Elsa May Green. Chapters one, two, and three.

Chapter One.

September 20th, 2007

The hand on the dust mottled clock watching over the King’s Head Hostelry struck seven. This evening brought together me, and the usual suspects placed in our seats to begin on our seven-day reunion, as we had for many years. My colleagues in crime and wine, Elsa, Michael, Ruben, and Gabriel, allies since I could recall. Cutting our first tooth, scraping our knees, we matured into the strongest of comrades on Joshua street in the town of Longworth.

We nominated this particular watering hole as our meeting place for the annual reconciliation. It stood the closest in distance to each of our homes, making it the obvious choice as a starting block for our alcohol-crazed celebration. A glorious week comprising best friends, boarding the same booze-fuelled express train. The next seven days guaranteed to bring excitement and cheer, bonding us with the odd glass of wine thrown in for good measure.

I need to interject and introduce myself. Tom Jarvis is my name, an only child who had experienced a generous proportion of ecstasies and sadness. At thirty, by a few days, the baby of the group. I was in solid shape for my age, standing at six foot four and toned from my addiction to daily cardio. The next few days of balminess would see out of a different kind, hand to mouth with a wineglass or beer glass of our chosen weapon.

Next in order of age was Elsa, reaching her birthday milestone forty-eight hours before me. We were delivered in the same ward two days apart, followed by Ruben and Gabriel, and Michael, the elder statesman of the group four months older.

We are inseparable, fitting together like a hand in a glove. Each of us contributing something to the table in the form of humour and charisma. Acknowledging from an early age that there was no wish to add any new ingredients to a perfect recipe.

I am not saying none of us had relations in the past because we did. The deal we verbally signed as children meant they never seemed to work out. The only person who was yet to experience a relationship was Elsa. It felt to me like she sat in waiting for her prince to arrive on his trusty steed and rescue her. We all eventually would be single, I guess in some respects that is why nobody had become parents. Relationships never lasted long enough for that to happen.

Our bond was so strong that external suitors were a threat to something we all created. A couple of weeks or a few days would see new people fall by the wayside. Outsiders just did not fit in, and the prospect of them penetrating our cast iron clique was nothing less than an abomination. None of us could handle the thought of a stranger breaking through the walls in which our camaraderie sat.

Apart from our traditional week of festivities, I would use this evening to bid farewell to my short-lived relationship with Camilla James. Another try, which saw itself wrecked from the outset, like the relationships I encountered before. Once again, a woman in my world had fallen to the cursed pact.

‘Are you okay Tom?’ asked Gabriel, waking me from my slumber as I pressed my finger against the body of my wine glass brushing aside the moisture that clung to its surface, my eyes fixed on the droplets that cascaded the body of it and my conscious adrift in a sea of thoughts.

‘Yes Gabe, sorry I was somewhere else for a moment’ I replied, propelling myself out of my self-made reverie and back to shore.

‘I can only imagine where you were, Tom!’ jibed Michael.

Michael was the only member of my friend’s circle that had known for many years how I felt about one girl on this planet. From scribing her name on the desk at school to scribbling love hearts with both our initials in my diary, to holding her close in my heart. This woman assembled with us this evening, this ebony princess seated within my mind from the moment I awoke each day. Elsa May Green.

She, the yin to my yang, the sun to my moon, and the lady I secretly adored. Fortunately for me, he had always kept his promise that he would never mention my feelings to her or anyone else, even if he pushed the envelope now and again.

‘Oh, just somewhere else cheers Mike!’ I replied through the wine glass gesturing him a deserved stare of mortification.

The reason I loved Elsa so much was that she embodied everything in my eyes I viewed as righteous. To me, she stood like an angel, sent to guide the four of us through our lives. But my deep want and love for her had to stay locked away through the years, and as my story unfolds, you will understand why.

‘Hey Thomas, it’s her loss. She was never good enough for you and we love you so much’ whispered Elsa, her vision projecting care, warmth, and concern. I smiled, my pupils fixated on her mouth and the glistening moisture that beset her full moist lips, her mocha skin portraying her stunning mahogany eyes. Her long-curled raven locks flowing gently caressing her soft neck and bare shoulders.

She was the most wondrous creature to walk over this earth and my heart and mind.

Elsa and Camilla never saw eye to eye, whether their lack of friendliness toward each other stemmed from a personality clash or something more, and I thought better of enquiring. I knew the two of them were familiar with each other for many years before we started dating and heard that they could not stand the sight of each other, let alone spend the day together.

I projected a smile of appreciation toward her ‘I love you guys too, here is to us, let the games begin!’ I pronounced as we lifted our glass goblets aloft in unison. Tonight, we sought to paint the town red with copious amounts of Rioja and laughter, nothing and nobody could stand in our way.

As the evening moved forward, I saw the cloak of inhibition falling from Elsa as Michael, Ruben, and Gabriel attempted to coerce her into performing one of her infamous tabletop dance routines. She initially refused, but as the copious glasses of wine took hold, I knew the chances of performance were improving, much to my glee.

Only a few minutes later Elsa’s meekness died and transformed into the courage of a lioness as she climbed onto the wooden surface and started gyrating her denim-clad hips to the tune that echoed through the room. With each motion of her body, her locks of hair swept back and forth from shoulder to heaving breasts akin to crude oil pouring slowly over her flesh. Her blue-flowered blouse floating against her umber skin like a ship's mast upon the breeze. Her toned and shapely legs bending and writhing in time to the music. A brief glimpse of her scent would hit me as she turned, sending my soul into rapture and my mind into the stratosphere.

This beautiful serpent-like creature twisting and turning on the bar table hypnotized four of us as she had done so many times before.

Elsa had captivated me once again she forced the hidden yearning of love for her rise to travel to my core and dance in my stomach. I often wondered if she felt the same way, whether she experienced the same pangs. I pondered when I would ever have the courage to tell her my feelings, to unearth a deeply buried part of me strangled from standing before her and declaring my undying infatuation. The problem is that my secret had remained incarcerated in a prison of my making from many years before and opening the jail doors may cause more harm than good.

