Date: Fri, 08 Aug 2003 23:42:04 +0100
From: joshua Caddy  <joshuacaddy@lycos.co.uk>
Subject: For The Times They Are a Changing Chapter 1

Legal Notice: The following story may contain descriptions of graphic
sexual acts. These acts may be between boys or between a man and a boy.

The story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality. The author, or
his designee, retains copyright to this story. There may be no reproducing
or distribution of this story without expressed written consent.

Your comments on this new tale would be gratefully appreciated. I don't
know if it's worth reading / writing if you don't tell me

Joshuacaddy@lycos.co.uk


For the times they are a changing

Chapter One

I was so glad to leave the city. Escaping the pollution, violence, rat
race, high property prices, the conformity of the city lifestyle was enough
to make me jack in a very well paid job as a graphical artist.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


After hauling my backside over the planet for what seemed like an age I was
of the opinion that life is just too short. If I had had to kiss the arse
of another company MD I would probably end up standing the "Drop of York"

So, a shake-up was required.

A change of employment, a change of pace, a change of location, basically
whatever was required to maintain my grip on sanity.

The first change was to become self-employed. Working freelance would mean
I only had to take the jobs I fancied doing. No regular income but much
more time to do the things I enjoyed. The more important change was that of
location. Perhaps it was only symbolic but by giving up my flat in London's
docklands I was severing a connexion with the part of my life I wanted to
leave behind.

So I selected a village in the countryside for my retreat from the city.

My choice was to move to a small village called Hanpole out in
Lincolnshire.

This location had been selected for a number of reasons.

Firstly, It had the two basic necessities a pub and a village shop,
secondly it was close enough for me to jump onto the A1 and head down to
London or where ever. And thirdly my two closest friends from university
lived there.

Jerry and Nick had met at uni and got married etc. Not long after they were
married they had a son, Ryan. Much to my delight they asked me to be
godfather.

This I willingly did. However, my work kept me on the road so much I was
never able to do any of the things godfathers are so supposed to do, other
than send cool presents at birthdays and Christmas.

I had not seen them for over ten years as my work had kept me travelling
around the globe, but we had continued to exchange correspondence over the
ensuing years. The odd telephone conversation and numerous emails had kept
them an integral part of my life.

My move to be near them was a subconscious attempt at gaining a family I
suppose.

Having never married and my parents both being dead I was somewhat lonely.
Work had kept me moving so I had never been able to put down roots and as I
was naturally a loner I tended to make few friends. The friendship I had
with Jerry and Nick was one relationship I truly treasured. So when the
opportunity to move into the same village arose I jumped at the chance.

Nick had been the angel she usually was and had located the cottage for me
on the outskirts of the village. How many people would you trust to choose
a house for you and buy it with never setting foot in the place? I did.

I moved into the property at the start of July. Nick and Jerry were on
their annual pilgrimage to the south of France so I would be well settled
by the time they returned in August.

Spending most of July in a frenzy of decoration and building the month just
flew by. I had started to get involved in village life, occupying a corner
of the bar in the Green Dragon most evenings. I've always had a great love
of real ale and was delighted to find that this pub brewed its own beer. If
nothing else it gave me something to talk about with the locals who were
forever discussing the merits of the latest brew.

On completing the house I started to make something out of the overgrown
garden. Whilst gardening does not feature highly on my list of favourite
pastimes I did get a great deal of satisfaction from seeing order emerge
out of chaos. In the long term though I would employ a gardener. My time
would be too precious to waste playing in the mud.

It was a hot summers day and I had just put the last load of debris into
the skip I had hired. Dumping the barrow back onto the path I went and got
a cold drink from the kitchen. Sitting under the shade of the apple tree I
surveyed my handy work. Whilst it would not win any prizes at the Chelsea
flower show it did look the part of the English cottage garden.

As I sat enjoying the shade I noticed a boy skateboarding down the other
side of the street.

Wearing the universal uniform of boys during a hot summers day, scruffy
t-shirt, football shorts and battered trainers he was obviously engrossed
in his skating, He was around twelve with dirty blond hair a smattering of
freckles and a little upturned nose. Quite tall for his age, around 5ft 5''
he gave the impression of being all arms and legs. He moved with the grace
of a newborn colt, somewhat unaware of its body in relation to its
surroundings.

This ungainliness was what caused my first encounter with the boy.

I sat and watched him skate into the distance, contemplating the carefree
beauty of youth.

Finishing the cold ginger beer I returned the glass to the kitchen and
started to tidy up the tools scattered around the garden.

I was just about to go back inside and begin cooking dinner when looking
out through the garden gate I noticed I had neglected to raise the tailgate
of the skip.  As the skip was due for collection I went to batten down the
hatches. Stepping through the gate I reached for the tailgate and narrowly
missed being struck by a hurtling figure.

