Date: Tue, 18 Dec 2018 00:49:52 +0000
From: Jonah
Subject: Letter From America   Chapter 7

A Letter from America

The usual disclaimers apply. No character in this story is a real person,
so if you think you spot any resemblance to anybody living or dead, you are
in error, however several characters deliberately resemble characters
created by another author.  All my characters live in England, but, if you
want to know more about their American visitors, you can visit the story A
Neglected Boy, by Jacob Lion, currently serialised by Nifty on the"Gay
Adult/Youth" site , or visit https://jacoblion.weebly.com/     If you wish
to send feedback to me, you can email me at lfa4321jonah@outlook.com

Please consider donating to Nifty - keep this site going.
http.//donate.nifty.org/donate.html


Chapter seven: 'Twas the night before Christmas.

Christmas Eve dawned fresh and frosty.  As a child I could remember the
beautiful patterns that used to form on the window panes on such mornings.
Since the spread of central heating modern children had never seen that.
It seemed strange to remember things from so long ago, but I only
remembered them because Kori told me he could remember exactly that.  I was
wrong that modern children never saw that, because Kori had.  It seems
that, before he lived with Jake, he lived with his mother in a caravan (my
word, not his), and he noticed how beautiful the windows were on frosty
mornings, just as I had.  One of the greatest joys of being around children
is that they keep showing you sides to themselves that you didn't expect to
exist.  The result of this revelation from the beautiful boy cuddling up to
me, was that I was smittten by a sudden loving impulse.  There was hurt
there as he spoke of his mother.  I didn't know his story, and didn't need
to.  All I knew was that this lovely boy was hurting and I wanted to hug
him and make it better.  I couldn't tell whether Simon was listening.  That
they had elected not to top-tail this morning meant that Simon had to cling
for dear life to Kori to avoid falling on the floor, so he might well still
be awake.  I knew that neither I nor Kori would ever know whether Simon was
awake.  For all his tough, moodiness, Simon is a caring boy and very
careful of other peoples feelings. If you didn't want him to know
something, he would die before he revealed that he had found it out.
Behind me at that moment lay Liam, with the soles of his little feet
pressing on my legs. Because Liam was small, that didn't stop Jake from
resting his bare feet against mine as he hugged Peter.  My bed contained
six contented people at that moment.

 It was not to last.  Suddenly Simon rolled out of bed backwards,
contriving to get his feet to the floor first.

"Come on Kori," he ordered, "shower, then breakfast".

 Kori instantly broke free from my embrace by rolling backwards as Simon
had done but, since he wasn't already half out as Simon had been, the duvet
went with him. It dropped to the floor as Kori stood up, laughed at the
four sudddenly exposed people still on the bed, picked up the duvet and
said,

 "Breakfast in half an hour," as he threw the duvet back over us.

Well the showering got done in pairs, except for Jake and I.  WE wouldn't
fit in there at once.  Breakfast was the "Kori special" that we were
becoming accustomed to, and guess who washed up.  I told Jake that, come
Christmas night, we would need retraining on the sink.  That got a laugh,
but no sympathy.

 After that it was coats on and head for Rayner's Lane tube station.  As we
passed the Best Food shop, next to the Natwest bank, Liam noticed the foot
end of a sleeping bag poking out of the doorway

  "Why would anybody want to camp there?" he wanted to know.

I looked and saw a young man in his early twenties trying to wrap his
clothing around him to protect him from the cold.  The sleeping bag looked
moist from the frost, so wasn't doing much.  I had to explain to Liam that
even in England we had people who had nowhere to go.

"Like Mary and Joseph" he said sadly.

I teared up and was unable to speak for a few seconds, but then I did
manage to say,

"Yes Liam, exactly like Mary and Joseph", as Jake walked over and gave the
young man his scarf.

I walked over and offered him the price of a cup of tea.  He said.

"No mate, I don't need money, but bless you anyway.  Merry Christmas!"

All of us were tearful as we went down to catch the Piccadilly tube to
Kings Cross.

That tube station is actually called Kings Cross and St. Pancras, and I
deliberately left the tube station by the St Pancras exit, as it is the
more impressive of the two
stations. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Pancras_railway_station Actually
it's train shed is built in the huge arched roof of the station, the lower
floor, originally a warehouse for beer, is now a shopping mall (though
there are several other railway stations there as well).  The train shed
was originally the terminus for Midland Railway trains from the North of
England, but they have been banished to some new buildings outside while
the great train shed is used for Eurostar trains to and from mainland
Europe via the Channel Tunnel.  Leaving the station we could see its
massive frontage, a mass of towers and pinnacles that it is difficult to
believe belong to something as mundane as a railway station. I'm not going
to adopt the American term "Train Station" as the media and much of the
public do in the UK these days.  They maintain of course, that if they want
to speak American, they are in the majority and the older generation, and
those actively involved in the railways are therefore wrong.  We of course
will eventually die off and they will have their way but, as long as we're
still alive and kicking, we'll speak our own language thank you.

