Thirst for Adventure

Chapter 13

‘This is what it’s like,’ he said, and added in mockdidactic fashion: ‘Are you concentrating now?’ He went to one end of the line he had drawn and began walking along it, but strayed first on one side of it, then on the other.

‘I get it,’ Jasper smiled.

‘Well, it’s exactly like that,’ Leo said. ‘I go from one to the other so quickly, and the line between them is so thin.’

‘Yes,’ said Jasper. ‘A very wealthy man from Batlin came to see my father one day. He spent half an hour telling my father how much he liked his work, what an admirer of my father he was, how he sang his praises all around the city. Then he offered my father a h

uge sum of money to paint his portrait, but my father refused, because he only paints faces that interest him. The man told my father he was a disagreeable untalented failure, and walked out. All it took was one word for him to cross that line that you’ve drawn, and that word was “No”. In fact, when you think about it, “No” is probably the word that’s most likely to send people from love to hate.’

‘But “Yes” doesn’t necessarily send them the other way,’ Leo added. ‘It must be hard being a parent, because you’re always saying “No” to your kids, and sometimes they hate you for it. But you might be saying “No” for their own good, like if they want to go swimming in a spot that’s dangerous,’ he concluded, blushing a little as he nominated that as an example.

‘Trouble is, they say “No” automatically,’ Jasper complained, ‘without even thinking about it. That’s what annoys me. Come on, we better get back. The fair opens at six and I want some tea first.’

Chapter Eleven

The next couple of days were busy, with some major jobs, including the re-roofing of a caravan and the construction of a new booth for the twins; their old one had been damaged in the altercation back at Ifeka. Leo added an extra touch to the booth: a lever system that would cause a flag to unfurl over the twins if they were in trouble and wanted to summon help. ‘Thanks Leo, you’re a sweet boy,’ Parara said, but Lavolta merely commented, ‘It’s too complicated’.

Leo hardly noticed the crowds of people who filled the fairground these days — the crowds that had once contained him as an anonymous element. But he occasionally took the time to look at different faces, or to note the various vignettes that were being enacted at every moment: the child wheedling favours from a grandparent; the boy talking too loudly, to impress his friends; the tiny children who had not yet learnt to dissemble and whose faces showed every emotion; the farmer whose hands and face shone with the special scrubbing that only a trip ‘to town’ could induce; the warm hugs between people who knew each other well but who could meet only infrequently. Leo knew that these were universal scenes, recognisable anywhere, irrespective of time or place. He came to understand a little better what the book had meant when it spoke of stories that would be simultaneously one person’s and all people’s. There were moments when the boy, looking into the faces in the crowds as they passed him, could see beauty in each one — beauty so sharp and perfect it took his breath away. At such moments he knew he was in love with every person in the crowd, every person in the world, all humanity.

There was one person he was particularly attracted to, however, and that was Jasper. He admired her intelligence and lively sense of humour, the friendliness she showed to everyone. And he felt inspired by the smooth lines of her body, and her clear fresh face. He tried writing poems about her when he was in bed at night, but gave up when his first efforts came out as either maudlin or clumsy. He started to find opportunities for them to be together, and indeed, his whole day began to be planned around her. For her part, she frequently sought him out or waited for him or came and sat next to him. The result was that they were together a good deal, even though they got teased for it.

On their last full day in Finauer they both had a free morning, and Jasper seized the chance to extend the invitation she had nearly extended once before. She came into Mayon’s caravan at about seven in the morning and woke Leo by pulling him out of bed by the feet.

‘Go away!’ cried Mayon crossly from his bed.

‘What do you want?’ asked Leo just as crossly, struggling to keep himself covered with the sheet he had nearly lost in the mêlée.

‘Come to the coast with me,’ said Jasper, unperturbed by the chaos she had caused. ‘We’ve got ages. We could do it easily. It’s perfect weather for a swim.’

