Kurt

 

Life in The Village, through the eyes of a student at the remote school.

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 36:

As we drive, in my mind, I have an idea, and gradually add more details to it.

My idea turns into a plan.

We turn off the road onto the property and I run through everything in my mind for the third or fourth time. Yes! I'm pretty sure that it will work!

"Good afternoon, Mrs Cameron. Hello, Mr Cameron," I greet them as they come out of the house to meet us. Also, "Hi Dad, Hi Ms O'Sullivan."

Dad introduces Mr Grant, William and Andy to Mr and Mrs Cameron who invite us all into the house for some afternoon tea. Mrs Cameron winks at me.

Yum! Apple and Jam tarts. How did she know?

 

Chapter 37 – At Whispering Gums

 

We sit around the large, round dining table and `dig in'. There are Mr & Mrs Cameron, Mr Grant, my Dad, Ms O'Sullivan, William, Andy, Karl and me.

"And how is my young apprentice chef doing?" Mrs Cameron asks, looking directly at me, with her usual, friendly smile.

All eyes turn in my direction. Mr Cameron, Dad and Ms O'Sullivan smile too. Mr Grant looks surprised. William looks shocked. Andy grins at me. Karl's blank expression seems like an attempt to not acknowledge my growing ability.

"I've had no complaints about the lamb's fry or the apple tarts," I reply, and look at Dad, William and Karl. "But I still have a lot of practising to do before I'm anywhere near as good as you, Mrs Cameron."

That brings grins from everybody, except one.

Now, I'm not trying to play one-upmanship on Karl, so I add, "But I don't think that I'll ever get the hang of riding a horse as well as my brother. He seems to just be `a natural', like William.

That brings broad grins to both of their faces.

I look at my Dad. He smiles at me, winks and nods.

I add, grinning, "I think that quad bikes are much friendlier to my backside!" I stand and rub it.

There is laughter around the table, even from Karl.

William then asks, "What about you, Mr Grant. Which do you prefer?" He has an evil grin on his face. I wonder what that's about.                 [Author: See `Schoolie' chapters 41 and 46]

"I don't mind horses," Mr Grant replies. "I just need more practice. I wouldn't expect to be as good as you or Karl. I'm only a city-slicker, remember! I grew up with my feet on a surf board instead of in stirrups."

Mr Cameron speaks up, "Well, there's no better place to practise than here, Tom. How about tomorrow, you, me, Will and Karl go for a ride, while Kurt and Andy can take a couple of quad bikes for a spin. How about it, young Andy? Would you like Kurt to show you around the place on a quad bike? I hear that he's pretty good and safe. Maybe even better than how he drives my Land Rover."

There are mixed expressions around the table.

Andy speaks first, "Oh, wow, Mr Cameron. Thank you. That would be cool!" He looks at me and grins.

Mr Grant then adds, "And, thank you, Jim, I'll take you up on the horse-riding offer, if you don't mind helping me with my technique." Then he turns to Andy and me. "I hope that you two will be careful on the bikes. Andy's just recovered from one broken arm."

Andy responds, "It's OK, Tom. I have ridden a motor bike before, with Joey and his dad at home. So, four wheels would be twice as safe as two, wouldn't they?"

I would like to ask who Joey is, but Mr Grant answers the question for everyone's benefit. "Joey's dad is the local police sergeant where my parents live. Joey and Andy are surfing mates."

Andy adds, "And Sergeant Golding used to take Joey and me out to the police training centre once a month, and we would watch and listen to the instructors and then ride bikes that Joey's dad kept locked up for him out there. Not big ones like the police bikes, though."

"Excellent!" Mr Cameron says. Mr Grant agrees.

The first two parts of my plan have already fallen into place, and I didn't even have to do any convincing! The horses and the quad bikes!

Apparently, Dad, Ms O'Sullivan and Mrs Cameron have plans to do some `stuff' around the house tomorrow. Excellent!

While finishing off the tarts with our coffees and soft drinks, Mr Cameron says, "Why don't you guys all get settled in the bunk house, then we can have an early dinner. And, after dessert, I thought that we might have a `poker night' for anyone who wants to play. I hear that somebody here really likes that game." He focuses directly on Karl, who grins.

I'm in, and I plan to sit opposite my brother. I am instantly thankful to Ron for the body language tips!

 

Dad and Karl choose their usual beds; Dad in the first one, nearest the bathroom, and Karl next to him. I leave one bunk as a gap, then Andy and I take the last two on the same side.