‘Right boys, that’s enough from me’ she giggled, holding out her soft, perfectly varnished hand for help. To say the scramble for the task felt intense was an understatement. I would describe it as akin to four children diving into the biscuit tin in search of the remaining chocolate digestive amongst the Rich Tea. This night though, it was my grasp that found hers as I gently lowered her back to earth.

‘Thank you, kind sir’ she said, placing a delicate kiss on my cheek, propelling my senses to the fore and sending them exploding into the night air like fireworks against the sky.

Elsa was the only female in our clan and from a young age and had taken on a maternal role within the group. Whether she warned us not to go ahead with a stupid venture or offered a shoulder to cry on, she was the most caring person in the world, or at least ours, and we adored and respected her. The reason I loved her so much was to me she encapsulated everything I saw as pure.

To me, she resembled a black diamond, flawless.

The screams of my secret yearnings for her over the years would go unheard as they had to remain soundless. You see us, or should I say I created a pact we had all agreed to many moons before. This agreement would ensure that nobody in our clan could ever make advances in her direction. We had sealed it in the blood that flowed from our palms, and it restrained me for an awfully long time. The only problem for me was it had imprisoned my feelings toward her and to tell her I was in love with her would crush our friendship and demolish the pillars that held us all aloft, crashing them to the ground. My three words were under lock and key, and if I dared to open that box within me, it could ultimately seal my fate.

A clattering sound soon brought my thoughts of Elsa back to a crashing halt as Gabriel slammed the drinks tray on our table. I looked up at him as he stumbled against the table, his body possessed by the sheer volume of alcohol that swished around inside of him, he resembled a clown on stilts in a boat beset by a tyrannical storm.

‘Time to party!’ Gabriel exclaimed, as he flopped back into the chair and picked up a drink.

‘To us!’ announced Michael, raising his glass to the gods.

‘To us!!’ we all cheered.

Michael’s story was a tale of despair and hope. He had been single for many years after a tragedy that culminated in the amputation of his left leg. It changed him, not just physically but mentally.

He was never the same again, the fire that had shone so brightly through the portal of his eyes was now a diminished flicker, yet through all his pain and suffering, he did not abandon our group, he never stopped wanting to do the things we did and we never let him, we pushed him to be one of us; we didn’t treat his disability as a hurdle, in fact, quite the opposite, we saw it as a strength. Following the accident, he gained the name ‘peg leg’ for a short time until Elsa called a halt on our juvenile title for him. He was by far the most handsome of the men. His chiselled jaw only sought to add prevalence to his green pupils, but his confidence would only briefly show itself before hiding like a nocturnal beast with the rise of the sun.

He was also our success story. Having failed miserably at school he clawed his way back scraping into the local college and attaining three A star A-levels, one of them in project design. He was now the proud owner of a thriving business in the centre of our town. His determination in part was down to his loss of limb and die-hard attitude, the accident strengthened him and compelled him to succeed.

My mind slipped back to Camilla and the brief interlude of our moments together. I knew that the relationship was about to dive from the first moment she saw Elsa and the war between them started again. I convinced myself in time that she could help me overcome the deep feelings I had for Elsa, but part of me felt she could not.

Another stigma I bore with relationships was that ever since I could remember I was a tad awkward and this cringeworthy debilitation had followed me into adulthood and ensured that any past or future relationship would have to endure it, thus leading to the abomination of doing or saying the wrong thing, like the time I told Camilla how much I cared about Elsa.

Camilla’s reaction of throwing her ice cream at me and walking away from the park bench seemed more than justified. All of them were a facade, a way of taking my mind from the woman I adored, even for a short time. Tonight, I sat two feet away from her and a million miles away.

The evening witnessed a plethora of open wine bottles and a closed conversation between the five of us.

‘Do you have any regrets, Mike?’ I asked.

‘Regrets about what, Tom?’ he replied.

‘You know, staying here when you could have gone to University and ended up working for one of the big design companies in America that you always used to speak about’

Michael paused for a moment, looking over his glass and into a void far beyond us, far beyond anything, his eyes searching for a response.

‘You mean regrets about not leaving the squalor of this town and you reprobates, never!’ he exclaimed.

‘Everything that I have done up till now is because you are all in my life, I would never have made it this far without you all being by my side,’ he said.

‘Hey Mike, it’s okay, you don’t have to…’

‘It's true mate, I need you to know that without you all pushing me and supporting me I would have given up long ago’

‘Okay, any chance of any light-hearted banter over here’ said Ruben trying to break the mood, Michael laughed, we all laughed.

Ruben and Gabriel are twins, just minutes apart, and they remained inseparable. We believed they could read each other’s minds and would regularly finish what the other said. They were born of Jewish parents and from an early age, they had suffered taunts from the school bullies, which is why our original clan of three had transformed itself into five, not only to defend them both but because they gelled with us. They formed the missing pieces to our jigsaw. They had a great sense of humour and would often leave us all in stitches as they would challenge each other to gain one-upmanship. Ruben would repeatedly remind him he was the eldest and thus the greater of the two, even if only by a hairbreadth.

Elsa had also been the brunt of years of taunting at our school, which I believe was down to the colour of her skin. That delectable and sublime sun-kissed umber flesh that covered her wonderful soul. Unlike Ruben and Gabriel, however, she was strong and was more than a match for the haters resulting in them running from her with their tails between their legs.

The five of us were a mixed bag, with me being the child of Irish parents, Elsa born of a Polish mother and West Indian father, and Michael’s parents, devout Mormons and tea total, the complete opposite to him. We were different but stronger than the sum of our parts, our differences brought us together resulting in the perfect match.

The drinks flowed that night at the King’s head, and after two hours and five large glasses of red wine, the bugles sounded, which signaled the commencement of my bladder relief.

