Kurt

 

Life in The Village, through the eyes of a student at the remote school.
(This is a parallel story to "Schoolie", but through different eyes.)
This chapter aligns, partially, with Chapter 42 of "Schoolie".

This is an original work of pure fiction (just an expression of a fantasy)
by Robert A. Armstrong (a pseudonym)

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 23:

The `Huckleberry Finn' book has pictures. Pencil drawings, actually. And they help me to imagine what life was like at that time in America. One thing that really makes me smile in the pictures is how far Huck's pants are pulled up. Way up! It must have been as uncomfortable for him as my old tight jeans were getting on me! Or worse.

I can understand why he spent a lot of time on the raft, naked. He was growing up, too. LOL.

After kisses and lights out, Karl and I are `gentle' with each other. I feel his hairs, and think of William's and Ron's and Mr Grant's and I spurt first, like always, but even quicker than usual, thinking about what Mr Grant and I did yesterday.

 

 

Chapter 24 – It's Not Our Land!

Tuesday. Karl and I are ready for school when we see Mr Grant's car pull up near the pub. Mr Grant hops out and crosses the road. Then we see him speaking with Mrs Smith. My brother and I decide to go the `long way' this morning.

We reach the car and talk with William through the driver's window.

Mr Grant comes back and says to Karl and me, "Hop in, guys. We'll give you a ride to school, to save your legs!"

I think that's pretty funny. It's not like we get tired from walking everywhere! We all laugh.

Karl and I pile into the back and Mr Grant gets into the front passenger's seat. "You may proceed, driver," he tells William in a really toffy voice. More laughs!

 

It's a normal morning. Mr Grant spends a lot of time with the little kids while the rest of us just get on with our lessons.

At least, it's a normal morning until, while we are out in the yard for recess, we hear a sound that I've never heard before. My eyes follow my ears into the sky, and I point at the thing, a small dot, getting bigger. Everyone focuses in on it, and soon, almost everyone is pointing.

It looks like a plane, but doesn't sound like one. Then Jake calls out, "It's a helicopter!"

All of the little kids jump up and down, pointing, and yelling, "Helicopter! Helicopter!"

Then, as if we had scared it away, it turns and heads down in the direction of Big Town. We watch it get smaller and smaller, and its noise gets less and less. So does our yelling.

Then, we notice the noise getting louder again. David yells, "It's coming back. The helicopter's coming back!"

He's right. It makes a large, wide circle above our heads then starts to get lower. It continues to make circles. Lower. Then, it looks like it's going to crash into our house and I get worried. Meanwhile everyone is jumping and calling to it and waving their arms.

It comes down very slowly, past where the mysterious building machines are, past the ruins of William's house. It creates a huge dust storm, and for a while we can't see it. Then, as the dust settles, we see it, sitting on the ground and its big rotor blades are starting to slow down. As they do, the sound gets lower and lower.

Then, it's all quiet, with only a remainder of some dust in the air.

Suddenly a door opens and one person gets out. He has on pants, maybe jeans, similar to the colour of mine. Then there's another person. Then another. Any more? No, just three. There are two men and a lady.

All of us kids clap and cheer and wave. They look across at us and wave back.

I look over at the pub, and everyone who had been inside is now outside. Curious, but not as excited as us kids.

The three people from the helicopter shake hands with the people outside the pub then go inside. Everyone follows them.

We are all wondering what is going on, and so is Mr Grant, I guess. When the three people come outside, with a drink each, and start talking to some hotel folks, Mr Grant asks Jane and Jake and William to `hold the fort', he says, while he goes over to investigate.

William looks really excited. Almost as much as David and little Eric, who is tightly gripping the front of his pants, like he's trying to stop from peeing himself. Jake tells him to go to the toilet, and he takes off, as if he had been waiting for permission.

When Mr Grant reaches them, one of the three people, the older man, shakes hands with him and then hugs him, like he knows him.

Mr Grant shakes hands with the younger man who hugs him as well. We kids all look at each other and ask if anyone knows who these people are who seem to know Mr Grant.

We see Mr Grant shake hands with the lady, but they don't hug.

They all talk for a bit, and then we see Mr Grant walking back to us. "OK, everyone," he says, when he gets here. "Recess is over. C'mon. Back to work."

Everybody is still talking about what they have seen, and what might be going on. When we are all back in our seats, Mr Grant says, "Children, we are going to be having visitors. And there is something important that we have to do."

We are hanging off Mr Grant's every word. "When our visitors enter the room, I would like you all to stand, as quietly as you can, and face them. It's the polite thing to do. Do you understand?

"Yes, Mr Grant."

"Then let's practise, shall we? William, Jake and Jane, you be the three visitors. Go outside and when you come in, everyone will stand and face you. Shall we try it?"

"Yes, Mr Grant."

The three of them go out. One knocks on the door and they come in. Everybody stands. Well, little Eric jumps to his feet and sends his chair flying backwards. I think that Mr Grant might be mad, but the look of terror on Eric's face makes everyone laugh, including Mr Grant.

"Let's try it again," Mr Grant says. "And Eric, you were good, but this time let's do it a little slower and more carefully. OK?"

"Yes, sir, Mr Grant," he squeaks.

The next practice is perfect.

Then," Mr Grant says, "I will introduce them each to you and you will say `Good Morning' to them. All right?"

