Usual Disclaimer: If you are not of an age to read this because of the laws of your country or district please desist. If you are a bigot or prod-nosed fundamentalist of any persuasion find your monkey-spanking literature elsewhere and keep your predilections and opinions to yourself. Everyone else welcome and comments more than welcome.
This is a very long tale. It unfolds over a good number of years. What is true, is true: what is not is otherwise.
ALADDIN'S AWAKENING
By
Joel
CHAPTER 39
Part 1
Friday 22nd December - Thursday 28th December 1944
About ten o'clock in the morning I was just contemplating a number of choices having just downed a large slice of bread and honey as a post-breakfast snack in the kitchen. These included, a) doing some of the mountain of homework set by unfeeling beaks, b) practising for a try at Grade Eight at Easter, or c) having a wank. I had just decided on the third option and was about to go upstairs to my room when the back doorbell rang.
I sauntered to the door thinking it might be a delivery boy with Christmas goodies but was rather startled when I opened it to find a figure dressed in Air Force uniform with the regulation not-quite-handlebar moustache clutching a cardboard box rather awkwardly.
"Hello, you must be Jacko, I'm Chris Gardiner," he said rather jovially. He shifted the box. "Brought some veggies over for your mother. Dad's really dug for victory this year!"
I could see the way he was holding the box there was something wrong with his shoulder. I opened the door wide.
"Yeah, I'm Jacko, come in," I said, feeling my face go red at the same time. Whether this was from the realisation that if the bell had rung two minutes later I would have been in my bedroom, trousers round my ankles, tossing myself off, or, whether it was the sudden awareness that this was the Chris whose oh-so-revealing photos were upstairs in my hidey- hole.
"Thank God," he said with feeling as he dumped the box on the kitchen table. "It's a bit much trying to ride a bike with a gammy shoulder and hold on to that lot as well." He let out a sigh.
I could see he was a bit tired so I suggested he sat down and I would make a pot of tea. He smiled appreciatively at that and I set to and put the kettle on the gas and rooted round until I found the precious store of tea. I also noted he seemed a bit restless and kept looking around as if he expected someone else to be in the house.
As I placed the cups and pot on the table I said I'd heard he'd been injured and asked if he was OK now. He smiled again and said he'd been struck by a bit of shrapnel which had lodged in the deltoid muscle on his left shoulder. He'd had the piece removed and the docs had patched him up but he wasn't able to fly again until they had tested his co-ordination as his left arm was still weak. He thought it was OK as it had happened in October but he wasn't able to get a message to his parents while he was in hospital in Italy and then found himself shipped back suddenly to England. He said he wondered if he might be put on training duties.
After two cups of tea he seemed a bit more relaxed. "Mum says she cleared out all my old clobber and gave it to you," he said, brushing a drop of tea off his moustache. "Did it fit you OK?"
I said it did and that I'd passed on his old Scout kit and too-small shorts to others.
He smiled wryly. "I noticed the drawers had been cleared as well."
I took the cue. What was there to lose. I had most probably saved him severe embarrassment with his mother if she or some other person had discovered the other contents.
I laughed. "I've kept everything safe and sound for you."
"Thank God for that!" he said with feeling, "I've had a few sleepless nights I can tell you." He laughed too. "I clean forgot as I joined up pretty quickly even before my last term ended. I've been away all this time so first thing I did was look and there was nothing there. Thank God you've got it all." He looked at me quizzically. "I suppose you've got it all?"
I didn't say anything but got up and hurried upstairs. It was a matter of moments to open my secret cache and to get out the envelopes and the opened packet of French letters. On returning to the kitchen I laid the items out in front of him. He gave a rueful smile.
"I suppose you've inspected my youthful indiscretions?"
I nodded and he grinned.
"Nothing too dreadful there?"
I shook my head.
"Boys will be boys, I suppose?"
I nodded and laughed.
"Who took them?" I asked, pointing at the pack of snapshots.
"Bloody Vaughan Pugh," he said with feeling. "Or at least it was his camera and he developed them."
"I didn't know Huggy had a son until recently," I said, "I heard he left school before he took his Higher School Cert."
Chris seemed so much more relaxed now. Relief, I suppose. He chuckled.
"Bloody Vaughan!" He looked around the room as if expecting Ma or Pa to pop out of the pantry. "Couldn't keep his prick in his pants, pardon my French!" He looked at me steadily as if he might be breaching a confidence or had gone too far with his colourful language with a much younger lad. He had decided, though, to tell me more. "Got himself into some trouble over a girl at the High School. They thought she was in the club." He paused. "You know what I mean?" I nodded. "Anyway, Huggy said it would be best for him to join up and off he went. Then they found out it was a false alarm but he was already in training. Serve him right, he was always boasting! Still, he was a great pal and I met up with him at the base in Italy. He's flying out there, too, but a different squadron."
