Chapter 8

June came to an end and July arrived. The festival would take place on the Saturday, the Fifth.

Marianne said, “Plan on having the whole of the following week off, Simon. I expect we’ll be partying all over the weekend, and you’ll definitely want Monday off – and I’d like to be able to spend time with you all that week. Besides, you deserve some time off after what you’ve been through, you hero you!”

Simon had waved off the last part, but had put in for the leave anyway. To his relief his request had been granted without a murmur – he really didn’t want to face Marianne if her wishes had been thwarted. That he might have been given the leave because he’d saved the life of a fellow fireman didn’t enter his head.

All was set for Simon, Marianne and Caroline to go to Knebworth – except transport. Simon hadn’t thought of it at all, and when Caroline asked, “How are we getting there?” Marianne and Simon looked at each other in horror.

“I could ask John if we could borrow his car,” Simon suggested after a moment. “He’s not supposed to drive it at the moment anyway after that concussion.”

So Simon hared off to see John. “Sure, no problem,” he said, and readily handed over his keys. “Just, please, be careful with her?”

“Of course I will, John!” Simon assured him. “I know how much you dote on that car!”

That settled, with more assurances from Simon that he’d look after John’s car, he carefully drove home.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Mum says we ought to go and stay overnight at Aunt Jennifer’s, she lives really close to Knebworth, within walking distance of the site, actually,” Marianne told Simon the next morning. “It’ll mean we can drop the car off there and not worry about parking it.”

Simon immediately agreed. “Good. That way it won’t be in a car park full of drunken drivers bashing into everything and not even leaving a note! I must admit I was worried about that. How close is your Aunt’s place?”

“It’s just a couple of miles – a small village called Rabley Heath. Aunt Jennifer bought a little cottage there after she and Uncle Pat got divorced.”

“Yeah! Uncle Pat was a no-good so-and-so, he hit Aunt Jenny!” Caroline piped up.

“Then he went and took almost all the money, too. I never liked him either, Cari. But Jenny’s cool.” She turned to Simon and added, “You’ll like her, I know. She looks like an older version of me and Cari.”

Not knowing quite how to react to that, Simon chose humour. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. I might get into the wrong bed.”

Marianne grinned at him. “She’d like that. Aunt Jenny’s got similar needs to mine, and no husband to help her out.”

Caroline looked a little shocked at Marianne’s words, and told her, “She wouldn’t try to steal your boyfriend, Marianne!”

“No, but she might ask me if I’d care to share. What would you say to that, Simon?”

“I’d say I was your boyfriend, Marianne.”

“Corrrrect answer!” she told him – and gave him a wonderful kiss!

- - - - - - - - - -

Simon, Marianne and Caroline arrived at Rabley Heath at tea-time on Friday. The festival was the next day.

The cottage was a small, white painted house, with an equally small, well-tended garden to the front. There was room to park the car on the driveway, so Simon parked John’s mini in front of the garage door and cut the engine.

Marianne grinned widely at him, opened her door, got out and held the seat up so that Caroline could emerge from behind her. Simon locked the doors behind them and walked after the twins as they skipped along the path to their Aunt’s back door.

“Hi Mari! Hi Cari!” he heard as he rounded the corner.

Jennifer was, as Marianne had said, an older version of the twins. She looked to be in her mid-forties and had rounded out a little, but the resemblance was striking. The same curly dark hair, the same heart-shaped face, and those same wonderfully sparkling grey eyes. She smiled and held her hand out to greet Simon.

“You’ll be Marianne’s boyfriend, I take it?” she asked him, drawing him in and giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Yes ma’am, that’s me. Simon Cook.”

“Well it’s wonderful to meet you, Simon. Come in, everybody, I’ll make some tea.”

So a while later the three women and Simon were sitting in Jennifer’s small but cosy front room. It was tastefully cluttered in shades of cream and brown, with photographs of horses and family, mementos of places visited, and commemorative plates from various events.

After bringing in the tray with the delicate china cups and Rich Tea biscuits, the twins’ Aunt said, “The whole village is abuzz with rumours about the concert this year. There were all sorts of things supposed to be going on last time, and they say it’ll be worse this year.”

“Oh, what sort of things?” Marianne asked with a smirk.

“Drink, drugs… and inappropriate behaviour,” Jennifer told her with a straight face, before dissolving into laughter. “You should hear some of the old maids. ‘Nothing like it in my day!’ they say. What they’re forgetting is that, really, all the same things were going on – just hidden under the carpet, and often the poor girls concerned got in the family way and were sent away, poor things.”