‘Time to spend a penny’ I said, lifting my wine-laden carcass from the chair.

The King’s Head was an unusual place and one of the oldest buildings in the town.

Access to the toilets was via a cobbled tunnel, which when faced with a frenzied need of quick relief served as an anguished and seemingly never-ending bleak corridor. I can only compare it to dreaming that you are running but not getting anywhere, it just went on and on. The walls of the pathway were frigid, sending a shudder down my spine as I brushed against them, trying to steady myself. The corridor was dimly lit, and many a man and woman had found themselves in the awkward position of finishing up in the wrong domain. The result heard cheers from the male attendees and screams of horror from the female ones.

Finally, I had conquered the never-ending path, and made my path into the white marbled domain, and found my place of solace. The toilets smelled of urine, cheap aftershave, including my own and cigarettes, as I made a beeline to the urinal and began emptying myself against porcelain. The feeling was one of peaceful exodus, a moment of absolute and necessary bliss, and not even the foul stench that was creeping up my nose could not remove the heavenly pleasure as I stood there draining.

Zipping up and shifting to the faucets, I clambered through the cigarette ends, used tissue, and half-empty beer bottles in search of liquid replenishment. Turning the tap and splashing at my face to sober up a little. It quite surprised me as the water had seemed to have done the trick, leaving me feeling refreshed, anew. My shirt sleeve served as a towel to dry my face to dry myself, as I headed back down the hall to the bar.

It confused me to see our table empty and my friends stood at the bar; it was unusual for them all to go to the bar, as it only usually took one member of the party to release the moths from his wallet and get the drinks in.

‘Hey Tom, we wondered where you had got to, we knocked at your apartment. You should have waited for us, you old dog, anyway enough of that, what are you having?’ asked Michael.

I felt uneasy and diverted my attention to the dusty clock hanging on the wall and to my shock; it was just before seven. I had experienced many of what I referred to as out of body or Déjà vu experiences growing up, but not like this. Only moments before we were sitting at our table drinking and chatting and now, we were back at square one. I seemed sober and had assumed it was the splashing of water on my face, but it wasn’t, I was lucid, my mind crystal, and yet I could not fathom what was going on.

‘Err I will have a glass of red please Mike,’

We took our seats again at our table. The events that had just taken place as I stared into the glass of red wine bemused me.

‘Are you ok, Tom?’ asked Gabriel.

‘Yes Gabe, sorry I was somewhere else for a moment,’ I was somewhere different void of time and reality. Forty minutes later, the music began to play, and Elsa stood and ascended the table.

Chapter Two.

September 20th, 2007.

I awoke the next day to the customary feelings of dread and discomfort, my mouth a cavern of dried saliva, my mind a cacophony of crashing drums and despair. Pulling myself from the sweat-drenched Egyptian cotton sheets that cocooned me and trudged to the bathroom in search of instant renewal. My skull felt like it would implode, and the reflection that was standing in front of me in the mirror reflected how I could look thirty years from now. If I had spent most of the said time living on the streets and rummaging through bins for partially consumed vessels of alcohol. My vain attempt at washing away the previous night with copious amounts of cold water only drowned the face and hair of the old homeless person in possession of my body. There were only two things for it, pain killers and plenty of caffeine.

Placing myself gently into the old armchair given to me by my grandfather, my aching cerise eyes squinted at the street in search of nothing more than fixation. I would meet each tentative slurp of the coffee I had made with a smile as vague excerpts of last night’s jamboree would creep slowly into the forefront of my mind.

Today, day number two, we had all agreed to meet at the fountain that stood majestically in the market square before heading down to Jackson’s boatyard for a morning of sobering therapy. We always met at five minutes afternoon, I did not understand why we just did.

Jackson’s boatyard stood beside the river Bode, and it was the place we could hire a vessel for an hour. We loved the river and the boats, and we had been voyaging the waters together since we were teenagers.

The year had changed, but the scenario remained identical, paying, and then arguing about who was going to row said vessel. For now, though, and for a couple of hours, it was a case of the finest Brazilian grounds and my slow metamorphosis.

After what felt equivalent to two litres of caffeine, I attempted my transformation into a human being with a hot shower, a selection of gels, scrubs, moisturisers, and prayers. I inspected the reflection before me in the mirror, holding my breath and flexing my biceps to confirm I had not lost my sculpted physique. I was not in terrible shape for a thirty-year-old but after a night like the last, a few more sit-ups would not go a miss. I tussled at my shoulder-length wavy hair pulling it one way and then flicking it over to another eventually giving up and accepting my fated appearance. A myriad of beauty products later, I slipped into my clothes and headed to the front door and out of the sanctuary.

We always met at the statue in the market square opposite the dry cleaners as it was central to each of us before commencing on the forty minutes’ sobering walk to the boatyard. I recall that Ruben walked the distance from our homes as he was adamant that he and Gabriel lived the furthest away; it turned out they did, but he gave up on arguing about a change of venue as this would have meant Elsa having to walk further than any of us, and that was not about to happen, never, not to our girl.

I had arrived first, taking my place on the step under the statue before counting down the seconds. The square was bustling with shoppers as today was market day. A myriad of stalls offering wares from delicious cakes and pastries to electrical goods, clothes, and other cut-price consumables surrounded me.

We always met here at five past twelve; it was the unwritten rule that subliminally controlled our arrival, and none of us had ever faltered in reaching the stone monument in time. It was three minutes afternoon, so I spent the remaining moments observing the second-hand sweep cleanly above the viridescent bezel on my wrist.

‘How’s your head?’ asked an enquiring voice, I looked up to see Ruben and Gabriel swaggering in my direction, grins vast.

‘Much better now, which I would not have been able to say a few hours ago. It took me hours to resemble a human being of sorts,’ I replied.

‘You failed then!’ said Gabriel sarcastically while brushing at my crumpled t-shirt with his hand.

