Schoolie

Life in The Village, through the eyes of Tom Grant, the only teacher at the remote school.

This is an original work of pure fiction (just an expression of a fantasy)
(re-written from my 2013 version)

The resemblance of the characters by action, name, location or description to any real person is purely coincidental.

If it is illegal, or offensive, for you to read stories involving interactions of a sexual nature between adults and youths, then what are you doing here?

 

 

From Chapter 51:

There is another bright flash and the loud boom re-animates everyone and re-ignites comments. All heads turn to the windows along the length of the dining room wall.

"Look! It's raining!" somebody calls, and everyone presses closer to the glass panes to see the sight.

One expletive is dropped, and the offender is reprimanded to be aware that children are present. An apology is offered.

"It's REAL rain," another exclaims. "Not just the pretend overnight stuff! Look! Look at it!"

I hear it. I see it. And, even from inside the house, I can smell it - a heady, earthy wetness. I inhale deeply and enjoy the super-oxygenated air. It must be absolutely and refreshingly intoxicating outside.

 

 

Chapter 52 - The Jintabudjaree Ghost Appears

 

Exclamations of surprise and joy diminish as practical issues are considered.

"We'd better not waste too much time in getting you back home," Marty tells his mother. "If it continues at this rate, any normal cars soon won't be able to grip the road and stay in a straight line."

Julie's husband says to me, "It'll be OK for four or five hours, Tom, because the earth is so compacted from years of being driven on. But, after that, if the water soaks right in and softens the earth, the thickening mud will prevent anything except horses and maybe a tractor or the best of 4-wheel drives from travelling on it."

Uncle Bill and Julie's husband continue a little tête-à-tête while I circulate and check on all of my cherubs, reassuring them that everything will be OK. I am aware, given the length of the drought, that the youngest of their brothers and sisters may have never seen rain (this `stuff'), let alone experience lightning and thunder.

I see Mum and Mrs T. join in the discussion with Uncle Bill. There is much head-shaking in apparent disbelief, then some obviously reluctant, head-nodding agreement.

With a motion of her hand, Mrs T. summons Andy away from Kurt who has joined his brother and Will half-way down the row of windows. She speaks with him. He rigorously shakes his head. She hugs him and whispers in his ear. He wails, "NO!" and runs out of the room, crying.

Kurt gives chase, calling him, "Andy! Andy! Wait!" Will and Karl follow close behind.

Amid the growing activity in the room of moving bodies, I step back towards Uncle Bill and the others. "What's up?" I ask. I can tell from their faces that it's not happy news.

"I think that we had best not stay for the second night or we may never be able to get back to the plane," Uncle Bill says with an air of calm that covers his undisguisable concern. "Thomas, could you please help us collect our things and drive us up to Cunnamulla? Julie's husband thinks that you'll make it there and back easily in that Beast of yours."

In the flurry of movement and commotion of the locals around me, there are hasty good-byes and encores of congratulations which are echoed with my thanks.

I step onto the verandah to take in the scene, only to be greeted with an astounding sight. The track from the road out here to the homestead, and everything north of it, is bone dry. Rain is only falling to the south, as though a hundred metres from the house is to be the limit of its influence.

There is nothing too magical about this. At home, on a number of occasions, I've seen it rain on one side of the street, while the other side remains unaffected.

I look again. Southward, rain is falling as far as I can see - that is, to the horizon. So, Marty's and Acacia's places and the road down to Big Town will be copping it, while Reg's place and the way back to Cunnamullla might be still dry. I can't judge exactly where the line extends, eastward.

Many of the parents assist in loading all of the equipment back into the Pub's vehicle. Julie's husband presents me with a small tub of cooked meat and another larger one of salad. "We may not even get through all of what we have kept for the pub," he offers. "I'm sure that you could find some hungry mouths to help devour it." He smiles.

I shake his hand and thank him profusely for his generosity and efforts today. It's only then that I realise, and remind him, that there is no refrigerator here and no electricity.

"I have a spare small generator and at least one extra bar fridge at the Pub," he tells me. "Call in and I'll lend them to you, and I'll give you a tin of fuel to run the generator. That should keep you going until you decide on something more permanent."

More thanks are expressed, and I tell him that I'll pick them up after dropping everyone at the airport. I love these country folk. I'm now probably one of the wealthiest guys in the district (on paper at least) and yet he's still intent on giving me stuff!

My brain runs through a check-list of essentials. Fridge, electricity, lights, water... Wait! How do the toilets flush? Where does the water come from? I don't recall seeing a tank of any description. No windmill. No pipes. And where does the waste go? Another puzzle. For that matter, was there any toilet paper in the bathrooms? I didn't think to check that out. What did they use back in the 19th Century? What did it look like? It's impossible that it was of the modern supermarket 3-ply variety that I need to purchase.

Now, where are the boys? I call their names across the `great hall' and to the upstairs rooms but receive no response. I hazard a guess as to where they are.

Sure enough, I find them all in the Landau. Kurt is physically comforting Andy while Karl and Will offer words of solace.

"He doesn't want to go home," Kurt explains to me. "He wants to stay, at least another night, as they had planned."

I'm brutal. "Sorry, guys. If it wasn't raining, it would have been OK for Andy to stay. I'm sure that the rest of you know what the roads can be like after heavy rain. We will have to get everyone to the airport this afternoon." Then I wonder whether or not they actually can remember about the roads, with it not having rained for years.

They don't reply, and cajole Andy into joining his mother and the others.

"I'm driving," Will tells his father and, as if anticipating a counter-suggestion, adds, "It will be good experience for me." Mum and Mrs T. join them.

I tell Uncle Bill that I'll take Andy to retrieve his bag from Marty's and that we'll meet them back at the pub shortly.

Andy gives Karl a half-hearted hug. He is not so restrained with Kurt. When they separate, both boys exhibit tear-streaked faces.

The twins join their father, Jan, in his utility.

Everyone leaves. I run up the steps to close the front door (as if I need to!). Before closing up, I think to retrieve a couple of towels from an upstairs bathroom cupboard, in case we need to dry ourselves if we get wet. From the balcony, the vision again reminds me of that line of cows to the milking shed except, this time, it's beasts of the 4-wheeled variety heading away from me. At least it will be dry back to the main road. After that, I'm not at all sure.

I look around. Andy and I remain, the last to leave.

He is not in a good mood.

"Are you OK, Andy," I ask anyway, hoping that he will talk to me.

"No!" he replies pitifully, stomping, then he latches onto me and hugs me tightly, laying his head on my chest.

"What's up, buddy?" I say, running my fingers through his hair and then rubbing his back. "I'm your friend. You can tell me."

"You know! They told you. I've gotta go home... I've gotta go NOW!" he sobs. "And I don't wanna go!"

I let my hand drop to his surfing-enhanced buttocks and draw his body firmly against mine. He doesn't flinch.

I decide to meet his show of childlike petulance head on. "Andy, you're not a little kid any more. You're a big boy, aren't you?"