“Barbarians,” Caroline said.

“Yes, but people of their time. Things happened, they just weren’t spoken of,” Jennifer said.

The conversation continued around him, and Simon sat there, unable to say a word. Jennifer broke open a bottle of wine, pouring for all four of them. He took it all in, disbelieving. Just how open were these people? He couldn’t imagine a conversation like this with his relatives! Though he noticed a difference; while Marianne and her Aunt were quite comfortable talking about that (‘Sex!’ his inner editor insisted. ‘It’s Sex – why don’t you relax a bit?’), Caroline was quiet.

Talk eventually turned to other subjects, and Simon joined in rather more. Another bottle was produced, opened, and consumed. He wondered if it was just the alcohol that was making everyone so free and open, allowing the two girls and the older lady to talk about sex, politics, sex, religion, sex and just about any other subject seemingly without inhibition. He remembered earlier in the evening, and concluded that it wasn’t – they really were this open. It wasn’t what he was used to in his own home – his father was very much of the older mould, while his mother seemingly went along with him.

It was to his surprise when Jennifer announced that it was already after half-past ten, and she was going to bed.

“Girls, you have the spare room, of course. Simon, I’ll fetch you a couple of blankets and a pillow,– you get the couch, I’m afraid.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Simon was drifting in that stream-of-consciousness state just before sleep when he became aware that he wasn’t alone on the couch.

It was pitch dark, even after his eyes sprang open he couldn’t really see anything. He came back to full alertness when he felt hands on the underwear he was wearing – well, he couldn’t sleep naked on someone else’s couch, could he? – and his manhood lay revealed. The next thing he felt was soft lips kissing his cockhead, then a warm, wet tongue lapping at him. He rapidly hardened and started to say something but felt a finger on his lips, and kept quiet.

The lips and tongue went back to work, joined now by an expert hand. Simon found himself being brought towards a peak quickly, but then kept just short. His hips moved of their own accord, his hands went to the girl’s head to force himself home, but she expertly backed off, and took his hands in hers, laying them by his side. Once more she went to work on him, bringing him to the edge of ecstasy but not over it, holding him there for a while. Dimly Simon was aware that he could only feel one hand, and realised that the other was busy elsewhere.

Finally she went rigid around his cock, taking him deeply. He could feel her straining, tense like a bowstring in the dark, and when she moaned the vibrations set him off, pumping away into her mouth. She went limp against him and he, too, relaxed his muscles, finding that he’d almost lifted himself into a wrestler’s bridge, his buttocks inches off the sofa, heels and shoulders digging deeply into the blanket covered soft upholstery.

His visitor crawled lazily up to kiss his face. “Thanks, Simon!” he heard Jennifer’s low voice, before she kissed him lightly and rolled off him to the floor.

In shock he felt rather than saw or heard her lithely come fluidly to her feet and move off in the darkness. He heard her bedroom door snick shut, while he laid there, heart pounding, waiting for the sleep that had once been so close but was now a distant objective.

- - - - - - - - - -

Morning came, and Simon woke. He groggily came to the conclusion that he’d slept despite himself.

What had really happened last night? Had it been a dream? His underwear was bunched up, pulled partway down his thighs. It really had happened.

Blearily he wiped his hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. He pulled his underwear back up and yawned, stretching. Just then he heard voices in the corridor and the door opened. Marianne and Caroline walked in.

“My, don’t you look lovely this morning?” grinned Marianne, and Caroline giggled.

No witty retort coming to mind, Simon grunted and quickly got dressed. Having both his beautiful girlfriend and her twin sister watching him ought to have aroused him, especially as they made appreciative noises, but embarrassment and guilt were overriding his lust. By a long way.

Caroline left to help her Aunt with setting out breakfast, and Marianne sat next to her boyfriend on the sofa. They sat in silence for a moment, then Simon yawned, mightily.

“Didn’t sleep well, huh?” she asked him.

“Er, no, er, not well at all. I er, woke up in the middle of the night.”

Marianne’s expression grew more concerned.

“Oh, Simon, are you getting nightmares? You should have said something!”

“No! Well, I mean, sometimes, but not last night. No, I, er, I just woke up, and couldn’t get back to sleep afterwards.”

Just then the door opened and Jennifer popped her head through.

“Breakfast will be ready in a couple of minutes. Hungry, Simon?” she asked, face innocent.

Simon blushed. Marianne turned away from him to ask her Aunt if she could have some toast, offering to help, but Jennifer laughed, and told her that she’d already helped enough.

