“Oi! Whatcha think y’playin’ at y’wee gobshite!” Ma shouted, realising I’d taken her chair. “Go on! Get!” When I didn’t move, she slapped me on the back of the head and the hits kept coming until I was laughing and attempting to shield myself from her.
“Jaysus! A’right! A’right!” I gasped, easing myself up out of the chair. I’d barely caught my breath when I spotted John-Francis approaching. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, wide shoulders rounded self-consciously. He wasnervous, I realised with a start.
“Oi, I’d meant ta be sayin’ – ran inta the fella I’d a few drinks wi’ last night in the toilet block. His mate is tied up givin’ some wee geebag a goin’ over—”
“Ugh, Ronan!” Ma interrupted with a grimace, and I grinned at her before continuing.
“—So I invited him ta tag along with us, if that’s a’right f’yourself?”
Darragh shrugged, unfazed like I’d expected. “F’sure. Is he a decent fella, like?”
I jerked my chin up as John-Francis sidled up. “Aye, I’d be sayin’ so. Howsagoin’, fella?”
Both Ma and Darragh looked up at the stranger’s intrusion, but Ma was first to comment.
“Jaysus, ya a fine-lookin’ fella, now,” she gasped. I cringed – probably should have expected that reaction and all.
Thankfully, John-Francis laughed. “Well, I’d be thankin’ ya, like.”
Whilst Darragh got up and introduced himself, my ma caught my eye. She gave me a knowing look and when I scowled at her, silently warning her to keep her mouth shut, she smirked.
“So, what’ve y’lads got on f’the day, now?” Ma asked, hands on her hips. “T’the fair, is it?”
“Aye, probably, like.” I shrugged.
“Thought we’d be nippin’ down ta the river ta watch the wee nags bein’ washed an’ then up ta the flashin’ lane ta watch f’anythin’ nice, like,” Darragh continued before turning to John-Francis. “Y’like a wee horse, now?”
“Aye, though there’s no room f’one in the back of me van, like,” he chuckled. “I’d not be buyin’.”
“Ah, an’ neither are ya, y’hear me, boyo!” Ma lectured, pointing her finger at Darragh. “We’d not be wantin’ any four-legged friends comin’ back wi’ ya, got it?”
“Aye, aye,” Darragh muttered, rolling his eyes. That earned him a well-aimed smack on the back of the head and he winced, swearing under his breath.
“Feckin’ hell, like,” I sighed, dragging a vest top on over my head. “Let’s get on now, aye?”
“Don’t ya be forgettin’ I’m—”
“Meetin’ wi’ y’wee pals again, we know,” Darragh interrupted.
“Excuse me rude feckin’ twats o’ boys, John-Francis,” Ma grumbled. “Me name’s Fiadh. Was nice meetin’ ya, son.”
He nodded his head. “Aye, y’too. Take care out on the town later, won’t ya?”
My ma practically swooned. “Ah, that’s kind o’ ya t’ say. I will, now. Have fun, y’hear?”
We said our farewells, leaving Ma and the caravan behind as we strolled out of the compound and into the country lanes.
“I dunno about yaselves, lads, but I’d be keen on a drink,” Darragh said, grinning.
“Stellar idea, now,” John-Francis replied, nudging me with his elbow. When I glanced up at him, our eyes locked and his lips quirked into a subtle smile. “What says ya?”
“Quality.” I deliberately let my gaze linger on his mouth a moment before looking away across the fields with a sniff.
It took us all of fifteen minutes to amble on into Appleby town. Just as the day before, there were folks and horses everywhere. We grabbed ourselves three ice cold ciders from a stall before making our way through the crowds towards the edge of the river Eden. Folks lined the stone bridge, watching as people rode their horses into the water, submerging them up to their necks in some cases with impressive horsemanship.
We eventually found ourselves a wee spot to perch on, chatting shite and drinking beneath the baking sun. Just as I’d hoped, John-Francis and Darragh rubbed along nicely. Soon enough they were ripping on each other like they’d known one another their whole lives and I was overcome with a disconcerting sense of comfort and happiness that had me feeling embarrassed for myself. I wasn’t usually one to be overly romantic, and yet I could feel myself warming up to John-Francis in a way I rarely did with fellas I’d fucked.
“Feckin’ ‘ell, lads, I’d be sweatin’ me tits off,” Darragh gasped, the full heat of the afternoon sun roaring down on us. “Me forehead is fryin’ like a wee egg!”
