Blinded By The Light - Sherry Ashworth

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again and drove on. I saw an off-licence and pulled in, leaving the car to get some Bacardi Breezers – I didn’t want to arrive empty-handed. I was feeling better already The roads were clear, and just as I had remembered, the way to Lumbutts was clearly signposted just outside Walsden. I put the car in second as I took several steep corners past stone-built cottages teetering on the side of the road. I crawled along, as the road was narrow. On my left the whole of Todmorden was laid out, a sprinkling of yellow lights. On my right, dark masses of hills.

      Eventually the road levelled out and I was up in the moors. I guessed I must be near the Pennine Way, but it was too dark to see much. It occurred to me then I might not find it easy to locate Lower Fold Farm. So I slowed right down, checking to see no one was behind me. The road was completely empty. I was the only idiot up here on a Saturday night.

      In fact Lower Fold Farm was easy to find. There was a large painted board on my right announcing it. A rough track between two gateposts led to it. I turned in carefully and was relieved to see lights were blazing from the windows. The car bounced along the track and I tried to make out the size of the farm. There was the main house, painted white, several stone outbuildings and a grey-looking caravan. A rusty Transit van and a scooter were parked outside. I was too curious to be nervous now. I left the car by the side of what looked like an old barn, locked it and made my way to the front of the house. Too late to turn back. It seemed quiet for a party. What if I’d got the wrong day? I banged on the door.

      Nick opened it and seemed to recognise me immediately.

      “It’s Joe!” he shouted. There were footsteps and Kate appeared, her hair flowing loose.

      “I knew you’d come,” she said, smiling.

       3. From Rendall’s Laws Governing Purity: Abstinence

      White Ones, and those aspiring to be White Ones, should refrain from those substances and impure actions which cloud the vision. You shall not imbibe alcohol or caffeine; neither smoke tobacco, nor use any artificial substances – legal or illegal – to alter your consciousness. You shall not gamble nor overeat. You should not fix your mind on worldly success, nor love another as much as you learn to love the Light. Purity leads to enlightenment. I have spoken.

      Funny how as soon as you cross the threshold of a new place you yourself become different. The place exerts an influence. Like I’m different collecting empties at the Red King from the way I am at Electric Avenue. Different again when I’m with my mates. With Kate and Nick I was different once more, and I liked this new me.

      They ushered me into the house, made me feel welcome immediately. They said they’d been talking about me and felt they should have stressed more strongly that they had meant the invitation for tonight. I was flattered I’d made such an impression on them. In my fantasies, people sought me out. Now it was happening for real.

      I don’t know what I expected their house to be like. In fact it was a rambling old farmhouse and the centre of activity was a large kitchen. That was where they took me. In the middle of it was a wooden table laid out with food and drink, and around the table a few people were seated, late teens, early twenties. More people were standing around. Naturally they all turned to see who I was. Then some people made a space for me at the table, although I wasn’t ready to sit down yet. I put my Bacardi Breezers down on the table and hoped that would be the sign for someone to offer me a drink. I know Dad had lectured me about drinking and driving, but one drink now would help me relax, and I’d stay long enough for it to have time to wear off.

      Then Nick came over, holding a bottle opener.

      “Do you want one of those?” he smiled, indicating the Bacardi Breezers I’d brought with me.

      I did. I drank it straight from the bottle. I suggested he have one but he shook his head ruefully.

      We were joined by Kate and a bloke about my age. Then a slightly older man came up to us as well. Instinctively I straightened, stood to attention. Some people have that effect on you.

      The younger bloke turned out to be called Will.

      “This is Fletcher,” Kate said, smiling at the older one. “I told you about Joe, Fletcher. He’s the person Nick and I met on our way back from Wolverhampton. Fletcher’s the tenant of the farm, Joe. We’re all responsible to him.”

      I gave him the once over. He was tall, cool blue eyes, rather intense. He wore a white kaftan and I immediately had him down as one of those ex-hippie types who are into ecology and tree-saving and that. He seemed friendly enough, though.

      It turned out Will ran a charity shop in Hebden Bridge, and Fletcher was the tenant of the farm. He grew stuff in the adjoining land and looked after the place. Will seemed more normal. He grinned quite a lot, out of shyness, I reckon. His head was shaved; he wore a white football shirt with the name of some bloke I didn’t recognise on the back. They asked me quite a bit about myself, and as the Bacardi took effect, I found myself more and more ready to answer.

      Quite an adult party, I thought, looking around me during the lull in conversation. It was all talk, no music. Maybe this was just a warm-up session. The other thing I noticed was, I was the only person who seemed to be drinking. There were jugs of fruit juice on the table, and bottles of water, but that was it. The food was mainly dips, hummus, vegetable sticks and hunks of bread. The lack of alcohol puzzled me, and I wondered whether this was because they did something else. This was just the sort of place you could grow your own. I looked around the kitchen. Sure enough there were things growing in pots, but nothing that looked to me like cannabis.

      It’s a bit weird being the only person drinking. You feel like you’re undressed in a room full of clothed people. Still, that didn’t stop me helping myself to another bottle. I looked around the room again, and saw Kate talking to a girl. She was stunning. Shorter than me, with loose blonde hair and dark eyes. Kate noticed my repeated glances in their direction, and brought the girl over.

      “This is Bea,” she said.

      “B?” I said, puzzled.

      “Beatrice,” the girl explained. “Which is a bit of an embarrassment, so I get everyone to call me Bea.”

      I was going to say something stupid like, to be or not to be, but luckily I stopped myself in time. I grinned at her. I could see now that her eyes were brown, contrasting dramatically with her fair hair. Kate didn’t seem to be there any more. I asked Bea whether she lived on the farm.

      “No,” she said. “But I’m going to. They said I could move in during the week.”

      I nodded. “So where do you live now?”

      “In Rochdale,” she said. “With a sort of friend. I’m studying at the college. But I sing too.”

      This was getting better and better. I definitely fancied her and she looked around my age. I had a good feeling about tonight. I gestured in the direction of the Bacardi Breezers and asked her if she wanted one. She shook her head. Then she smiled at me impishly.

      “Why are you drinking it?”

      I shrugged. “It’s a party, innit?”

      “So?”

      “Well, everybody else…” My voice trailed away. I was the only person drinking. I tried to defend my position.

      “Well, OK. It relaxes me, makes me feel good. What’s wrong with that?”

      “Do you need alcohol to make you feel good?”

      “No, I don’t need it, but I choose to have it, which is different.”

      “But you said before it relaxes you, which means you were feeling tense when you came in here. It sounds as if you’re using alcohol as the solution to a problem. So it’s a necessity.”

      “OK. So I walked into a place I’ve never been before. Of course I feel on edge. Drink isn’t a

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