chapter twenty‑one

Excitement about the forthcoming Fair spread through the commune like Asian Flu.

Even Andrew, despite an immunizing dose of trepidation, succumbed to a mild infection. Of all the people in the commune Andrew stood to gain, or lose, the most from the visit to the Fair. He would return from the market with a wife, strictly non‑returnable, no twelve‑month guarantee on parts and labour, and not even a range of models to choose from. He would be stuck with her and, in all fairness, she would be stuck with him - forever. Andrew found it hard to imagine spending the rest of his life with himself, let alone a perfect stranger. And there was no telling how perfect or imperfect that stranger would be. He could envisage only two possibilities, either she would be attractive, kind, intelligent, witty and amorous, or, she wouldn't. Andrew knew which of the possibilities was the dead‑set favourite, but he could not help day‑dreaming about the two‑billion to one long‑shot.

He was back at the site of yesterday's unsuccessful logging expedition, this time armed with the saw that Kate had advised him to take in the first place. The saw, in comparison with the axe, cut through the young trees like a hot knife through butter. Within two hours he had felled sufficient wood to build the new fence. He sat down feeling pleasantly tired and satisfied with his accomplishment. Remembering the ants, he began to crawl around on his hands and knees, searching for any signs of them or the dead beetle."

"Ah, those damn contact lenses; they never stay in do they?" said Fred appearing unexpectedly from the trees.

"Jesus Christ! Don't do that!" said Andrew clutching his chest in an effort to pacify his fibrillating heart.

"You shouldn't be so jumpy - it's bad for your blood‑pressure," advised Fred.

"You're lucky I wasn't anywhere near my gun, with my high‑speed reactions you'd be dead before I realized it was you."

"From what I've seen, your standard reaction is to run first and ask questions later."

"That may be true, but as a survival technique it hasn't let me down yet," laughed Andrew. "So, what brings you up to this neck of the woods, I thought you were working on an irrigation channel down on the plain."

"I brought you some lunch," said Fred as he tossed Andrew an apple, "and some bad news."

Andrew lunged to catch the apple, which was thrown deliberately just out of his reach. He missed and landed, hands down, in the dirt. He stood up and as he dusted himself off he noticed that stuck to one palm were the squashed forms of seven ants and a beetle. He shrugged his shoulders philosophically, "I told you to go around," he muttered.

"What?"

"I said what's the bad news?"

"We're not going to the Summer Fair."

"We as in you and I, or we as in the commune?"

"You and I, in fact I volunteered us."

"That was very kind, perhaps you'd like to handle all of my decisions - or do you think that might be a little arrogant?" said Andrew and took a large noisy bite out of the apple.

"Take it easy, just hear me out - you can always change your mind. First of all; at least three people have to stay behind to look after the animals and protect the farm. Secondly, we haven't been here very long; the others need the break more than we do. And thirdly, and most importantly; if we go we may see something - if you know what I mean."

"I haven't a clue what you mean, of course we're going to see things."

"Things which don't fit in? Things which could lead one to have doubts?"

"Oh, those kind of things, hmmm, good thinking. Better to stay here where everything seems to work eh? Okay I'll go along with that. Who's staying with us?"

"Guess."

"I can narrow it down to three; Brian, Graham or Lewis."

"Right first time."

"Had any thoughts about him?"

"No! And if you want to stick around to meet your bride, you won't either!"

"I know, but it's hard not to, I mean the guy is always -"

"Don't! Think about it if you want to, but don't talk to me about it."

"Okay, okay."

"There is one thing we can talk about, since we're alone," said Fred lowering his voice.

"Yes?"

"As you've been human a lot longer than I have, your knowledge of sex should be more extensive than mine."

"Aha, so you need a few tips eh? The first flush of passion is beginning to fade, and now you're looking to improve your technique? Well you've come to the right man, I've put a lot of thought into this subject and, even though I can't remember the last time I actually slept with a woman, I'm sure I'll be able to help. Now the best way to handle this," said Andrew rubbing his hands together eagerly, "is for you to tell me what you're currently doing, then I'll be able to build on that."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm not going to tell you anything like that - you Nosing Tom. I want to ask you about afterwards."

"Afterwards? Where's the fun in that?"

"There isn't any as far as Kate is concerned - that's the problem. Is it normal to fall asleep immediately after? You see, Kate likes to bask in the after‑glow, as she calls it, but I just can't stay awake - as soon as my head hits the pillow, wham! I'm gone. On the odd occasion that I don't pass out, I get a terrible feeling of depression - everything seems so futile the last thing I want to do is hold her in my arms and whisper sweet nothings."

"I can't say if it's normal or not, but it happens to me every time."

"Really, but you don't know of any remedy?"

"None, I suppose you could have sex just before lunch, you're less likely to fall asleep then."

"No, I tried that; it doesn't help. It's rotten, I feel so callous; dropping off like that, and Kate gets really pissed off about it."

"Understandable."

"All right then, if you can't help me with that; assuming my love‑making did need pepping‑up, which I can assure you it doesn't, what would your advice have been?"

"I didn't have any, I was just trying to find out the lurid details of your sex life. I think everyone is different, you just have to play it by ear."

"By ear!" laughed Fred. "No, Kate's a bit too straight laced to try that."

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