"Yes, Mr Grant."

He walks over to Jake and says, "Children, this is Mr Cook." Jake smiles.

Everyone replies, "Good morning, Mr Cook."

David asks, "Is that his name or is he a cook? Does he cook food and stuff?"

"No David," Mr Grant replies. "But if you like, you may ask him what his job is and what he does. I'll tell you when."

"Thank you, Mr Grant," he says.

I see Mr Grant look out of the windows and he tells us that we've done enough practice. "OK, everyone, back to work. Our visitors are on their way.

We start working again, expecting the visitors to walk along the verandah at any moment. But they don't. And after about 5 minutes, David asks, "Are they still coming, Mr Grant?"

"Patience, David," he replies. They'll be here soon. I can see that they are just looking around a bit."

I can't imagine what they're looking at. Unless it's the old church. Or maybe they've gone over to the weir.

We keep working. Then Mr Grant announces, "Our visitors are here, everyone." Everybody stands.

"No, no, not yet. They're at the gate. Sit down again and continue with your work and I'll go and bring them in. Do you remember everything that we practised?"

"Yes, Mr Grant."

Then he says, "William, would you come with me please?"

William looks excited. Ever-curious Jake can hardly stay `parked' on his seat and stretches a large percentage of his body to get a look at the visitors. William walks past him and slaps him, gently, well not-quite gently, on the back of his head and mutters, "Payback time, Jake!" I have no idea what William means by that, but the startled look on Jake's face tells me that he certainly does!

As soon as Mr Grant and William walk along the verandah and step down, Jake is off his chair, peeping around the edge of one of the front windows. We, remaining in our seats and get a running commentary from him as to what is happening.

"William is hugging the older man. Now he is shaking hands with the lady. Now he's talking to her. Now he's shaking hands with the younger man. No. Wait! They're hugging and slapping each other on the back. Now Mr Grant just kicked William in the ankle. Oh, no! I think that Mr Grant saw me. They're coming in."

And Jake quickly goes back to his seat, picks up his pen and pretends to be working.

There's a lot of talking outside, and it's hard to hear anything that they're saying. Suddenly, they are all quiet except the lady, and I hear her say, "No, Tom, I went to school here myself."

Jane, Jake, Karl and I look at each other, wondering whether we've heard her correctly.

Silence. They stop walking. We overhear more.

Mr Grant says, "Then you will probably know many of the locals."

The lady replies, something like, "The O'Brien clan and my family were very close when we were here. My grandpa, and then my father, used to own a property out of town, before he sold it and we moved to the city. It feels strange being back here. I remember that there were a couple of more houses around back then, now there's only one left. It was always the best one - close to the river and the weir."

William tells her that it's where Karl and I live, and that our Dad manages a property north of here. It's about two hours' drive away.

The lady asks the name of the property. William answers, "Whispering Gums."

I'm stunned and don't hear much more. I stare at Karl. His eyes are bulging too when we hear that this lady lived at Whispering Gums before the Camerons! Then she tells those on the verandah how it got its name, something that we have always wondered about. Dad and the Camerons too. I did ask Ron but even he didn't know!

William says, "Wow! I'll bet that Mr Andersen would love to hear that story, and a lot more about the property as it was back in those days." Then they come in.

We all stand. And there are no accidents with any chairs! Good one, Eric!

Mr Grant begins to introduce the visitors to us. The young man first. He's handsome! He has long hair tied back, sort of like a girl's, but it looks OK. And his pants are tight, but not as tight as my old jeans were. I'll bet that Ron would say that he has `nice glutes'.

"Good morning Mr Cook," we say.

Then the lady. "Good morning Mrs O'Sullivan."

She whispers something to Mr Grant, who asks us to repeat our greeting except that he made a mistake and her name is `Ms O'Sullivan'.

"Good morning, Ms O'Sullivan."

Last is the older man. Not old. Just older.

"Good morning, Mr Grant," we all say, looking and sounding a bit confused.

It's David who says what I guess we are all thinking. "Gosh, Mr Grant, he has the same name as you!"

Jake and Jane look at each other, weirdly. We look at them and at the two Mr Grants. William is smiling. He is either amused at our faces or he knows something!

Mr Grant (our Mr Grant) smiles and replies, "You're right, David. Mr Grant and I are related." Then he says, "And, he's a very famous photographer too."

I think, `That's nice. We can tell Dad that we met a famous photographer with the same name as Mr Grant and a lady who used to live at Whispering Gums and who went to school here'. I'm sure he'll be very interested.

I turn and look at Jane. For some reason, she seems more impressed than I am. I don't know if `impressed' is the right word for the expression on her face. She turns and stares at William. Then at our Mr Grant then at the famous photographer, Mr Grant. Then back at William. Her head begins to look like she's watching a tennis match, going from one Mr Grant to the other and also to William. And, she's gonna catch flies if she doesn't close her mouth!

Our Mr Grant tells the visitors all of our names, beginning with little Eric, and working his way up to `Jake O'Brien' and `Jane O'Brien'.

Ms O'Sullivan asks them in a kind voice, "What's your father's name?"

"Reg," both Jane and Jake reply at the same time.

She makes a bit of a joke. "What! Some lucky woman managed to get Reggie to the altar? I thought that you might have belonged to Jack O'Brien. He already had three boys and a baby on the way when we moved. What were their names?" she seems to call up something from her mind. "Ah, yes... Sean, Chadwick and Martin."