Mr Grant looks at the bed opposite Dad (should the two adults stay close together?) and then at the farthest one at the other end (would that be an insult to Dad to be so far away from him?), which is opposite Andy, and also close to me. I can see the indecision on his face. After again looking at the options, he selects the one in the middle, opposite the empty bed on our side. William takes the one next to him, opposite Karl. That looks like a good arrangement all round!

Something else crosses my mind. I'm pretty sure that we didn't bring our PJs. Will we all sleep naked or in our undies? Apart from Dad, the rest of us have mostly `hung' naked at Jintabudjaree for the past week. And, Dad, Karl and I have lived with each other's naked bodies for years. But, all of us together? I'm not sure what Dad would think about getting his gear off in front of Mr Grant, William and Andy; or they in front of him. I would feel really bad if anyone was embarrassed. Should we all wait to see what Dad does, and follow his lead? What if he wants to stay later and talk to Mr Cameron and Ms O'Sullivan? Maybe I should ask him first.

With the beds settled, and made up, we head back towards the house.

I catch Dad's sleeve. "Dad, can we talk?" I ask him softly.

We take a few very slow steps and let everyone else go ahead of us.

"What's up, son?" he asks, looking at me, a little worried, as if I am going to confess to a crime, or ask him a personal question about him and Ms O'Sullivan.

I'm not sure how to ease into it, so I come right out and ask, "Dad, are you going to sleep naked tonight, or in your underpants?"

He seems to breathe a sigh of relief and says, "Is that all?" Perhaps he was expecting something else! He pauses for a moment, maybe thinking, and then asks me back, "What would you suggest, Kurt?"

In my mind, there is only one, best, possibility. "Would it be OK, if everyone wore their undies to bed? We didn't bring our pyjamas, and I don't know how some people would feel seeing other people naked, like our teacher, Mr Grant, even though we are all guys."

He hugs me, ruffles my hair, and pats my backside. "Always thinking of others, aren't you? I'm proud of you, son. Growing up! Undies it is, then."

"Thanks, Dad," I say and return his hug. Then, matching each of his steps, we walk together, with his arm across my shoulders.

 

My nose tells me instantly that we are having roast lamb for dinner. Somehow, I can now tell the difference between lamb, beef and pork. When did that happen?

I'm surprised when Mrs Cameron motions for me to join her. "Would you like to learn how to make a mint sauce to go with roast lamb, Kurt?" she asks.

My broad grin is a better answer than any words!

She has a bright-red, leather-covered book open on the bench where she is working, and indicates for me to look at it. "This was started by my grandmother," she tells me. "It contains her best recipes for absolutely everything. My mother added to it, and so have I. In fact, I have re-written a lot of them to list any alternatives. There's one in this section for gravy to put on beef; one for apple sauce to go with pork and even one for white sauce to put on corned beef. And, there is this one for mint sauce."

I see three headings. Below `Ingredients', the page is divided in two, with a list of what we need on the left, plus some alternatives on the right. On the left I read `Moroccan mint, 2 cups, finely chopped'. On the right she has written `Spearmint', `Peppermint' and `English Lamb mint' as alternatives.

Opposite `castor sugar, 1 tablespoon' she has written `white sugar'. Opposite `Wine vinegar, ¼ cup' I see `malt vinegar'.

Mrs Cameron explains. "I've written my preferred ingredients on the left, but have added some alternatives on the right. Each variation changes the taste a little. That way, it's easy to experiment and find your preference."

`Method' requires no explanation.

Under `Notes' I read, `Soaking the chopped mint leaves in boiling water for two minutes softens the leaves and releases more flavour.'

She shows me how best to chop the mint leaves which she has ready. ("Picked just before you arrived," she says.) It only takes me a couple of tries to get the hang of the knife, then I continue until the mint is all `finely chopped'.

"Excellent!" she encourages.

I add the mint to some boiling water in a bowl. Mrs Cameron gets me to dissolve the sugar with a little of the boiling water in another bowl, then I add the vinegar and stir it on the stove. When she reckons that the mint leaves are soft enough to use, I add them to the bowl with the sugar and vinegar and continue to stir everything. It smells amazing!

"Good job!" she tells me, then pours the sauce into a small serving bowl that has a handle; it's sort of like a mini jug. She adds a teaspoon, "so that people can take out some mint leaves with the liquid," and asks me to put it in the middle of the table to cool.

"Thank you, Mrs Cameron," I say to her.