I absorbed that intelligence and noticed his eyes darting to the other envelopes, especially the one with the professional-type photos.
"I kept the lanyard," I said, drawing it out of my trouser pocket where I'd placed it after I'd retrieved it from my top drawer just now.
Chris didn't even blush! He just laughed.
"Oh, you can keep it," he said, "I've finished wearing that as well!".
"Who took those?" I asked, pointing at that second envelope.
He just shook his head. "Can't tell you that, but I can trust you to keep what you saw to yourself, eh?"
I nodded. He obviously wasn't going to tell me and I thought it better not to pry.
I drew out the opened packet of French letters from my other pocket.
"Sorry, but I experimented with one....." I realised the ambiguity of that statement, "....Just on me," I added hastily.
"Glad to hear that second bit!" He chuckled. "Would have done it myself." He looked at me slyly. "Not tempted otherwise?"
I shook my head. "Don't know any girls," I said, "Anyway it wouldn't have been any good. The thing was perished."
He roared with laughter. "Serves you right for being nosey. But I'm not surprised, they're pretty old." He laughed again. "But Boy Scout's 'Be Prepared' has always been my motto!"
He became serious again. "Anyone else seen them?"
I nodded. "Matt."
"Oh Christ," he said forcefully, "Julia's kid brother!"
"Yeah," I said, "But he's not a kid anymore, he is sixteen now! And he's my best friend," I added.
"And you did know about me and his sister?"
I laughed and said "Yes".
He grinned ruefully. "And what did he say when he saw them?" he asked as he pointed to the various items.
"Not much," I said truthfully, "He did say he was glad that packet wasn't opened." I looked at him and grinned. "I did say it might not be the first packet and that got him a bit flustered."
"You cheeky monkey!" Chris said, but laughed. "It's OK, this was the only packet." He pulled over the envelopes and the French letter packet and made a pile. "Better put all these on the boiler fire before anyone else sees them. You'd better tell Matt I know and all the things have been burned."
I picked up the packages and went over to the boiler in the corner of the kitchen, opened the door and poked the things in. We watched as flames licked the brown paper then consumed the contents in a roaring fire. As I watched I wondered if I might tell him that his possible future brother-in-law beat him soundly in size of equipment. I thought I hadn't better. It was a nugget of information to savour!
"Good riddance!" Chris said with feeling as he sat down again having watched the conflagration from close quarters. "Been on my conscience." He flexed his left shoulder a bit. "This still gives me gip at times," he explained, "Bit of muscle's gone."
He had taken his greatcoat off when he had first arrived and sat down and it wasn't till now I noticed he had a ribbon, purple and white diagonal stripes, under the wings above the left breast pocket of his tunic. He'd won a medal!
"What's that?" I asked, pointing at the strip.
He did blush then. "Oh, it's nothing," he began and then saw the look on my face. You don't get a medal for nothing! "Sorry," he said, "I was only doing my job." I waited. "I got it the same time as I got shot at," he said finally. "I suppose I'd better tell you. I haven't even told Mum and Dad everything yet."
I asked him if he would like some more tea and he nodded. I boiled a bit more water and added it to the tea already in the pot. I daren't add more tea as it was rationed and I knew what would emerge after adding the water would be what was colloquially known as 'gnat's pee'. I apologised and he laughed and said as long as it was wet and warm it would be OK.
I poured both of us another cup - it didn't look too bad. He took a sip and started on his story.
"It all happened one day when I thought it would be a routine flight. A couple of us had been flying out looking for stragglers amongst all the Jerries retreating." He grinned, "Bit like a sheepdog. They see us coming along flying low and they all get into ditches by the side of the road with their hands up and wait to be rounded up by our boys. Most look relieved when they're marched off." He look a long sip of tea. "This day though, there were these groups well dug in. Luckily I saw some movement and guessed there were machine- gun nests. I shot up three before they had a chance to do anything but just as I flew over there was a fourth that opened fire and some of the rounds went through the wings and something hit my shoulder. I did a turn and got that lot and then managed to get back to base. I knew something had hit me but I wasn't really aware of it until they had to get me out of the cockpit."
I was transfixed and my tea was rapidly cooling. He smiled and we both drank some more before he continued.
"I passed out and next thing I knew I was in the hospital waiting for surgery. They patched it up and a few days later the CO came to see me to say what I had done had been witnessed and I'd been awarded the DFC. He said taking that lot out saved a lot of our lives!"
He did look a bit proud then. The Distinguished Flying Cross!
I murmured he must be very brave to fly a plane like that. He just shook his head.
"I love flying. You don't think of the dangers until afterwards."
