There's a lot of build up before we get to the hanky panky, I do get there eventually though, and I hope it's worth the wait. My eternal gratitude goes to the many people who have had a hand in editing this first chapter, Misternik, NaokoSmith, but mostly north200.
~
Ivy always felt a surge of excitement at the start of a new journey. Her van was her home and she loved living on the road and the freedom it brought her.
She was planning to overnight at Stonehenge, watch the sunrise and then park up at a Travellers' site near Hungerford for a few weeks. There might be a bit of gardening work with Luke in the offing if he was busy, but she wasn't too worried. She'd cleaned up at the cocktail bar this year, as they always did at Glastonbury. It was the biggest festival on the circuit. All she needed was enough money to get her through the winter after the work dried up, and it was only June.
Yup, she had it all worked out. That was, until she tried to start her van. The engine turned over okay and it would go into first, but she couldn't get it into second gear. She tried a few times; the clutch made a scraping sound whenever she pushed it down.
Ivy winced, she might damage something if she didn't stop. She switched the engine off and popped the hood. Heat bathed her face. She studied the clutch, it looked the same as it always looked. She climbed out of the cab and underneath the front and studied the gear box. She couldn't see any obvious problems there, either.
She climbed back out and angrily kicked the tyre, stubbing her toe.
"Ow!"
"You alright, Ivy? What happened?" Ruth said from behind her.
Ivy stopped hopping, slumped down on a nearby pallet, wrapped her hands around her foot and huffed out an angry breath. "The fucking clutch is what's happened, I can't get the van into second. I don't know what's wrong with it, it just isn't engaging. I can't drive all the way to Stonehenge in first gear!" the words tore out of her mouth like a freight train with failing brakes.
"Alright," Ruth's face fell. "There's no need to bite my head off."
Ivy felt like she'd just kicked a puppy. Ruth, who was normally smiling or laughing was watching Ivy, her blue eyes wide.
Ruth made up for her diminutive size with her enthusiasm. As usual she was dressed in bright colours, at the moment her short thick hair was dyed pillar-box red, but it changed colour almost every time Ivy saw her.
"I'm sorry. I'm panicking. I don't know what's wrong or how long it's going to take to fix and I hate not being able to just climb in and drive away. But that's not your fault."
"What are you gonna do?" Ruth asked.
"I don't know. I can't stay here much longer, not that I'd want to." They surveyed the post-festival choas of discarded bottles and other bits of litter scattered around them. "I need a tow and a park up sharpish, preferably here in the fair county of Somerset until I can figure what the problem is and how to fix it."
"You might be able to help out with the litter picking crew in the meantime," Ruth said, giving her a sideways grin. The litter pickers had already begun the mammoth task of tidying up after the festival. It wasn't well paid, but it was worth it because of the stuff you found. The punters were often so keen to get going at the end of the festival that they left all sorts of stuff behind: clothes, tents, shoes, money, Ivy had even come across contra-band drugs on occasion, but taking drugs when you didn't know where they'd come from was a risky business, best avoided.
"I was hoping to have moved past that stage in my life by now. I might put the kettle on, seeing as I'm not going anywhere. D'you fancy a cuppa?"
"Yeah, go on then."
They sat quietly drinking their tea until Ivy let out an exasperated sigh.
"Shit, I need to go tell everyone who thinks they're getting a lift to Stonehenge."
"I can do that."
"Thanks, I'd really appreciate it."
Ruth bounded off, leaving her tea undrunk, and Ivy crawled back under the truck. After more careful examination she noticed a small amount of fluid had leaked onto the clutch plate. When she scrabbled back out again to look for the workshop manual, she found Geoff, Andy and Ruth standing by the cab discussing the Dodge 50.
Geoff and Andy were like two peas in a pod, both wearing similar khaki green German army-issue jackets. Both had shaved heads, they lost their signature dreads almost at the same time a few summers ago.
Ruth mouthed a silent apology.
Ivy gave her an exasperated look. There was nothing Andy and Geoff liked more than finding someone, preferably female, whose truck wouldn't start so they could condescendingly explain what needed to be done.
She straightened up and brushed down her jeans. "Alright lads? You've heard about my vehicle woes?"
"Yeah, Ruth mentioned it," Geoff drawled as he leaned against the truck. "What seems to be the problem?"
"The clutch pedal has no resistance, it just hits the floor. I can get into gear but I can't get out of first. I was thinking of bleeding up the master cylinder but I've noticed it's leaking fluid so that seems pointless."
"You see," said Andy. "This is the thing a lot of you ladies don't get about livin' on the road, its not all festivals and parties, you can't just get daddy to buy you a vehicle and drive off, when you're a traveller you gotta know how to look after your motor, you gotta be able to change a tyre for starters
Ivy clenched her fists so hard her finger nails bit painfully into her palms. She was about to spit a rude response when Geoff spoke, he was the quieter of the two and Ivy found him less irritating.
"I reckon the seal in the slave cylinder has probably gone. Happens quite a bit with Dodge 50s. Shall I take a look?"
Ivy took a deep breath, as much as it pained her to admit it, she couldn't afford to refuse this offer, it was well known that Geoffs knowledge of dodge mechanics was unsurpassed.
"Yeah, that would be great Geoff, thanks."
Geoff disappeared under the vehicle.
"Jump into the driver's seat and pump the pedal a few times," he shouted up. Andy looked like he was about to do it, but Ivy glared at him.
"Sure." she replied as she climbed back into the cab.
"Yep, it's the slave cylinder seal, come and have a look."
Climbing down she crawled back under the vehicle, and lay down next to Geoff. He pointed out the same patch of fluid she'd noticed earlier.
"You're right. There's no point in bleeding it up until that seal's been changed, it'll just suck in more air. You can order a new one from JDS parts."
"I've got their number," said Andy, "I'll get it for you."
As Ivy watched Andy swagger back from his Bedford MK she made a mental promise that she would never complain about the two of them being pompous, know-it-all arses again, or until next time Andy said something condescending at least.
Andy handed her a dog-eared business card.
"Here, I know a geezer what works there: Adam. If you ask for him and tell him you're a mate of mine, he'll sort you out, make sure it gets sent out same day and all that."
She nodded. "Thanks guys."
She felt a surge of relief. Having your vehicle break down was bad enough, but when it doubled up as your home, it was a whole world of shit. She was still going check out the workshop manual later though, just to confirm Geoff's diagnosis.
Geoff laughed. "Don't thank us yet, it's a bitch to fit."
"And I still haven't got a park up."
"I can't help you there, love."