She replies, in almost a whisper, "You know, Kurt, that you are the only person whose eyes have ever seen the inside of my `red book'. It's probably my most valuable treasure." She puts her finger to her lips and smiles.

I get it. Secret recipes! Like a pirate's treasure! I zip my lips, and we grin at each other.

I go to join the others. Ms O'Sullivan comes from somewhere else in the house and helps Mrs Cameron to set the rest of the table, and to begin carrying the food.

Mr Cameron and my Dad are in the two separate lounge chairs, like ours at home. Opposite them on the big lounge are Andy, Mr Grant, William and Karl, all leaning back and looking really comfortable.

I look for a place to sit. Even though I'd like to squeeze between Andy and Mr Grant, my Dad pats his leg for me to sit with him. I don't have a problem with that.

I sit, with one leg either side of his thigh, like riding a horse. Then Dad pulls me back against his chest and leaves one arm across my body, resting mostly low on my stomach. This feels nice. I love my Dad.

Dad and Mr Cameron are talking about the strange weather lately and the fact that there has been no rain here, even though The Village `copped a downpour'. Mr Cameron says that it's just as well that there are a couple of fresh springs on the property so that the animals can always have water.

I'm interested, but not as much as in what I can see opposite me.

From here, it's a mesmerising view of the other four! I look from one to the other, at the different bulges between their legs, and begin to think. In my mind I can picture, underneath their pants, what each one looks like. And feels like. I've played with all of them. And even had three of them in my mouth. LOL.

I feel Junior start to swell up. This could be embarrassing! I try to think of cold water. Icy water. Way too late! I don't want to put my hands over it because that would just draw everyone's attention to it. I look at Andy's face. He's smirking at me and glances downwards, then back at my face. He's already seen it!

In the middle of the conversation, Dad moves his hand and accidentally discovers Junior, stiff, stretching upwards and poking outwards. He moves his hand away, higher, and whispers in my ear, "Sorry, son."

Andy noticed. I hope that nobody else did. I look at each of their faces. Their `normal' expressions, as they focus on Mr Cameron talking about the horses, give me hope that my erection is known only by Dad, me and Andy.

"Dinner's on the table!" Mrs Cameron calls to us.

Dad helps me to sit up and then stand. I untuck the front of my shirt and give Junior a quick nudge to one side so that it's not as obvious, then head for the table.

I see Andy untuck his shirt as well.

Dad and Ms O'Sullivan sit alongside each other. So do Mr and Mrs Cameron. The rest of us just spread around and grab a chair. I end up between Andy and Mrs Cameron.

There is a wonderful variety of vegetables to go with the lamb. Each person passes his plate around to Mr Cameron, who is carving. People, instead of handing the plate back, pass it around the table, until each person ends up with his own again.

When people all have their own plate back in front of them, they take the plate of vegetables closest to them, serve what they want from it, and then pass the plate anti-clockwise (maths!), to the right. That includes my mint sauce as well.

Everyone comments on how delicious the food is, and Ms O'Sullivan asks if she might have the recipe for the mint sauce. "It's really delicious," she says.

Mrs Cameron replies, "I'm sure that my apprentice chef would be happy to fill you in on how he made it, my dear." And, she pats my arm.

Ms O'Sullivan looks at me, smirks, and raises her eyebrows as if to say, `Really?'

I look down at my peas, potatoes and pumpkin, half-embarrassed at the compliment. I don't want to see the expressions on other people's faces. I feel Andy's knee nudge me under the table. I half-turn my head to the side, just enough to see his fantastic smile. I nudge him back. He leans his thigh against mine and I can feel the warmth of his body.

When I decide to look up at the other faces around the table, the discussion has moved on from mint sauce to other things.

As it comes out of the oven, I instantly know what's for dessert by its smell. Mrs Cameron accepts Ms O'Sullivan's offer of beating the cream.

Mr Cameron asks his wife, "And did the apprentice chef bake this one too, like last time?"

My turn to speak: "Gosh, Mr Cameron, we haven't been here long enough for me to do an apple pie! I would have needed at least an extra 30 minutes."

Most people laugh.

 

As dessert is finished, Mrs Cameron leans towards me and says softly, "And don't you even think of offering to help with the dishes!"

Ms O'Sullivan must have heard, because she says to me, "That job's already taken. I got in first." She and Mrs Cameron both grin at me.

I grin back and shrug acceptance.