Jane, Jake, William and our Mr Grant all say "Chadwick??" at the same time.

"Do you know him? Is he still around here?" Ms O'Sullivan asks, smiling at their apparent surprise.

William speaks and tells her about the O'Brien family and pointing, "Jane, Jake and I are cousins. So are Sean, Chad and Marty." Then he repeats, "Chadwick?? Really?"

The three O'Briens are bubblingly happy. It's obviously a family joke, or a well-kept secret! Jane and Jake face each other and keep repeating to each other, "Chadwick!"

"We all used to call him `Chad' of course," Ms O'Sullivan says to William, "but when he was in trouble at home, his mother always called him `Chaaaaadwick'. We did too, sometimes, just to annoy him. He hated it and used to chase us and try to catch us."

William adds, "Sean and Chad live in Big Town. Sean runs the ambulance station and Chad's the local police officer. Uncle Jack died about 10 years ago." Marty's still here, though. In fact, Tom and I live with him... at the moment. Jane, Jake and their mum and dad (Uncle Reg and Aunty Di) live at Thunungara Station, east of here."

He just called Mr Grant `Tom'! How rude! I wouldn't call an adult by his first name! One of Mums' rules. `Ron' is different. LOL.

"I know Thunungara," Ms O'Sullivan replies, looking at Jane and Jake. "I've been there."

Everyone in the class looks at her and then at Jane and Jake, who can only shrug to us all. They seem totally confused.

Ms O'Sullivan goes on, "That was a long time ago, when I was a student at the school here."

After the gasps from a number of people, Ms O'Sullivan explains, "My parents were friends with Reg and Jack's parents and we often had Sunday dinner together. I remember. Now, let me see, when I left here, I was eleven and the handsome Reggie was twenty. Jack was his older brother and Jack's boys would have been about 9, 7 and 5. Lilly was Reggie's and Jack's little sister of about fourteen. After a moment, she adds, "It would be interesting to catch up with everyone again."

Then our Mr Grant says, "Let's see what we can arrange. I saw Marty and his mum drive up to the pub a little while ago and Reg will be in to pick up Jane and Jake later. Maybe we can all have dinner tonight."

He turns his attention back to us and asks, "Now, children, is there anything that you would like to ask our visitors before they go and do what they are here for?"

Jake raises his hand and asks, "Can you please tell us, Mr Grant, why you are all here?"

I had wondered about that too.

The older Mr Grant says, "Well, Jake, we're here to investigate putting up some new buildings and fixing up an old one. Mr Cook is an architect and Ms O'Sullivan is an inspector with the local council."

Wow. That's more news to tell Dad. Everybody seems excited.

Jane is next, and asks her question, "What will the new buildings be, Mr Grant, and where are they going?"

All of our eyes turn from Jane's face to him. "What I can tell you Jane, is that the new buildings will be over there," he says, pointing his finger and waving his arm over towards where our house is, "but I can't say anything else yet. The owners haven't given me permission to tell you any more than that."

Karl and I look at each other. What is going to be built where our place is? What is going to happen to our house? Are we going to have to move? Mr Grant, our Mr Grant, promised me that he would be very sad if I had to move away. What's going on?

Even Jane and Jake are confused. They look from Karl and me to William. Maybe this has something to do with building a new house where his old one burnt down. For some reason, William, looking at Jake, makes a fist with one hand and then pounds it into his open hand. Jake looks worried! Is William threatening to punch Jake out? Why?

David raises his hand and our Mr Grant points to him. David politely asks, "Excuse me, Mr Cook. What does an architect do?"

Mr Cook replies, "I design buildings; how they look, how they are built, and what materials are used when they are being built. It's my job to give all of the plans and drawings to the builders so that they can build it exactly as the owners want it to be. That's everything from the foundations to the roof. And I have to include any council rules that have to be followed. That's what Ms O'Sullivan's job is as an inspector - rules."

Ms O'Sullivan then says, "It's my job, children, as an engineer and council inspector to make sure that all of the council rules are included in the design and construction of the buildings to ensure that everything is done safely and properly. The architect, Mr Cook, and I will work together to make sure that the builders know exactly how everything is to be done. I will also come out and inspect the work, to see how it's going and to check that the rules are being followed."

Then she stops talking about her job and sounds more like a teacher. "Do you children have rules at school and at home?"

Everyone nods. Some answer, `yes'. Others say, `uh-huh'.

Then Ms O'Sullivan goes to stand by the little ones. "Can anyone tell me a rule that you have to follow?"

Little Susanna says, "My mum says that I have to wash my hands before I eat anything. I don't want to get bad germs."

Rose-Marie adds another rule. "Mr Grant says we have to push our chairs in when we get up so that nobody falls over them."

And little Eric blurts out, "And we have to be careful when we stand up for visitors that we don't knock the chairs over."

Some children giggle. Others cover their mouths, as though they shouldn't say anything.

Ms O'Sullivan smiles and tells us, "It's good to have rules so that everyone knows what they have to do, and that they are safe." Then she looks at our Mr Grant, but says nothing. I think that it's a hint for him to say something.

However, David isn't finished yet. He always has something to say! He doesn't put up his hand. He just asks, "Mr Grant, is that your helicopter? I've never seen a real one before."