"Uh-huh," he squeaks between air-sucking sobs.

"Then, you know that big kids don't throw little tantrums when important decisions have to be made, and often things don't always go the way that we want them to. Do you agree with that?"

"Uh-huh," he repeats.

"And I know that it's hard for you to understand that your mum and mine, and Uncle Bill need to leave pretty soon, because of what the rain will do to the roads here, but it's the right decision. Can you understand?"

"Uh-huh."

"After all, you wouldn't want everyone to be stranded out here for days or weeks, would you?"

I know, as soon as the words have left my mouth, that it was absolutely the wrong thing to say.

"Oh, yes!" he gushes, looking up at me with his penetrating, pleading eyes.

"Why would you want my Uncle Bill to not be able to do his work, and for my Mum not to look after Dad and Amelia, and for your mum not to be able to go to work?" I put to him, but I know that he was not thinking about any of these people.

"Um," he begins, "Sorry. I didn't think about that. I would just like to spend more time with you and Will," then he adds, "...and my friend Kurt."

I thought so.

I lean back on the Beast, taking Andy with me so that his body weight is leaning against me, crotch to thigh, each with one of our legs between the other's two.

In front of me there is heavy rain, only a matter of 100m away. It is really weird because above me and behind me it is dry. It is a strange sensation, standing on dry red earth yet watching it pour with rain. It is like being in front of an HD movie screen, with high fidelity sound.

"Do you like Kurt that much?" I ask. "You only met him a little while ago."

"Oh, yes, Tom. But I can't explain it. He does things to me," he replies.

I am a little surprised, considering the short time that they could have had in private.

"What did he do to you?" I ask slowly, protectively, almost suspiciously.

Andy doesn't answer before I feel a stirring and a hardening between our bodies. It's not mine. He's pressing into the front of my leg.

"I don't mean he did anything bad to me," Andy replies, being defensive, "It's how he makes me feel."

"And how does he make you feel?" I put to him, more tenderly, with my hand in the small of his back.

"Well, when we first met and shook hands..." He pauses as if replaying the scene in his mind. "While he was holding my hand, well, my cock, went really hard, like now." He pushes his erection against me, as if I didn't know what he meant. "And it happened again while he was helping me up the stairs, and again when he was hugging me in the big buggy thingy."

I interrupt, "That's OK, I know how that feels," I tell him and, beginning to plump up myself, push my body forward against his thigh, as if to confirm what he is saying.

"But it was different, Tom," Andy tells me, openly but seriously. "While I was shaking his hand and getting hard, I had a tingling in my... balls. I thought I was going to have a big boy dream while I was awake. And I had to let go or it would have happened for sure."

"Do you think that Kurt knew what was happening and what you were feeling?" I ask.

"I hope not," he replies. "That would have been too embarrassing!" Then he adds, "And it would have been much more embarrassing if I had kept holding on to him!" He slowly, and quite possibly subconsciously, as if reacting to a primal urge, begins to slowly hump my leg. I have an instant flashback of us in the shower at the beach. I think, not here, not now!

"Come on," I tell him. "You'd better jump in. We can talk more on the way." He surprisingly declines my offer of assistance, assuring me that he is capable of scrambling up and buckling himself in.

However, I am more surprised by the fluency of his speech! `Flabbergasted' would come close to describing it.

I climb in on the other side, snap my seat belt into place and drive.

After a few minutes, he says, "Look, Tom, I AM a big boy." He proudly indicates the leg of his jeans and the very obvious outline of his adolescent erection.

"No doubt about it, Andy," I tell him, "I think you're getting bigger every day." He smiles, no he beams, at me. Isn't that just what every teenage boy wants to hear? And I remember the smile from Karl at my similar comment to him.

"You wanna feel it?" he asks coyly, leaning back and raising his hips to give his erection more prominence.

OMG. Temptation! Just like Will asking me if I want to `get lucky'!

Can I resist it here, now? As if!

I reach across, lay my hand on his firmness and I feel it pulse. Enjoying the feeling, I give it a gentle squeeze and it throbs again. Then, after a few moments, exercising far more self-restraint that even I thought possible, I take my hand away, and say to him, "Don't you want to keep this for Kurt?"

He appears surprised. "Do you really think that Kurt would like to do that with me? Really?" he asks in apparent innocence. Maybe his condition prevents him from realising the chemistry that I saw between them. Or is he just seeking confirmation and approval of his desire?

His question almost persuades me that, despite playing hide-and-seek in dark places, maybe they did not reach that point of playing with each other's body, even though I suspected that they might have. Maybe it was because Andy became aware of his potential `short fuse', as he has just shared with me.

"That's not for me to decide," I say. Then I add, as if to encourage him, "I do know that Kurt is a big boy too. I've seen him swimming naked in the river with his brother and Will."

I don't tell him any more than the bare necessities!

Only a matter of seconds later, Andy, grasping his erection, calls, "Stop, Tom. Quick!"

I plant my foot on the brake. "What's wrong?" I question him. The Beast slides to a halt in the dust.

"Aargh! It's gonna happen!" he squeals, opening the door and jumping out. He's almost crying as he grits his teeth and attempts to remove his jeans in a hurry.

I watch as, the instant his cock is liberated from his underpants, it squirts stream after stream of excited teenage fluid upwards and outwards into the air.

I walk around to his side.

"Wow!" I say. "Look at all that." The dry earth is streaked with Andy's ejaculates. "You certainly are a big boy. It must have been an amazing big-boy daydream that you just had. I'm glad that you didn't let go all of that in your pants!"

"Me too," he puffs. "When you squeezed my cock and I thought about Kurt being a big boy and maybe wanting to do that too, I couldn't stop it. I think that I'll be almost afraid to get too close if I ever see him again, in case we touch, and this happens." He eases the last few drops from his cock and lets them join the accumulation of wetness on the otherwise dry, red ground. He wobbles his diminishing firmness at me and stuffs it back inside, then smiles at me and says. "It felt great, though! It was much better than just doing it myself in the shower."

"Come on, big boy. Back in the car!" I tell him. I ruffle his hair, give him a firm pat on his backside then I head for the driver's side.

We continue driving. He suddenly appears somewhat melancholy. "But now I've gotta go home, and I won't ever be able to find out if he likes me or not. Before that fu..., I mean that `trucking' rain came, I wanted to spend some more time with him today and perhaps even tomorrow. Now I won't get the chance." He looks as though he is going to cry.

"Andy, before we leave for the airport, why don't you go over to Kurt's place and say good-bye?" I put to him, trying to lighten his mood. "He lives right across from the Pub, in the house closest to the school." He turns his face to me and his half-hearted grin expands as the idea permeates his mind and develops further. "But, you be careful if you shake hands and hold on for too long, or he gives you a hug!"

He knows what I'm hinting at, and he giggles.

We come to the wooden bridge across the river. On this side, it is dry. On the other side, it is raining. Weird!