 

"Excuse me for a few minutes," I say. "There is something urgent that I need to do."

It's polite secret code for `I need to go and have a pee.'

That sets off a general standing and clearing of dishes.

I head out. Andy comes with me.

Mr Grant catches up to both of us and, with one hand on my shoulder, says, "You seem to have quite a fan club among the ladies, Kurt!"

I'm about to respond when Andy says, "He can't help it if he's so naturally attractive, Tom."

I ignore him (until later) and say, "They are both wonderful people, Mr Grant. And Mrs Cameron has been showing me how she cooks things. That's all. And, I like Ms O'Sullivan too, and she makes my Dad happy." Then I shut up before I say too much.

 

If Mr Grant wasn't here, Andy and I would have peed together, so he lets me use the toilet first. Then, while he's in there, Mr Grant says, "You are a very lucky young man, Kurt. I see how your face shines when you are with Andy, and your Dad, and Ms O'Sullivan."

I tell him, "I really hope that Ms O'Sullivan sticks around. I like her."

Andy flushes and Mr Grant closes the door, taking his turn.

That provides Andy and me with a moment of privacy; the chance to give each other a hug, and a bit more. Our bodies separate when we hear the toilet flush again, before the door opens.

We all wash our hands and head back to the house.

The dining table has been cleared and covered in a plain, dark blanket, ready for playing cards. There are seven of us, so there are plenty of cards in the deck, I think. Seven times five is thirty-five, from fifty-two leaves seventeen. I wonder what happens if we all want more than two extra cards?

I have Andy beside me and William on the other side, I can't see their faces. However, I can see the others very clearly.

Apart from a certain skill in reading people's faces and mannerisms, which Ron taught me, you can't control how the cards fall. Sometimes I'm lucky and sometimes I'm not. However, I do watch Karl and Mr Grant carefully. Mr Grant is a gracious loser. I think that, now, I'm beginning to see my brother's dark aura! Like a rain cloud over his head.

We pack the cards away to have supper and, while talking, decide that it's time for bed. As I had predicted, Dad says that he will stay. I say good night to the Camerons and Ms O'Sullivan, who gives me, Andy and Karl all a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"Sweet dreams!" she says.

"I'll be over shortly," Dad tells us.

Mr Grant, William, Andy, Karl and I all head for the bunkhouse.

"So, what's the dress code for the night?" William asks, smirking. "Nothing?"

"You're not at home or at Marty's, you know!" Mr Grant reminds him. "We have Kurt and Karl's father with us."

Karl says to everybody, "I'll bet that he wants to check out my Dad's naked body!"

Then, he's the only one who laughs.

I say to them, "I've already told my Dad that we didn't bring our pyjamas, and he said that he was OK with undies instead."

Karl isn't finished. "If you really want to know, Will, his cock looks just like Kurt's and mine, only a lot bigger. Maybe even bigger than yours!"

Karl's attempt at embarrassing William backfires, and everyone's `wooo!' seems more like a putting-down of Karl instead of being directed at William.

"OK, guys," Mr Grant says. "Let's change the subject! Is everyone showering tonight, or in the morning?"

The consensus (English vocabulary lesson!) is `morning'.

I watch everyone strip down to their underpants. Karl and I have our white ones. Andy's are blue, probably one of his new pairs. Mr Grant's are shiny black and William's are red, but the same brand as Mr Grant's. `Calvin Klein'. I confess to checking out all of the bulges at the front, and I reckon that I'm not the only one doing it!

Everyone gives everyone else a hug and says `good-night'. I get something extra from Mr Grant. My glutes appreciate it. As always.

I turn off the lights but leave the one near the door on for Dad. We all climb into our own bed.

There is a lot of talk.

I already miss not having a body next to mine; whether it's Karl's, but especially Andy's. I'm tempted to `visit' Andy's bed but there is too much light.

I lie back, with my hands behind my head and try to imagine how it would feel having Mr Grant next to me! I wonder if I'll ever find out.

 

Dad takes only a few minutes before he comes in. He says, `goodnight son' to both Karl and me, ruffles our hair, does the same to Andy saying, "Have a good night's sleep, sport," then also says goodnight to Mr Grant and William.

He strips off his clothes down to his white underpants and heads for the toilet. I think that I could see William checking out his bulge!

We hear the toilet flush and Dad turns out the light. Pitch black! He probably knows the way back to his bed with his eyes shut. It's as good as!

I play with Junior, who is chunky, but not fully hard. I think of my favourite person and swap hands; him playing with me, then me playing with him.