The boy swerved his skateboard at the last minute and collided with the
gatepost. This sent him sprawling leaving a yard of skin from his bare knee
along my front path

He was obviously shaken by his little escapade and was bleeding quite
profusely from his contact with the floor.

As he was scraping himself of my drive I hurried over to see if he was all
right.

"I hope you haven't broken my path," I said to him with mock severity.

This caused him to give me a bit of a funny look

"No" he answered somewhat hesitantly.

"Looks like you could do with a little TLC" I observed. "Do you need any
help getting home?"

"No ones home" he observer somewhat morosely "and I don't have a key."

This surprised me a little. A boy of his age not having a key to the house.
Still perhaps he had forgotten to pick it up. It was the summer holidays
and he had obviously left his brain at school.

"Look do you want to come inside and I will see what unpleasant stinging
lotions I can put on your cuts," I asked with a smile?

This got him to smile a little and with a "Please" he hobbled into my
kitchen.

Sitting him on a stool I got a bowl of warm water and a few swabs out of my
medical cabinet and sitting on the stool opposite, rested both his feet in
my lap.

Proceeding to wash the gravel out of his knees and clean the blood from his
smooth, well tanned legs, he winced a little as I cleaned the cuts with a
little neat scotch (one of my favourite remedies for practically every
ailment). As he sat with his feet in my lap I could not help but glance up
the leg of his shorts. All that was visible was his black briefs.

Perhaps my gaze had lingered too long because the boy gave me a little bit
o a funny look.

Quickly remembering myself I stuck a couple of large plasters over the
abrasions. I said "Well, it doesn't look as though I get to amputate your
legs today" pretending to look disappointed. Hs set him of giggling

"You're just sick" he laughed

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"How can you accuse me of being sick when you don't even know my name" I
asked

"Ok, so what's your name"?

"My name is Michael Napier I said offering my hand.

"Well I'm Ryan Bowyer" he said shaking my hand "and that makes me your
Godson"

To say I was shocked was an understatement.

The last time I had seen Ryan was when he was around three, so I think I
can be forgiven for not recognising him. Jerry and Nick were never ones for
taking photographs so I didn't really bother asking for photos of Ryan.

I think Ryan was rather pleased to get one over on me. With a smile he
demanded "How come you haven't been round to see us Uncle Mikey"?

"I didn't know you were back from France. More importantly though you might
have got away with calling me Uncle Mikey when you were three but not now!"

With that I scooped him off the stool onto my lap and started tickling him
unmercifully. He squirmed on my knee like a barrel full of eels until we
were both laughing so much I had to put him down before I dropped him.

When I had regained my composure I thought struck me. "How come you haven't
been to see me?" I asked Ryan

"We only came back on Tuesday" (which was two days ago) he responded. "Mum
and dad had to get back to work and stuff".

Knowing how busy they were with their small company this did not surprise
me.

"So why haven't YOU been round then?" I questioned him further?

"They said I shouldn't bother you". He looked a little dejected with this.

"Well, you're no bother other than the blood stains you've left on the
path". This set him off giggling again.

"So then, Ryan, do you normally go round colliding with people or was this
just a one off I enquired?"

"I'm always coming off my board" he replied. "Mum and dad weren't going to
let me have a skateboard, they thought it was too dangerous, but then you
sent me one for my last birthday.

I had forgotten that I had picked up a board on my last trip to New York
and sent it to him only a couple of months ago. It never crossed my mind
that his parents might have considered it dangerous. This set me to
thinking if any of my other presents had not met with parental approval. As
I was living so close now I would have to get their ok for future gifts.

We chatted about many inconsequential matters for the rest of the
afternoon. Getting to really talk to my godson for the first time made me
realise what I had missed all these years.

Ryan was a witty, intelligent, boy. He really was one of those boys you
took to on first meeting them. I couldn't put my finger on it but there was
a charm about him. Possibly the innocence of youth, perhaps something else?

Glancing at the clock I noticed that the afternoon had gone and that it was
now 6.30pm

"Won't your folks be wondering where you are by now?" I asked Ryan. "They
wont be back from the factory yet" he responded. "They don't usually get
home till after nine"

"It looks like you had better stay and have dinner with me then"

This decided I pulled out all the stops and produced a mixed grill and side
salad that was worthy of a Michelin star. Even though I say so myself I
definitely have a culinary bent.

To say that Ryan was impressed was an understatement. It transpired that
most of the time they ate ready prepared meals because no one had time to
cook. I was rather disappointed at this for I have always considered meal
times and food in general to be something special.

After feeding him to bursting point, I had let him eat far more of the
strawberry Eaton mess than was probably good for him It was gone 9.30pm

"Its time you got home before your folks get worried" I mentioned to Ryan.

"Come on I'll walk you home."

At the time I thought he seemed a little reluctant for me to walk him
home. This I put down to their being no street cred in been seen with
adults.

But as it was rather late and I wanted to see my old friends so I sort of
ignored his reticence.