I said I still thought he was very brave and it was a good job we had people like him.
"Now don't get solemn with me, Jacko," he said, "We all have to do our bit. Your dad has done a lot more than me, you know! If it wasn't for people like him with brains we'd really be in the shit!" He saw my startled look. "Sorry about the expletive, but it's true. My dad told me about those new shell casings and what they could do and he's working on some new metals at the moment. They produce the goods and we deliver them!"
He smiled again. "Anyway, my pals were all pleased about this." He pointed at the ribbon. "One of them said the aircraft fitter said when he saw the damage to the plane that another six inches to the right and I would have got the DSO!"
I laughed at that. That joke had circulated at school many times, DSO - not Distinguished Service Order but Dick Shot Off!
"Good job it was your shoulder," I said.
"Yeah, wouldn't have been much good in the marriage stakes, eh!"
I then heard that Matt, his mother and Julia were going to spend Christmas at the Gardiners old farmhouse. I didn't pry but I guessed some sort of announcement might be forthcoming.
He said he'd better be off. He thanked me for the tea and I thanked him profusely for the box of vegetables and also for his story and congratulated him again on the medal. He said he hoped we'd meet again before he had to return. He said again he had a foreboding he wouldn't be going abroad anymore but would be posted somewhere over here on training duties.
After he'd gone I sat and had another cup of tea and ruminated on what he'd told me. He was brave, no doubt, but he had been a schoolboy like me just those few short years ago. He was only twenty-two now and had spent four years away from home fighting some enemy. What enemy? I couldn't see Hans nor Herr Vogel as enemies. I don't think they saw me, or Matt, or Tom and certainly not Mrs Crossley and Miss P as enemies, either. But then, there were Lachlan and Flea. Their father had been shot and killed when retreating towards Dunkirk. How does one reconcile all these things? .I had to know more.
I thought of Chris himself. He was exceedingly nice. He treated me as an equal, not as a kid. I hoped that if he did marry Julia they would be happy even if Matt wasn't very enamoured with his sister and her moods!
I went and played the first movement of a Beethoven Sonata which was on the exam list. He had been German. How could he be an enemy? More to think about.
Saturday morning I did my run and helped Tom to finish off his paper round. He said he was very pleased he and his mother were coming to Christmas dinner. That reminded me to cycle off into town later to get some presents!
Sunday morning about half past ten a very excited Tom came to the backdoor with the announcement that Duncan had suddenly come home on leave. Needless to say I followed the scurrying Tom back to number 22 and rushed up the stairs behind him into Dunc's bedroom.
Dunc was standing there in khaki shirt and his Black Watch kilt. I stood and goggled. Not only was he kilted but he had red and black clocked long socks on and a great hairy black and white sporran but the piece de resistance was, oh no!, a pencil-thin black moustache!! I couldn't help it, I was so pleased to see him and also rather startled by his appearance, I laughed.
"God Almighty!" he said, before I could even greet him, "You pair!" He pointed at his brother. "He did exactly the same when I was standing on the doorstep waiting to be let in! The pair of you should be put on a charge for insulting His Majesty's uniform. On other thoughts I think you both deserve a good thumping."
He made as if to come at us. It was the wrong thing to do. The two lads he'd last seen together in June had grown in the intervening months. Also, both of us had been lifting weights assiduously and our upper body muscles were much more developed. Poor Dunc! Instead of getting us both in subjection across the bed he found himself lying on his back with Tom across his chest and me holding him down by his legs.
Tom was laughing. "Got you now, big boy!" He looked down at me and nodded his head towards the hairy sporran slung round Dunc's waist. "What do'you think of that? And he says it's true what they say about what's worn under the kilt!"
Actually the momentum of falling onto the bed meant that Dunc's kilt was well up his thighs.
"Go on Jacko, have a look! We've got to check to see if he's telling the truth!"
Dunc was not in any position to retaliate, yet, so I held up the hem of the kilt and raised it further. True, true, true! There was nothing worn under the kilt! There was Dunc's short, stubby cock and low-slung balls.
Tom was roaring with laughter. "Can't see! Pull it up higher!"
I did so and he reached down and grabbed at Duncan's fully revealed dong. He squeezed it and Duncan, most uncharacteristically, swore.
"What the fuck are you doing!"
"Don't use language like that to me," said Tom, giving the appendage another tug, "Second Lieutenant Buchanan you may be, but you're still my horny brother."
He was too, the few pulls on his prick had had an effect. There was no doubt, Second Lieutenant Duncan Buchanan, Black Watch, was experiencing sexual arousal! Tom was in his element. He had Duncan under his command now after all those years of not being able to retaliate fully. He pulled on the thickening object a few more times. Duncan was now getting rather worked up.