‘Where’s pegleg?’ asked Ruben.

‘Do not let Elsa hear you saying that!’ I retorted.

‘Ahoy Sailors!’ shouted Michael, lifting his walking stick into the air before dropping it back to the floor. He would often leave his prosthesis at home unless we had plans to run a marathon or visit the local Tae Bo arena, which we never did, nor would. He complained that sometimes the pain of wearing the leg felt unbearable. We saw his complaints as an excuse, so he did not have to row the damned boat.

‘Oh, hi Mike I didn’t notice you, I, I was just asking where you were!’ said a somewhat embarrassed Ruben fearing Michael had overheard his comment.

Diverting my eyes back to my wristwatch, I fixated on the second hand as it hurled across the watch face, counting down the seconds. The sunlight which fired up its luminosity became tainted by a familiar and sublime reflection in the crystal glass case.

I peered up; It was Elsa; she stopped before us with the sun blazing behind her, setting fire to her sheen of dusky locks and casting an exact silhouette of her slim and curvaceous form against the pavement. She looked stunning, and I wanted to hold her, to feel her warmth, to taste her mouth, I craved to consume her. By comparison, the four of us could have easily played the part of street urchins in a Dickens novel. I glanced at her again; she stood dressed to please, her black silk skirt gently caressing her bodacious body, riding up just a little with the gentle breeze, offering my pupils a glimpse of her elegant legs Her white blouse clinging to her torso showing every splendid curve.

‘Hello boys, and sorry I am late Thomas!’ she said cheekily, noticing that I had been looking at my watch.

She wasn’t on time in fairness but only by thirty-two seconds, Elsa could be as late as she wanted to be, I would always wait for her, just as my love had waited for her for fifteen Autumns, so a few moments without her felt acceptable to me. Even when we were apart, she was with me, in my mind, and in my soul, the last thing I thought about before closing my eyes and the first face in my mind’s eye as dawn released me from my slumber. I recognized that to release my long-held secret, I would need to break the pact we agreed to as children. This meant I would defy our friendship bond, something until now I did not have the spirit to do, but the gamble was worth the compromise. The silence was not an option for me. I jeopardized not only the loss of my solidarity with Michael, Ruben, and Gabriel, but I compromised losing Elsa too. However, I realized I had no more time left in me to wait; It had been killing me inside for years, and I did not have the energy to withhold it from her any longer. No longer would I shelter in the shadows, this week would cast a light on everything kept hidden.

‘It’s a woman’s prerogative to be fashionably late,’ said Michael, winking in her direction.

‘Well, it’s that time again folks, another year, another adventure, time to set sail!’ exclaimed Gabriel, pointing forward before marching off.

‘Yes, let’s go, let’s do this!’ I hailed.

The trek to the boatyard was a slow but steady advance, one in which, for the four hungover men, it would offer us a chance to evolve back into human beings.

‘I can’t quite believe it will be the fifteenth anniversary since we first set sail as teenagers minus our parents in two days!’ exclaimed Ruben.

Rubens words shocked me, nearly fifteen years, where had the time gone, it only seemed like yesterday when we met at the fountain as teenagers on September 25th, my sixteenth birthday, and set upon the boatyard, believing ourselves to be adults, our first chance to be alone, the day our parents let us go just as a fivesome and it felt magical. We no longer needed them by our side. We were grownups, of sorts.

‘Wow, fifteen years, I feel like an old man, and yet part of me still feels like a teenager,’ said Michael giggling.

I picked up one of the large daisies which lined the riverbank and handed it to Elsa. She loved daisies, so I knew it would mean something to her.

‘Happy nearly anniversary!’ I whispered to her as she took the daisy and smiled.

Today was not just the fifteenth anniversary of the five of us going to the boatyard together, not for me anyhow. To me, it marked a moment in time I would never forget.

‘Thank you, kind sir’ she said smiling before pulling back her hair and gently placing the daisy behind her ear.

‘Fifteen years culminating into one week of sheer drunken madness,’ laughed Gabriel.

‘Surely that is a good thing, Mike, we keep the wine industry afloat!’ I declared.

Eventually, we arrived at the boatyard and started the customary coin launch for who would row. Michael excluded himself from this because of his missing leg. We still did not understand his self-exclusion to this day, with Gabriel pointing out on one occasion that you do not hold the oars with your feet. We also omitted Elsa. Her tiny frame would not sit well, lugging heavy carcasses across the water in a tug. It would be like a spotted hyena dragging a hippopotamus through the lowland of Sub-Saharan Africa. So, making it even it would be a toss-up between me and Ruben as last year it was between the twins.

‘Heads!’ I shouted.

A golden glow caught the coin surface as it spun through the air dazzling my eyes before slapping the dusty ground bringing focus to its conclusion. It was tails and thus I would be the one to drag three moronic individuals and a princess down the river on an old and very decrepit boat, much to their glee. I stared at them as they danced the annual celebratory dance on the boardwalk. Well, when I say dancing what I mean is a group of grown men moving in a frenzied, somewhat epileptic manner, it was almost unbearable to watch. Elsa by comparison twisted and turned in the breeze like a beautiful flower as the sunlight captured and reflected her beauty to the water.

‘All aboard’ I said as Elsa walked toward me.

Taking her by the hand, I helped her to her seat. My nose inhaled her scent it was hypnotic, a mix of Jasmine and rose. A lock of her hair teased my face as she brushed past me as she sat, sending shivers through my body. I watched her as she found her spot on our love boat, slipping a well-appointed hand gently between her bronzed thighs to keep her skirt in place and keep her modesty. I could only imagine what perfect delights nestled between those legs as I swallowed hard, my eyes fixated on her, unfortunately, a shudder from the boat lifted me from my dream-like state and thrust me back into the harsh reality of the three of them still performing excruciating moves.

