Effanbee
The Fly
OK babes, here's the next (rather long) bit. I would, most certainly, fail the test at the end of this part. Would you?
Learning to Fly, Part 4
The next few days established a casual pattern of comings and goings, I had frequent visitors at Sweetwaters, sometimes the whole band, sometimes one or two of them. One rainy afternoon I had a visit from Edge, who said he needed some peace from Bono and Larry who were arguing about some aspect of the next tour. ‘Bono,’ said Edge, ‘will be over later.’ There was something in Edge’s extraordinary green eyes that told me he knew everything about what was going on with me and his best mate. I felt a blush spreading over my face. I liked Edge very much and had the deepest respect for him, the last thing I wanted was to make trouble with him.
‘You know, we haven’t …,’ I faltered, ‘We don’t …’
‘Yes, I know.’ Edge crinkled his eyes at me. ‘It’s OK, I’m not Bono’s keeper. That would be a difficult job, for sure. But we do look out for each other. Is there likely to be any fallout from this?’
Hard question. ‘No.’ I said, more positively than I felt. ‘And I absolutely will not be causing difficulties after you’ve gone.’
‘We’ll be here a while,’ Edge said enigmatically. ‘Do you play chess?’
‘Uh, yes, not for a while though,’ I said, a little thrown by the abrupt change of subject.
I unearthed my chess board and men while Edge made us tea. We settled comfortably by the rain-swept window and Edge set up the board. ‘I am about to be annihilated,’ I thought, having made the first move and watched a predatory grin steal over Edge’s face.
Silence except for the click of chessmen on the board, the occasional grunt from Edge as he thought out a particularly fiendish play. And the occasional whimper from me as I saw the traps he had set for me, too late, always.
‘Clever, clever man,’ I thought, watching as Edge focused all his concentration on the game. He won the first game fairly rapidly, as expected. ‘Best of three?’ I had to go down fighting, at least.
Edge set up the board again and I put some Bach on the CD player in the hope of distracting him a bit.
‘I love the way Bach uses themes and counter-themes,’ said the wise one as he executed my bishop and threatened my queen in one move. He was actually humming the counterpoint to a complex movement as he calmly put me in check again. So much for Bach as a distraction.
I was seriously contemplating an ‘accident’ involving the board and a cup of tea when Bono blew in like the east wind.
‘Chess with The Edge,’ he said, breezing over to give me a hug. ‘Hope you’re insured against total humiliation.’
‘I think insurers would consider Edge an Act of God,’ I said ruefully, watching my knight bite the dust.
‘What’re you listening to, Beethoven is it?’
‘It’s Bach y’eejit, can’t you tell from the harmonic progressions?’ growled the fearsome Edge.
Bono caught my eye and winked. ‘Oh, yeah, now ya mention it.’
‘Good. So bugger off and make the tea then.’
Bono duly buggered off to the kitchen, where he made a lot of unnecessary noise with cups and kettle, and attempted to sing along with Bach. ‘Oh, this is a good bit - da, da, da, dee, dee, DUM …’
‘Will you just GIVE OVER, man,’ pleaded Edge in exasperated tones. I could see the corners of his mouth twitching as Bono’s diversionary tactics continued unabated.
I was giggling helplessly and quite unable to remember my cunning plan to capture Edge’s queen. By the time Bono reappeared with the tea, Edge had delivered the coup de gras for the third time, somewhat to my relief.
‘My new goal in life is to beat you at chess,’ I informed Edge, ‘And to that end I will practise relentlessly.’
‘As long as you don’t practise with this silly sod,’ said Edge, nodding at Bono. ‘He has the attention span of a gnat.’
‘I protest!’ said Bono in wounded tones. ‘I can match any gnat and have recently reached cockroach standard.’
‘Bollocks. You’ll never get to cockroach,’ taunted Edge.
‘Up yours, Einstein,’ was the inspired reply.