The older Mr Grant answers, "No David, it's not mine, but I borrowed it from a friend and I have a special licence to be the pilot. Maybe...".

He suddenly stops talking and whispers something to our Mr Grant, who thinks for a minute then whispers something back.

I know another rule that my Mum taught us. It's rude to whisper. But I don't say anything, because adults don't like being reminded of rules by kids. I just used to think that Mum invented that rule because she wanted to know everything that Karl and I were thinking or planning!

Then the two Mr Grants turn up the volume to each other again. "What time do you finish today so that we can talk about everything?"

Our Mr Grant replies, "I'll tell you what. Why don't the three of you make yourselves at home next door in the craft room? There are chairs and a big table in there - plenty of space to work, and Will and I will be right here to talk with you about anything, instead of waiting until later."

"Splendid!" the older Mr Grant says. "I'll just duck back to the pub and organise something for lunch. Also, Ash has some house plans in the chopper that he will want to fetch, so he and I can walk over together."

I hear a couple of things that maybe weren't intended that I hear. Our Mr Grant calls William `Will' to the older Mr Grant. And Mr Cook's first name is `Ash' which is a strange name. It must be short for something. Or a nick-name. Like Karl and I sometimes refer to William as `Little'. And, like how I called Ron `Moby' and he called me `Champ'.

I miss Ron!

Being `gentle' with Karl and William isn't the same as having fun with Ron! But I do have our Mr Grant, my Mr Grant, who wants to do stuff with me, but hasn't said so... yet. I feel myself starting to have one of those uncontrollable moments! Now would not be a good time to have to stand up again!

Mr Cook goes with the older Mr Grant back to the pub.

Ms O'Sullivan stays. She asks if it's all right to tell the little kids a story and Mr Grant says that it's OK. I know that I should be doing my own work, but I listen in to the "Three Little Pigs" instead. Ms O'Sullivan has a very kind voice, and uses a lot of different face and voice expressions, just like my Mum used to do when she was reading to Karl and me.

I miss my Mum!

I'm almost tempted to join the little kids when they all say, `I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll bloooow your house down!'

I like Ms O'Sullivan.

The two men return, carrying some things, and go straight into the craft room. William asks Mr Grant if it's OK to go and join them, and Mr Grant says, "Sure!"

Mr Grant seems to be lost in his thoughts about something, but snaps out of it when we hear an SUV pull up.

Mr Grant tells us that we can go out to lunch and the Jane will be in charge. The `Deputy Sheriff' is on duty!

As we walk out, we see Marty O'Brien and his mother coming through the gate, and as we pass the craft room windows, I see that there is a large plate of sandwiches on one of the tables, plus bottles of water. Everyone is standing around and talking.

When they get near the door, Marty's mother says to Mr Grant, "The two nice men that we met in the pub invited us to come and join them for lunch. "I hope that's all right with you, dear?"

"Of course," Mr Grant replies. "They are in the craft room with Will. And, there's one whom you haven't yet met. Come in and I'll introduce you." And the three of them disappear inside. Before Marty goes in, he waves to us kids. After all, Jane and Jake are his cousins.

After a short while, the two Mr Grants come out and walk along the verandah towards the gate. They stop and talk, then go back inside.

 

We have all finished our lunches. Jane is teaching the little ones to play `elastics' and us boys are passing a soccer ball around, trying to keep it in the air.

We see Marty's mother holding Ms O'Sullivan's arm and leading her to the gate. Marty is following. He waves again.

Mr Grant talks to Jane, his `Deputy', who shakes her head, as though answering that there are no problems.

Then he talks to Jake and Karl and me last. I tell him that everything is OK, then I point to him, so that it's not obvious to anyone else, and mouth `Mr Grant'. He smirks, raises one eyebrow instead of pointing and mouths, `Kurt', then heads back inside.

I like him. He's fun!

William comes out and heads for the toilet. Karl goes with him.

Mr Grant comes over to Jake and me. I ask, "Hello Mr Grant. Is it time to go inside, now?"

"Yes, Kurt," he replies. "I just need to wash my hands, first."

Jake heads back to put the soccer ball away.

"Me too!" I say to Mr Grant. "And I need to pee."

"You be very careful, young man," Mr Grant says to me quietly. "Don't do anything to make people suspicious!"

"It's OK, Mr Grant," I tell him. "I'm not stupid!" And I skip off ahead of him to the toilet, fist-bumping William and Karl as they emerge and pass me.

"OK, children. Time to go in," Mr Grant calls out. "Go to the toilet if you need to, and wash your hands"

I finish peeing before Mr Grant comes in. There's nobody behind him. I pull the front of my shorts and undies down and waggle Junior at him. Then I cover up and head out. Mr Grant gives me a harder-than-usual slap on the backside as I pass him. "Cheeky devil!" he says.

I laugh then take off running back towards the building. Nothing suspicious if anyone was watching.

William, Karl and I stand near the door and talk. "What time does your dad get home?" William asks us. Karl tells him, "Usually about five."

When Mr Grant comes down, William tells him, "Karl said that his dad should be home about five o'clock,"

Mr Grant says to Karl and me, "Boys, we are all having dinner at the pub tonight and would very much like you and your dad to join us at 6 o'clock. Can you please tell him that when he gets home?"