‘Chaps, come on?!’ I scoffed, clearing my throat while diverting my attention from Elsa.

Elsa arched her back as the sunlight embraced her ample breasts pressed tightly against the material on her blouse, I could not take my eyes from her, I felt possessed.

‘Are you okay, Thomas?’ she asked, noticing my stares of lust and bringing me back to reality with an embarrassing thud.

‘Fellas will you please get in the bloody boat!’ I yelled, attempting to divert another moment of awkwardness that would now scribble itself into the pages of Tom’s book of awkward and embarrassing times.

‘Yes, Captain Tom, we are at your command!’ bellowed Ruben.

I glared at them all as they embarked on HMS Awkward.

Facing the prospect of sitting one foot away and face to face with Elsa, who had taken up the stern, I directed Ruben to space beside her, thus adding a significant other to cover myself up from my moment of indiscretion.

‘Come on Captain, let’s get a shift on!!’ harped Gabriel stamping his feet against the wooden hull like an excited teenager before spooning a handful of verdant water and throwing it in my direction. I gasped and turned, picking up the oars.

I rowed valiantly and with virility to display my masculine prowess to Elsa; the river was serene, and I felt strong, focused, and determined to impress. The guys had now opened the picnic hamper and rummaged through its contents in search of the boozy delights which hid under the food as they discarded the selection of tin foil clad cheese sandwiches that our fair maiden made for us all in preparation for the day.

‘Here we go again!’ exclaimed Michael, pulling at the cork in the wine bottle with his teeth before handing out cups of Italy’s finest to the crew.

We had all come a long way since our first visit without parents fifteen years ago, but the tipple remained the same; the cups the same, the journey downstream the same. The only difference being the wine we consumed today was legitimate and not stolen from anybody’s Uncle. Even the selection of savoury delights was the same, namely Elsa’s perfectly made cheese sandwiches.

I found myself distracted by Elsa once again, as the tip of her cup pressed gently against her sumptuous mouth, inviting in its contents. The sunlight cast a fire against her face as a single drop of alcohol-infused liquid fell down her lip. It was as if her ruby red lips had bled and required a willing participant to offer their tongue to assist. She giggled and licked at her chin, her moist tongue in search of the escapee. I tried desperately to gather my thoughts, which had descended into ones of searing passion.

‘Oops silly me’ she said, gently wiping away the moisture and waking me up from my idyllic sexual trance.

Michael, Ruben, and Gabriel were now splashing water like kids in the bath while I held our ship fast and set course to the land of lilac Willows that beset the river further upstream. Elsa loved willow, it, being her second favourite piece of nature after daisies. I remember she referred to the flower as furry caterpillars when we were children, and her love for them had never died. The brush seemed plentiful and deep as it stroked against our faces. I could hear my princess giggling with excitement. Her laughter invigorated me and gave me the strength determined to push ahead.

The further I rowed, the dimmer the light. I noticed that the water seemed unusually dense with reams of muddy sludge catching snagged the bottom of the boat, making it difficult to move forward and sail seamlessly. Rowing further in, the fading sunshine turned to darkness, and I struggled to keep the direction of the oars as they dragged along the riverbed. I gripped them firmly heaving my body backward, but it was in vain, I was beaten. The tree branches were thick and moving became almost impossible. The limbs of the Willow began grasping at my arms, twisting around me like a snake snaring its prey and strangling it.

The black fog made it impossible to see anything as the warm air became bone-chilling, freezing my throat and making it arduous to breathe. My mood hastily shifted from one of excitement to a state of sheer terror and panic as I wrestled with the twisted branches engulfing my body. A thick and putrid smelling smog had developed quickly as I struggled to gain composure, I witnessed what looked like a dark silhouette in the distance traveling at a pace closer and closer toward me.

I desperately rubbed my eyes to achieve focus on the sinister shadow descending on me. My heartbeat raced out of control, and I could feel its wretched breath burning at my skin as I crouched into an embryonic shape and shook.

‘Thomas’ whispered the most blood-curdling voice my ears had ever set upon.

‘Thomas, look at me!’ It screamed, deafening me.

‘Please leave me alone!’ I screamed in retaliation.

The darkness was upon me, and it trapped me in my despair.

‘Open your eyes and look at me!’ It wailed.

I couldn’t look, it froze me; it paralysed my mind and body with fear.

‘Thomas, open your eyes!’

‘Thomas open your eyes It’s okay, you are safe’ said a familiar and reassuring voice. I lifted my frightened mind from the darkness to see Elsa staring down at me. She looked upset and concerned. Unlike the three stooges who were now rolling around the boat in hysteria at my outburst, the sight of them all left me relieved.

‘Sorry Elsa, sorry everyone, I don’t know what happened, I am just having one of my stupid moments,’ I said reassuringly before resuming my position as an oarsman.

My body still shaking, my palms drenched in sweat, I composed myself. Whatever just happened felt too real this time, and the ghostly shadow that haunted my past and present seemed to get closer with each visit.

Moments like this had been part and parcel of my growing up, my parents said I had a vivid imagination, the doctors diagnosed it as psychosis, but to me, it was something far more sinister.

The four of my friends witnessed my unusual ways over the years and became accustomed to them. Their looks of despair as children soon changed from concern to fits of laughter. The moments of darkness stalking me and haunting me in their eyes were part and parcel of my persona. Elsa however was different. For each time, an event like this occurred she would be there for me, offering a safe embrace and words of support, which was another reason my heart belonged to her and her alone.

Elsa grew up two doors away from me, and so our lives intertwined from an early age. My mother and father and hers became good friends and we would repeatedly go out together to the park or similar. As we developed into our Juvenile years on holiday in Devon and Cornwall. Her Dad was a strict god-fearing man and a powerful advocate of what was right and what was wrong. She was a chip off the old block with a strong moral code and immense respect toward others. Mine, by comparison, hailed from the Emerald Isle, proud Irish folk, although religious they lived at a fast pace, both complete party animals with a lust for life and everything it offered, they would often host Ireland themed parties at our home which were the talk of the street.