‘You really know how to lower the tone,’ I said to Bono in my poshest voice. ‘Here we are, playing chess and listening to Bach …’
‘And this DREADFUL Irishman comes crashing in …’ continued Bono as he strode across the room, picked me up an dumped me on the sofa. ‘In your place, woman,’ he commanded, lounging beside me and putting his legs across mine.
‘Yuck, big smelly Paddy feet, get them off!’ I protested.
‘Not big and smelly,’ corrected Bono, offended. A snort of laughter from Edge. ‘They’re really quite …’
‘Revolting.’ From Edge, with finality.
Bach gave up and finished his concerto.
‘So did you and Larry come to blows or what?’ asked Edge, sipping his tea.
‘Oh, that’s sorted,’ Bono waved this away. ‘Listen, I’ve got some ideas, want to get your guitar?’
Edge always travelled with at least one guitar and he went to retrieve it from his car.
‘So, how’s your day been, darlin’?’ Bono asked me.
‘Oh, good so far,’ I said. ‘I’ve been thrashed at chess and discovered that Irish feet are not at all big and smelly.’
Bono laughed. Picked up my hand, kissed it, began to draw me down onto his chest.
‘You certainly are a lively bugger today,’ I observed, thinking it would not do for Edge to come back and find us rolling around on the sofa.
I was saved from having to defend my honour by Edge, who came in, looked piercingly at Bono and told him, ‘If you want to do this, you will have to put the pilot down.’
The pilot was allowed to rearrange herself. Bono and Edge started playing with some tunes and lyrics and I was content to observe with fascination the process by which a song was born. They were soon absorbed and I slipped away to the kitchen, thinking I would put something good together for dinner.
Much later, I was stirring a fragrant tomato sauce when I heard Bono’s footsteps approaching. He came up behind me, put his arms around me and peered over my shoulder at the bubbling pot.
‘Mmmm, smells good,’ he said. ‘Looks good, feeeeels good …’ singing now and obviously still lively.
‘Am I going to have trouble with you, boy?’ I growled at him.
‘How much trouble do you want?’ he purred, interfering with the cooking in a big way.
‘How much you got?’ right back at him, unwisely really, as the answer seemed to be ‘a great deal’. The dinner was in severe jeopardy, so I set it to simmer and turned round to face Bono.
‘I’d like to “thank” Edge for my chess lesson,’ I told Bono. ‘Ah, will you LISTEN to me for a minute?’ I trapped his hands between mine. ‘Do you think he’d like a ride?’
To which Bono collapsed with laughter.
‘My HORSE, my horse …’ I said quickly.
‘My kingdom for a horse,’ finished Bono.
‘Oh, you are impossible today,’ I tried for irritated and failed. Bono’s eyes were sparking mischief, I couldn’t be annoyed with him in this mood.
‘Sure, he’d love it,’ said Bono, trying hard to look serious.
‘Then let’s do it before dinner, it’s stopped raining,’ I said.
Bono gave me a ‘well, duh!’ look and said, ‘I thought you’d never get the message. Now, on the table …’
‘Pull your horns in, big guy. Let’s go find Edge.’
‘But how could you want to ride your horse when you could be riding …’
‘E….nough!’ I yelled, but couldn’t keep a straight face.
Edge wandered into the kitchen. ‘Is this man troubling you, ma’am? Shall I take him outside and give him a good kicking?’
Bono slung his arm around Edge’s shoulders, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Edge rolled his eyes.
‘I think he needs some fresh air.’ I said.
In the sunlight the wet paddocks and trees glittered tiny spotlights of blue, red, green. The horses were in the home paddock, they raised their heads as we approached, greeting us with friendly rumbles. They sauntered over to the gate, old Echo the boss mare in front, making sure she was first in line for any possible treats. She stretched her head towards Bono and blew snot all over the front of his shirt.
‘Charming,’ said Bono.
‘Sign of affection,’ I grinned at him.
The bay gelding, Jack, regarded Edge solemnly. Horse and man studied each other for a while, then Jack tossed his head once, as if to say, ‘you’ll do’.
‘Shall we?’ I invited Bono and Edge.
‘Love to,’ said Edge with an easy smile. Bono was a little less certain.