Karl replies, "Hell, Yeah! I mean... Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr Grant," William gives him a light slap to the back of his head for using one of HIS favourite sayings.

As we go in, the older Mr Grant and the handsome Mr Cook go out and I hear our Mr Grant say that six o'clock will be ideal.

"Wonderful!" the older one replies. "Come on, Ash. Let's go and talk to the Smiths."

We get on with our work, but it's hard not to talk quietly about what we have seen and heard this morning. I guess that it is OK to whisper sometimes. Mr Grant is reading another story to the little ones.

"All right, children," Mr Grant says, raising his voice. "Pack everything away and then I have something exciting to tell you."

Things disappear quickly.

Then he says, "Mr Grant asked me earlier, whether any of you would like to have a ride in his helicopter."

Everyone is thrilled and noisy! And it takes a few moments for things to quieten down again.

"So," our Mr Grant continues, "I have made up a permission note that either your mum or dad has to sign, if you would like to go for a ride tomorrow morning."

I know that my Dad will be happy to let Karl and me go for a ride. It would be nicer if I could share it with him, or with Mum, or with Ron.

There are lots of questions, and what us big kids can't answer for the little ones, Mr Grant does.

When we hear Mr O'Brien's Land Rover, we know that it's almost time to go home. Mr Grant looks at his watch and asks, "Would anybody like a 5-minute early mark today?"

Cheerful noise erupts from everyone, me included.

We stand, push in our chairs, say `Good afternoon' to Mr Grant and the little kids leave first, as usual.

However, the orderliness is not maintained by everyone once they leave the building. Many rush to their parents, waving their permission notes and jabbering. The most noticeable word in the babble is `helicopter'.

Apart from the parents, I see Marty O'Brien and his mother, who must have come back when Jake and Jane's dad turned up. Mr Grant talks to them and then they drive over to the pub.

All of the parents and children gather around Mr Grant who begins to answer a lot of questions, just like in the classroom, except, now, they are from the parents. I hear one mum ask if she could go up too and Mr Grant tells everyone that it would be OK if any parents want to.

Mr O'Brien talks with Mr Grant while Jane and Jake take up their usual seats in the Land Rover. When he shakes Mr Grant's hand, Mr O'Brien climbs into the Land Rover and Jane is busting to tell him the news. I can hear her voice from the verandah. "Dad, Mr Grant said that he's related to the other Mr Grant, the helicopter pilot, and that he is a famous photographer."

The Land Rover starts, jerks almost to a stop and then starts again, almost like it was coughing because `something went down the wrong way'. Maybe he should get an automatic, like the one that I can drive. Haha.

Something has been going through my mind since lunchtime. Obviously, Karl's too, because he's the one who asks Mr Grant the reason for the dinner. Mr Grant tells my brother and me, that he has already spoken to our Dad about the possibility of a lot of work here, and that's what the dinner is about. "Do you know what that means?" he asks. Karl and I look at him and then at each other, and it dawns on me that we won't have to move away! My whole body tingles with excitement! And I do mean all of it! Uncontrollably.

William speaks to Mr Grant, "I'm going to Karl and Kurt's for a bit. Can you please pick me up when you're leaving?"

Mr Grant says something weird: "May I...?"

William says, "Yeah! Yeah! Of course you may come and pick me up!" then he laughs, turns to Karl and me and says, "Come on guys. Let's go. School's out. I don't need another English lesson."

The three of us take off via the `short cut' across the paddock.

We decide to muck around a bit. Wrestling. Clothes on.

After about five minutes I hear Mr Grant's car pull up and the car door close.

"Shit!" Karl says. "He's coming."

I'm glad that we have left our clothes on! Even so, I look down at my shorts, then at William's and Kurt's. Their erections are just as obvious as mine.

"Best to head him off," William says and he starts for the door, with Karl close behind him. Really close behind, so that Mr Grant may not catch sight of his stiffness. William doesn't seem to care.

Mr Grant stops when he sees us. He looks at William's shorts; I can tell from his expression that he has seen it.

William shrugs. Karl looks out from behind William. Mr Grant smiles.

I'm a bit behind the other two so that they can't see me. But Mr Grant can.

I thrust my hips forward towards him, with my hands held like a picture frame around my obvious Junior. I smile cheesily at Mr Grant and he just shakes his head in disbelief.

He says to William, "Come on. We need to clean up before dinner." Then he reminds Karl and me, "Don't forget, boys, to tell your dad to come across at six o'clock. We'll be in the dining room."

"Yes, Mr Grant," Karl and I reply together.

As William steps down, away from my brother, Karl uses his hand to cover his shorts.

"How embarrassing!" Karl says. "He could tell what we had been doing."

"Yeah, well, he saw us doing more than that in the weir. Remember?" I remind Karl. "And, we were naked." He knows what we do with each other. He must! And remember what he said? `Have fun, guys!' Of course he knows! And he doesn't care, and he's not going to say anything to Dad. You were the one who told me that! Remember?"

"I guess you're right!" Karl answers. "It all just seems kinda weird. And it doesn't seem to worry William, that Mr Grant knows what he does with us and it doesn't worry him either. There's something really weird going on here that I can't get my head around!"

"I think that he's just super cool!" I tell Karl. And I hope to God that my brother doesn't think too hard and put two and two together about Mr Grant and me.