- - - - - - - - - -

Getting through the meal was agony for Simon. How could he tell his girlfriend that her aunt had sucked him off? He was anxious and quiet, and in the end Marianne pulled her aunt into a whispered conversation. Then she grabbed Simon and pulled him into the room she’d shared with her sister overnight.

“Simon,” she told him quietly but firmly, “this has gone on long enough.” Marianne looked him directly in the eye, put her hands on her hips and went on, “I’m sorry. I should have asked if you’d mind beforehand, I just didn’t think you would.”

Simon’s jaw dropped as she went on, “Aunt Jen asked me if I’d mind lending you to her last night, and I told her she could. She said she just wanted to suck you, not full sex – she seemed to think that wouldn’t be right. She told me that’s what happened, and that you seemed to be all right with it – is that correct, Simon?”

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew! She wouldn’t have done that otherwise!”

“You could have asked me!” he shouted, angrily.

Marianne closed the distance between them and put her arms around him, face lifted for a kiss. Despite his anger he felt himself responding to her touch. He met her lips.

After a long moment she pulled back and laid her cheek on his.

“I know I should have asked first, Simon. I really am sorry. But it was just as we were going to bed, and I really didn’t think you’d object!”

Marianne’s aunt spoke up from the doorway, where she’d appeared unnoticed by the pair.

“I’m sorry, too, Simon. I shouldn’t have done it. I took advantage of you.”

Simon and Marianne broke apart and turned to look at Jennifer. It was obvious she’d been crying.

Marianne went to her aunt. Simon hung back, thinking.

“You know, what bothered most was not being asked, but what bothered me first was that Marianne wouldn’t like it. Obviously, that’s not a problem!”

“Obviously!” Marianne interjected.

“Okay. You and I can talk later, in private,” he told Marianne, “But you…” he said, turning to Jennifer, “well I guess I should say ‘thank you’. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it, and I guess you did too.”

“Yes, I did. But –”

“Then let’s leave it at that between us, Jennifer. Let’s not do, or say, anything to make things more complicated.”

Marianne reached for Simon’s hand and pulled him back into the front room. Caroline was there, face blank.

Jennifer wiped her eyes and looked at Simon with relief and a small smile. “You get your dick sucked in the middle of the night, and you react like I’d slapped you. Are you sure you’re a young man?”

When Simon opened his mouth to retort Marianne silenced him by kissing him soundly. Simon closed his eyes at the intensity of his girlfriend’s kiss.

He heard Jennifer continue, “I guess you answered that question last night when you came buckets in my mouth – I had trouble swallowing it all!”

Simon’s eyes popped open in surprise just in time to see Caroline clap her hands over her ears. “Too much information, Aunt Jen!” she squeaked. This broke the tension, setting Marianne and Jennifer laughing while Simon turned an interestingly dark shade of red, contrasting markedly with his blonde hair as he blushed right to the roots.

But Jennifer looked pointedly at the clock. Simon followed her gaze and realised that time was passing faster than he'd thought.
 
"Time to get ready, ladies," he told Marianne and Caroline, "get your stuff ready – it's going to be a long day."
 
- - - - - - - - - -
 
Simon still hadn’t told Marianne about Alison, or her offer about the party. He was pretty sure he should simply let that particular sleeping dog lie, but he couldn’t quite shake the thought of her from his mind.

They were early enough at the site to get reasonably close to the stage – close enough that they’d be able to see the people on stage as people, not just blobs. It was a beautiful morning with a cornflower blue sky, promising to be long, hot and dry. Simon, Marianne and Caroline sat down on the grass and made plans.

“I’m going to go and get something to drink. Lemonade or Pepsi or something,” he told them. “I’ll be as quick as I can – don’t go off with any strange men!”

Simon returned some time later, smoking a roll–up, with several cans of Carlsberg Export and some Coke. The site was now packed; he was afraid he wouldn’t find the two girls. He eventually found Marianne and Caroline standing in the crowd. By now things had started, Graham Chapman had been on in his military character from ‘Monty Python’ and Linda Lewis had played her set. It was loud, at least.

He got rid of the cigarette and bellowed “Hi!” to them both, putting an arm around Marianne.

“Hi, Simon. We were wondering where you’d got to!”

“There’s a hell of a queue at the beer tent. I thought I’d lost the pair of you!”

“You missed the start!” Caroline shouted.

In answer Simon merely shrugged and popped open the ring-pull on a can of beer. Marianne grabbed a bottle of coke, and they listened to the music.