‘I thought you were going to take Edge out,’ he whispered to me.
‘Well, you don’t have to come,’ I whispered back.
‘I’m, uh, just not very good with horses,’ Bono muttered, looking at the ground.
I didn’t want to push Bono into doing something he didn’t want to, but rather selfishly I wanted him to come with us too.
‘Y’know, I’m scared of heights,’ I said to him quietly. ‘Can’t stand on a chair without getting vertigo.’
Bono looked up at me.
‘But it doesn’t stop me flying. Give it a chance, ay?’
‘OK, OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll give it a go.’
I caught Echo and Jack, handed them to Edge and Bono and went back for the little Arab, Shadow. Echo was trying to stick her nose in Bono’s pockets, convinced he had carrots or apples in there somewhere. In the yard Edge handled Jack really well, moving with a quiet calm which settled the horse. I saddled the horses, Edge closely attending, wanting to learn as always. With the horses ready, I led Echo to the stone steps I used as a mounting block and held her for Bono as he got on. Which he did perfectly, sitting light and balanced in the saddle.
‘You look fine,’ I smiled up at him. ‘As if you do this every day.’
‘Yeah, well, we haven’t moved yet,’ said Bono.
Edge got up on Jack with his usual grace. As I adjusted the stirrups for him, I noted he was built to ride, with his long legs and spare frame. I hopped onto Shadow and we moved off along the track towards the hills. Jack walked out with his long, swinging stride while Edge sat easily, letting his body move with the horse. I kept Shadow alongside Echo, seeing that Bono looked a little tense.
‘Is there anything Edge doesn’t do well?’ I asked Bono.
‘He makes lousy scrambled eggs,’ replied Bono after some thought.
As we approached the long uphill stretch Shadow began jogging in anticipation of a gallop. ‘Stop showing off,’ I told the horse. ‘We are being sedate today.’
Bono looked apprehensive as Echo lengthened her stride to keep up with the dancing Arab. ‘No worries.’ I said to Bono. ‘Echo’s too lazy to take off, unless you ask her to.’ We caught up with Edge and Jack. Shadow settled down and Bono relaxed a bit.
‘You’d better tell us how to stop and go,’ suggested Bono, still not quite convinced he was not going to be carried off at top speed. So I demonstrated stop and go, which Edge picked up very quickly. Jack responded very well to Edge, obviously approving of his new rider. Echo had twigged that she knew more than Bono, and followed Shadow and Jack placidly, doing what they did.
Bono cheered up watching Edge as he explored the art of using different muscle groups to move his horse in different directions.
‘Oh, very good, Reg,’ he laughed, as Edge moved Jack sideways in a flashy leg-yield. ‘The horse dances a damn sight better than you do!’ Then dissolved into laughter as Jack sprang forwards into a bouncy trot which disturbed Edge’s equilibrium for a couple of strides.
We reached the top of the rise and stopped to look out to the sea, across the valleys and dark pockets of bush. The sea was a deep turquoise, a flock of gulls gathered over a shoal of fish unseen to our eyes. The view lifted my heart, as it always did in that high and lonely place. My little horse responded with sideways prancing steps, head raised to the wind, nostrils flared like a dragon.
‘This little fellow needs a run, are you OK with that?’ I asked Edge and Bono.
Edge flashed a confident smile, Bono was less certain. I nudged Shadow over beside Echo. ‘Keep your weight in your heels, just go with her. Sing out if you get into trouble,’ I said. ‘I’ll stay with you.’
Edge trotted ahead on Jack for a few strides then moved into an easy canter. Shadow wasted a lot of energy pulling and wanting to be in front. Echo placidly moved into a rocking-horse canter. I glanced up at Bono and saw him smile as he found his balance. Once I could see Bono was fine I could allow Shadow his freedom, he rocked back on his hocks and bulleted off after Jack.
‘Coming past on your right,’ I called a warning to Edge. Jack flipped his ears back as Shadow hammered past, put on a bit of speed and we were blasted flat-tack side by side across the ridge.
