GUIDESTAR

Chapter 2 'The Core'

"Oh really, and where's the petrol money for that little trip coming from then?" Paige was just about to deliver a typically sharp reply but she saw something move behind Carrick and it made her emit a short, sharp scream of genuine fear. It was certainly enough to startle Carrick and it sent a cold shiver down his spine as he spun quickly around to see who was there. He was squinting, trying hard to make out the shape in the shadows near the front of the van but it was too dark, he didn't have to wait long however before a voice came out of the shadows.

"Call yourselves professionals? You're a pair of fuckin amateurs, why don't you invite the ole fuckin neighbourhood round fer a knees up?" Carrick breathed easily once more, unclenched his fists and came up with a suitably sharp reply.

"You tosser, Milbank!"

With the stranger positively identified, it only took a split second for Paige to contribute to the appraisal.

"You fucking arsehole Milbank I nearly bloody shat myself!" Milbank swaggered out of the shadows smiling and leaned uncomfortably close to Paige,

"Ya know Paige, I've met lifers in Broadmoor that'd be shocked to hear what comes out of your sweet little mouth." Paige's heart was still pounding in her chest like a steam hammer with the huge overdose of adrenalin but it didn't blunt her razor sharp tongue in the slightest.

"Yeh, well maybe if you'd spent more time at school than you had inside, you might be able to string a sentence together as well."

Carrick thought it was time to intervene,

"Will you two stop flirting with one another and get in the van, we've got a long night ahead of us." Yet again Carrick's perfect timing and commanding presence seemed to diffuse the situation and the people around him silently complied. It was a skill he'd always possessed but more importantly it was a skill he made sure he used to its maximum potential at crucial moments in time. As the three of them climbed into what Carrick called his home, a tired and battered old car pulled up just a few yards down the lane. Two figures slowly emerged from the ancient Ford Cortina, for some strange reason the driver then walked around to the back of the car and proceeded to open the boot whereupon a third person emerged grumbling as he stood at the side of the dimly lit road rubbing the back of his head. Two of the three men were laughing loudly as they made their way to the camper van. The driver knocked five times on the narrow side door before Carrick opened it. A shaft of light emerged from the open doorway and the three faces appeared uncomfortable with their sudden exposure to it, Carrick let them in one by one. By this time Paige was busy rummaging through the chaotic cupboards looking for tea.

"Carrick, where's the tea bags!" she enquired.

"Oh, I don't think I've got any, I ran out last week." came the reply.

"Right well it'll have to be coffee then guys."

Carrick looked uneasily at Paige again before he spoke.

"I haven't got any coffee either Paige, er I don't suppose…" Carrick didn't need to finish his sentence, as she knew exactly what was coming next. Paige reached into her coat pocket and produced a small set of keys attached to a large cork ball on a short white rope.

"I'll just get some supplies from my boat shall I?" It wasn't meant as a question, it was an expression of her utter frustration with Carrick and his whole sorry lifestyle.

Carrick tried to make things slightly better by reaching into his pocket for his wallet so he could at least offer to pay for the provisions but then he remembered that he'd already given Paige its entire contents a little earlier that evening. A strange and poignant thought entered his mind. He would definitely have to stop offering her money on such a regular basis as she always took it. Paige left the peculiar assembly of men in Carrick's mobile pig sty to fend for themselves while she headed off along the dark, narrow towpath to the only haven of sanity left in her life; her beautiful inky-blue narrowboat 'Guidestar'. It was her own private little floating World of polished brass and solid oak and there was a cosy log burning stove, an old valve wireless set and so many other wonderful things that she treasured. Her narrowboat wasn't moored too far from the old canal basin, in fact, it was just above the lock; sheltered by the tall, majestic poplar trees on one side and the ancient, mighty oaks on the other. She loved it here; it was peaceful and just far enough away from the noise and the nonsense of the camp, where her fellow anarchists were gathering for the highlight of the protesting calendar. It was nice to just slowly roam the country on the largely picturesque and surprisingly vast network of canals and rivers in this otherwise frantic country. She could usually get fairly close to most of the protests and demonstrations by canal and it made it all so much more bearable than roughing it in a tent like her friend Rachael and her long suffering partner. God knows how they put up with it year in year out.