By late afternoon Simon had a good buzz going on the beer. Marianne and Caroline had both sunk a couple but were still pacing themselves. For that matter Simon hadn’t been going all-out to get drunk, either, unlike some of the crowd around them. Roy Harper and Steve Miller had both been on with their bands, and they were waiting for the next band – ‘Rocksette’. Simon couldn’t work out how they’d managed to get so high on the bill, but for whatever reason they were on just before the much better known Captain Beefheart. Of course, ‘The Floyd’ were the headlining act, after Steve Miller.

‘Rocksette’ came onto stage, and Simon remembered the invitation. He still hadn’t mentioned it to Marianne or Caroline. Then all was forgotten as they began their set.

No covers in this. Simon remembered Alison’s songbook, the one she’d torn a page from to give him her parent’s address. She’d obviously come up with some more material, and it was good – these were good songs, some might be ‘commercial’ but even so… this was good material!

The lead singer – Simon had to dig deep to come up with a name, Shaun, that was it – was good in a typical fashion, skinny and athletic and with a strong, high-ish tenor voice with some gravel in it when he wanted it. He had a strong personality which came over on stage well, too.

But it was, once again, Alison who caught, and held, Simon’s attention. 

She was lean and she wore a silver jumpsuit, which hugged her skin. Her hair was swept down to where it was gathered in a bunch each side. She looked like a guitar-playing Ursula Andress. She looked like a goddess.

She played well, too. None of the Hendrix copying any more, just solid guitar work with some dazzling virtuoso breaks when they were called for. Shaun was the leader but Alison was the star.

Suddenly the set was over, and ‘Rocksette’ were walking off stage. Simon couldn’t believe it. Surely there would be more?

But no: the roadies were quickly onto the stage clearing and setting up for Captain Beefheart. Simon let out a deep breath and came back to his senses. He looked around for Marianne and Caroline.

He couldn’t see them.

He realised he’d moved forward into the crowd, trying and succeeding in getting closer to the stage. Concerned, he scanned the crowd behind him, searching, then he suddenly caught a glimpse of one of the twins jumping up and looking worried. He waved and called, but wasn’t heard – but that didn’t matter, he could now find his way back to them.

He was met by a feminine missile, and this was quickly followed by another one, along with an anxious and angry question: “Where did you get to? I couldn’t see you, neither could Caroline, and we were worried. I didn’t know where you were!”

“Sorry, Marianne, I really am. I just got lost in the music, I guess.”

“Looked more like you were lost in the guitar player, before you started drifting towards the stage!” grinned Caroline. Simon couldn’t exactly deny it, and his silence drew a furious look from Marianne before she visibly put it behind her.

Simon saw that now wasn’t the time to say anything about the party. He cast a silent sigh. ‘It probably never will be the right time, now,’ he thought. ‘Oh, well.’

- - - - - - - - - -

Beefheart finished their set, and they were replaced by Steve Miller. Simon wasn’t a fan of either, particularly, he hardly paid any attention. Now it would be the highlight of the day – Pink Floyd. He smoked another roll-up, courteously declining the offer of a ‘herbal alternative’ from a neighbouring couple, and waited while they set up.

There was an interruption when the MC, John Peel, announced that the Floyd wouldn’t go on until someone got off the tower that was linked by a line to the stage. Soon after that, two spitfires flew low over the festival site, and shortly after that, the band came onto stage, and the music began.

Actually, they began badly. The sound didn’t seem right at all, but gradually the sound engineers and roadies got it together, and the band themselves were professional throughout. They did all of “Shine on you Crazy Diamond”, with a cameo spot for Roy Harper on “Have a Cigar” before launching into “Dark Side of the Moon”. Simon, Marianne and Caroline stood together with one of his arms around each of the twins as they swayed and sang along. A model plane ‘flew’ down on a wire to herald “Dark Side”, there was the usual Floyd circular screen, the lighting show was great… but Caroline pointed out that Roger Waters’ vocals were out-of-tune several times.

While they were waiting for the band to come back on for their encore, Simon, much the worse for wear on beer and euphoric with hearing his favourite band play, asked Marianne and Caroline in a loud voice, “Fancy going to a party afterwards?”

“What?” from both girls.

“Party!”

Caroline looked unsure, but when Marianne shouted “Yeah, sure!” she looking at her sister, and finally nodded.

“Great!” declared Simon and then before more could be said, the Floyd came back on.

The band finished, of course, with “Echoes”. It was flawless, Simon was once more completely taken over with the music. The three of them stood once more arm-in-arm, mesmerised by one of the world’s best progressive rock bands.