I had a moment when I thought the brakes had failed as we came up to the woods and the steep downwards track. We managed to ease the horses down into a canter, then trot, and turned to see where Echo and Bono were. The old mare was making a game attempt to keep up with the upstart boys and Bono was looking a bit windswept. We all looked at each other and laughed, cheeks reddened and eyes stung to tears by the wind, then turned the horses down the track. Edge patted Jack’s sweaty neck.
‘That was pretty damned good,’ he said with a note of quiet satisfaction.
‘It’s good for blowing the cobwebs out of your brain,’ I said a little breathlessly.
‘Next time,’ said Bono, ‘You can give me a head start so I don’t have to watch your asses disappearing into the distance. It was like the ride of the bleedin’ Valkyries.’
Edge began humming Wagner.
‘With one more rider we could be the horsemen of the Apocalypse,’ I said, inwardly smiling at the ‘next time’.
‘Bono would have to be Pestilence, then,’ commented Edge.
*****
After putting the horses to bed, the guys were feeling the effects of using unaccustomed muscles. We staggered towards the house, Bono observing another car in the yard and deciding to play the sympathy vote with whoever had arrived. Edge got into the act, they limped into my kitchen, leaning on me and practically knocking me flat.
Adam turned from the stove, where he had been rescuing dinner, raised an eyebrow. ‘Alright?’ he enquired mildly.
Larry sat at the table frowning at Bono and Edge, who did look a bit the worse for wear. ‘What the fuck have you been up to?’
Bono collapsed theatrically into a chair. ‘My bum will never be the same again,’ he groaned.
Larry shrugged unsympathetically. ‘Can’t be any worse than it was,’ he grunted, and went back to flipping through Rip It Up.
‘I hate to be impolite,’ said Adam politely, ‘But you guys are a little, um, fragrant.’
Larry mumbled, ‘Horse shit,’ under his breath.
‘Adam, would you be an angel and look after dinner while we clean up?’ I asked.
‘No prob.’ from Adam.
Later, with Bono clad in a bath towel and Edge recomposed, the inner men fed mostly thanks to Adam taking over domestic duties, we retired to the living room. Adam, Larry and Edge were discussing a planned trip to the city. Bono was lying on the sofa, drowsing a little. I curled up at the other end with a book and tried not to be distracted by the bath towel.
‘What’re you reading?’ soft, sleepy Irish voice now.
I flipped the cover towards him. ‘Four Quartets. T.S. Eliot.’
‘Read some to me?’ he asked quietly.
‘The inner freedom from the practical desire,
The release from action and suffering, release from the inner
And the outer compulsion, yet surrounded
By a grace of sense, a white light still and moving.’
I read softly. Looking into his eyes, colour of the sky as it was today over the ridge, deep now with a tiny flicker of pain. Feeling my hear take on a burden.
I thought, ‘I wouldn’t hurt you, not for the world. I’ll carry the burden, however heavy it becomes - we can’t stop what we’re feeling, whether it’s just lust or love which comes like the wind …’
I began to get up carefully, so as not to disturb Bono, but he caught my hand and lifted it to his lips in that wordless gesture which spoke so much.
Edge yawned and stretched. ‘Time to go or I’ll be asleep at the wheel.’
‘Bono’s out for the count,’ observed Adam.
‘Bless ’im,’ said Larry. ‘I think we can trust our pilot to send him back to us safely.’
I was surprised at that, having felt Larry viewed me with more suspicion than trust. ‘It's a big responsibility but I think I can do that,’ I smiled at Larry.
Quiet goodnights and I was left with Bono sleeping on my sofa in a bath towel. I went to fetch a blanket and pillow, thinking rather sourly that God must have a wicked sense of humour, putting me in this situation which must surely test a saint.
Having made Bono comfortable, I turned out the lights ready to go to my own bed. Couldn’t resist kissing him very softly on his forehead, sorry God, failed again. Made it to my bedroom, leaving the door ajar for the cats, who make very good alarm clocks. To sleep, perchance to dream.