I hadn't thought that I would need to use the wipers out here, but they are very effective - they are still new, after all.

As we approach the pub, I indicate Kurt's house, then turn left and head straight towards Marty's. We pull up, but his SUV isn't here. He is probably still at his mother's place. Andy quickly gathers all (few) of his clothes, dumps them (with obvious annoyance and accompanying mutterings) into his bag then zips it.

On the drive back to the pub I can hardly discern any loss of traction on the road; the Beast grips well. No need to engage 4WD just yet.

I pull up outside the Andersen's place to be greeted by father and twin sons on the verandah. "OK, Andy," I tell him. "Here we are. I reckon that you might have about 10 minutes to say goodbye. Come on."

"Hi, Tom," Jan calls as the pair of us dash from the Beast to his verandah, managing to be struck on the way by only half of the falling raindrops.

I explain that I need to drive Andy, his mother, my Mum and Uncle Bill to Cunnamulla so that they won't be stranded here if the rain sets in, and that Andy wanted to say a proper goodbye to the boys. I don't single out Kurt, much to his relief I'm sure (and to Andy's).

"No problem," Jan smiles perceptively, and I immediately wonder whether he had perceived Andy's and his son's preoccupation with each other at the homestead.

All four laugh at my attempt at staying dry while dashing back to the Beast, or is it because I almost `come a cropper', skidding on the mud, in my haste, and only just managing to stay vertical, albeit with four limbs all pointing in different directions!

At the pub, I pull up next to Will's car and enter via the side entrance rather than by the raucous public bar, to where many who were at the homestead appear to have `sought refuge'. Uncle Bill and Will are helping the ladies with their luggage. Mrs T. looks past me for Andy and, not seeing him, looks questioningly at me. "He's saying goodbye to Karl and Kurt across the road," I tell her. "We'll collect him when you're all in."

We stow the three sets of luggage alongside Andy's bag, behind the back seat. With the tail gate up, I only get marginally wetter. Will hurriedly transfers his overnight gear into his own car then joins the rest of us. Uncle Bill excuses himself to `settle the bill' with Julie Smith.

When he returns, he tells me that he insisted on paying for two nights' accommodation, despite her protests.

Mum has everything organised. She and Uncle Bill will occupy the second row behind Will and me in the front. Andy is to ride with his mother in the back row.

My passengers all buckle up and I head across to pick up Andy. This time, I don't get out, but Will winds down his window and, speaking across him, I call, "OK, Andy. Let's go!"

This time he hugs both Karl and Kurt and shakes Jan's hand, who also ruffles his hair. "See you, champ," Jan tells him. "It was a pleasure meeting you. Next time, stay a bit longer, eh?"

I think the that irony is lost on Andy whose only emotion at the moment appears to be a separation-from-Kurt anxiety.

Uncle Bill slides open the side door, and Andy, running to the car and climbing in, gets less wet than I was. Uncle Bill slides the door shut. There is much waving.

"Drive safely, Tom," Jan calls.

"See you, Mr Grant," Karl cries.

"Bye, Andy," Kurt calls out, with somewhat choked emotion. I almost feel cruel separating them.

Andy protests the seating arrangement and everyone accedes to his request (no, his demand) that he and his mother sit close to Will and me - in the second row. There is an unbuckling and re-bucking of seat belts.

I look at Andy in my rear vision mirror, and his silent streaming tears reveal the depth of his emotion.

We pass Thunungara and Will reminds everyone that it is "where Jake, Jane, Uncle Reg and Aunty Di live", which is politely acknowledged by the adults. Andy is silent, and remains that way for an hour.

Suddenly the road ahead is dry and, after allowing an extra half dozen sweeps from the wipers, I turn them off.

Andy becomes animated. "See!" he protests. "The rain has stopped. Why can't we stay, now?" I glance at him in the mirror. Arms crossed and pouting. If he was standing, I'm sure that he would also be stamping his feet in a puerile tantrum of protest.

Mrs T. answers, "Andrew, it might be dry here, but it is raining very heavily back there, and we needed to make sure that we could get out. By tomorrow that might not be possible."

Andy is far from dissuaded. "Then why can't I stay, and you can go home?" He has obviously been considering his options.

"You couldn't remain here, Andrew," his mother admonishes. "Where would you stay?"

"With Tom and Will," is his curt reply.

"Andrew, that's very rude of you," she tells him. "You just can't invite yourself to stay at a person's place. Besides, you have to go back to school. You seem to be well enough now."

"I could go to school here. Tom is a teacher, you know."

Bitter sarcasm!

I'm uncertain whether he has spent the last sixty minutes pre-planning this whole scenario, but there is certainly nothing wrong with his logic.

And thus it continues; his arguments and her counter-arguments. And vice versa.

The other four of us in the car hold our tongues. At one point, I sense that Will is about to intervene, but a stern look from me puts a stop to that, while the parent-child thing continues, in the midst of us.

 

Finally, another twenty minutes and lots of re-hashed arguments down the road, Mrs T., exasperated, turns to me for my assistance. "Tom, please tell Andrew why it would be impossible for him to stay here with you and go to school here, and what an inconvenience that would be for you and for everyone else."

I reply with a question. "Mrs Thompson, has Andy been back to school since his `accident'?"

"No," she replies, civilly, and more calmly than her tone with her son. "He hasn't, not yet. They only let him out of the hospital to come here with us."

"And there is only a handful of weeks until the next holidays, isn't there?"

"Yes." She responds, quietly guarded, perhaps anxious about where my words are heading.

"Then," I begin slowly, "if I was to invite Andy to stay with us until the end of term, and bring him back home to you at the start of the holidays, would that be a bad thing? There is plenty of school material for him to work on, and it's not as though his own school would be doing anything extra with him back there. They're probably not expecting him to return so soon anyway, perhaps not until next year. All of the children here work very hard and they all help each other. It sounds to me like it could be a good way to ease him back into normal school life."

I look at Andy in the mirror and wink. If his smile was any broader, I'm sure that his face would suffer muscle spasms! "Thank you, Tom," he mouths to me.

I wonder who is going to speak up first.

Of course, it's Andy. "See, mum. I told you so!"

"Now, you wait just a minute, young man," she says at him. "For one, you don't have any clothes to wear, and secondly... and secondly..." She is fighting to find some words. "You need to get back to the hospital to continue your treatment."

"So, for one, you didn't plan on me going back to school, and two, I don't need to go back to that hospital!" He rails on her. "I feel really good!"

Mum, ever diplomatic, but at the risk of losing a friend, puts in, "Enid, you have seen how much Andrew has improved since he has been here, haven't you? And me? And you? Is it only 24 hours? There is something magical about being out here that the hospital and doctors could never provide. Wouldn't you agree?"

Sensing defeat closing in on her, Mrs T. has one final card to play. Clothes. "But Andrew only brought enough clothes with him for a couple of overnights and a change for one day."

