'  She suddenly felt awful for mocking him, and for such an unfair appraisal of considering him a weirdo within minutes of meeting him. Howard really wasn't that bad looking, despite his sever side shed. On the whole she supposed it was down to one's upbringing. Parental infliction - especially by the mother; she felt she related a bit more there. Her own path hadn't been the one she'd pictured herself travelling along by now. How unforeseen events can muscle-in on the journey...

   Still speaking face to face, Neil noticed over Saskia's shoulder, the young man at issue approaching them. Keeping his face stiff, he spoke through clenched smiley teeth, eyebrows raised high like a ventriloquist's dummy,  'And here he comes.' But his advance was venial, he was merely over to say his goodbye's. It was now past 11' o'clock and he didn't operate as well out of routine.

   'Just to say we're off now, Mum's saying goodbye to the others. Thank you so much for such a pleasant evening, it beats archery club hands down. He shook Neil's hand and instead of shaking Saskia's, he risked leaning forward to kiss her cheek. ' Such a shame I couldn't interest you in joining, but I guess it is more of a man's thing!'  

   'I'm just not a very sporty person. Listen, Howie... how about a dance before you go? I know you said it's not quite your thing, but we could put on a slow number - no skill needed, just moving about in a circle and treading on each other's toes.'

   'Um, I don't kn—'  Not taking no for an answer, she grabbed his hand and shouted for a certain song to be played. He didn't know it, but by the end it would be the sweetest song he'd ever heard. 

   Delia walked over to Neil and watched them as they tripped their uncertain circle.  'Ah, look at them, ' she remarked,  'don't they make a lovely couple?' She gave Neil a nudge and he nodded his head in agreement, with a different answer inside it. 

       The second all the goodbye's were made, Neil turned to Saskia. 'Aah, that was really sweet of you, you'll have had his belly flipping.' He knew the dance would have meant a lot to the lad, but then spoiled the moment by adding, 'Probably the closest he'll ever be to getting laid.'

       'DAD!' she protested, giving him a light backhander to the stomach.

       'C'mon,' he smiled, 'I want to show you something.'

Leading her up to the head of the boat, he asked her,  'Can you remember that long tunnel we went through earlier on?'

   'Not really,' she answered, they all looked the same in daylight.

   'Well, we've turned and heading back to it. Don't think you'll forget it now. Look.' 

   She followed the direction of his pointed finger. Further up the river came a glow, like an orb sitting on top of the water.  'Wow!' she said, 'what's causing that light?'

   'Bit of a story to this. Apparently there used to be loads of accidents here - no person ever got hurt, but boats kept clipping the sides and fronts, causing damage. People got fed up as the tunnel lights set into the stone kept conking out, so some clever clogs came up with the idea of lighting it themselves as a kind of protest, and strung it with metres of lights. There's loads of solar panels round both the entrances. After a mention in the local paper to shame the River Trust, fellow boaters have been donating and adding lights themselves ever since. That was over fifteen years ago and it's become a kind of local tradition.' 

   'Ah... what a genius idea!' Saskia was well impressed.

   As they were almost at the entrance, Neil put a hand round her waist and pulled her closer to him.           'Here we go!'

   Weather-wise it had been glorious and the now night sky was a riot of crisp, shimmering stars, but this tunnel's lustre was made just as brilliant with reflecting lambency on the surrounding water. Caught up in the wonder of it, she pictured being in the inky sky, a star within grasping reach to put in your pocket. Such thinking one never grows out of. Barely two minutes later, however, it was over.

   'For something so simply made, that was breathtaking, Dad.'

   'I thought you'd like it. Magrette loved it too, every birthday without fail.'

   Saskia was touched to hear that, giving him a wistful smile and a sympathy nudge, resting her head on his shoulder, and he acknowledged her concern by snuggling her tighter to him with both arms.       Magrette had a tendency to linger in the depths of his mind and certain reminders of her still smarted after ten years. But despite that, he at least had re-established himself with his near-forgotten-about boat - a thing he most likely would not have done, nor even wanted to have done, had he not Saskia in his life now.

                       *                *                *               *                *                *                *

After paying the steersman of the boat firm handsomely for tonight's services, they were picked up at the closest point of the river, heading for home, and immediately changed for bed.  A rapid tiredness hit both of them, but there was as yet one thing she wanted to do, though still feeling hinky about it.  Midnight was creeping closer and in the end she decided to go for it, sitting straight across from him.

   'Think I'll be hitting the sheets in ten,' Neil announced. 

   'Yeah, me as well.'

   'Had a good time tonight, turned out to be quite entertaining!'

   'Wasn't it just! Actually dad,' Saskia leaned over the side of her chair and produced a striped navy and blue gift bag that she'd sneaked and tucked by its side earlier on, 'I've got a little something for you.'

   'Oh, kiddo, I told you there was no need.'  He was rather touched by the gesture; hadn't been given a present, nor wanted any, for years.

   'Don't get too excited, you haven't seen it yet!'

   It felt heavy and solid - a total puzzler.  

   'I decided against bringing it to the party tonight, I preferred to give it to you here.'

   Neil fished inside, pulling it out from lots of thin streamers. It was a pine and glass clock, around sixteen square inches; the wooden inner square had the face etched with numbers; encased round all the edges was three inches of thick see-through glass with a section of pure white sand laying along the bottom one.

   'I made it at woodwork class.'

   He stared at it, smiling hugely. Taking that as an obvious sign of approval, she bounded over, jumping to settle beside him. 'On the hour it rotates, and the sand falls again back into the bottom one.'  She took it from him and turned it round. 'See that little lever there?'

   'Yes?' He was even more intrigued. 

   'That has a mechanism that turns that cog to make just one square glass edge move - clock hands stay in the middle as normal - so when it hits the hour, voila - it starts making the sand fall. There's a curve of glass at each corner making sure it filters along.' 

   'Ah.' Neil clicked on, 'similar to an hourglass.'

   'Yeah,  more or less but quicker and at a right angle.'

  'Very clever.'

  'Well, I have moved on to advanced level - mechanical's, now.  Sometimes it looks like waves or a far off mountain range. Daft, really, but you can see what I mean.'

  Boy, was he touched. Bringing a lump to Neil Balfour's throat was a rarity.  'And you've been working away, making this for your old dad?'

  'Well, I noticed you didn't have one up, so... '

  He sat quietly in thought, letting the seconds pass, rubbing a thumb gently down the smooth, clear glass. 'Saskia...  I don't know what to say.'

  'Well, as long as it's not 'shit' you don't have to say anything.'

  He placed the clock carefully by his side and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her to him. Her tummy churned unexpectedly stronger this time. But she was being engulfed in his pride, feelings heightened by alcohol and the success of her gift - that would be why. Just normal simple belly flips. 

  'Right, young lady,' he announced, unwrapping his hold and placing the clock on the spare chair. 'I'm putting this up first thing in the morning, best get off to bed.'  He kissed her head. 'Want me to dull the lights?'

   'Ah, no, it's okay, I'll put them off, I'm going to mine.'

   'Night, then.'

   She watched until he reached his bed and slid under his sheets before heading to her own. So he had been stunned into silence, and never said shit.  Now she didn't have anything to say, but the word - albeit through a different context - was bouncing like crazy in her head.