 

Dad doesn't exactly snore, but how he is breathing tells me that he has fallen asleep.

I don't hear any specific noise, but I sense Karl get out of his bed. I expect him to slide in next to me, as he does at home. But he doesn't.

I wait. Nothing. Where is he? In bed with William? That's taking a pretty big risk, with Dad so close and Mr Grant alongside them.

Then, I feel the movement. I lift the blanket and sheet so that he can get in. He whispers a very quiet, "Shh" and he kisses me. My favourite person lies on his side and snuggles against me, then his hand finds Junior.

I kiss him, then roll onto my side, facing away from him. He snuggles closer and I enjoy the feeling of his longer-than-mine against my glutes, the heat of his chest against my back and the warmth of his breath on my neck. And Junior loves being wrapped in his hand.

I must have drifted off to sleep, feeling wonderful in the arms of my boyfriend, when I feel him move. He rolls back away from me. I manage to catch him before he leaves me. "Love you," I whisper, then my bed feels empty and uncomfortably colder. I roll back to where I was when Andy was with me, and pretend that he still is.

 

My next sensation is the need to pee, and I open one eye to a faint morning dimness. Just enough to see. And my first sight is Karl's empty bed!

`Shit!' I think. I don't want Dad to find my brother in William's bed! I am suddenly awake.

I sit up and try to work out whether the lump in William's bed is two people or just one.

I creep out of bed, trying not to make any noise that would wake somebody, especially Dad. The lump in William's bed doesn't look large enough to be him and Karl. I look around for my brother as I head to take a pee, then nearly collide with him as he comes out of the toilet.

"I didn't flush because I didn't want to wake anybody," he whispers.

"Go and wait for me in the showers," I whisper back.

I pee without flushing, cross over into the showers and make sure that the door is closed.

"You scared me," I tell him. "When I woke up your bed was empty, and I thought that you might have still been in bed with William. I definitely didn't want Dad to find you there!"

"How do you know that I was..." he starts.

"Karl!" I say. "When you got out of bed and didn't come to mine, I guessed that it was to climb in with William. I couldn't imagine you getting into Dad's bed, or Mr Grant's or in with Andy."

"OK. Guilty," he replies. "I did want to get in beside you, but I thought that Andy might already be there."

"Hey," I smile, "I would have been OK with one of you on each side!"

He ignores what I've said.

"William and I have a lot of fun together," he tells me, "but you are better than him in bed, you know!"

"What? Really?" I say. I'm stunned. Not only that Karl thinks that I do things better than William, but that he's actually paid me a compliment.

"Do you think that we could have a shower together without waking anyone?" he asks.

"I doubt it," I say. But I want to, so I tell him, "We'd have to be quick! Dad's the closest. He'd wake up first."

Our undies come off and we throw them onto the bench. We turn on two showers so that we can hardly hear the water, and set the water temperature to warm. We quickly grab the soap and begin to later each other. Junior rises quickly to the occasion. So does Karl's. His slippery hands feel so good, not only on Junior, but under my balls and between my glutes. His body is just like mine, and I know that he enjoys my hands too.

I hear something. "Quick! Rinse off!" I tell him. Then I hear the toilet flush, and wonder who would have done that. Dad? Because he doesn't care about waking anyone? Andy? Because it would be the proper thing to do. William? Because he wouldn't even think about it. Or Mr Grant?

We only just make it to the towels when the door opens.

Of course, it's Dad! He adds his undies to ours on the bench and heads straight for the shower. I look at the condition of his body and comment, smiling, "Only natural for us guys in the morning, isn't it, Dad?"

I begin to dry my back and allow him to see Junior, not yet fully gone down.

"And, not only in the morning, eh?" he smirks at me.

It's a shared thing between him and me from last night. I give him a `thumbs-up' and don't attempt to explain it to Karl. I grin back.

We put our undies back on and leave Dad getting soapy. As we go back outside, we pass Mr Grant, heading in.

"Good morning, Mr Grant," I say. "Karl and I have had our shower, and our Dad's still in there."

I realise that it might sound like Dad was showering with us, but don't attempt to explain.

"Morning guys," Mr Grant replies. He goes in and the door closes.

I would really love to see how both of them react to each other, especially knowing the condition of my Dad's body a moment ago!

I hear them greet each other, and then some chatter that I can't make out.

"Do you think that we should wake the other two?" I ask Karl.