Will, ever ready to save the day, chirps up, "Andy and the twins are almost the same size. I'll bet that they have some spares that he could borrow."

"And next Saturday we can go into Big Town and buy a few extras. No problem." I quickly add, putting an end to Mrs T's concerns. Almost.

"Sorry, Tom, I can't afford new clothes for him," she says, sounding very embarrassed.

"But I can," I tell her. "I just became the owner of a homestead and 200,000 acres! Just think of it as an early, or belated, birthday present. Actually, when is your birthday, Andy?" I add.

""Next month on the 10th,' he says. "I'll be 14."

"Early birthday present, then," I tell him.

I can't see her in the mirror, but I hear Mrs T. She blows her nose to disguise the fact that she is crying. "Thank you, Tom. You are too kind," she sniffs.

We all take that as a capitulation of her position. Andy stays!

"Hell, Yeah!" Andy cries, punching the air.

"I beg your pardon, young man," his mother scolds.

He rephrases his jubilation. "I mean, thank you, Tom. I would be most happy to accept your kind invitation." This is over the top, but designed to placate his mother. I wonder if she realises that he is `pulling her chain'.

His mother has another practical question. "But where will he sleep?"

Mothers!

Will answers, "We have beds for three in our room at Marty's." Then, thinking better of explaining the sleeping arrangements, he adds, "And four new big bedrooms in the homestead. I think that there will be enough room for one more body."

The rest of the journey is a combination of excited babble from Andy, reminders of good manners and dental hygiene (among other types) from his mother, encouragement from Mum, `how great school will be' from Will and some advice from Uncle Bill about Andy taking the opportunity to learn as much as he can about `country life'.

Fathers!

As a parting gesture when we approach the airport I say, "I'll have Andy call you every night from my phone."

Soon it is Mrs T. who is suffering obvious separation anxiety as we wave her, Mum and Uncle Bill goodbye.

 

On the return trip, Andy and Will swap places and proceed to talk to each other. There are two conversations going on at once. I try to take in both. I wonder if either is actually hearing what the other is saying. Will's focus is school and Marty and the homestead and the Landau. Andy babbles about staying with us, and the homestead and new friends. Kurt's name crops up about every second breath. Is Will hearing this?

After what seems a long time of driving, we abruptly re-encounter the curtain of rain, and drive into it. It feels more like diving into it.

The conversation quickly changes to rain, mud, 4WDs, horses, whether people (including us) will be able to get to school, etc. The only time that Kurt is mentioned, is in how lucky he and Karl are to live so close to the school.

Will and Andy focus in on the topic of horses and the Landau, while I ponder something far more immediate. Where will we sleep tonight? Will there be three in the bed at Marty's? Or should one of us sleep on the top bunk? Who? I consider the possible pairings in the lower bunk, and the isolation of the third person. Will said that he missed me. He meant he misses having sex with me. How could we do that with Andy above us? Will is not known for being quiet - just ask Marty! Yet, to separate him and me and have one of us paired with Andy, will do nothing to appease Will's horniness, nor mine for that matter.

Would it be any different at the homestead? Maybe we could invite Kurt to join us. I'm sure that neither he nor Andy would object. But then, how could we invite Kurt and not Karl? Five of us? How would that work? Would the three boys be OK in one room while Will and I `catch up' in another room? A threesome? What if Andy wants to `get to know Kurt better', but not with Karl present?

Aargh! This is going to be more complicated than I had thought! It's doing my head in.

 

The rain continues all of the way into The Village but there is a noticeable diminishing of its intensity. The way is slushy but not dangerously slippery, with the majority of the water having run off to one side or the other, depending upon any camber on that section of road. I only now realise that the roads are slightly elevated above the surrounding landscape which, at the moment, resembles a shallow lake with protruding vegetation instead of the saltbush-studded dry earth as I picture it from yesterday.

I decide to call in at the school because I realise that Andy hasn't seen it. I `park' as close to the gate as possible. Will helps Andy make the short dash to the verandah.

Inside, Will gives Andy the `royal tour' of both rooms and the store room. He shows Andy where he sits and my desk. Without being told any more, Andy chooses a random chair to sit on. It's Kurt's. Weird! Will looks at me and raises his eyebrows. I shrug, in return, my own wonder at Andy's choice.

The senior boys' group of tables has room for another chair. So, apart from Will, Jake, Karl and Kurt, there will now be a fifth, Andy, until the next holiday break.

We hear a commotion and two blond urchins clatter onto the verandah and shake their heads causing raindrops to fly in all directions. They remind me of dogs emerging from the river. Their hair falls across their faces, masking their individual identities.

"We saw your car, Mr Grant," one says from the doorway.

"And decided to make a run for it to see what you and Will were doing here," the other adds.

Almost simultaneously they brush their wet hair straight back off their foreheads and flick the excess water off their hands.

"And what did you think that we'd be doing?" I ask, without really expecting them to answer.

The pair of them step from the outside door through into the classroom. It's only then that they spot Andy. They are so surprised that they stop as if they had walked into quick-drying cement.

After a pause of two or three seconds, while his mind process what his eyes are showing him, Kurt, with the broadest of grins, growls, "Somebody's been sitting in my chair!" reminiscent of our recent dramatization of `Goldilocks and the Three Bears' for the little kids.

"Guilty!" Andy responds, smiling back at him. Then joining in on the literary allusion, he moans, "But it wasn't me who ate your porridge, honest!"

Father-Bear-style, Karl adds his own two cents worth, "OK, Goldilocks. We won't eat you this time." And he growls, "But don't try sleeping in our beds. Understand?"

Is he joking or serious? Is the warning simply in continuing the story with some unintentional innuendo, or is he actually jealous of Andy's presence and how it might upset the happy `understanding' with him and Will and Kurt and me?

"He's welcome to try mine," Kurt enthuses, then immediately blushes deeply at the realisation of his own words, too late to stop them from escaping. And he said `he' (meaning Andy) instead of `she' (Goldilocks). Then he clamps his hands over his ears so that he can't hear any potential rebuke from his brother, or me, or Will, or (very unlikely, I suspect) from Andy.

I ponder that our worst fears rarely eventuate. He's safe.

He turns to me with pleading eyes, looking for some lifeline to pull him out of the hole that he just dug for himself. At the same time, there are multiple glances exchanged among Karl, Will and Andy, all trying to gauge each other's reaction.

Then, as if the Schoolie always has the answer to everything, they all focus on me. Jury, judge and executioner?

This one is easy. "That depends on which bear you are, Kurt," I tell him. "Father Bear's bed is too hard; Mother Bear's bed is too soft; but Baby Bear's bed is just right."

They all exhale heavily and relax at my deflection of the issue back to the fairy tale. However, they don't count on my warped sense of humour and of me knowing the four of them as well as I do. I ask, "So, Kurt, which one are you - hard, soft or just right?" He looks shocked. So do the others. But I smirk broadly, and all four of them burst into laughter.

I should have known better!

"I reckon he's hard," Will teases.