My mother took her own life when I was in my teens, her selfish act crushed me when I needed her most. Nobody understood why, let alone me. One day she was the happiest soul in the world and the next a grey carcass, her light being snuffed out by a stinking bottle of bloody brandy and a handful of pills.

I remember that moment like it was yesterday as I entered the house, following a day on the boats with my friends. I found her slumped on the bedroom floor, her skin hard and cold as I tried to lift her head to revive her, her lips a shade of blue, her pupils bereft of colour and light, her soul gone, I was too late. A few days after my mother’s funeral, my father left me in the hands of my Aunt Mary, a woman who would carry me gently into frenzied adulthood. A Part of me had never forgiven either of them for their decisions, which sent me spiralling into life on a path of self-destruction. Had it not been for the people around me back then, especially Elsa, I would have been a distant memory. No more than maggot infested bones deep underground.

Aunt Mary had never had children, so for her, I was her everything, and she helped guide me through the torrid storm of pain and sadness. She would often visit me in my room when I could no longer suppress the tears and hold me, telling me that my parents loved me very much and would have been proud of me. She replaced both and even though I was horrendous to live with; she did her utmost to help me.

My early twenties were very much like my late teens, a cacophony of booze and dope. The five of us would party all night and sleep all day, and we did not have a care in the world. The only thing that mattered was we were together and for each low moment it secured you an embrace from Elsa, and for every high, my friends ensured you a great time.

‘Get on with it man, Row!’ laughed Ruben shaking me out of my trance-like state following the dark moments only minutes before which had left me soul searching.

We kicked our feet against the muddy bank and set the boat on course once more sailing downstream. We headed along the river in search of the spot where we always moored.

A patch of daisy filled grass where many years before inexperience had met with innocent curiosity and culminated into an extravaganza of pulsating pleasure. The place named Badger’s rest. This flower-laden plot of land witnessed my first and last kiss with Elsa.

I can remember that time as if it were yesterday, Ruben, Michael, and Gabriel set off down the river looking for tadpoles. The twins had stolen two bottles of red wine from his Father’s drinks cupboard, which we consumed with glee. The alcohol was the Dutch courage I needed to steal a moment I yearned for what seemed an eternity. The only thing that stood in my way was a potential slap from Elsa or me uttering a silly comment. She looked so innocent on that day; her tiny figure amplified by her perfect curves. She sat wrapped in the most wonderful yellow dress, her raven hair trailing her back while dancing smoothly against the summer breeze. I studied her beautiful face as she gently threaded daisies together to make a chain, I could not take my eyes off her.

‘Are you okay, Thomas?’ she asked, smiling shyly.

I was okay; I sat in the company of the most beautiful girl in the world, me with her as she rested, creating a daisy chain from the myriad of daisies that carpeted Badger’s rest. I knew this could be my time, my one opportunity to ask her something that until now had paralysed my voice for eternity. Nothing would ruin this moment, not even me.

‘Elsa, may I kick you,’ I blurted.

Elsa looked shocked for a moment before giggling.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say that I am such an idiot,’ I said dropping my head and letting out a sigh of disbelief.

‘Hey, Thomas it’s okay don’t be nervous’ she said resting her hand on my arm and lifting me from my embarrassing awkwardness. She smiled a knowing smile. It held me prisoner, captured at this moment as she gently bit down on her luscious bottom lip, edging closer to me.

‘Did you mean Elsa, may I kiss you?’ she asked, with eyes aghast and a seductive smile.

‘Yes, please if I may?’ I whispered, placing my shaking hand on her knee gently.

‘Yes, you may Thomas’ she said, biting down harder on her bottom lip and shuffling into me.

I nervously edged in close to her, bathing in her sweet scent as my soul entered hers. I gasped as she closed her eyes, submitting to my firm embrace as my lips touched hers, sending a stream of pulsating electrodes through my very core. We ascended high above the cool ground, creating fire as we set upon each other. A hurricane inside me raged as we imprisoned ourselves in a stormy sea of passion. Trembling, I explored her skin, each curve, each sacred place hidden from my touch until this moment. Toward the heat of sunlight, we propelled, the air clammy, our jaws pressed as the dragon burning within me roared a mighty roar, forcing my tongue deeper into each dark crevice. I could taste the spearmint on her breath as I sucked and gnarled at her moist mouth. Hands trembling in competition to explore each other. Faster and faster we turned and twisted, hearts racing to overload, mouths moaning. We were one, one element locked together, dancing the same dance as the sun and the moon crashed into one another causing a tidal wave of billions of light crystals to explode from each of my nerve endings.

‘We have Tadpoles!’ shouted Gabriel, propelling us out of our clammy embrace as they all appeared from around the bushes next to the water’s edge. Elsa took a little white handkerchief from the pocket of her dress and pressed it gently against my lips, but the sweet taste of her remained. The three-party crashers had returned with crammed jars. They had taken away a moment of bliss that and now lost like a beautiful daisy in the crashing waves of the tormenting waters of the weir. We spent the rest of the afternoon examining our haul, taking turns to stare through the glass at murky water, watching these tiny amphibians wriggling in their newly found habitat.

My mind, however, was awash with the ecliptic kiss only seconds before. An occasion I had replayed over and over in my mind’s eye, a sexual steamy embrace I could never forget. We spent many summers visiting Badger’s rest, yet the moment we embraced remained sealed in a box, never uttered and never shared with our friends. Our pact would never allow it. But that day, our time of rapture when we were sixteen years old will remain etched into my memory until my heart stops beating, you see to me it was when two souls collided and became one, and I fell in love with Elsa May Green.

Chapter Three.

Jealousy.

‘Right, who’s for another drink?’ asked Michael levering the cork from the wine bottle and bringing me out of my blissful state of reminiscence as I tied the boat on the protective fencing next to the weir. Cups raised, we set to make light work of the fermented liquid heaven.