Leo was keen enough; he had not forgotten his earlier daydream of Jasper n***d on a beach. He grabbed some food and joined her outside the caravan. The day was already warming up and Leo quickly caught Jasper’s mood of excitement.

The distance was not much greater than it had been on Leo’ previous trip to the surf. This time they simply followed the inlet, watching a late fishing boat ahead of them. When they reached the sea they turned to the south. They rounded a rocky headland and discovered beyond it a beach as perfect and unspoiled as the one Leo had been on less than a week earlier. They ran, giggling and excited, to the middle of it and flung themselves into the sand, rolling in it like otters in water.

‘Have you got a swimming costume?’ Jasper asked.

‘No,’ Leo admitted.

‘Good,’ Jasper announced, ‘because neither have I.’

She jumped up and, turning away from the boy just a little, stripped off her few pieces of clothing and ran laughing towards the water. Leo, his heart pounding from the glimpses of her body, realised that if he did not hurry he would be left looking foolish. He threw off his shirt and pants and ran after her. He looked down at himself as he ran and was relieved to see that not only had his p***s grown in recent weeks to a mature size, but also that it was behaving respectably given the circumstances it was now in. He splashed through the water after Jasper, embarrassed enough to send up a big cloud of spray that would screen him for a few moments. But Jasper seemed to be thinking only of swimming: she dived under one wave and over the top of the next, like a sleek porpoise at play.

Leo had swum and bathed many times with his sister and mother. But he had not realised the sheer beauty of a girl as perfectly proportioned as this one. As they swam around each other he stole what glances he could, fascinated by her unselfconscious nakedness. The surf was quite different from the earlier occasion that had nearly cost him his life. Now the waves were small and gentle. There was no undertow, and on this beach he was able to go a long way before getting out of his depth. He threw himself in and out of the breakers with no thought of anything but pleasure, revelling in the tingle and zest of the surf.

It was nearly an hour before he decided he was cold and tired enough to stop. He jogged out of the water to where their discarded clothes lay like giant butterfly wings on the sand. He stretched out on his back and watched Jasper. After a few minutes more she too left the water and walked up to him, without haste or concealment, and lay down, laughing and dripping.

‘Oh, it’s fantastic,’ she said. ‘I wish we could do this every day.’

Leo became aware that his body was no longer behaving respectably. He rolled over onto his front, Jasper was too quick for him. She leant over and pushed him, continuing the roll, so that he ended on his back again. She was giggling as she inspected him and reached out with a tentative finger to touch him. Leo lay still, afraid that if he moved, or breathed, she might stop. But she continued to tease with her light fingers. ‘Oh,’ Leo sighed. To himself he thought, ‘Oh, this is too much.’ While he had the strength still in him he turned sideways to her and ran his hands along her body. She was smooth, like music, smooth like mahogany.

The sand, the sky, the ocean, all became lost, all were absorbed within the two of them on the beach. Leo could not believe what he was feeling. Even the touch of a breeze was a caress, a tantalizing feather drawn down his bare skin. Everything was a source of wonder to him — the wetness, the curling hair, the opening, the slow opening before him, the slow cry of the seagull from the wet sand.

Leo felt as though his fingers had gained a new sensitivity. He could feel the blood stirring in her body, the growing heat, the yearning that suffused her being. As they moved together the weight of his excitement went before him. All that he was feeling was centred in it and had taken him over; it did the exploring for him. He ceased to think; he only floated.

Afterwards the two of them stayed together, Leo enjoying the most complete relaxation he had ever known, as Jasper’s hand stroked up and down his back. It was a sweet contentment. He drifted into a kind of sleep for a few minutes, aware of every movement around him but unable to stir.

At last they separated and lay side by side

on the beach. ‘Oh it’s amazing,’ Leo said.

Jasper giggled. ‘They sent us on this journey so we could become women,’ she mused. ‘Or men, as the case may be. Do you think this is what they meant?’