Karl adds, "Yeah, well, I'm going to ask William if he knows anything. If anyone knows anything about Mr Grant, it would be William! After all, didn't he tell us that he `sleeps with Mr Grant'."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he and I stare at each other. Questioningly. Suspiciously.

"Nah!" he says. "That would never happen."

I'm not so sure. If Mr Grant was willing to muck around with me, would he, maybe, do something with William too? I don't even want to think about it. My Christmas and birthday wishes were not for a twin for William to muck around with! Like Karl and me! William is Karl's and Mr Grant is mine!

But, it's hurting my head, trying to puzzle through everything. Like putting the pieces of a jigsaw together, but with the wrong picture on the box!

 

When Dad arrives home, we tell him of Mr Grant's invitation to dinner at the pub, and everything that we saw and heard at school today. A smile grows on Dad's cheeks and in his eyes, but he doesn't tell us why. We show him our helicopter-ride permission notes and he gets a pen and signs them immediately.

"OK, guys, let's get ready then. Clean up and good clothes! You two shower first."

Karl and I wash each other. As usual. No erections. No playing with each other. Unusual. But quicker. And Dad is onto it. "That was quick," he says, as we head from the bathroom to our room. "Why can't you be that efficient every other night?"

Another suspicion that I need to deal with? "Maybe it's the thought of eating someone else's cooking!" I call. Then I add, "Like Mrs Cameron's."

"Me too," he calls back as I hear the shower start again. There's a pause and he adds, "But I'm not complaining about your cooking, if it sounded like that!"

Karl and I put on our good shirts and jeans. I'm tempted to wear my hat, just to complete the outfit. However, as Karl reminds me, hats are basically to wear in the daytime for protection from the sun.

Just as we are getting into our boots, Dad strolls in, still drying himself. I want my body to look like his body when I'm older. "That was quick!" I throw at him with a laugh. He uncovers himself and flicks me with his towel. Bullseye to my backside! Just as well I'm dressed!

 

When we enter the pub, there's already a lot of people there: everybody that I know already, or met today. William comes to Karl and me and I have to ask, "Did Mr Grant say anything about..., you know..., seeing our erections when he picked you up?"

"He just asked me if we had been having fun," William replies. "But he didn't comment about anything in particular."

"What did you say?" Karl asks.

"I told him that you started it," William tells him. Karl looks a cross between shocked and offended. William adds, "Mr Grant just said, `As if!' meaning, he thought that I did, and that was the end of the discussion." Karl's face brightens.

I wonder why Mr Grant would think that William started the mucking around? How much does he know about the three of us? I'm beginning to wonder whether Mr Grant and William would ever muck around together, like they both have with me.

Mr Grant introduces our Dad to the three visitors. In almost no time at all, Dad and Ms O'Sullivan are in deep conversation and I overhear `Whispering Gums' mentioned more than once.

The older Mr Grant seems to be listening in, and nodding a lot when Dad describes the work that he has done out there and all of the things that he has suggested to Mr Cameron.

I see the two Mr Grants nodding and winking to each other.

The only thing worse than trying really hard to keep a secret, especially about something that gives you amazing pleasure, is knowing that somebody has a secret, but you can't work out what it is!

Marty O'Brien, his mother and sister arrive. I can tell from how he greets them that Dad knows them, but not like close friends. I do remember him telling us a few times about when Marty had come up to Whispering Gums to help out.

Marty's mother is funny. Fussing around and trying to talk with everyone, asking what she has missed, as if an almost-empty page in her diary needed to be filled up today.

Marty's sister seems out of place. Nobody is talking to her, and it seems as though she likes it that way. I do notice that she keeps looking at my Mr Grant. I listen to whatever William is saying, but I'm watching her!

I remember Ma and Pa taking Karl and me to a toy store and telling us to pick something that we wanted as a birthday present. I think we were about to turn eight. I found a gun that could shoot corks at plastic crows sitting on a wire in a box that had a farm scene as a background. I watched other kids trying it out and knocking the crows off their perch. I wanted it, but thought that Mum would disapprove of me shooting at birds, even plastic ones. Not to mention the possibility of me being able to shoot corks at my brother. Yeah!

I kept walking around, but my eyes and feet kept returning to `shoot the crows'. I think that Pa asked me once what I was looking at and I told him. The answer that he gave me was exactly what I was expecting. `Find something else!'

Like my eyes kept going back to the cork-shooting gun then, Marty's sister's eyes keep going back to Mr Grant. She wants him. Well, she can't have him!

If my brain could send a message to her brain, it would be, `Find someone else!'

William, Karl and I have lemonade and Mrs Smith, in serving drinks to the adults, makes sure that our glasses are always full ones. She points out to everyone a chalkboard alongside the fireplace, with tonight's menu – basically, different meats and various sauces, plus some `side dishes' like wedges and salads. Dessert will be apple pie, home-made of course. Yum!

Mrs Smith goes around the room and asks everybody what they want for dinner and whether they would like dessert. I expect her to write everything down, but she doesn't. Then, before she goes to the kitchen, she points to each person, says their names and tells them what they have ordered. Wow! I have trouble just remembering the names of our last five prime ministers!

We all sit down at a huge round table. There are eleven of us. Karl is on my left and William is next to him, then Mr Cook. I `reserve' the seat on my right side for Mr Grant. Then, Dad sits next to him, with Ms O'Sullivan on Dad's other side. The others are spread all around on the rest of the table.