‘Are you okay, Gabe?’ I asked after noticing that Gabriel had plonked himself down under the oak tree, his gaze distant and his sighs vocalised.

'Yeah, I am good Tom, I just realised this won’t last forever, these days, you know, our time, I mean we are going to get older and at some point, moments like these will disappear, replaced with walking sticks and Zimmer frames’ Gabriel replied.

‘Don’t forget the Incontinence pants!’ roared Michael.

‘I don’t know, I guess I just want these days to carry on for a long time, forever!’ he replied.

‘Nothing lasts forever, Gabe, so let’s just get drunk!’ was Michael’s caring and well thought out reply.

‘Our moments would last forever in our hearts Gabe, the only thing that could stop it lasting forever is if the world stopped spinning,’ said Elsa.

Elsa had always pulled out of her hat the perfect response to any question or situation, and she was right. Nothing could take away our dreams, our memories, our magical moments together.

‘Hear, hear Elsa, well said!’ cheered Michael.

‘Hey, you lot. Is there any chance we could lift the mood a little?’ asked Gabriel, holding a joint of cannabis aloft.

Elsa placed her head on my leg as we sat in the sunshine reminiscing, I stared down at her for a moment as she looked up and beamed, her eyes searching the recesses of my mind navigating toward my secret chest that kept my love for her locked away. I smiled, placing my finger on her nose and wiggling it. She fidgeted around me to find a more comfortable place in my lap as Ruben passed the joint in my direction.

Badger's rest had not changed. It was still as pretty and enticing, and my favourite patch of ground in the entire universe. It marked the blissful coming together of two innocent souls for one moment, and I knew that my chances of repeating it were ticking away. We were all getting older, and if I were going to live a life of happiness, I would eventually need to come out from the shadows. I would have to stand before Elsa and release my feelings before her. This beautiful woman that lay between my legs staring up into the sky blissfully unaware of my love deserved the truth, even if it demolished everything, we had all held sacred for so long.

Gabriel emptied the remaining plonk into his superman cup, which he carried in his rucksack for moments such as these. He looked happy with his find, having snatched the last few drops of wine, and declared himself victorious. It was the perfect afternoon, with splendid people in a place of romance, and it would only get better.

‘Okay, well that's the wine decimated, who’s for the Saxon Mill for an afternoon session?’ asked Gabriel, wiping at his dusty jeans before extinguishing the nub of rolled up cannabis that was burning his fingers.

The Saxon Mill had always been the next stop on our alcohol-laden trek because it was the closest pub to Badger’s rest, so it was a resounding yes from us all.

Elsa stumbled as we got to our feet and fell into my arms as she did all those years ago. However, this time we would not kiss, we would not embrace.

‘Thank you for saving me my brave hero’ she said as she picked up her bag and we set off.

I had often speculated if Elsa remembered that hot and steamy moment in time all those years ago. I convinced myself that she would, and yet part of me wondered still if she did. I pondered about whether she cared as deeply for me as I did her, not just as friends but something much more.

‘I will catch you guys up’ I said, noticing my shoelace trailing along the ground.

I quickly tied the lace on my shoe and picked myself up to head in pursuit of my friends, now out of sight. The air felt snug and the light illuminating as I stopped for a moment to gaze upon the rushing white water that represented the snarling body of the infamous weir. Its sheer ferocity looked daunting and beautifully calming at the same time. To me, it was an inviting piece of natural art to behold and admire.

As I began back on my catch up, I spotted an elderly gentleman taking shade under the weeping arms of a willow tree. I noticed a look of despair etched on him as I passed, but as I did a familiar feeling of dread washed over me and stopped me in my tracks. I sensed an existence behind me, a frightening and vile entity. My screaming mind ordered me to run, but I could not. It froze me to the spot with fear. The skies turned murky and the air frigid as the darkness moved into my periphery. I wanted to scream but my mouth would not open; it paralysed me. Something brushed against my shoulder before making itself clear; it was the old man I had, the whites of his eyes as black as coal and the grimace on his face haunting. He stood but a few yards in front of me, his soulless stare was demonic. He screamed like a banshee and lunged at me, grasping at my throat before knocking me to the ground.

‘LEAVE ME ALONE, GET OFF ME!’ I screamed, punching at the air around me, and with that, as quick as he appeared, he had disappeared. All that remained was a stream of primal fear running through my very core and two rather concerned-looking onlookers walking their dog. I clambered to my feet, dusting myself off, offering the two confused spectators a half-smile and wave before heading toward the pub.

‘What the hell is happening to me, what are these moments of dread making themselves apparent so often, and why now?’ I thought as I ran down the dusty track to the safety of my friends.

The sight of the Saxon Mill was a welcomed relief as I stumbled into the main bar, I could hear familiar and somewhat jovial voices as I made my way into the snug. I spotted Michael first; laughing and joking with Gabriel, and then my attention drew towards Elsa and Ruben. They were sitting close to each other, her fingers running gently across his hand. They had always been tight, but what lay before my eyes seemed different, something that frightened more than the soulless old man a few minutes before.

‘Tom are you okay, you look like you have just seen a ghost?’ asked Michael, handing me a glass of wine.

The chances are I had, five minutes ago under the oak tree, but this was not the reason for my blood ebbing from my complexion, I could sense something strange happening to me, I fell into a state of mourning; I was losing Elsa to Ruben; I knew it.

‘Yes, I am good thanks, Mike, just a moment of madness back there,’ I replied.

I drew my awareness back to them both; they were in deep conversation, their eyes fixated on one another. Their attention to each other filled me with anger and jealousy.

‘What’s going on!’ I shouted, slamming my chair to the floor.

Elsa and Ruben stopped talking and turned to me, their faces shocked by my outburst.

‘Thomas are you okay?’ asked Elsa in an empathetic manner.