"Will you stop that, Tom," he cried out with a hint of exasperation, "Don't you muck my kilt up!" He was panting a bit now. "You'll be for it if you....."
He got no further. I laughed. ".....If you insult the King's uniform any more, eh? No, don't worry!"
With that I did something I'd wanted to do for so long. I leaned down and, as Tom pulled down on Dunc's shaft and his foreskin unsheathed, I took the head of his penis into my mouth. Tom held onto the root with just a finger and thumb as I sucked and licked and Duncan writhed and moaned and finally shot a goodly load well into the back of my mouth. I kept his prick firmly in my mouth as I swallowed as much of his salty tasting cum as I could. I fished into my pocket and found my handkerchief which I draped round his prick as I let it drop from mouth. I swallowed again.
"There," I said soothingly, "No mess. The King will be pleased."
Tom let out a hoot of laughter. "Can we let you up now, Duncan? All OK?"
I don't think Duncan was in a fit state to disagree. He was still panting heavily from what must have been quite a tremendous orgasm. Both of us got up from the recumbent, dishevelled figure. I carefully drew the hem of his kilt down but I had confirmed a suspicion I had. Duncan had the shortest cock of my growing or grown friends and relations. If he'd told Matt that time his cock was about six inches then he was either boasting or had never measured it. His prick, though meaty enough in girth, was just on five inches long at a guess. But, my, he would have been a good candidate for Nobbo and Cleggy's data collection. He had certainly flooded my mouth. Those low slung balls were making plenty of sperm!
After that enlightening episode things became more normal. That is, with us two lads listening enthralled to Dunc's tale of how he had gone through training and ending up in Edinburgh in the most prestigious, in his opinion and ours seeing him once more tidied up and resplendent, Highland regiment.
From what we could get him to confess he must have really shone during training. So much so that the Colonel in charge of the training school had recommended him to his own regiment - the Black Watch - and Duncan was overjoyed at being singled out for this. He was acting as an Education Officer as he said quite a few of the young Jocks, especially from Glasgow and other cities, were badly educated but once he'd won their trust he found them to be great fun and very loyal. I said Billy had told us about his experiences with Scots lads in the barrack room next to him and Duncan confirmed that once they had a pint or two in them they were always fighting, even amongst themselves. He said there was a great difference between the strict Presbyterians and the others because they looked down on the unruly drunkards as they called them. I said it was a good job he hadn't resisted when we got him down as I would have had to give him a Glasgow kiss. He laughed heartily at this.
"What's a Glasgow kiss?" asked Tom, I should think expecting it to have a sexual meaning.
"Head butt, brother dear," laughed Duncan. He looked at me. "Billy told you, no doubt." I nodded. He grinned again. "Nasty. One of my lads came in for his lesson one Monday after drill and he had the two biggest black eyes I've ever seen. I didn't ask but he had difficulty even reading and he burst out that the fucking Sergeant had put him on a charge and it 'wis noo ma faut'. I let that pass as I'd twigged what must have happened when I remembered his name was Campbell. I just said 'Glencoe' and he nodded."
He looked over at our rather puzzled looks.
"Glencoe, massacre of, sixteen hundred and ninety-two. The Scots have a long memory. I looked at the squad list and there was a lad in it named MacDonald. I just said 'Macdonald' and the lad nodded and looked pleased I knew. Not about MacDonald battering him but I knew Scots history." He looked at us intently and smiled. "History is useful sometimes. Anyway, in sixteen ninety-two - William and Mary - " he looked at me, I nodded - I knew Bank of England and I had a vague idea the Highlands had been mentioned. "- had an order for all clan chieftains to take an oath of allegiance and the MacDonalds were late. So they were massacred by their old enemies the Campbells at a feast. Didn't do the English crown much good...." He grinned. "...Och, you Sassenachs. But they do say that every Scot that leaves his country to go to England raises the intelligence level of both countries!"
That went over Tom's head, but I sat digesting it as Duncan continued with his tale. We found out his CO had given him a leave pass for Christmas as the Scots would be celebrating the New Year and he would be required to be back for duty then so they could have their leave. He'd caught a train and then hitched a lift arriving in Kerslake just before nine this morning. He had until the day after Boxing Day and hadn't sorted out trains to get him back to Edinburgh. That meant, of course, he would be joining us for Christmas Dinner!!
Before I left to take the news of his arrival back home he slapped me on the back. "You got your own back, today, eh? Thanks!"
Christmas morning I was up bright and early rooting around in the kitchen. It must have been about half past eight and Ma and Pa weren't up yet when I heard someone coming to the back door. It was Tom with a sly grin on his face and carrying two large carrier bags. "Shh," he whispered and nodded his head indicating we should go up to my bedroom. There he unloaded the contents of the two bags.
