Free Jalan Jalan by Mike Stoner

wander from the present to her exposed skin and my mind wanders a little further.
    â€˜That one first.’ She pulls her gown over her legs, only a little. ‘You can have this later.’
    â€˜OK, OK.’ I squeeze, prod and sniff the gift. It has a familiar weight to it.
    â€˜Open.’
    I tear a little strip of paper off and see a small hand inside. A gripping hand. I rip the rest off and he lies across my palm in his khaki camouflage and fuzzy hair: an Action Man.
    I look at her and she is smiling, like she’s just been given the perfect present, not me.
    â€˜It’s the right one, isn’t it? Isn’t it? From about 1976. I checked.’ She rocks backwards and forwards with her arms around her stomach. ‘Isn’t it?’
    â€˜How, where did you get this?’ I hold him up to my face and run my finger across his head.
    â€˜It doesn’t matter, but you like it, don’t you.’ This isn’t a question but a statement. She knows damn well I like it.
    â€˜Yes, I like it.’ I’m ten again. He feels so right in my hands. I want to send him on a mission across the floor immediately. Have him climb some stairs and parachute off the banisters. Make him ride the cat and shoot some plastic cowboys.
    â€˜I used to have six of these, real Action Men, with life-like hair and gripping hands, not like the crap these days.’
    â€˜Yes, I know. You’ve already told me.’
    â€˜It’s perfect.’
    â€˜Good. At least there’s one perfect man in this room.’
    I blow her a raspberry.
    â€˜Do that again, bum-wipe, I dare you.’
    I blow another one and she wraps her lips over my tongue and pushes hers into my mouth. I lean into her but she pulls away.
    â€˜Uh-uh. Not yet.’
    She hands me the next present. This is rectangular and thin. I can tell it’s a book, and again it feels familiar. I sod the anticipation and pull the paper off in one go.
    â€˜ Asterix the Gaul .’
    â€˜Check the date.’
    I do. 1969. First English edition.
    â€˜I’m speechless.’ I am. She knows what I want better than I do.
    â€˜You’ve got the set now.’
    â€˜I can’t believe you’ve got me these.’ I scan my eyes over my two new prize possessions lying on the bed. ‘These perfect presents. I’m a very happy little boy.’
    I lean across and give her a hug, slide my hands inside her dressing gown where it’s warm. I kiss her neck. My hands move to the top of her thighs. She pushes me away.
    â€˜Two more to open. Then I might let you.’
    The next present is also rectangular.
    â€˜What is this, Book Week?’ I free it from the paper. ‘Oh.’
    â€˜Not a first edition. Couldn’t quite stretch to that. Twenty p from a charity shop’
    â€˜ The Time Machine .’
    â€˜By you-know-who. You don’t sound excited?’ She pokes me in the belly. ‘Sound excited.’
    â€˜You know I hate science fiction. My dad’s craziness for it killed mine.’
    â€˜I know. But I love all that stuff. So read it, Bucko. Open your mind to all those mad ideas.’
    â€˜Mm. One day.’ I put the book on the floor. ‘Asterix first though.’
    â€˜Bad boy. But I’ll let you off as it’s your birthday.’ She ruffles my hair. ‘OK, last one.’
    The fourth present is bottle-shaped. I open it. It’s a bottle: Glen-fiddich.
    â€˜Ah, whisky. Your favourite drink,’ I say.
    â€˜And yours.’ She grabs the bottle off me. ‘But I thought I could have a treat too as I’ve been so good to you.’ She tears the seal off the bottle and pulls the stopper out with her teeth. ‘And after a couple of shots of this,’ she slurs with it still between her lips, ‘I might be even better to you.’ The stopper is spat across the room. She takes two gulps from the bottle, then hands it to me.
    â€˜Happy birthday, you old