Learning to Fly, Part 4
The next few days established a casual pattern of comings and goings, I had frequent visitors at Sweetwaters, sometimes the whole band, sometimes one or two of them. One rainy afternoon I had a visit from Edge, who said he needed some peace from Bono and Larry who were arguing about some aspect of the next tour. ‘Bono,’ said Edge, ‘will be over later.’ There was something in Edge’s extraordinary green eyes that told me he knew everything about what was going on with me and his best mate. I felt a blush spreading over my face. I liked Edge very much and had the deepest respect for him, the last thing I wanted was to make trouble with him.
‘You know, we haven’t …,’ I faltered, ‘We don’t …’
‘Yes, I know.’ Edge crinkled his eyes at me. ‘It’s OK, I’m not Bono’s keeper. That would be a difficult job, for sure. But we do look out for each other. Is there likely to be any fallout from this?’
Hard question. ‘No.’ I said, more positively than I felt. ‘And I absolutely will not be causing difficulties after you’ve gone.’
‘We’ll be here a while,’ Edge said enigmatically. ‘Do you play chess?’
‘Uh, yes, not for a while though,’ I said, a little thrown by the abrupt change of subject.
I unearthed my chess board and men while Edge made us tea. We settled comfortably by the rain-swept window and Edge set up the board. ‘I am about to be annihilated,’ I thought, having made the first move and watched a predatory grin steal over Edge’s face.
Silence except for the click of chessmen on the board, the occasional grunt from Edge as he thought out a particularly fiendish play. And the occasional whimper from me as I saw the traps he had set for me, too late, always.
‘Clever, clever man,’ I thought, watching as Edge focused all his concentration on the game. He won the first game fairly rapidly, as expected. ‘Best of three?’ I had to go down fighting, at least.
Edge set up the board again and I put some Bach on the CD player in the hope of distracting him a bit.
‘I love the way Bach uses themes and counter-themes,’ said the wise one as he executed my bishop and threatened my queen in one move. He was actually humming the counterpoint to a complex movement as he calmly put me in check again. So much for Bach as a distraction.
I was seriously contemplating an ‘accident’ involving the board and a cup of tea when Bono blew in like the east wind.
‘Chess with The Edge,’ he said, breezing over to give me a hug. ‘Hope you’re insured against total humiliation.’
‘I think insurers would consider Edge an Act of God,’ I said ruefully, watching my knight bite the dust.
‘What’re you listening to, Beethoven is it?’
‘It’s Bach y’eejit, can’t you tell from the harmonic progressions?’ growled the fearsome Edge.
Bono caught my eye and winked. ‘Oh, yeah, now ya mention it.’
‘Good. So bugger off and make the tea then.’
Bono duly buggered off to the kitchen, where he made a lot of unnecessary noise with cups and kettle, and attempted to sing along with Bach. ‘Oh, this is a good bit - da, da, da, dee, dee, DUM …’
‘Will you just GIVE OVER, man,’ pleaded Edge in exasperated tones. I could see the corners of his mouth twitching as Bono’s diversionary tactics continued unabated.
I was giggling helplessly and quite unable to remember my cunning plan to capture Edge’s queen. By the time Bono reappeared with the tea, Edge had delivered the coup de gras for the third time, somewhat to my relief.
‘My new goal in life is to beat you at chess,’ I informed Edge, ‘And to that end I will practise relentlessly.’
‘As long as you don’t practise with this silly sod,’ said Edge, nodding at Bono. ‘He has the attention span of a gnat.’
‘I protest!’ said Bono in wounded tones. ‘I can match any gnat and have recently reached cockroach standard.’
‘Bollocks. You’ll never get to cockroach,’ taunted Edge.
‘Up yours, Einstein,’ was the inspired reply.
‘You really know how to lower the tone,’ I said to Bono in my poshest voice. ‘Here we are, playing chess and listening to Bach …’
‘And this DREADFUL Irishman comes crashing in …’ continued Bono as he strode across the room, picked me up an dumped me on the sofa. ‘In your place, woman,’ he commanded, lounging beside me and putting his legs across mine.