"This is Dunc's spare kilt," he said pointing to the black and dark green object on the bed, "And this is one Mum brought back when great-uncle died. It's a Cameron."
I noticed there were also two leather sporrans and two pairs of long socks. Obviously Tom had a plan.
"Let's play a joke on Duncan at dinner-time. We can dress up in these and -" he held up a soft black crayon, "- we can draw moustaches on and come down looking just like him!" He grinned at me. "That moustache!"
I must say neither of us had commented on that military attachment. I'd noticed when seeing other young officers in Kerslake that sporting a moustache, however straggly, was almost universal. Chris's attempt at a handlebar was brave. It didn't seem quite right though on his face but the photos of RAF officers in the paper always seemed o emphasize their hirsute appearance. Yep, I thought it a good wheeze! It was decided I would wear the Cameron one and Tom the spare Black Watch. Tom was away and off before Ma and Pa emerged. When I announced the day before that there would be one more for lunch and it was Duncan, Ma had got a bit worried in case the large capon she had ready for the oven would be big enough. Pa and I were told to mind the injunction, FHB, 'Family Hold Back'! He said there were plenty of vegetables thanks to Henry Gardiner and as long as I didn't stuff more than two roast potatoes in my mouth at a time he thought we would just about manage.
After breakfast we opened our presents. I had two books including a very large German dictionary, new socks and a saddle bag for my new bike. Then I was set to work to peel enough veggies to feed the five thousand while Pa checked that the festive table had been relaid to accommodate another hungry hunter before he disappeared off to the safety of his study. I finished my chores and was told to make myself clean and tidy ready for the guests who were scheduled to arrive at one o'clock. Tom arrived at half past twelve saying his mother had told him to make himself scarce as he was getting in the way.
A good excuse as he was directed up to my room and we immediately set out to prepare ourselves.
After we had exchanged our reminiscences of the encounter with Duncan there was much more giggling as we shucked off our trousers and ordinary socks. The long socks were OK but tended to slip down until I remembered I still had the tagged garters I wore with my long grey socks at school until I went into long trousers. Two sets were found and socks were safely anchored. Getting the kilts on needed assistance. One part had to be buckled to the left and the other part came right over the front and buckled on the right and there was an ornate kilt-pin to be settled in, just right. My Cameron kilt was only a bit too big for me so the buckles were drawn up tight right to their innermost hole. Tom then threaded the sporran belt through the two loops and adjusted it so it hung just so. What with my pristine white shirt above with school tie and my black school shoes below I looked the picture of a very handsome young Highlander when I preened myself in front of the wardrobe mirror. That was until Tom deftly drew a black pencil thin moustache on my previously unadorned upper lip. I was then a good caricature of a very young Army officer - or so I fervently hoped! As Tom stood back and surveyed his handiwork I completed the illusion by bending down and pulling off my underpants. I was now in the state of naked grace as befitted the true young Scot!
Tom guffawed. "You watch it, Jacko, don't you get any pee on that kilt!"
I laughed and said I would make sure I shook myself well. Tom made some rude remark that I was always shaking it well.
I helped him on with the Black Watch kilt. He was now just about as big as Duncan who was a bit thinner after the rigorous training. He looked magnificent and I guessed when he was called up he would volunteer for a Scottish regiment. He pointedly didn't remove his underpants saying he would be slaughtered if anything happened. I applied the crayon and the pair of us stood side by side and admired ourselves in the long mirror.
We heard Mrs Cameron and Duncan arrive and there was the usual excited babble of greetings. Ma and Pa hadn't seen Dunc so we assumed the extra excitedness was due to his appearance. We looked at each other and grinned and Tom led the way downstairs. The others were in the drawing room, standing, each with a glass of Pa's precious hoard of sherry. Ma saw us first as we entered the room and gave a startled little scream. The others turned and stared. Pa creased with laughter, Mrs Buchanan took a quick look and then shook with laughter. Poor Dunc didn't know what had hit him. He stared at us stony-faced until he just collapsed in laughter too. The ice was truly and fully broken. Pa thrust a glass of sherry at us both and nearly choked with laughing as he took a sip of his. Duncan wagged a finger at Tom as if to say 'Watch it, lad!' and Mrs Buchanan, much to Tom's embarrassment, hugged him and gave him a peck on the cheek.
After two glasses of sherry each dinner was announced and I was sent into the kitchen with Pa to collect the veggie dishes. As we got into the kitchen Pa was behind me. He lifted the back hem of my kilt swiftly, laughed, and gave me quite a slap on my bare backside. I don't know which went the redder - the cheeks on my face, or the cheeks of my arse.
