The Iceman - Jeff Edwards

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in his hands. ‘It looks as though the village won a heap of money on us today. They’re being very free with the beer.’ He handed the bottle over to Clyde who immediately offered it to Tilley.

      If Andrew’s kewpie doll looks and high voice were out of place on his manly body then the same cute looks and lilting voice on the blossoming form of Tilley was perfect, and this was more than apparent as she stood up and took the bottle from Clyde’s hand while allowing her arm to brush lightly against his as she did so. Tilley took a quick look around to make sure that she could not be seen from the clubhouse before raising the bottle to her heart-shaped lips and drinking. The act of tilting her head back to drink from the bottle had caused her young breasts to thrust forward against the thin material of her summer dress and if the touch of her arm hadn’t already excited Clyde, then that sight certainly did. She too had taken after her own father in height and was able to stand and look Clyde in the eyes as she returned the bottle.

      Off to one side Angelo Biagi had also been excited by the girl’s taut body. He licked his lips and felt himself harden.

      Clyde too felt the urge to press his lips to hers as he watched Tilley wiping her lips with the back of her hand. He had dared to kiss her once before when the two of them had found themselves alone inside the boatshed and while she had laughingly pushed him away, had displayed no reluctance to be in his presence. Ever since then Clyde had been hoping for the chance to make a further attempt.

      ‘I have a favour to ask,’ he said.

      ‘Oh?’

      He looked around and saw that Andrew and Angelo were looking at the pair of them with sheepish grins on their faces. ‘Not now,’ he muttered. ‘Later. Stay close. It’s important.’

      ‘Ooh, I like a mystery!’ she replied jokingly.

      ‘Like I said, it’s important. But not till everyone has gone home.’ He turned to Andrew, ‘I want you to stay for a while. We have something that needs to be done.’

      Andrew held up a nearly empty bottle, with a lopsided grin. ‘As long as the Old Codgers are supplying the beer I’ll be happy to stick around.’

      Tilley left the boys to their drinking and returned to the clubhouse where she spent the remainder of the afternoon helping out in the club’s small kitchen.

      As the sun went down, the crowds on the grass outside began to pack up their belongings and make the long walk back to the village and the railway station while those who had chosen to remain closer to the bar also left and wove an unsteady path homeward.

      Tilley returned to the boatshed where the sound of Andrew’s laughing mixed with off-key singing attested to the fact that the boys had been presented with more gifts of beer. When Clyde saw her approach he rose from his place against the shed wall and Tilley noticed that unlike his companions he seemed to be quite steady on his feet.

      Clyde took her aside and leaned in close to murmur instructions to her while from his place against the wall, Angelo watched on. He had been used to drinking wine from an early age and despite the fact that he had been singing as loud as his companions the beer had little effect on him and he noticed that Clyde hadn’t drunk anywhere near as much as either Andrew or himself.

      As he watched he saw Tilley take a shocked step backward at what she had been told. She and Clyde then exchanged a deep look before Tilley reached out to touch the boy’s arm in a gesture of reassurance and then impulsively kissed Clyde on the cheek.

      Clyde raised his hand to where her lips had been as Tilley turned away and disappeared around the corner of the shed.

      ‘What’s going on?!’ called Angelo.

      ‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ replied Clyde. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

      Angelo cursed to himself. ‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ he repeated under his breath. Once again he was being excluded from something important and for no better reason than the fact that he had not been born in the village. This had happened to him on more than one occasion since his family had moved to Henswytch.

      In the schoolyard and on the streets of the village he had quickly realised that there were the ‘us’ and the ‘them’ and that he was firmly anchored in the ‘them’ side of the ledger. No matter how many times he tried to prove his worth such as joining the local boys when they jumped from the railway bridge into the river, ‘they’ had simply acknowledged his bravery and shunned him from any other considerations. The very fact that he had been allowed to join their precious rowing team and had performed so well on their behalf did not grant him any additional credence.

      He spat in the grass and reached for another bottle. At least I can hold my liquor.

      Some time later Angelo noticed that a fire had been lit on the opposite bank and its bright flames became a beacon in the deepening twilight. He was about to mention it to the others when Clyde Stevens stood up and went to stand in front of Andrew. Clyde pointed to the fire on the far shore. ‘That’s Tilley over there. She’s got the fire going to warm us up.’

      ‘She should be over here. That’s where we are,’ slurred Andrew.

      Clyde ignored him and spoke slowly, making sure that Andrew understood his every word. ‘She’s waiting over there because I’m going into the river to shake hands with the Iceman, and you’re coming with me.’

      There was a moment of shocked silence. ‘You’re going to do “the Swim”?’

      ‘Yes. So are you.’

      ‘I can’t go. I’m too pissed. Maybe when I sober up.’

      Silence followed and Angelo could see from the way that Andrew sat with his head down that he would never agree to undertake such a risky venture.

      Angelo sneered at the cowardly Andrew and stood up. ‘I’ll go with you.’

      Clyde shook his head. ‘No. This has nothing to do with you, Biagi. If you like you can collect our clothes and bring them around to us.’

      Angelo looked at Clyde with a look of utter loathing, knowing that once again he had been summarily dismissed as totally irrelevant. ‘Fuck you!’ he said, kicking an empty beer bottle out of his way and storming off, leaving Clyde standing over the cower-ing Andrew.

      ‘You’re coming with me,’ Clyde announced bluntly. ‘The Old Codgers have decided. Your dad did it when he was your age and so did your uncle. Now it’s your turn.’

      ‘They’re both dead.’

      ‘They both died fighting for their country. They were heroes and now you’re the man of the family. Act like one!’

      Andrew’s mind was reeling and his legs felt like jelly. He could almost imagine what his father would have said if he was here. All his life he had been told about the exploits of his dead father and uncle, but they had been men he could barely remember. The Old Codgers were always going on about them as if by telling the stories they could make Andrew into a man in their mould when in actual fact the reverse was true. Andrew was completely lack-ing in self-esteem because of those tales and because of his own contrary emotional leanings.

      Clyde stepped closer to Andrew. ‘The Old Codgers want you to do this. My uncle says they’ll be willing to overlook certain matters if you make it to the other side.’

      Andrew looked up at Clyde and could see the steely resolve in his eyes. He also understood the veiled threat in his words and knew that the Old Codgers would be unrelenting in their reprisals if their wishes were ignored while success would ensure his future, whatever he chose to make of it.

      Head hung low, he stumbled to his feet and nodded reluctantly.

      ‘Seeing that Angelo

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