I see William pull a cheesy face at Mr Grant. What is it with those two? Sometimes, lately, they've been behaving more like kids than Karl and I do. Hmm.

Marty's mum seems to be making notes in her head to transfer to her diary, at home.

Mr Grant ordered pork chops with apple sauce and roast vegetables. So, I asked for the same.

I try to copy Mr Grant's every movement. I slice off a piece of pork when he does. I put apple sauce on it when he does. I eat it when he does. And, I choose the same vegetable as he does.

He looks at me and I look up at him. We're not quite at eye-to-eye level, yet. I know that I'm growing. LOL.

At the same time, I rub my knee up and down against his leg. He can hardly say anything, can he, with my Dad sitting on his other side? He just smiles at me, in case anyone is watching, but sneaks me a quick frown of warning, as a reminder, too.

Yeah, I know!

I turn my attention to Karl and William on my other side.

Just then, Dad apologises for needing to `answer a call of nature'.

The older Mr Grant gets up too. "You'd better show me where it is," he says, and follows Dad.

A few minutes later they return, deep in discussion, as if they are old friends. They stop just inside the dining room door and Mr Grant signals Marty O'Brien to come over to them. The three of them talk together, with a lot of hand gestures and pointing.

Marty's mother is sitting almost opposite me and she looks funny, trying to make out, across the room, what Dad and the other two are saying. The wrinkles of concentration on her forehead look like she's trying to block out every other bit of conversation in the room.

Mr Grant shakes hands with Dad first and then Marty, and Marty then shakes hands with Dad. Something is going on! Another secret!

I'm beginning to think that, as I grow up, my life is going to be spent juggling hundreds of secrets and spending all of my energy trying to remember to not say the wrong thing to the wrong person! Life was simpler as a little kid! But not as much fun! LOL.

That reminds me... I'd love to know what fun Ron gets up to in Sydney.

After Dad and Marty sit down, the older Mr Grant taps his glass with a knife a few times. It almost sounds like a bell. Everybody around the table stops talking, even Karl and William. I can still hear noises from out where everyone is drinking until Mr and Mrs Smith come in and close the door.

Mr Grant starts to make a speech. My Mr Grant, next to me, leans his leg against mine. Is that an accident, or is he doing it on purpose? I push against his leg and he pushes back. It's on purpose!

I don't dare turn and smile at him. But I am tempted to copy his frown. As a joke. LOL.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the older Mr Grant says. "May I say, firstly, that it has been a pleasure to meet those of you whom I did not know previously. You have a beautiful little township here and I would like to share with you some information about its future. I'm sure that there have been rumours - good and bad - about the machinery and why a helicopter would bother to visit you all, and bring three strangers to your Village. Let me put as much of the speculation to rest as I am able to, at this time."

Everybody is listening carefully. Just like Marty's mum has been doing ever since she arrived. He continues, "The two fine young men here," he says, pointing to William and our Schoolie, "now own all of the land between the school and the western stand of eucalypts at the bend in the river." There is silence around the table, but expressions of shock and confusion.

It only takes a moment for me to realise the implication of what I have just heard. My Dad, my brother and I are living on somebody else's land – Mr Grant's and William's land!

Dad, Karl and I all look at each other and then at William. How can Mr Grant, our school teacher from the Gold Coast, and William O'Brien, Jake's cousin and our friend, own the land? Another secret?

I see William turn and smile at Mr Cook, the architect. Then he turns and pokes his tongue at my Mr Grant! What the hell does that mean?

I hear Mr Grant say to my Dad, "Don't worry! We have no intention of increasing your rent!"

Other people who hear it, smile and giggle. I don't remember Dad saying that he pays rent to anybody. Or, is that what is so funny? He doesn't pay rent, so there will be no increase on nothing. OK. Now I get the joke too!

The older Mr Grant clears his throat to get everyone's attention back. "While it is not my intention," he says, "nor my prerogative," whatever that means, "to disclose to you how this has come about, I can tell you that they do have plans to build on the land, towards the western end. Ash, here, has, in consultation with Tom and Will, designed an art studio and residence in which Will can continue his creative work."

Ash is Mr Cook. Tom is my Mr Grant. Will is William. Got it!

There are gasps. Then he adds, "Folks, you may not realise it, but Will is going to become quite famous. I'm not sure whether you are familiar with his portraits and landscapes and animals that he loves to do, but some of the best art critics and gallery directors in the country have recently seen his amazing work and all of them are excited at the prospect of his emergence on the Australian and, possibly, the global art scene, as a new and rare talent."

We all look at William. Some people need to close their mouths or they will catch flies!

Karl elbows him on the shoulder. "Famous, eh?"

"Onya, Michelangelo!" Marty says. It sounds a little like sarcasm, but, because I know who Michelangelo was, I'm sure that it's meant as a compliment!

People laugh and applaud while William appears lost for words. I've never seen him look embarrassed before.

"And I am pleased to tell you," the older Mr Grant continues, returning to the buildings, "that Marty and Jan have agreed to oversee the work, and to work on some of it themselves. Not only that, but there are plans to build, at the same time, a street of Victorian-style cottages in the exact location as those which I see in some of these magnificent historic photographs." He points to certain items on the walls.