"Och, you're a true wee Scot, then," he said with an abominable Scots accent and dropped the kilt. "You and Tom were marvellous coming in like that," he said, reverting to his ordinary voice. "We played the same trick on their father on one of his birthdays down at the Rugby Club. Had to make do with tartan car rugs and scrubbing brushes for sporrans, then. You and Tom really look the part today, though." He laughed. "Tom made us prove we were true Scots then - " he dug me in the ribs, " - and we all were, too!"
Revelations! Boys will be boys I suppose!
Dinner was marvellous. There was plenty to eat, even for me. There was wine too, so things got quite convivial. When we'd finished eating and were pulling the crackers Ma had made, we were watching Tom and his mother, on the opposite side of the table to Duncan and me, pulling one of them when Duncan suddenly dropped his right hand under the flowing white table-cloth. Next thing I knew his hand was on my bare knee, then it was running up the inside of my thigh under my kilt with my knackers and prick finally firmly gripped. All done in seconds. I froze. I hadn't even had time to close my legs together in self-defence. I knew if I moved he would squeeze. He did squeeze. Gently.
Then he let go. No one noticed, it was all done so quickly. Duncan had checked if I was a true Scot as well. Was he satisfied? Time would tell. He had felt my naked cock and balls but I knew how he used to tease Tom - that playful grin on his face - things unsaid but hinted at. I would have to wait and see.
Of course, during the course of the afternoon and evening there was plenty of opportunity for him to tease me. I should have guessed when he offered to help me carry empty plates into the kitchen after tea he would make some comment. He said my dad was a card. He said Pa had just sidled up to him, fluttered his eyelashes and asked if he could have the next dance. I said that was nothing. I'd received a whack on the bare bum and, looking at him with a prune-like face, said I had also been groped by the licentious soldiery. He laughed and I got another hearty slap on the bare bum and he whispered that at least I played the part properly, more than his brother, even if my part wasn't fully grown yet. I forbore to mention that his cock wasn't the pride of the North even if his sporran was hiding a secret weapon. So, he'd also checked Tom's credentials which were found wanting! However, we did agree we were all having a wonderful time.
We had tea with the Buchanans on Boxing Day and Dunc said he had to set out early the next morning. He'd discovered that he could hitch a lift to Catterick on an Army lorry leaving at six in the morning and he thought he'd be able to get from there to Edinburgh without any trouble.
When I went for my run on Wednesday morning I caught up with Tom delivering his papers. He was very down now the festivities were over and his brother had gone back to barracks. As Ma and Pa were back at work he came and kept me company for the day. He was more cheerful after we'd giggled over Dunc's surprise at being bested and finding himself spreadeagled over the bed. Tom said Duncan was rather startled by what I'd done but had said it was quite terrific. After two bouts ourselves we decided, all in all, it was terrific!
Friday 29th January - Monday 8th January 1945
My next excitement was that Andrew was coming to stay. He was setting off from Suffolk with his brother to London, where they would part their ways as Lachs was catching a train to Cumberland to go and stay with Cartwright and his family and Andrew, of course, was coming to Kerslake.
Matt was going to meet him with me at the station. We had both received Christmas cards from the boys and Matt was eager to meet Andrew again. He was sorry not to be able to spend more time with us but was off to Scotland with his mother on Saturday morning to see his father at the 'stone frigate' as the naval station up there was known.
So, we were ready and waiting as the train steamed in on Friday afternoon. A diminutive figure in regulation school overcoat and cap accompanied by three bags got off the train to be greeted effusively by us. He was beaming all over his face when he saw us and so we picked up two of his larger bags and walked off to my house.
Andrew was in fine form. He had lots of news to tell us but said most would have to wait until we got home as he was both hungry and thirsty. Luckily Ma had instructed me to make some sandwiches and not to eat all the bread for my lunch. I had done the first and forbore from the second!
However Flea was full of one piece of news. We hadn't got far out of the station when he turned to me.
"Did you know Mummy's expecting?" he said, very excitedly.
Dopey me asked, "Expecting what?"
He looked at me with an almost Georgie-like withering stare.
"A baby, of course! You're going to have a new cousin and we're going to have a brother or sister!"
Aunt Della and Uncle Edward!! I imagined only young people had babies. They were old! Well, Uncle Edward was two years older than Pa so he was about forty-three. I had discovered that Aunt Della was about thirty-eight because she'd said she married first when she was just twenty and had Lachlan the next year. So, I was rather surprised. But it did solve one of my ruminations. Older people did still do things!!
With that revelation Matt then said that his sister and Chris Gardiner got engaged on Christmas Day. After Christmas dinner he had produced a ring and proposed to her. As she was over twenty-one she had said she didn't need her father's permission. Matt said no doubt he would be glad to get rid of her. We then found out she and her father always had a blazing row whenever he came home and that was the reason she rarely went to Scotland to see him. I think that was also a reason why Matt was a little wary of his sister. Also, she thought he was a mucky boy, even if I'd added to his perceived misdemeanours by making my contribution to her defiled towel that time! Still all that was plenty of gossip to last until we arrived at No 18.