Leo sat up and gazed frankly at her as she brushed the sand from her sides and back. The sight was enough to induce new excitement in him.

‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Jasper, glancing across. But she watched with pleasure as he again reached his zenith. ‘Do you want some more?’ she asked curiously. When he nodded she knelt up and began stroking him with gentle hands.

‘This’ll do it, won’t it?’ she asked. ‘I remember when we were little kids, playing with our cousins. We used to do this to them and they’d go through the roof.’

Leo went through the sky and the heavens at her touch, until all too soon he was gasping with the familiar sweet pain. ‘No more, no more,’ he said, pushing her hand away. Jasper sat back on her heels.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘girls and boys sure are different. Did that feel good?’

‘Yes thanks,’ Leo said, as though he had been handed a mug of tea.

By common accord, without either needing to say anything, they both suddenly leapt up and ran for the water again, throwing themselves into the surf with wild splashes. But this time five minutes was enough, before they returned to their clothes to dry themselves.

‘It’s time to go,’ said Leo, pulling on his trousers. ‘We’ll have to step it out.’ He waited for Jasper and shyly took her hand as they set off around the headland on their walk back to the fair site.

‘Here, I’ll help you,’ Leo said, late one night, watching Tiresias trying to carry two saucepans, a chair and a blanket back from the fire to his caravan. He took the chair and followed the dark, silent figure to his home, which was parked, as always, a little away from the tents and other caravans. When they reached the van Tiresias opened the door and put his things inside. He turned and took the chair from Leo, then went back and closed the door in the boy’s face, all without a word. Leo had been trying to get a surreptitious glance inside but was only able to gain a blurred impression of red curtains and an over-clean neatness. He went back to the fire feeling rather disgruntled.

omplained to Mayon.

‘Why should he?’ Mayon asked. He was in a provocative mood.

‘Well, he just should. Good manners,’ Leo said. ‘I did him a favour, and he’s supposed to thank me.’

‘Listen, boyo,’ said Mayon. ‘What’s all this “should” and “supposed to” stuff? We’re talking about people here, human beings. “Should” and “meant to” don’t apply. Once you start to formulate codes of behaviour and decide that everyone has to abide by them, and that those who don’t are rude or ignorant or bad, then you’ve lost sight of what people are. Tell me, why did you help Tiresias by offering to carry his chair?’

‘I felt sorry for him,’ Leo said promptly. ‘He was getting in such a mess, and I thought it’d be nice to give him a hand.’

‘All right, now tell me another reason.’

‘I felt bad that we don’t get on very well and I thought it might help him understand that I don’t dislike him,’ Leo said, not quite as promptly.

‘Do you dislike him?’

‘Well, not dislike him exactly, but I don’t like him all that much. He’s so unfriendly. I feel sorry for him, but he makes me a bit nervous.’

‘Now tell me another reason for carrying the chair.’

‘Um . . . I wanted to see what the inside of his caravan looked like, ’cos he’s always so secretive.’

‘Right. Next one.’

Blushing, but laughing a little at himself, Leo hung his head and said, ‘I wanted everyone around the fire to see what a good fellow and helpful person I am. Especially because I’ve been pretty lazy today, and I thought people might be a bit angry at me.’

Mayon laughed with him. ‘You’re certainly honest,’ he said. ‘Now, what does all that tell you?’

‘That everything’s much more complicated than it first seems,’ Leo said, remembering the old leather-covered book back at the farmhouse, a long long time ago. ‘Nothing’s simple.’

‘Yes, that line sounds familiar,’ Mayon commented. ‘And that’s a good start. But what else can you say?’

Leo considered for a few moments, then decided what he wanted to say. ‘What I don’t like about all this,’ he said, ‘is that it makes me wonder if there’s any such thing as people being kind to each other, just for the sake of being kind. You know, “being good”, which we’re always told to be. Does “good” mean anything at all?’