 King's Cross Station,next door, looks positively plain by comparison with
the Gothic facade of St Pancras, but it is the more famous station.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_King%27s_Cross_railway_station

The 1000 hours departure for Edingburgh was, for a century or more,
referred to as the Flying Scotsman, and is one of the most famous trains in
the world.  There is even a steam locomotive which the London and North
Eastern Railway named "FlyingScotsman" after the train,though it was seldom
used to haul that particular train.  It is preserved and its owners keep
claiming that it is the most famous locomotive in the world, because it is
named after the most famous train in the world.  I'm rambling aren't I.
I've been listening to Peter for too long.  Simon was more interested in
showing Kori and Liam the signage for platform nine and three-quarters-the
departure platform for the Hogwarts Express. I'm sure Simon didn't know
whether Kori or Liam had ever heard of Harry Potter, but that didn't deter
him.

Eventually the 0942 Greater Anglia service for Cambridge was announced and
we boarded the train. Our little railway enthusiast, of course, had to be
where he could see the windows on either side. He had to be on the left
hand side of the train as it passed Finsbury Park, because a steam-hauled
excursion was in the platform there.  Shortly afterward he had to be on the
right-hand side for Bounds Green Traction and Maintenance depot.  We
were,of course, on the famous East Coast main Line, the route of the Flying
Scotsman,but only as far as Hitchin,where we would turn right and head for
Royston and Cambridge.

We arrived in Cambridge exactly an hour after leaving Kings Cross and the
boys were fascinated by the Christmas atmosphere of the place.  They even
did a little surrepticious Christmas shopping while Jake and I pretended
not to look.  Lunch was courtesy of MacDonalds.  Then it was time to head
for King's. I found it amazing that the boys were as excited by this as
Jake and I were,but I knew I shouldn't. There is a perception that the
younger generation nowadays are pig-ignorant, self-centered and both bored
and boring.  That is a cynical and false perception.  Most of today's
younger generation are good people when given the chance to be good, and
some, like these four, are outstanding. It takes a long while for a very
large crowd of people to shuffle their way into the famous chapel and find
their places, but there is not a grumble or complaint anywhere. The
atmosphere of good humour is affecting.

Eventually all are in and all is ready.  One of the most popular of carols
always makes me smile. As a child I lived in rural Rutland and one of the
first carols I learned at primary school was "Once in Royal Davids city,
stood a lowly cattle shed."  Now,I knew all about cows. I had seen them
often enough, but I had never been told that "cattle" meant the same
thing. I had however seen trains of cattle wagons passing through Leicester
Station, so my five-year old brain understood that the Saviour of Mankind
was born in a railway truck.

That same carol rang out now.  Clear as crystal, sung by a solo, boy
soprano.  The rest of the choir joined in after the first verse and
familiar harmonies wove themselves in with the melody.  The last verse was
distinguished by less familiar harmonies - by a soaring descant in fact.
This set the tone for the rest of the afternoon.  In with the old familiar
carols were even older unfamiliar carols,and even one brand new one.  To me
it wouldn't have mattered if they had sung "Let's all go down the Strand".
The choirboys were beautiful, and so self assured.  Never a note was
out-of-place.  The clarity of the boy soprano voices left one amazed. The
adult voices were faultless too, of course, but you can never beat that
tone, clearer than any musical instrument.  All too soon the strains of "O
come all ye faithful swelled the hall."  Still no "Yea Lord we greet thee",
but the soprano descant in the last verse so far should have said "Sing, if
you dare, choirs of angels".  It will never sound quite the same again.

As we shuffled out into the fresh evening air a light drizzle had begun to
fall.  We hastened to the railway station, eager not to miss the last train
up to town.  We were in luck.  As we sped Southwards it was possible to see
specs of snow in with the rain.  We didn't hang about at the Cross, but got
the first tube to Rayner's Lane - next stop Rayner's Food
Centre............., outside which was a familiar sleeping bag.

 There were still flakes of snow mingled with the rain. I crouched down
next to the shivering young man.

"Did you get moved on from next to the bank".

He nodded gloomily.

"Well get youself up, you're coming with us, you can't stay here in this."
I told him.

He shook his head vigorously.

"It's good of you mate, but I can't. I've got to stay here and wait for the
missus.  She's not well and has to stay in the cafe over there. I can't
stay with her 'cos we'd both get thrown out, and she has to keep warm".

I was incredulous.

"Then go and get her.She'll get thrown out when the cafe closes anyway and
she can't stay here. Neither of you can.  What's your name."

"Joe Davis".

"Well Joe, you go and get your missus. You're both coming with us. There's
no way either of you would survive out here.  We've got some shopping to
do, so we'll still be here when you get back."

The young man shuffled off leaving his sleeping bag on the pavement.

Everybody in authority that I have ever known would have advised me not to
do what I was doing.  From Jake there was not a word of reproof.

"You think I'm wrong don't you?" I asked him.