Matt took Flea up to my bedroom to deposit his cases and to wash and have the essential pee. They were chatting away as I slaved in the kitchen putting on the kettle and getting the sandwiches out of the pantry. As soon as they came back into the kitchen there were cups of tea and plates plonked down before them. Service with a smile.
I was quite the little mother these days! We sat and munched and drank and, at last, Flea said he felt quite replete. Like me, he was a growing boy and I'd had to cut two more rounds of salmon paste sandwiches to assuage our joint hungers. Matt looked on with a resigned look on his face. Four sandwiches were quite enough for him. Obviously his bodily needs were less than ours, his cock must have finished growing!
Flea sat back and burped softly.
"Sorry, but I'd eaten the grub Nanny packed while I was on my way to London. I thought it would be easier to manage just the bags without the packet of food. Better in than out that time!" he said grinning at us. He then became serious. "Did you know Lawson found out why the thugs didn't come back to school?"
The thugs? Oh yes, Castleman and Fitzroy. I remembered Flea's distress that summer night and the news at the wedding that they had left school in slightly mysterious circumstances. Matt and I had discussed poor Flea and his experience at their hands several times. We both shook our heads.
"Yes," he said, "Lawson, that one Lachs thumped, went home on exeat at half-term too. You know, that weekend when Mummy and Edward got married." He looked at us to see we knew who he meant. We nodded. "Well, Lawson lives about five miles from the village that Castleman lives at so he thought he'd go and see if he could find out anything. He rides a lot so he took his horse that way and just as he got to the village he saw a lad in a field and asked him if he knew where the Castleman's lived. It turned out this lad was a farmer's son and had witnessed the whole thing."
Flea was well away and I could see he was bursting to tell us it all.
"Yeah, this lad, apparently, worked for his father. I think Lawson said he was a bit younger than him, about sixteen. His father had the farm at one end of the village and Mr Castleman owned a good deal of land at the other."
Flea looked at us to see we were paying attention. We were, because from his evident excitement there was to be a real denouement.
"Well this lad was quite chatty and said that he'd been out near their big barn when he saw Castleman and the other one walking towards it with a girl from the village. The lad got worried as the girl was a bit simple. I think he said she was about sixteen or so, but he told Lawson the family were all like her, you know, not quite all there. The father worked on the farm and the lad's father kept an eye on them all.
"Anyway, he saw them go into the barn and he guessed they were up to no good so he ran to fetch his father who was getting ready to shoot crows. I think Lawson said the lad's name was Richards, but anyway, the lad's father turned up and marched straight into the barn with the lad following him. He said one of them, Fitzroy, was holding the girl down and slobbering all over her face and Castleman had got his trousers and pants off and was just going to get the girl undressed." Flea looked at us, we were sitting transfixed. "You know, he was going to get her knickers off. Well, this lad's father said something like 'Alright Mr Castleman, stand still and put your hands up above your head because if you move I'll fill your backside with lead'. The lad said he did that and his father ordered Castleman out of the barn and told the girl to get home to her mother. Fitzroy had rolled off and got into the hay in the barn and the father ignored him."
Flea was in his element, he giggled. "When the farmer told Castleman to march out of the barn he repeated he would shoot if he didn't do as he was told. The lad said that his father then marched him all the way through the village, hands above his head, bare feet, with his shirt flapping and his cock and so on all in view. Lawson said the lad kept his distance but he saw Fitzroy haring off across the fields. When they reached Mr Castleman's farm gates Mr Richards, or whatever his name was, told Castleman to keep going. Just then Mr Castleman turned up on a horse and saw them approaching. The farmer called out 'Mr Castleman, your son has something to tell you'. You can guess what happened next. Castleman's father demanded to know what it was all about, Castleman was bawling but he had to confess he and Fitzroy were about to fuck the girl." Flea smiled. "I don't suppose in those words, but apparently Castleman's father told Mr Richards to keep the gun aimed at his son and then he laid about him with his riding crop until he was screaming for mercy."
Andrew paused. "What was interesting was that the lad said Mr Castleman was raving on about how his son had let down the family name and he was a no-good worthless scoundrel and he'd had enough of him as he was certain he had also caused the trouble at the school the previous year. He said he would never enter his house again and he would decide what would be done with him by the morning. He called for one of his grooms and the lad said Castleman was almost dragged off as he was on his knees by then bawling his eyes out and he saw him pushed in and locked in a stable."
Wow, that was a tale, but Flea wasn't finished.