Karl, grasping his brother's crotch, announces, "Nope, he's soft."

"Just right!" Andy half-whispers.

"OK, guys. Enough!" I tell them, calling an end to the suggestive innuendo before it goes too far. "Come on, I'll drop you two home, to stop you getting any wetter, if that's possible." I walk across to the twins and ruffle their wet hair, then put an arm around each one's shoulders and guide them back through the doors.

Will calls after us, "Hey, there are two puddles on the floor. Did you guys just pee yourselves?"

The look on Andy's face is priceless. And his laughter is not restrained, pointing at both Karl and Kurt.

I tell them about the towels behind the front seat and ask the twins to use them so as not to wet the seats. "Yeah," Will chides. "No peeing on the seats either!"

Andy laughs loudest. He's going to love it out here!

There is a second vehicle outside the Andersen house. It's the Council SUV that Helen O'Sullivan was driving earlier today. I do a U-turn so that the sliding side door for the twins to exit is as close as possible to the path. Jan is waiting on the verandah and beckons me. The boys dash out and I follow, having to make my way around the front of the Beast. Wet but not yet soaked!

Helen, carrying towels, joins Jan and the twins to whom she hands one towel each. "Do you need one, too, Tom," she asks.

"Thanks, Helen but I have a couple in the car," I tell her.

"Tom," Jan starts. "Could I ask a favour?"

"Of course, neighbour," I tell him, smiling.

He hesitates. "Say `no' if this is an imposition, Tom, but is there any chance that Will could keep an eye on these two ruffians tonight?" he says, further messing up their tangles of wet blond hair. I am about to answer when he continues by way of explanation, "I've asked Helen whether she would like to spend the rest of today and tonight out at Whispering Gums. I'm not sure what we'll find out there after this sudden change in the weather, but I could always use an extra hand, if necessary. Perhaps it's still dry. And I'm sure that the owners and Helen would love to swap more stories before they vacate for the new purchaser, whoever it is. They said the last time that they spent with her was all too short."

I look at Helen. She is smiling, but looks a little flushed in the cheeks. My `creative' (aka `dirty') mind extends to the sort of hand that she might give him, but I dismiss that thought just as quickly.

"Of course," I tell him. "Will would be delighted." I don't even need to ask.

Then, my mind returns, again, to sleeping arrangements. Would my little brother be happy to stay here with the twins instead of warming my bed? Would Andy be happy, and Kurt for that matter? What does Karl think? Would he prefer to have Will alone to himself for the evening? I can foresee a lot of hardness, and not just Father Bear's bed!

"Will!" I call. "Can you come here for a minute, please?" I'm sure that I should have said `may?' somewhere in there.

He takes fewer strides than I did to join us on the verandah.

I repeat Jan's request, which is met with Will's almost-predictable "Hell, Yeah!" followed by a more sedate, "Yes, I'd be happy to help out, Mr Andersen." There are smiles all `round.

There is some excited tittering and then Will says, "I have a great idea. Why don't we all go and stay out at the homestead? There are enough bedrooms for everyone. Marty has some lanterns in his garage and we could sit around and tell ghost stories, or something." He adds, "And it wasn't raining out there when we left."

I begin, "Well, I suppose that we could do that. Julie Smith's husband said that he would lend me a small fridge for the salads and meat that he left us plus a generator and some fuel."

Will and the twins rush inside to collect `their things'. "Hell Yeah!" echoes through the house. Andy peers at us through the Beast's windows, obviously wondering what is going on.

"Are there enough pillows and blankets?" Helen asks.

"I think so," I tell her. I didn't peel the quilts back to check but, when I felt the beds, they seemed fairly well padded, with blankets, I assumed. Then I wonder how such an old house could have fresh linen and blankets that are not full of dust. Another mystery.

The boys re-emerge. Each twin is carrying a pillow and Will is the bearer of a single bag. "Pyjamas and toothbrushes," Kurt enlightens me, intercepting my glance.

"Let me get you some extra food," Jan says and disappears indoors. When he returns with a small hamper (of sorts) he also has a lantern. "LED with new batteries," he says. "It's much better than candles."

The three boys head for the Beast and I can hear excited voices telling Andy what is about to happen. Did I just hear a `trucking hell Yeah!' from the car? I hope that it started with `tr...'.

I explain to Jan and Helen that the rain is not widespread and that it might still be dry up at Whispering Gums, as it probably is out at the homestead. "Have a good time," I wish them, and then head for the car.

As we all wave them both goodbye, I think to myself that they appear to be standing rather close together.

"Are you going to leave your car here at the pub?" I ask Will. He looks undecided. "It might be a good idea to drive it down to Marty's while the road is still good," I suggest. He obviously contemplates a number of alternatives and their consequences, then agrees.

"Who's coming with me?" he asks. Karl volunteers, and they make the switch, leaving Kurt and Andy in the back of the Beast to ride with me.

"I'll go first," I call to Will. "I'll use the spotlights to show the way. Just make sure that you drive in my tracks. OK?"

He agrees.

Despite the fact that it's not yet officially the time for sunset, it is quite dull. The spotlights are brilliant - pun intended! I travel at a safe pace and check frequently to ensure that Will is still behind me. My poor car (his car) looks as though it is competing in a cross-country rally. It's going to need a good clean. Maybe if he leaves it just outside Marty's garage the rain will wash off most of the mud.

We turn off onto the track to Marty's and I go even slower so that Will can drive closer. I'm fully familiar with all the twists and turns of the track, but it looks different when semi-covered in water. I have to navigate mostly by familiar trees and other discarded objects. We pull up and are not greeted by barking dogs, which are probably taking shelter under the house.

Will continues around to the back of the house to leave his car near the garage and to enter via the back door near our bedroom. Andy, Kurt and I use the front door and head for the aroma and light in the kitchen, where I can hear Marty giving a rendition of a John Denver song that my Mum was always singing.

"Hello, sunshine," a naked (except for an apron that at least covers his front) Marty hails a boggle-eyed Andy. "Did you miss your plane? Let me check the timetable for the next one." He pauses and flips the pages of an imaginary list on a pretended clipboard. "Nope. None scheduled. So, it looks like you're stuck here. Did they abandon you or something?" He doesn't wait for an answer.

He smiles acknowledgment at Kurt who is staring at Marty where his clothes ought to be, and then we are all joined by Karl and Will (carrying his overnight bag from the pub). Will looks at Marty and rolls his eyes. "I should have known," he says and then for the twins' benefit, "It's one of Marty's House Rules - I'll explain it in the car."

I begin to introduce the twins to Marty when he cuts me off. "Hey," he says, "I know these guys! I live in this little corner of the world too, remember?" He also reminds me that, apart from being around The Village all his life, we all had dinner together in the pub with Uncle Bill, his mother and their dad not so long ago.

Oh, yes.

I explain to him what we are intending to do and ask him about some lanterns. "I'll get them for you," he says. "But it's a while since I used them. I'm not sure about the batteries." All eyes closely follow Marty's taut, slightly hairy backside out through the door.