"Sure!" he replies. "Which one do you want?" He smirks.

"What do you reckon?" I ask, and punch him on the shoulder.

He's not getting his hands on Andy's body, even though the three of us did spend some time in the shower together at Jintabudjaree!

Andy is lying on his side, facing away from me. I walk down towards him, around to the other side of the bed and kneel next to him. At the same time, I can see Karl, standing over William.

I see Karl violently shaking William's shoulder. His hips suddenly recoil backwards, as if William has grabbed, or poked or punched him in the balls. He falls backwards onto his own bed and is then pounced upon by William, who absolutely flies out of his bunk. If we were wrestling at home, I would help Karl, but not this time. It's fun to watch him at the mercy of William's grasping fingers, and heavier body.

"Bastard!" William growls. "You interrupted a perfectly wonderful dream!"

He stands up and I can tell from the front of his underpants how much he was enjoying whatever the dream was.

Karl, never one to be beaten graciously, pushes William back onto his dreaming bed and the wrestling resumes. Is my brother crazy?

With no desire to inflict any pain or discomfort on Andy, I quietly slip my hand under his sheet and locate his cock and hold it. Two things happen. It swells and Andy's eyes open, looking directly into my own. "Good morning, boyfriend," he whispers, smiling.

Hearing the groans from across the room, Andy sits up and witnesses the wrestling mismatch.

William lets Karl up just before my Dad comes out of the shower. With underpants.

All four of us look at him. "Morning, guys," he says and proceeds to put his clothes on. "Don't be late for breakfast."

That b-word does magic things to William, who leaves Karl to get dressed and heads for the shower.

Dad has a quick glance at William's protruding condition and nods to the other three of us, "Normal for us guys in the morning!" assuming that we had seen it too.

Dad and Karl head out together.

Andy and I give each other a good-morning hug and I realise that William and Mr Grant are both in the shower. Together. Naked. Obviously. I share that little observation with Andy.

"Oh, well, he says. "I may as well have mine now too."

"What? With the two of them?" I put to him.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time," Andy replies. "One day at the beach there were six of us; Tom, Will, me and three of my friends, including Joey."

I don't know whether to be jealous, or to go in with Andy, sit on the bench and watch what the three of them get up to. If anything.

After a moment's thought, I say, "OK. Have fun then. I'll see you over at the house for breakfast." I walk with Andy to the shower room door, then, as he pushes it open, I continue outside.

As I walk, I pick up a stick and throw it. I try to not think about Andy, Mr Grant and William in the shower together. I try not to imagine that it should be me instead of William in there with my Christmas wish and my boyfriend. I try not to wonder what fun I'm missing out on.

Instead, I turn my thoughts to my plan, and my mini-mood brightens. Mr Cameron, Mr Grant, William and Karl will be out of the way riding horses, probably north east, past the swimming hole. Dad will be out of the way with Ms O'Sullivan. And, Andy and I will have the quad bikes and head south towards the shearers' hut that has the hot water. Only one more piece to put in place!

Breakfast smells wonderful and I stroll straight across to see whether I can help Mrs Cameron with anything, only to be chased away by a friendly wooden spoon. And a hug.

I can't see Dad anywhere.

Karl is sitting on the big lounge, doing something with the pack of cards. He looks up at me. "Dad's helping Ms O'Sullivan with something," he says, answering the question that I didn't ask.

Mr Cameron is in one of the single lounge chairs. I say good morning and sit in the one next to him. "Mr Cameron?" I begin. "While Andy and I are riding on the quad bikes, would you like us to check the wooden fences down south this morning? I remember Ron telling me that the bolts can sometimes work their way loose. And I would only need to take a couple of tools, like what Ron and I used before. And while we are down that way, we could check on the shearers' hut to see if it is running short of anything."

Well, that was my entire sales pitch, in one breath. Or did I breathe in the middle?

He looks at me, more closely than just politely. He has a friendly face, with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Probably from smiling so much!

"What a pity that I'm selling this place," he tells me. "I'd love to have you working out here with me. I can see why your dad and Ron think so highly of you."

"I just thought that Andy and I may as well do something useful, Mr Cameron, instead of just riding around," I say.

Inside, my heart is pounding, in anticipation.

"If you'd be happy to do that, let me organise with Mrs Cameron to pack you both some lunch," he says. Then he adds, "Thank you," and raises himself out of the chair. He pats me on the shoulder and heads towards the kitchen.

Yes!

 

(to be continued)

 

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

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