Gem was a classical beauty with high cheekbones and an air of nobility. In her prime she had a statuesque elegance, like she'd stepped out of a painting by Gustav Klimt.
Now, Gem was in her early seventies but still full of the joys of Spring. She refused, with a defiance of which the Trojans would've been proud, to allow her physical age to define her or her physical limitations to be an obstacle to adventures. A cruel and unforeseen stroke, five years ago, made her right arm and right leg virtually immobile; she'd fought her way back from this catastrophe and continued to do all the things she loved.
Chiefly this involved travelling in her little van, specially adapted with a steering paddle, to all the counter-culture get-togethers, big and small, that were scattered across the year. She was a regular feature at festivals and much adored by parents of wild and bored children because her van contained such a myriad of toys, games and shenanigans that could easily occupy any passing brats. There were drums and trampolines, hoops and inflatables, building blocks and puzzles. She fenced off a mini petting zoo which starred two large, docile rabbits that loved being patted and fed dandelion leaves.
Her van had 'Mama Gem's Playhouse' stencilled in large, bright letters along each side and the rest of it was painted matt black. Children were given fat sticks of chalk and told to draw whatever their little minds could imagine; at the end of a festival there was not one iota of black visible amongst the multi-coloured squiggles.
Mama Gem's appearance was far from black. Her clothes were a ragtag collection of cloth-patch dresses, her legs always sported witchy striped tights, her boots were embroidered with cotton swirls, her hair was cut short into purple and blue spikes, none of her facial piercings were plain old silver and the few tattoos she displayed were a cascade of cosmic flowers. Her wheelchair, because she found walking very difficult, was painted Lamborghini Diablo red.
The only grey on Mama Gem was in her kind eyes, these often danced with unrestrained glee at the vista of burbling, laughing children as they charged around her van. Her face could become steely and stern in a second if one of them got out of hand, but her look of authority soon vanished once a blushing child had apologised for their minor misdemeanour. They always did apologise, no one messed with Mama Gem.
At the end of the Summer festival season many of the travelling performers (the jugglers and the stilt-walkers, fire-breathers and bubble blowers, the freaks and eccentrics who go some way in making a festival such an interesting event for normal, everyday folk), would gather for a few days of relaxation, wine and weed at a selected campsite. In the evenings, small groups would congregate around woodfires and share their tales of tragedy and triumph.
Gem was much welcomed at these exclusive gatherings because her caustic wit often had people snorting with inappropriate laughter as she pricked someone's pomposity. A lot of these artists, hippies and crusty punks had grown up playing around her skirts and drawing on her van, so she always got away with causing offence. It's hard to stay mad at a woman who'd wiped your nose when you were four or stuck a plaster over your cut finger when you were seven. Her grey eyes, sparkling with reflected firelight, spoke of kindness and tribal family, and any grievance was quickly forgotten.
She'd spend the evening sipping her gin cocktails and getting gradually and indecently inebriated while passing sly, sarcastic comments to the amusement of whoever was sitting within earshot. It was at one of these informal fireside parties, with stars speckling a blue-black sky and the sound of a distant drum-circle chanting their hippy mantras, that Gem was sitting when, during a quiet moment with everyone content to mutely meditate on the flickering licks of orange flames, her good friend Sally entered the intimate circle and sat down on a camp-chair next to her.
"And where have you been, young lady?" Gem asked. Sally was forty-five.
Sally poured herself a snifter from Gem's cocktail shaker and replied, "I've been with Zacharia."
"The acrobat? You've been gone three days, where did you two go?"
"Um, nowhere."
"Do you mean," Gem raised her voice in faux shock, "You've just been... in bed with Zacharia for three days?"
Sally blushed as the group smiled and murmured.
"He's less than half your age!" Gem announced, "Hmm. Good for you. I would high-five you but I'm neither fifteen nor American."
Gem took a sip of her drink and leaned over in her wheelchair to covertly ask, "What was he like, Sal?"
"He was... flexible. And extremely energetic."
Gem snickered and they both laughed together like only old friends can.
After their giggles subsided, Gem said, "I remember when Zacharia was little David Brown from Bellingham. He was forever hogging the trampoline."
"Yeah, well," Sally lit a cigarette, "He still likes a bounce."
Gem cackled with pleasure.
"I'm going to have to get me some of this moonshine that's going around the camp," Gem spoke to the fireside collective, "Sally here and Zacharia, Izzy and Consuela are off canoodling, Bo and Hua have left to get married, the place is lousy with couples!"
"Like young Anvi and Finn there."
Sally pointed across the fire at two youngsters sitting happily entwined, watching the flames.
"Ah yes," Gem agreed, "Two young, healthy, cute, sexy people in love and with their whole joint life ahead of them."
A lone voice joked from the edge of the group, "It's enough to make ya sick."
Anvi and Finn smiled, taking the ribbing good-naturedly.
"This is hardly news," Finn said defensively, "We've been married three years."
"That's no time at all, no time at all," Gem downed her drink and a far-away look stole across her elegant features, "I have to admit, I am a little jealous. It's been many a moon since this ol' Mama saw some action. In fact, I'm not sure I can even remember when I last had some sugar."
The lone voice spoke again, "Nothing is more annoying than seeing young people happy. Rubbing our faces in it."
After this bitter remark the conversation moved on. Anvi and Finn were whispering to themselves; they appeared, not that anyone was observing, to be furtively debating. Eventually the various fireside groups began to break up, the fires were let alone to die. People said their goodnights and wrapped their coats tight around themselves as they trudged off into the chill, early morning blackness.
Gem was wheeling herself over the grass towards her tent when she heard footsteps behind her. She spun to find Anvi and Finn had caught her up.
"Mama Gem, do you have a moment?" Anvi said.
"Got all the moments in the world, honey, what's up?"
The young couple hesitated. There was some nudging from Anvi.
Finn spoke up, "What you were saying back there, at the fire, about, um, wanting... some affectionate company, shall we say? I know you were probably joking but..."
"Yeessss?" Gem's gin-soaked brain couldn't work out the hell he was getting at, she never would have guessed what was said next.
"We just wanted to, um, offer... if ever you want to spend some time with two people who think you're wonderful, errr..." Finn ran out of words.
Anvi took the reins, "If you want company... you could come find us. Any time."
Gem looked from one face to the other, then back again, then back again.
"This a piss-take?" Gem sounded cantankerous.
Finn dropped down on one knee so his face was level with Gem's.
"Not at all," he said, alarmed that she'd thought they were mocking her, "We're completely serious."
Gem looked into his eyes. The boy was cute, no doubt about that. Eyes you could lost in. The boy was close, very close. The boy was kissing her. His lips were so soft. She could go on kissing these lips forever. A spike of regret pierced her tipsy mind and Gem suddenly pulled away and looked pleadingly at the young wife.
"Shit, I'm sorry Anvi."
Anvi squatted down next to her husband and gave him a loving peck on the lips.
"We were talking," Anvi said, turning to Gem, "About who we'd like to get with if we were single. We were just playing around, you know? People we fancy, people we think are sexy, wondering what it'd be like to..." she paused, blushing in the gloom, "Make love with them. There were some disturbingly odd choices on Finn's list."