‘Tom mate, we were just discussing your birthday, I don’t know what you mean!’ said Ruben.

A part of me knew that Elsa and Ruben were just talking, but another side of me worried. The way she stroked his hand, her smile when looking into his eyes and him into hers. My mind felt infested by my paranoid thinking, and I had to get control of it and quickly.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I am not feeling too good, to be honest, I think I will just nip out for some fresh air,’ I said to my astonished and somewhat confused onlookers.

I headed out of the Saxon Mill and sat on a bench overlooking the gardens. I knew my behaviour was childish, and I acted like a complete and utter buffoon once again. I spent a couple of minutes reassuring myself that nothing was happening between them. We had a pact, nobody would break, not yet anyway. I breathed in the cool air for a moment, composed myself and my silly thoughts, and wandered back into the pub.

It was like nothing had happened, and the wine flowed as easy as the conversation that day, and I was no longer paranoid about them both.

‘Not long now Elsa’ said Michael, referring to her birthday.

‘I know, twenty-one again!’ she laughed.

Elsa celebrated being twenty-one nine times not counting this birthday, and nobody would dare tell her otherwise. The fact is, to us all, she was that age. Her perfect skin and youthful lust for life had never changed. I felt a great excitement for her and just being with her on that special day for many years was an honour. The afternoon was superb, five kindred souls enjoying the company of each other, but it wasn’t long before the temperature began to fall and we took a break from the booze, opting to meet back at the King’s Head at 7 pm.

‘Will you walk me home, Thomas?’ asked Elsa.

‘It would be my honour fair maiden,’ I replied, taking her by the arm.

It made perfect sense for me to walk with her as we both lived in the same direction from the river. As we ambled gently back the moment in the pub with her stroking, Ruben’s hand crept gradually to the forefront of my mind.

‘I saw you back there in the pub!’ I said, clearing my throat.

‘What do you mean, Thomas?’ she asked, looking confused.

‘Stroking his hand, I saw you stroking Ruben’s hand!’ I exclaimed.

‘Do you like him?’ I asked, dreading her reply.

‘Yes, I do like him, Thomas, just like I like you all,’ she replied.

‘What I mean Elsa do you like him, like him!’ I scrutinised.

Elsa folded her arms and stared at me with a look of discontent on her face, like how my Mother used to stare at me when I was in trouble.

‘I like him, Thomas, he is a nice guy!’

She was not giving me the answer I demanded to hear. Either she liked him as a friend or something more happening here. I feared the result of the conversation, but even though the dread part of me needed straightforward answers.

‘So, you are not seeing him then?’ I asked.

‘I am not seeing him but to be honest Thomas even if I were, what difference would that make!’ she replied, her voice getting louder.

‘It would make all the difference, we had a pact, a contract we have all lived by for years!’ I snapped.

I did not care about the pact any longer; I cared about Elsa and I needed to get her back.

‘You sound like a nine-year-old Thomas. This pact you speak of was a childlike agreement you saw fit to force upon everyone else. You created it and now, you think something is going on between me and Ruben, which, I can categorically state isn’t you put your hand in your pocket and brandish around like a bloody rule book, it means nothing, it doesn’t exist apart from inside that mind of yours!’ she scowled.

‘The pact exists Elsa, we all acknowledged the rules, and we etched the words in rock, whether we were kids a deal just doesn’t break now we have all grown up, why can’t you see that it’s ingrained in into us forever!!’ I retorted knowingly.

'You are not though, are you!' she sneered.

‘Not what?’

‘An adult, you are not an adult Thomas, it’s like you have remained a teenager for all this time,’ she replied, knocking me for six.

‘I didn’t force myself on you, you were more than happy to kiss me I remember that time differently!’ I exclaimed.

She laughed, somewhat annoyingly.

‘Anyway, we were teenagers!’

‘Exactly, teenagers, and like your stupid pact both of the things should stay in the past where they belong Thomas, it would be good if you could grow up and move into the present!’

‘I am amazed you can even remember anyway; you have probably had your eyes on Ruben so long that our stupid bloody kiss seems like a joke to you!’

‘Thomas, you need to let go of the past, we are adults now and we all have needs, whatever that mind of yours imagined its deluded, but existence is mine and I will live it how I see fit, I will not be told what to do or how to behave by anybody, especially you!’

I wanted the ground to open and swallow me whole when Elsa showed her anger you could feel the earthquake underneath your feet and your best option was to make yourself scarce.

‘Look, I am sorry, I was wrong, I am an idiot!’ I replied sheepishly.

‘I am going to go home now, if on the way back I fall madly in love with someone and they whisk me away to paradise, then so be it. I may even head over to the market square and grab the first man I see by the hair and drag him back to my lair. Goodbye Thomas!’ she exclaimed sarcastically.

She was correct; I did not have any right to throw a childish arrangement at her; I had no business interfering with her personal life; she’s a grown woman, more than capable of making her own decisions, and had shown anger at me for interfering once again. I had many chances to declare my love for her, but the so-called pact or fear of losing all of them muted me from expressing my affection.

I watched as this woman, this supporting and caring girl, ebbed out of sight from my life. She had given me so much, much more than I deserved. Her arms always offered an embrace, her voice kind words of love and support, and her eyes a welcome glance in my direction, and now she walked away from me and my world, and with each step she made my heart sink into my chest a little more.

I did not meet them at the Kings that evening. Instead, I chose the comforting sanctuary of my sofa, my remote control, and a stack of picture albums. A half-drunk bottle of scotch served as my ally as I fingered through my life in pictures. I would stop and reminisce, wiping my sore eyes, the tear ducts now emptied of every droplet. I knew that I only had myself to blame for my insecurities.

I also recognized that if I had expressed my love to her, it could have backfired on me as she may not feel the same way, and yet part of me yearned to say it, I needed to grow up and be straight with Elsa and she was right, maybe the pact is nonsense.