"From what the lad then told Lawson, Mr Castleman apologised to the lad's father and asked where the other good-for-nothing was. Mr Richards said he didn't know and Mr Castleman went off to his house. The lad said he'd heard Castleman was taken to the Recruiting Office next morning by two of the grooms and was shipped off that same afternoon to some barracks or other. He said he'd heard the same had happened to Fitzroy as well, his parents had kicked him out of their house, too. The rumour in the village was that they were in different regiments now as ordinary squaddies and being given a rough time as both Mr Castleman and Fitzroy's father had plenty of Army connections."
Flea was quite solemn now. "I'm not sorry it happened to them but what a punishment! But Castleman's father must have known more about why the boy left last year that we didn't know, so he wasn't surprised, just absolutely angry."
I put a hand out over the table and grasped Flea's hand. "He got what he deserved I expect. You were very lucky to have got away with just what you had to do. It's all over now. They're out of your hair now and I bet the school's relieved."
Flea nodded. "Yes, Lachs told me the pair had been tormenting another kid as well who hadn't said anything, but had told his room-mate when they heard the news, that Castleman had made him suck him off and threatened to tell everyone he liked it. Lachs still says they'd better watch out they don't cross his path."
Matt had remained silent through the narrative but he got up and went round to Flea and put his arm round his shoulder.
"I don't suppose they'll ever cross my path but if they ever do..." He left it at that.
We were a solemn trio then as we had more tea and our reverie was broken by a loud rapping on the back door. It was Tom, curious because he'd seen our arrival and so he was introduced to Andrew. Of course it was all Army talk after that as Tom had plenty to say about his brother and how we'd dressed up like him and, also, that he was determined to join up after finishing at school this year. He announced he had been for an interview at the Recruiting Office and the suggestion had been made that he should apply to go to the Army Apprentices School which appealed to him. So, if both Tom and Matt were going off this coming summer I would be losing two friends. After another round of cups of tea Tom and Matt said their farewells and went off just as the delivery boy from Mr Gale's butcher's shop arrived with Ma's order for the weekend. Sausages and a small joint of beef. Yum, yum.
Ma and Pa arrived home early so there was plenty more chat. I found out that Ma and Pa knew already that Aunt Della was pregnant. I also noticed that Ma seemed a lot more relaxed and had been since Christmas. I suppose the rate the War was going was one factor. Now her part of France was no longer under German occupation must be a relief. But, all over she seemed to be much happier. I found out another reason that evening as Andrew suddenly said that his mother wanted to know how the book was going. The book. The mysterious parcel brought by Matt with the odd message from Julia. Of course, a typed up manuscript!
Ma said all was going well. It turned out Aunt Della had persuaded her to have a go at writing when they met for the wedding. The publisher man said he would read a manuscript and give a decision. Ma was writing a detective story and the six chapters so far completed of 'The Affair at the Pink Prawn' had been read and commented on favourably by him. It was now up to her to finish the story and send it off. I asked if I could read it and Pa ungraciously said I would be expected to buy a copy if it were published to make sure there was at least one sale. Andrew very stoutly said he would buy a copy too. That put Pa in his place. He just grinned and said he hoped the publisher would provide hyphenated versions for us young readers. Cheek!
Andrew told us that they'd had a marvellous Christmas down in Suffolk. He was very taken with his new step-father and recounted several of Uncle Edward's remarks and how he and Lachs had tried to think up ways of playing tricks on him but he always seemed to come out on top. He said his mother was very tired a good bit of the time but he was looking forward to having a new brother or sister. I think Ma and Pa had been very taken with his bubbly personality at the time of the wedding and they both responded to him now just as if he was another son. I certainly was overjoyed to have him with us - I, too, felt he was much more than a new cousin.
In bed that night that bubbly personality came into play. Young - by a couple months - Andrew was growing fast. The boyish cock now had length and breadth. It must have grown at least another half inch since October. Andrew said he was now five feet tall and I could see his wiry body didn't have an ounce of puppy fat on it. He said he had persevered and was now the scrum half in the Junior XV. I told him about Matt and his selection for the First XV at our school. This impressed him and I could see there would be another topic of conversation for the pair of them when they met up again when Matt returned from Scotland.
The cock was soon enveloped in my mouth as we soon took up our favoured position head to toe - or head to groin to be more exact. Three times we sucked and drew each other's spunk in diminishing quantities before we settled down and slept so soundly we were both woken in the morning by Ma banging on the door saying breakfast was ready. We grinned at each other as two happy youngsters slid out of bed, morning hardons to the fore, and agreed to wait until opportunity arose before satisfying any need. Our need wasn't urgent, it could wait. We would be on the brink until then, happy to be in each other's company.
To be Continued:.....