They started to drift away with the crowd before Marianne asked Simon, “Where’s this party, then?”

Simon stopped and brought his mind back down to earth.

“We’ve got to get into Stevenage, somehow. I wonder if we can get a lift from someone?”

“Who, at this time of night? Oh, give me a break, Simon!” Marianne was not amused.

“We could always walk, you know,” Caroline told her, but her sister disagreed.

“Too far! I’ve been on my feet almost all day and I don’t feel like stumbling around in the dark!”

‘Oh, well,’ thought Simon. He hadn’t really been thinking of going anyway, it was the alcohol that had loosened his tongue.

The three of them made their way to the exit. Just as they were filing out, Marianne spotted someone standing off to one side.

“Pearl!” she cried, and ran over to the older woman. They hugged and exchanged air-kisses while Simon and Caroline walked over more sedately. Chris was there, too, and the five of them chatted excitedly about the day. Chris was a devout Pink Floyd fan.

Eventually though Chris told Simon, “Sorry mate, gotta go – party to go to.”

“Yeah, sure. We’ve got an invite to one as well but I don’t think we can get there, it’s a fair walk and I sure as hell can’t drive!”

“Oh? Whereabouts, I might be able to give you a lift!”

“Stevenage,” Simon replied.

“Perfect! That’s where we’re going! There’s a record company bash at the Caribou.”

Simon’s wide, sloppy, somewhat drunk grin told all the story, but of course he couldn’t refrain from telling Chris, “Same party!” 

“Have you got room?” asked Marianne, thinking of the Stag. Fitting three in the back of that car would be a very tight squeeze, especially with Chris’ camera equipment.

“Sure, I brought the Cortina Estate – otherwise there wouldn’t have been room for the cameras and Pearl’s makeup!”

Pearl smacked his arm affectionately. “A girl’s got to look after herself you know, Chris. You like me looking good in your pictures!”

- - - - - - - - - -

A little while later Chris pulled up in the car park of the spacious Inn. Pearl was sitting next to him, while Simon was sitting in the middle of the back seat with Marianne and Caroline on either side of him. Marianne was cuddled up close, her head on his shoulder, dozing. Caroline, having drunk less, looked across at her sister and grinned at him. “She’ll liven up once we get into the party,” she told Simon.

No one was going to mind the traffic slowly winding past as they got out of the car. The Inn must have been taken over completely by the record company, because even from the car park the music playing inside was loud.

There was, of course, a pair of large muscular guys in suits standing outside. Simon seemed to be shuffled to the front by the group, so he gave his name and said, “We were told to ask for Horace, and say that Alison sent us?”

One of the bouncers went inside, presumably to check. He came back and said, “Okay, you can go in. Who are these?”

“These two are my girlfriend and her sister, and…”

Chris took over. He gave his name, told them who Pearl was, and after some whispered conversation with a narrow-faced gent in a sharp suit, they were allowed in.

Narrow-Face introduced himself, “Giles, I’m with the record company,” he said, with an insincere smile and a tone in his voice that suggested he was superior to all lowly peons like these, and they should be subservient to him. But he brought them through to what Simon realised was normally the restaurant, but today had been taken over by a small PA, a guy spinning discs and a scrum of people swilling copious amounts of booze.

“Enjoy,” he told them and left them alone.

“How did you get an invite to a party like this?” Marianne asked Simon.

“I, er… I know the lead guitarist for ‘Rocksette’,” he told her absently, while trying to find Alison in the crowd. Spotting Shaun, he began to make his way over, obliviously trailing Marianne and Caroline after him.

Simon felt like he was in a train crash. He could see everything falling down around him, and he didn’t think there was anything he could do about it. ‘Why did I have to mention this fuckin’ party anyway?’ he thought, ‘I should have just taken the girls home…’

‘Christ!’

“Simon!”

Marianne was calling him. He realised that she’d been calling him for a while, she was quite vexed now.

“I just thought,” he told her, “you’ve got to ring your Aunt – she’ll be worried about you both.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” she said, eyes flashing dangerously. “There’ll be a phone in reception, come on. You can find… whoever, later.”

“Sorry, Marianne.”

“Huh!” But she moved to him, gave him a peck on the cheek and said, softly, “You’re forgiven. I want to enjoy the party – let’s go tell Aunt Jen.”

She marched off, the way she held her small body effortlessly parting the people before her. Caroline was with her, and with Simon in their wake they made their way to the reception desk.

- - - - - - - - - -