Will collects some necessities and I do the same. Andy already has his things all packed in his bag.

"Why don't you all come back for breakfast?" Marty suggests, re-entering with a lantern in each hand. "It will be good to have a house full of guys again."

"Does that include the local dress code?" I ask, wondering how Andy and the twins (and their bodies) would react to becoming a pack of naturalists, and parading starkers.

"Of course, unless that poses a problem for anyone," he replies, smirking THAT smirk.

"Conference. My room!" I say to the four boys. I lead. They follow. Will closes the door. He can guess what this is about.

"Guys," I begin, and take a deep breath. "One of Marty's House Rules is that there are no women or girls allowed." Everyone hums and coos their accord with the idea. "And," I continue, "that, while here, guys usually wear no clothes."

I stop and wait for the expected expressions of shock and disapproval. They don't eventuate. Just a hushed `Wow!' from one of the twins.

"Mr Grant," Karl says, "You've seen my brother and me naked in the weir, and we've seen you too, so I don't think that there would be a problem with that. And we've all seen William without any clothes."

Will adds, "And Andy and us (indicating me and him) have all seen each other naked in the showers at the beach."

There is only one unexplored side to this issue. I broach it, "So, Andy, how do you feel about being seen naked by Karl, Kurt and Marty, and about looking at them without any of their clothes?"

There is a moment of silence. "It could be embarrassing," he says. He covers his crotch and then adds, coyly, "You know, like Father Bear's bed? I can't control it. It just happens."

I try to assuage his feeling of awkwardness, "I assure you Andy, that if you get hard, you won't be the only one!"

"But, what if I'm the smallest?" he asks. I think that for some boys, size does matter; at least, comparatively!

Will puts his arm around Andy's shoulder and tells him, "Believe me. From everything that I've seen, you wouldn't be the shortest!" He looks at Karl and Kurt who suddenly seem even more excited at the prospect.

"If it's a problem for anyone, we don't have to do it. Marty will be OK." I encourage him to do what he feels comfortable with.

"No, it's really OK, I guess," Andy croaks, searching for his confidence.

Will adds the House Rule about `what happens in the house stays in the house' and gains assurances from everyone that nothing will be said to anyone else about our breakfast frolic, or anything else for that matter.

"So, my mum won't find out?" Andy asks, revealing his true anxiety. When assured that she won't, he brightens considerably.

Will has the final word, "If anyone says anything, we'll just have to cut his balls off and feed them to the dogs!"

There are groans of mock pain, and I sense a pervading camaraderie! An all-in hand shake, with a group `Hell, Yeah!' seals the deal.

We tell Marty the `good news', and he says that he's looking forward to having a lot more sausages than usual at breakfast. The obvious double entendre causes everyone to laugh, nervously or excitedly.

Everyone declines the chance to `ride shotgun' alongside me in the Beast. Andy and Kurt sit behind me with Karl and Will in the back seat. I stop at the pub and help load the refrigerator, generator and some more supplies, courtesy of Julie Smith and husband.

In only a matter of minutes we roll across the old wooden bridge onto dry ground. As we pick up speed, it's eerie seeing dust in my rear vision mirror while, at the same time, rain out to my left, to the south.

I broach the matter of sleeping arrangements. "There are four bedrooms, guys, and five of us. How do you suggest that we arrange things tonight?" I can think of multiple potential combinations, but I'll leave it to them.

Andy speaks up, "Tom, I really don't want to sleep by myself in the big house. It could be really scary!"

"That's perfectly understandable, Andy. I'm sure you're not the only one, and thank you for having the courage to say so." That discourages any potential tittering from the others.

Andy and Kurt turn around to conference with Will and Karl.

There is much chattering and gesticulating. It's left to Will to deliver the verdict. "OK," he starts. "Karl is going to share with me and Andy will share with Kurt. That leaves you in a bed by yourself, but if we think that we hear you crying because you're scared to be alone, then one of us will come and give you a hug!" They all giggle at his demeaning of me; perhaps, also, there is the hint that any one of the boys may climb into my bed.

I can think of a couple of smart-alec retorts, but I let them slide. "Good choice!" I commend them, and wonder who would be the first to come and `comfort' me if I were to make some fake crying noises.

When we reach the homestead, I decide to see how the Beast likes sharing a stable with the Landau. Perfect!

Everybody grabs his own gear and we head around the corner and up the front steps. I want to check something. "Karl," I ask, "could you open the door, please?"

He tries unsuccessfully. "It must be locked, Mr Grant," he tells us.

"Kurt?" Same result and response.

"Will?" He knows what's about to happen, or not happen, but still doesn't know of my theory. Nope.

"Andy?" He walks up to the door, bangs the knocker loudly three times, touches the handle and pushes the door open.

"How the hell, did you do that?" Karl asks. "Did Tom give you the key?"

"Search me!" Andy replies. "I dunno! Maybe it's magic, or something!" Then he asks, "None of you knocked first, did you?" as if that was the secret.

I warn them, "So don't get locked out unless you have Andy with you!" I smile. They laugh, but I can tell that they are unconvinced. We leave our bags in the `great hall' and head back down to the ground level.

Will helps me carry the refrigerator. Karl and Kurt bring the portable generator and Andy carries the 5L tin of fuel. We set it all up on the verandah where, only hours earlier, the food had been cooking. Will displays his `country expertise' and hooks everything up and gets it running. "I've helped Marty heaps of times," he proudly announces.

We all pitch in to carry the food, including Jan's hamper, and everything fits neatly into the fridge.

"So, let's get set up inside," I suggest. "You can choose whichever room you like, except the black and white one next to the bathroom. That's mine." I'm looking forward to sleeping in the master's bed.

Will and Karl choose the green room adjacent to the southern bathroom, on the opposite side of the house. Andy and Kurt spurn the pink, `girly' one, in favour of the blue one next to mine on the northern side.

"OK," I tell them. "Go and get settled and try out the beds. I'll meet you back down here in 10 minutes. Does anyone need a lantern yet?"

The response is a unanimous `No,' and they take off up the stairs, like kids at a camp, laughing and whooping.

I call, "Make sure that you each take a towel with you from one of the bathrooms." I check that all of the lanterns are functioning, then decide to take Jan's lantern `with the new batteries' up to my room and leave Marty's two down here for us to use as it gets darker.

It takes me all of a few seconds to drop my bag upstairs, secure the lantern on a side table and flop backwards onto (almost `into') the bed. Hmm. Very soft and comfortable, like Mother Bear's bed! If I were to stay in this position, I could easily fall asleep. Not yet! I opt to `do the rounds', quietly.

I stand outside the closed blue room door and hear Kurt ask Andy, "So, how big is yours?" Obviously, his interest has been stirred by Will's earlier comment. Boys! I leave them to get to know each other better in private.

I walk the long way `round to the room where Will and Karl are. Again, I stand and listen. Silence.