"Jonah, if we'd walked away from that guy, Liam would never have spoken to
either of us ever again.  Fact, I'm not sure I'd have liked to talk to
myself".

I smiled my grattitude.  A friend who backs you up when you're doubting
yourself is a friend worth having.  Jake looked around.

"Kori, you 'n me's going shopping, the rest of you'd better stay here with
Jonah", at which the two of them disappeared into the Food Centre.

Joe reappeared.  At his side was a pretty young girl in her late teens.
She would certainly have been pretty if it were not for the black eye she
sported.  More to the point though, there was no doubting that she was not
normally that corpulent.  This young lady was unquestionably with child.

"No way!" I muttered to myself, then out loud, "Who hit you love Was it
Joe?"

She shook her head, probably too exhausted to speak. She certainly looked
it.  Joe said,

"The landlord where we lived tried to rape her.  I mean who does that to a
pregnant woman?  She wouldn't do what he wanted so he hit her with his
fist.  I dragged him off, but he still threw us out on the street.  I've
been to the police, but they don't want to know.  Our word against his,
they say.  Now I'm trying to get her into a hospital but there isn't one in
London with a spare bed.  Her contractions have started but when I phoned
for an ambulance they said keep her warm, they haven't an ambulance spare
for at least twelve hours and there aren't any hospital beds anyway."

"Well you can both come with us, "I told him as Jake and Kori came out of
theshop.

We walked home in silence. The boys were subdued and nervous and Jake, I
could tell, was quietly seething.  The flat, thankfully was warm when we
got in.  I sat our guests on the sofa then assembled the boys in the
stairway.

"Boys", I said, "is there any one of you thinks I'm doing the wrong thing
here?  You can be honest.  Nobody will think any the worse of you for
having your own opinion."

Four heads shook violently.

"Like Mary and Joseph" said Liam again.

"Yes", I said, "and since you boys always choose to shack up with Jake and
I anyway, there's room at THIS inn, that's if you two don't mind them using
your room".

I didn't have to wait for an answer.  Simon said simply,

"They need it", and his brother earnestly nodded his head in agreement.

Jake, in the meantime had started preparing another culinery masterpiece.
I sent Kori to help him as soon as the conference was over.  We were all
hungry, so we did justice to Jake's handiwork.  Jake and Kori had
manufactured two of the biggest cottage pies I had ever seen.  I would
never have thought of making it in the big roasting tins, but he was right,
casserole dishes would never have been big enough.  I noticed that Jake
called it "Shepherd's Pie", but I'm sure it had beef in it, rather than
mutton.  When you're eating something as good as that, you don't care if
the chef chooses to call it "fricasee of motor car tyre".  Joe, not
surprisingly, ate like an American.  Unfortunately, Miriam was not in a
condition to eat and digest, which was unfortunate because she was very
weak and needed to build her strength back up.  I got permission to use the
kitchen and made a large egg custard for her,including plenty of
sugar. Having fed everybody I got Joe to bathe Miriam and then himself.
I'd found some of my pyjamas that he could use, and a dressing gown that
was the only thing that would fit Miriam.

Having got our guests to bed, that was when I dialled 999.  Joe had already
said that there was a waiting list for ambulances so I figured an emergency
call was the best bet.  The emergency operator was sympathetic, but
couldn't produce an ambulance because she hadn't got one.  I rather hoped
that Miriam could last the twelve hours until they could find her an
ambulance.

It was two in the morning when a distraught Joe thumped on our door.
Miriam's contractions were coming seconds apart now and he didn't know what
to do.

"You ever deliver a baby Jake", I asked.

"Only a horse", he replied.

"More than I ever have," I said.  "It's exactly the same but try not to put
a saddle on it".

"Funny guy" he remarked." Come on, we'd better have a look."

Miriam was laid on her back, threshing about and sweating profusely.  Every
few seconds would come a scream of agony.  Joe was as distraught as she
appeared to be.  Suddenly Jake got businesslike.

"I want every towel you can find in here. Put them on the radiator to get
warm.  There's a pair of scissors in the kitchen drawer. I want them up
here, and a pan of very hot water.  When you bring it up,put another pan
onto boil. Take Joe with you, he's making Miriam nervous".

 I took Joe and we got busy.  Jake was busy in other ways.  At exactly half
past two I took the second pan of water up. As I opened the door I heard
another scream, but not from Miriam. This was the lusty crying of a small
baby with a good pair of lungs.  Joe, hearing the sound practically
stampeded up the stairs and we nearly Christened the new arrival on the
spot.

 Jake was holding the small human by its ankles and wiping it down with a
damp towel.

"It's a boy", he whispered. "Miriam's finally getting some sleep.  She's
earned it."

Jake wrapped the boy in a dry towel and handed him to his father.

"You'll need to think of something to call him", he remarked.

"I'll have to talk to Miriam about it" said Joe". "She's the one that makes
the decisions around here."

Miriam wasn't asleep.  She opened her eyes.

"Jacob," she said to the newly qualified midwife, "because he owes
everything to you."