‘Yuck, big smelly Paddy feet, get them off!’ I protested.
‘Not big and smelly,’ corrected Bono, offended. A snort of laughter from Edge. ‘They’re really quite …’
‘Revolting.’ From Edge, with finality.
Bach gave up and finished his concerto.
‘So did you and Larry come to blows or what?’ asked Edge, sipping his tea.
‘Oh, that’s sorted,’ Bono waved this away. ‘Listen, I’ve got some ideas, want to get your guitar?’
Edge always travelled with at least one guitar and he went to retrieve it from his car.
‘So, how’s your day been, darlin’?’ Bono asked me.
‘Oh, good so far,’ I said. ‘I’ve been thrashed at chess and discovered that Irish feet are not at all big and smelly.’
Bono laughed. Picked up my hand, kissed it, began to draw me down onto his chest.
‘You certainly are a lively bugger today,’ I observed, thinking it would not do for Edge to come back and find us rolling around on the sofa.
I was saved from having to defend my honour by Edge, who came in, looked piercingly at Bono and told him, ‘If you want to do this, you will have to put the pilot down.’
The pilot was allowed to rearrange herself. Bono and Edge started playing with some tunes and lyrics and I was content to observe with fascination the process by which a song was born. They were soon absorbed and I slipped away to the kitchen, thinking I would put something good together for dinner.
Much later, I was stirring a fragrant tomato sauce when I heard Bono’s footsteps approaching. He came up behind me, put his arms around me and peered over my shoulder at the bubbling pot.
‘Mmmm, smells good,’ he said. ‘Looks good, feeeeels good …’ singing now and obviously still lively.
‘Am I going to have trouble with you, boy?’ I growled at him.
‘How much trouble do you want?’ he purred, interfering with the cooking in a big way.
‘How much you got?’ right back at him, unwisely really, as the answer seemed to be ‘a great deal’. The dinner was in severe jeopardy, so I set it to simmer and turned round to face Bono.
‘I’d like to “thank” Edge for my chess lesson,’ I told Bono. ‘Ah, will you LISTEN to me for a minute?’ I trapped his hands between mine. ‘Do you think he’d like a ride?’
To which Bono collapsed with laughter.
‘My HORSE, my horse …’ I said quickly.
‘My kingdom for a horse,’ finished Bono.
‘Oh, you are impossible today,’ I tried for irritated and failed. Bono’s eyes were sparking mischief, I couldn’t be annoyed with him in this mood.
‘Sure, he’d love it,’ said Bono, trying hard to look serious.
‘Then let’s do it before dinner, it’s stopped raining,’ I said.
Bono gave me a ‘well, duh!’ look and said, ‘I thought you’d never get the message. Now, on the table …’
‘Pull your horns in, big guy. Let’s go find Edge.’
‘But how could you want to ride your horse when you could be riding …’
‘E….nough!’ I yelled, but couldn’t keep a straight face.
Edge wandered into the kitchen. ‘Is this man troubling you, ma’am? Shall I take him outside and give him a good kicking?’
Bono slung his arm around Edge’s shoulders, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Edge rolled his eyes.
‘I think he needs some fresh air.’ I said.
In the sunlight the wet paddocks and trees glittered tiny spotlights of blue, red, green. The horses were in the home paddock, they raised their heads as we approached, greeting us with friendly rumbles. They sauntered over to the gate, old Echo the boss mare in front, making sure she was first in line for any possible treats. She stretched her head towards Bono and blew snot all over the front of his shirt.
‘Charming,’ said Bono.
‘Sign of affection,’ I grinned at him.
The bay gelding, Jack, regarded Edge solemnly. Horse and man studied each other for a while, then Jack tossed his head once, as if to say, ‘you’ll do’.
‘Shall we?’ I invited Bono and Edge.
‘Love to,’ said Edge with an easy smile. Bono was a little less certain.
‘I thought you were going to take Edge out,’ he whispered to me.
‘Well, you don’t have to come,’ I whispered back.