In their haste, they forgot to fully close the door and there is a sufficient gap for me to peek and see Will and Karl lying side by side on their backs and fondling each other through their clothes. I tip-toe away from the door and head downstairs beneath the presence (I can't say `gaze') of the headless zebra pelt. I'll allow them all 10 minutes and then give them a call. A lot can happen in 10 minutes, especially with Andy admitting to having such a `short fuse' when he's near Kurt, and with Will having had no release (that I'm aware of) for almost two days.

I think that we'll eat in the dining room and then `adjourn to the gentlemen's lounge' afterwards, so I place one of Marty's lanterns in each room. As I re-enter the `great hall' I hear a muffled but tell-tale groan from somewhere upstairs. I look at my watch. Wow! Less than 5 minutes! Who? If I was a betting man my money would be on Andy, but I wouldn't give long odds on Will or Karl for that matter!

I look into the kitchen and realise that the only cooking facilities are two large stoves with iron doors, behind one of which on each stove there is a neat array of wood, ready to be lit (as there is in all of the fireplaces in the house). The other side appears to be a multi-shelf oven. I think that the boys and I will all be having cold meat and salads! I'm sure that there would be a local who could explain the use of a fuel stove to me. Acacia would know! She knows everything!

I'm tempted to retrieve a lantern and explore the `treasure cave' but with insufficient time available, I defer. At the moment, I'm the only one who knows of its existence. Andy and Kurt know of another. I wonder if there are more `secret passages' to be explored.

I call, "Dinner! Anybody hungry?"

There is momentary silence until Andy and Kurt come bustling down the stairs. I notice that Andy has changed shorts and wonder whether that was by choice or necessity, as a result of getting too close to Kurt. I look at his pants and smile at him. He knows that I know, and looks a trifle embarrassed. They both join us, and I give Andy's shoulders an encouraging squeeze from behind. "You OK?" I whisper. He turns and smiles at me, nodding.

We hear giggles and look up to see the other two walking down the topmost stairs, totally naked, half boned up.

Will doesn't give me a chance to comment. "Hey," he says. "What's the difference? Tonight, or tomorrow morning at Marty's?" He adds, "We could have our own House Rule about clothing."

Andy and Kurt look at me and I shrug. They take off upstairs like hounds after a fox. Andy manages well, despite his coordination not being fully restored. Will and Karl step back on the landing to let them pass. On the way, Kurt takes a swipe at his brother's chunky gear, but is thwarted by Karl's quick reaction and agility. Kurt laughs but doesn't look back and keeps running.

Beginning their descent of the last dozen steps, Will looks me straight in the eye. "You too!" he declares.

I say nothing, but walk slowly towards them. As we draw level he comments, "We figured that if anyone was going to be embarrassed, then why not get it over and done with tonight instead of in front of Marty."

"I hate it when you are right," I tell him. Karl smiles. As I pass both boys, I give Will a sharp slap to his bare backside then take off double time before he has a chance to retaliate. I stop at the top of the stairs and look at them from the railing. He pokes out his tongue. I reciprocate. Very childish, but it's a conditioned response from living with my little sister, Amelia! I wonder what Karl must be thinking!

"Come on. It's OK," I hear Kurt tell Andy as they pass my door.

"Don't touch me, please," Andy pleads, "or it will happen again."

"At least you won't have to change your shorts again," Kurt chortles.

When I emerge, trying desperately to avoid a full erection by thinking of diving into an icy swimming pool, I focus on four amazingly handsome adolescents who could easily act as models for a Greek sculptor, then I feel myself beginning to lose my battle. They are all waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. I descend slowly thinking, `freezing, cold, icy..." It retards the swelling, but I'm already partially there. All four of them are between half- and full-mast, so I guess mine doesn't matter!

I didn't think that I would be the embarrassed one. Is it written across my face? "It's OK, Mr Grant," Karl (the only one with whom I have not shared a private intimate moment) encourages. "We won't say anything. It can be another House Rule, can't it? Like at Marty's." I suddenly realise that it is unusual for Karl and me to speak directly with one another. Apart from in the classroom, he normally communicates with, and through, Will or Kurt. I feel a pang of guilt for unconsciously being neglectful of him, if that's what I've done.

There is a brief awkward moment, then Will shouts, "Group hug!" and I find myself surrounded by four naked boys who press their fleshly frames against mine. Their hugging is not confined to above the waist! My backside receives a couple of friendly squeezes. When we all separate, there is no doubt about our bodies' capability of quickly simulating Father Bear's bed! We look at each other and share the humour of our separate but similar conditions.

I explain my thoughts about the dining room and then the `gentlemen's lounge'. We collect plates and cutlery from the kitchen and then go to raid the refrigerator on the verandah! The late day temperature, combined with the effect of the slight breeze off the rain to our south, sees the tender parts of our bodies quickly restored to `normal' size. I contemplate that the boys are even more handsome in their natural (unexcited) state. It's like dining at Marty's, only on a grander scale.

 

Food devouring is followed by plate and utensil cleaning, each doing his own. We hustle across the hall to the lounge.

It's becoming darker and, I'm tempted to switch on one of the lanterns. However, it's only then that I notice, apart from the arrangement of wood in the large fireplace, a stack of firewood to the window-side of the hearth. Of course! Light the fire! One problem. Matches. I put it to the boys as to how they think we might get it going.

Andy chirps, "We could rub two sticks together and start a fire." The others look at him, almost sympathetically, surmising his viewing of too many wild-life movies or reading of Boy Scout stories. `Another city slicker!' I can almost hear them thinking.

Kurt grins, "Well, then, we might just have to huddle under a couple of blankets to keep warm." Andy giggles the most, very nervously.

Karl adds, "If Mrs Smith's husband was here, he could light it. He smokes, you know."

Without a word, Will jumps up and dashes out of the room. A minute later we all hear a loud banging. "That's the door knocker," Andy says, and ventures into the hall.

Will and Andy appear at the lounge room doorway. "I still don't get it, but you were right about taking Andy with us if we go outside," Will concedes. Then, from behind his back, he `magically' produces a cigarette lighter. "Ta-dah!"

Before the `how' and `where' questions are even completed, Will offers, "Mr Smith must have left it after he lit the barbecue earlier. I noticed it up one end of the window sill when we set up the fridge."

"In that case," I tell him, "you deserve to do the honours."

The fire had been well laid and the flames catch quickly.

We sit, thighs touching, in a semi-circle in front of the fireplace. I have Andy on one side of me and Kurt on the other. I know that they would like to be next to each other, but there's a practical reason why they shouldn't be. Andy knows why: he told me. And, I think that by now Kurt might be aware if it too. Karl is next to his brother with Will alongside him.

At first, everyone is mesmerised by the flames, and there is very little talking; just murmurs of contentment. Then a discussion emerges about whether the house could be haunted or not.