After a brisk 15-minute walk we arrived at his house and as I wanted to
surprise them sent, Ryan down the path first with me hiding a little behind
the large bush by the front door.

As Ryan rang the bell Jerry answered the door, "oh so your back then" he
muttered, seemingly with little indifference to the boy.

Just as he was about to close the door I stepped from behind the bush and
said, "Go on shut the door on me you ignorant git" this caused him to break
out in a broad smile. "Sod off you reprobate" he responded grabbing me in a
fierce bear hug.

He dragged me into the house shouting, "look who's here Nick."

Nick emerged from the sitting room clasping a sheaf of papers in her hand.
On seeing me she dropped the papers and grasped me in a fierce bear hug.

"Looks like its time to lock up the good whiskey again" she commented as
she led me into the living room.

We sat around discussing old times, their business, my plans for the
future. Part way thought he evening it struck me that nether of them had
enquired about Ryan's obvious injuries, what he had been doing all day had
he eaten. In fact none of the usual parent child dialogue had taken place.
He had just followed us into the lounge and sat in a corner with a comic
book.

The conversation did not allow me to dwell upon this thought however for
Nick had moved on to one of her favourite hobby horses, my love life or
lack of it. Times many she had set me up with various "suitable" friends
but it had never worked out.

When it came to interrogating people Nick had got the Spanish inquisition
licked. She had heard all my excuses for a lack of partner many times over
but she did enjoy labouring the point.

A usual it was Jerry who rescued me by changing the subject to their trip
to France and getting out the wine and cheeses they had brought back.

That evening was like stepping back into the past. Sat with Nick and Jerry
was like being in the halls at university again. Time rushed by with an
easy of conversation born from complete familiarity. As the evening was
drawing to a close I realised that Ryan had not been with us for some
time. As I rose to leave I asked where he had gone so that a might say good
night.

Once again I encountered the indifference with which his parents treated
Ryan.

He's probably sloped off to bed Jerry commented. "Am I Ok to go up and say
good night?" I enquired.

"Sure if you like came the response".

So I quietly ascend the stairs.  Coming from what I presumed to be Ryan's
room I could hear a very quite whimpering.

I tapped softly on the part open door and slowly pushed it open.

Ryan was lying on the bed curled into a tight ball softly crying to
himself.

He obviously had not heard me enter, for when I sat down on the bed next to
him putting a concerned hand upon his shoulder, he almost jumped out of his
skin.

He rolled over and sat hunched up against the wall with his knees clasped
to his chest. Through muffled sobs he told me to go away.

"But what's wrong" I asked?

"Go away your not bothered" a came the angry response.

From a boy who only hours ago seemed on top of the world this behaviour was
quite disturbing.

"Come on Ryan tell me what's up" I coaxed

He sat and stared at me through eyes awash with tears. Eventually his will
broke and with a heart-rending sob declared, "I'm so lonely".

With this I threw my arms about his shoulders and drew his slight frame to
me.

Through his sobs he began to explain to me what was wrong.

Whilst on the face of it his home life was much the same as other boys in
reality his was a very lonely existence. His parents gave him little or no
attention. They treated him with the indifference I had seen throughout the
evening. Additionally, as Hanpole was a rather isolated community there was
no one else in the village his age and so with no brothers or sisters he
lived a very lonely little life.

After he had emptied his heart to me. I tentatively asked if he had told
his parents how he felt. This brought a sardonic laugh entirely unsuited to
his age.

"I've tried but they just ignore me or tell me to grow up" he stated.

I pulled him close to me and kissed the end of his nose.

"Ryan, I hope you won't be so lonely now you know where I am, so just come
and see me when ever you need me ok?

"You mean you won't mind me hanging about, Dad said you wouldn't want to be
bothered with me"

"That is so far from the truth. I moved here to be near you! I want to see
you as much as possible".

His answering smile was worth the move on its own.

"Have you got lost up there" came a shout from down stairs?

"On my way" I answered.

"Look, Ryan, come and see me in the morning I've got to go now"

He hurled himself to me and much to my surprise kissed me on the cheek "See
you tomorrow Uncle Mikey" he giggled.

Punching him softly on the shoulder I got up and went down stairs.

Nick asked me what I had been doing up there all that time.

"Boy stuff " I responded.

"We thought you hadn't grown up yet considering Ryan's last few birthday
presents. Skateboards and fake dog turds are all very well and good but
it's about time you both grew up"

"He's only twelve and most of the time I feel twelve so what's the problem?
Everybody needs a little fun"

"If you say so"

And with that exasperated sigh Nick showed me to the door and kissed me
good night.

Walking home numerous thoughts were churning around in my mind. Why were
Nick and Jerry so distant to Ryan? Why were people I had always found so
loving and generous now so different? To the forefront of my mind though
was what could I do to improve Ryan's situation.


End of Chapter the first?

Is this worth continuing with? Please let me know!!!
Joshuacaddy@lycos.co.uk