‘I’m, uh, just not very good with horses,’ Bono muttered, looking at the ground.
I didn’t want to push Bono into doing something he didn’t want to, but rather selfishly I wanted him to come with us too.
‘Y’know, I’m scared of heights,’ I said to him quietly. ‘Can’t stand on a chair without getting vertigo.’
Bono looked up at me.
‘But it doesn’t stop me flying. Give it a chance, ay?’
‘OK, OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll give it a go.’
I caught Echo and Jack, handed them to Edge and Bono and went back for the little Arab, Shadow. Echo was trying to stick her nose in Bono’s pockets, convinced he had carrots or apples in there somewhere. In the yard Edge handled Jack really well, moving with a quiet calm which settled the horse. I saddled the horses, Edge closely attending, wanting to learn as always. With the horses ready, I led Echo to the stone steps I used as a mounting block and held her for Bono as he got on. Which he did perfectly, sitting light and balanced in the saddle.
‘You look fine,’ I smiled up at him. ‘As if you do this every day.’
‘Yeah, well, we haven’t moved yet,’ said Bono.
Edge got up on Jack with his usual grace. As I adjusted the stirrups for him, I noted he was built to ride, with his long legs and spare frame. I hopped onto Shadow and we moved off along the track towards the hills. Jack walked out with his long, swinging stride while Edge sat easily, letting his body move with the horse. I kept Shadow alongside Echo, seeing that Bono looked a little tense.
‘Is there anything Edge doesn’t do well?’ I asked Bono.
‘He makes lousy scrambled eggs,’ replied Bono after some thought.
As we approached the long uphill stretch Shadow began jogging in anticipation of a gallop. ‘Stop showing off,’ I told the horse. ‘We are being sedate today.’
Bono looked apprehensive as Echo lengthened her stride to keep up with the dancing Arab. ‘No worries.’ I said to Bono. ‘Echo’s too lazy to take off, unless you ask her to.’ We caught up with Edge and Jack. Shadow settled down and Bono relaxed a bit.
‘You’d better tell us how to stop and go,’ suggested Bono, still not quite convinced he was not going to be carried off at top speed. So I demonstrated stop and go, which Edge picked up very quickly. Jack responded very well to Edge, obviously approving of his new rider. Echo had twigged that she knew more than Bono, and followed Shadow and Jack placidly, doing what they did.
Bono cheered up watching Edge as he explored the art of using different muscle groups to move his horse in different directions.
‘Oh, very good, Reg,’ he laughed, as Edge moved Jack sideways in a flashy leg-yield. ‘The horse dances a damn sight better than you do!’ Then dissolved into laughter as Jack sprang forwards into a bouncy trot which disturbed Edge’s equilibrium for a couple of strides.
We reached the top of the rise and stopped to look out to the sea, across the valleys and dark pockets of bush. The sea was a deep turquoise, a flock of gulls gathered over a shoal of fish unseen to our eyes. The view lifted my heart, as it always did in that high and lonely place. My little horse responded with sideways prancing steps, head raised to the wind, nostrils flared like a dragon.
‘This little fellow needs a run, are you OK with that?’ I asked Edge and Bono.
Edge flashed a confident smile, Bono was less certain. I nudged Shadow over beside Echo. ‘Keep your weight in your heels, just go with her. Sing out if you get into trouble,’ I said. ‘I’ll stay with you.’
Edge trotted ahead on Jack for a few strides then moved into an easy canter. Shadow wasted a lot of energy pulling and wanting to be in front. Echo placidly moved into a rocking-horse canter. I glanced up at Bono and saw him smile as he found his balance. Once I could see Bono was fine I could allow Shadow his freedom, he rocked back on his hocks and bulleted off after Jack.
‘Coming past on your right,’ I called a warning to Edge. Jack flipped his ears back as Shadow hammered past, put on a bit of speed and we were blasted flat-tack side by side across the ridge.