Amid the boys' conjectures of what ghosts might look like, and sound like, and whether they would be good or bad, and what they might do, I stand and back up to the fire, savouring the warmth down my back and legs, occasionally rubbing my cooler hands on the hot skin. One by one the boys join me.

The expected bright moon has not yet appeared above the horizon. I wonder whether it will shine from the north, or be obscured by rain clouds potentially encroaching from the south and, as the natural daylight dwindles to a memory, and as the glimmering from the flames takes over, the room is filled with the flickering shadows of five bodies.

"That's sort of creepy, don't you think?" Karl whispers, indicating the dancing images.

Ever playful, Kurt extends his arms sideways and waves them up and down, creating a menacing shadow extending the length of the room, along the floor and onto the far wall, while at the same time moaning "Woooo", ghost-like, only to receive a cuff to the head from his brother.

As the heat from the fire intensifies, we edge farther away from it. We resume our original sitting positions, but squeezing a little closer together, and, in a close semi-circle we are able see each other's faces clearly by the bright glow of the firelight.

We decide that we should each tell a story, the scarier the better. Reality morphs into the creative and more fanciful. Shadows become ghosts and ghosts become monsters. Monsters include deadly snakes, man-eating spiders and even a giant boy-stomping zebra.

Will begins to deliver a tale of a murderous Jintabudjaree elder who may appear either side of a full moon, looking for white boys whose genitals he can cut off to offer to the spirit world. Because the local boys now know about the J. curse, the atmosphere, no longer simply `creepy', intensifies, firstly to `scared' and then to one of `terror'. I've got to hand it to him, using a hushed voice with some unexpected inflexions, Will is a great story teller. He has even given me goose bumps. There will be a full moon tomorrow.

Andy cries, "You're scaring me, Will. Real bad! Now I've gotta go and pee." He heads for the door.

"Do you need the lantern?" I ask him, indicating the one that I had set by the door.

He calls, with a little trepidation as he walks, "Thank you, Tom, but I can see OK. The fire is lighting up a lot of the hall out here."

I step out to verify that there is sufficient illumination for him to see where he's going. "What about inside the bathroom?" I ask. "Why don't you take this lantern anyway?" Despite being shaped like an old-fashioned lantern, it's really a modern LED replica. I take it to him, show him the on/off switch then he hurries off towards the stairs.

The others all suddenly realise the condition of their own bladders and pass me, chasing after him.

With only one toilet in each bathroom, Andy and Kurt go to the right. Will, stopping on the landing beneath the zebra, calls, "Hurry up with the lantern. Karl and I will wait here for it." Checking with Karl, he calls, "We're not in a desperate hurry, but don't be long". I offer them the second one from the dining room but they decline.

"We'll be quick," Kurt calls, "Andy and I can pee together." Do I detect a chuckle in his voice? I hope that he doesn't cause Andy to erupt again!

They vanish inside the bathroom. Without the light from the lantern, that end of the long hall is quite dark. I retreat to the loungeroom doorway.

In less than a minute, Andy and Kurt, sounding very much relieved, come down the right-hand stairs. Andy sits on the bottom step and Kurt crosses to the other side of the landing and passes the lantern to his brother. Will and Karl disappear. The only thing really visible at the moment are the white stripes on the zebra. Almost glowing.

 

Karl comes down to the landing alone, leaving Will with the lantern in the bathroom. Bigger bladder.

From the gloom, I suddenly hear something familiar, "Woooo! I am the ghost of the big house!"

I've heard that low voice before, in the secret passage off the bathroom. This time it's more intimidating, given the stories of the past hour.

I hear Andy cry out, "That's not funny Kurt! Just as well I've already had a pee!"

So, the mysterious ghost in the secret passage was ... Kurt. I realise that Karl and Will have no knowledge of it.

"It wasn't me!" Kurt calls back.

"Of course it was!" Andy replies. "I know it was you."

"It wasn't him!" Karl says. "I'm standing right next to him. He didn't say anything."

There is momentary silence and stillness while all three of them process what has just occurred. Then there is a scurrying down the staircase, not waiting for Will. My own flesh starts to tingle. Were there actually more than three of us in that dark, secret passage? Was there someone / something `living' in there, who closes open doors? Three boys push past me to stand in front of the fire. Panting. Trembling.

Will descends. "What's going on?" he calls as he walks towards the lounge room door.

"There's a real fucking ghost," Kurt blurts out. Then he apologises to me for his language.

"A real, trucking ghost," Andy corrects him, which lightens the mood a little.

"There's no such thing as a real gh..." Will starts. Then, seeing our faces, he stops mid-sentence. "You're all as white as a ..." Again, he stops himself.

"Group hug!" I call. This time, despite the closeness of our bodies, there is no rush of blood to our nether regions. But, there is tangible comfort in our closeness. "Let's sit and talk," I suggest. We huddle closer than our previous semi-circle. There is much back-rubbing. Words of consolation from Will seem to have little effect, at least upon Karl and Kurt. Andy, on the other hand, seems calmed, and is almost smiling.

After a few minutes, Andy bursts out laughing, "I got you all! Ha ha!"

He confesses to being the `ghost' and that his accusation of Kurt was a diversion, designed to trick everyone. "It worked! You should have heard yourselves and seen your faces. You, too, Tom," He chortles.

There is no discussion. He is merely descended upon and outnumbered four to one. Screams from being tickled and a screech; the sort of sound that one might emit if he was having his balls scrunched.

"Let's leave the fire to burn itself out," I suggest to them, "and we can all go up to our bedrooms. You can each have a lantern in case you need to get up in the middle of the night. Besides, the moon will be up sometime if there's no cloud then the bright light through the windows should be enough for you to see your way to the bathroom and back."

They each give me a hug. Even Karl. Will retrieves the lantern from the dining room and we all go to our chosen rooms.

I locate Jan's lantern, flick on the switch and climb into the softness that the master enjoyed. With the lantern next to the bed, I turn it off. I hear some giggling from the blue room next to mine, but no squeals from Andy. I guess that they've worked things out.

I lie still, recalling the events of the past two days with Mum, Uncle Bill, Mrs T. and Andy. And the signing of the documents. And my house. A million thoughts run through my head. The Landau. School. Andy. The boys. Kurt & Andy together. Will. The rain. The secret passage. The `treasure room' off the kitchen.

I feel myself drifting off. No ghosts.

Maybe an hour has passed.

It's still quite dark. No moon yet and no Jintabudjaree elder. I sense the door open slowly and then close again. No creaks. Almost silently he approaches. Stealthy steps. Closer. I exaggerate the sound of my breathing, pretending to be asleep. He stops next to my bed. Pausing. Thinking. Breathing. Waiting. Pondering. He feels for, and then carefully lifts, the covers and slides in. Did he think that I would not hear him, or sense him? He sidles towards me. I feel the warmth of his bare skin against mine, and the pulse of his heart beat.

Who is it?

 

(to be continued)

 

There is a parallel version to this story, told through the eyes of Kurt.
Find it at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/kurt-series/

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