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.