I had a moment when I thought the brakes had failed as we came up to the woods and the steep downwards track. We managed to ease the horses down into a canter, then trot, and turned to see where Echo and Bono were. The old mare was making a game attempt to keep up with the upstart boys and Bono was looking a bit windswept. We all looked at each other and laughed, cheeks reddened and eyes stung to tears by the wind, then turned the horses down the track. Edge patted Jack’s sweaty neck.
‘That was pretty damned good,’ he said with a note of quiet satisfaction.
‘It’s good for blowing the cobwebs out of your brain,’ I said a little breathlessly.
‘Next time,’ said Bono, ‘You can give me a head start so I don’t have to watch your asses disappearing into the distance. It was like the ride of the bleedin’ Valkyries.’
Edge began humming Wagner.
‘With one more rider we could be the horsemen of the Apocalypse,’ I said, inwardly smiling at the ‘next time’.
‘Bono would have to be Pestilence, then,’ commented Edge.
*****
After putting the horses to bed, the guys were feeling the effects of using unaccustomed muscles. We staggered towards the house, Bono observing another car in the yard and deciding to play the sympathy vote with whoever had arrived. Edge got into the act, they limped into my kitchen, leaning on me and practically knocking me flat.
Adam turned from the stove, where he had been rescuing dinner, raised an eyebrow. ‘Alright?’ he enquired mildly.
Larry sat at the table frowning at Bono and Edge, who did look a bit the worse for wear. ‘What the fuck have you been up to?’
Bono collapsed theatrically into a chair. ‘My bum will never be the same again,’ he groaned.
Larry shrugged unsympathetically. ‘Can’t be any worse than it was,’ he grunted, and went back to flipping through Rip It Up.
‘I hate to be impolite,’ said Adam politely, ‘But you guys are a little, um, fragrant.’
Larry mumbled, ‘Horse shit,’ under his breath.
‘Adam, would you be an angel and look after dinner while we clean up?’ I asked.
‘No prob.’ from Adam.
Later, with Bono clad in a bath towel and Edge recomposed, the inner men fed mostly thanks to Adam taking over domestic duties, we retired to the living room. Adam, Larry and Edge were discussing a planned trip to the city. Bono was lying on the sofa, drowsing a little. I curled up at the other end with a book and tried not to be distracted by the bath towel.
‘What’re you reading?’ soft, sleepy Irish voice now.
I flipped the cover towards him. ‘Four Quartets. T.S. Eliot.’
‘Read some to me?’ he asked quietly.
‘The inner freedom from the practical desire,
The release from action and suffering, release from the inner
And the outer compulsion, yet surrounded
By a grace of sense, a white light still and moving.’
I read softly. Looking into his eyes, colour of the sky as it was today over the ridge, deep now with a tiny flicker of pain. Feeling my hear take on a burden.
I thought, ‘I wouldn’t hurt you, not for the world. I’ll carry the burden, however heavy it becomes - we can’t stop what we’re feeling, whether it’s just lust or love which comes like the wind …’
I began to get up carefully, so as not to disturb Bono, but he caught my hand and lifted it to his lips in that wordless gesture which spoke so much.
Edge yawned and stretched. ‘Time to go or I’ll be asleep at the wheel.’
‘Bono’s out for the count,’ observed Adam.
‘Bless ’im,’ said Larry. ‘I think we can trust our pilot to send him back to us safely.’
I was surprised at that, having felt Larry viewed me with more suspicion than trust. ‘It's a big responsibility but I think I can do that,’ I smiled at Larry.
Quiet goodnights and I was left with Bono sleeping on my sofa in a bath towel. I went to fetch a blanket and pillow, thinking rather sourly that God must have a wicked sense of humour, putting me in this situation which must surely test a saint.
Having made Bono comfortable, I turned out the lights ready to go to my own bed. Couldn’t resist kissing him very softly on his forehead, sorry God, failed again. Made it to my bedroom, leaving the door ajar for the cats, who make very good alarm clocks. To sleep, perchance to dream.
oh my would I ever fail the test.....
....gee gonna have to stalk you for your autograph next with writing like that!! 
I know I would've failed right there!!!!
day-ummmmm mischievous flirty Bono!