There are gasps again.

Isn't anybody going to ask, `Why?' I can see it on their faces, but I'm not hearing it. But, it's not up to me to ask. Maybe Dad can tell me later.

An unrelated thought crosses my mind. `Older Mr Grant' can be abbreviated to `OMG'. That's funny. I can't help the huge smile on my face and some people are looking at me as though I'm weird or something!

OMG adds, "In addition, this magnificent hotel, in which we now sit, will also undergo a complete restoration to its original nineteenth-century glory, something which I shared with Mr and Mrs Smith earlier today - at absolutely no cost to them."

Everybody claps and they begin chatting to one other about it.

OMG clears his throat again and continues. "Mr Cook will take charge of the restoration of the hotel and ensure that it, Will's art studio and the cottages are all consistent in style and appearance. I have no doubt that within twelve months' time, your Village will be the talk of western Queensland, perhaps even the whole state, maybe even farther abroad than that."

Marty's mother is staring, glancing between William and Mr Grant. She probably has as many questions running through her mind as I do.

The next time that Karl and I are alone with William, we are both going to pump him for some answers, which might be harder to get from him than what we've lately been pumping out of him. LOL.

I want to know why Mr Grant and William are joint owners. And, why would anyone build a whole street of new houses? Who would live there anyway? Would they have kids that we could play with? Preferably our age? Preferably boys! Maybe that could be my next Christmas wish.

Mr and Mrs Smith shake hands with Both Mr Grants, William, Dad and Marty O'Brien then they return to look after their other customers. Mrs Smith returns with servings of apple pie. Even though I know it would be polite to serve the grown-ups first, Mrs Smith gives the first three large servings to William, Karl and me. Our apple pie is also loaded with ice cream and fresh cream. Yum. How did she know?

Mr Grant leans over and checks out my full dessert bowl and smiles at me. I frown seriously back at him, `Get your own'! and jokingly move my plate away from him. I feel his knee against mine while I am eating.

When we have finished, I see him jiggling his legs, like I do if I'm busting for a pee. If he gets up to go, I wonder whether I could follow him. Probably not! Too suspicious!

William says that he needs to go. It doesn't look nearly as obvious when Karl and I go with him.

Because Marty O'Brien comes in pretty much straight after us, nobody says or does anything apart from peeing. You know what I mean! Mr Grant passes us, heading in, as we leave.

After we all get back to the table, Dad announces that it is past Karl's and my bed time and that he wouldn't want us falling asleep in class tomorrow.

Mr Grant smiles, nods and replies, "Will's, too." Then he jokes, "Besides, I need my beauty sleep as well."

I see William open his mouth to make a comment but Mr Grant points a warning finger directly at him. Everybody laughs, knowing the sort of thing that might come out of William's mouth. I do too, and, imagining all sorts of possibilities from him, I join the laughter.

Dad, Mr Grant, William, Karl and I say good night to everyone. Then Dad says quietly to the older Mr Grant and Ms O'Sullivan, "I'll be back shortly."

Outside, before William and Mr Grant get into their car, they shake hands with us. Last of all, Mr Grant shakes my hand and I hang on, just playing.

Dad says, "Come on Superman. Let Mr Grant go home!"

Mr Grant says, "Thanks, Jan. I thought that he might have put super glue on his hand."

"He has tried that on me some nights," Dad replies. "I think that it is just to delay `lights out'. I usually find that a well-directed swat to his tail with my free hand does the trick!"

If Dad thought that his comment was going to make me let go, he is wrong. I see Mr Grant and Dad look meaningfully at each other. Dad nods. Mr Grant suddenly bends down and comes up with me over his shoulder. He turns my backside to Dad who gives me one solid whack.

I have to let go! Mr Grant puts me down and I hop around from one foot to the other, rubbing my stinging glutes.

"Nice work!" Mr Grant says to Dad.

"Any time!" Dad replies. Then he adds, loudly, mainly for my benefit, I'm sure, "And, if there is a next time, feel free to take matters into your own hands. With my blessing."

I think, Mr Grant now has my father's permission to swat me. And I bet that he'll do it too! Especially when I lag behind too long in the classroom when I'm supposed to be going outside. And, I think that I might just shake hands with him more often, too!

"What was going on?" Karl asks Dad as we walk home. "Was some sort of deal done with you and Marty O'Brien?"

"Tell you tomorrow," Dad says. "It's all good news. You can sleep well tonight. We're not moving anytime soon!"

"But...," Karl continues.

"Tomorrow!" Dad tells him. "Now, no delays. Into bed!"

"Huckleberry Finn?" I ask.

"Tomorrow!" Dad says. "Come on! You've had your shower. You went to the toilet at the pub. Bed! Now!"

Karl and I change into our pyjamas and climb into bed. Dad kisses us and says, "I'm just ducking back to the pub for a bit to finish a conversation with Mr Grant, the helicopter pilot. OK?"

"OK," Karl and I answer together.

When we hear the door close, Karl visits my bed and two pairs of pyjama pants come down.

Even after Karl returns to his own bed, I never hear Dad come back before I fall asleep, even though I listen for him.

 

(to be continued)

 

The parallel version to this story, is told through the eyes of Tom Grant, the `Schoolie'.
Find it at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/schoolie

If you'd like a full picture of their lives and thoughts, you should read both concurrently.

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