I stood on the rickety jetty, under the throbbing sun. It was too hot to be doing this today. I looked downriver, to the point where it swerved away behind reed and tree, waiting for their skiff to pass into the horizon of the seeing. For it was swan-upping season.
Sure enough, they came into view. The Swan-Uppers of the Royal Household were distinctive by their red tunics, adorned with the golden crown of the monarch. There was no effort in their rowing strokes and, periodically, they seemed to wipe the sweat from beneath their boaters – no doubt thirsty for the drinks that they knew I had. They drew up to the dockside.
“Lash us to the side, will you Colin?”
I caught the rope and pulled them in, figure-eighting it around the bollard. I held out my hand. “Come on up, gentleman! I have cold drinks in the cabin. You look like you could both do with one.”
Proudly, I led them to the hut that was now assigned to me. It had previously been my father’s, and his father’s, before him. We entered. It was refreshingly cool inside.
“There’s an array of drinks in the fridge there,” I said. “Help yourselves to whatever you wish.”
You’ll laugh if I tell you that they were onto that refrigerator like lions onto a gazelle.
“You’ve done us proud here, Colin. You’re setting the bar high for your first season!” exclaimed the Chief Upper. “This always was our favourite calling point.”
I smiled at the memory of my father. He had always been a proud assistant, even though they never appreciated it.
“I’d offer you a sandwich, but I only made enough for me.”
“Not to worry, young Colin,” said Fred, the older man, wiping his hand across his mouth. “You’ve more than saved our lives with these drinks. It’s searing out there! Besides, we’ve both got packed lunches.”
My two guests lowered themselves into the camp chairs that I had provided. I sat into my usual place and peeled back the lid to my lunch.
“Well, help yourself to more, when you’re done,” I said gallantly. “You need to stay hydrated in this heat.”
We fell into silence for a few seconds. Tarquin, the Chief Upper, pushed back his boater, gulped, and sighed.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Colin, but there seem to be a lot fewer swans on this stretch of the river than in previous years.”
“Maybe they’ve just moved on,” I replied. I eased back the foil and grabbed at a sandwich within.
“Perhaps.”
We each had a sandwich in hand now. Simultaneously we raised them to our mouths. I bit deeply into mine, savouring the succulence and juiciness. As I pulled the bread away, a piece or two of the sweet flesh dropped to the floor.
Neither of them saw it.