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 46:
After visiting the
library, we settle into the two-hour drive home.
"We have so much
to tell you," I say. "It was all very exciting."
Dad says, "And we
have a lot to tell you too!"
Helen turns in her
seat and smiles at us.
I'm wondering,
whatever could be so exciting to tell us? Nothing much changes out here!
At that moment,
Karl's phone rings.
"It's Mr Grant,"
Karl tells me, after fishing it out and looking at the screen.
So much for our
mind-reading trick!
"What on earth...!"
Dad says, swivelling his head around to look at Karl who is sitting behind
Helen.
Chapter 47 – Whispering
Gums' new owner
"Hello,
Mr Grant," my brother says.
< ...>
"Yes, it was a great trip, thank you. And, yes, we're
both well," Karl continues.
< ...>
"No. We're already on the way back to our place. Our
dad was waiting for us at the coach terminus."
< ...>
"Yes, I will. Thank you," my brother says. "See you
when you and William get back." He `hangs up' and say to all of us, "Mr Grant
says hello to everybody."
My Dad is looking at us both in the rear-vision
mirror. I know what he is going to ask. However, before he does, Karl says to
me, "Mr Grant tried to call you first, but your phone must be switched off."
I fish it out of my backpack, and turn it back on. I
had probably shut it down while I was mucking around with it and exploring
everything last night or earlier this morning.
"Would one of you like to explain?" Dad asks. "How
come you both have a mobile phone, and how could they work out here, in the
middle of nowhere?"
Karl does his usual
fit-as-much-into-one-breath-as-possible explanation. "Well, Mr Grant gave Andy,
Kurt and me one each, exactly the same ones as his and William's, and now Andy
and Kurt can talk to each other, and we can talk to Mum and Ma and Pa, and we
can send messages, and Mr Grant said that he's rich and that he would pay for
everything, and they're satellite phones."
Dad's expression, that I can see in his mirror, is one
of confusion. Probably because he can't work out which bit of Karl's `verbal
dump' to comment on first.
Helen turns and comments, "Mr Grant certainly is a
very generous person!"
I reply, "I think that the phones were basically for
Andy's benefit, but Andy couldn't talk to me if he had a phone and I didn't.
And, I suppose that it wouldn't be fair to give a phone to me and not one to
Karl as well."
Karl says, "And I made a new friend, Joey, who is a
friend of Andy's, and we can talk too."
Dad finally manages to say something. "Well, I'd
certainly like to see them You can show them to me when we get home." Then he
adds, for nobody in particular, "Imagine! My two boys each having a satellite
phone, and I don't!"
Helen says, "I do too! For Council work." She then
comments on the obvious. "And, what has happened to your voices? Did you both
get sick from the city air, or did you swallow too much sea water?"
Together, Karl and I, while looking at each other,
growl out, "Growing up!"
Dad laughs. "Growing up, indeed! I'll probably be
teaching you to shave next!"
"As a matter of fact, ..." I start, grinning, and
rubbing my chin so that Dad can see me in the mirror.
"What?" Dad says.
"Only joking!" I tell him, and Karl and I both burst
out laughing.
I think to myself that, apart from the top of my head,
I have hairs in only one other place, and I certainly don't want to shave them
off! It took me too many years to get them!
For the rest of the trip, I let Karl do most of the
talking, but I do get to throw in an occasional comment, when he takes a
breath. He repeats most of the conversation that we had with Mr O'Rourke on the
coach and about the service on the train between Charleville and Brisbane. When
he mentions Dave's name, Junior wakes up, stretches then goes back to sleep.
Dad and Helen hear about parking the car under a
building, the views from the Observation Deck, all of the shops in the food
court, lunch on the paddle steamer and the sights along the river.
I slip in about how small people looked from such a
height, the taste of prawns and our new game – Chinese Checkers.
"And," Karl says, "Pa squirted us with a water pistol
and then gave us each a `ginormous' one, to play with at home, but not in the
house."
I wonder where he heard that word! I can tell what it
means, but I'll bet that it's not in the dictionary. Maybe he got it from Joey,
talking about William's cock.
By the time I get to ask, "So, what was it that you
guys have to tell us?" we have already passed Jake and Jane's place. Almost
home.
Helen says, "Let's have a cup of coffee with some
goodies that we bought in Cunnamulla while we were waiting for your bus.
"It's a coach," Karl says. "Mr O'Rourke told us so."
"Ah, yes," Helen replies. "Bill is very proud of his
`coach'. I've heard him correct lots of people who call it a `bus'. Including
me."
How did they know that Karl and I like custard tarts?
I munch and drink and just wait for Helen or Dad to
say something.
"Well," Dad starts, "on Sunday we are invited out to
Whispering Gums for lunch."
"That's nice," I comment, but keep eating because it's
hardly any `exciting' news that I was anticipating.
Dad continues, "And we are going to meet the new
owner, who has been invited as well."
"Who is it?" Karl asks.
"Nobody knows," Dad answers. "Part of the sale
contract was that the new owner's name wouldn't be made public, until the sale
was completed. Not even the Camerons know."
"Wow!" I say. "I hope that
they are nice people. So, you haven't met them yet Dad? Even though you'll be
working for them?"
"No," he replies. "I'm a bit nervous about meeting
them for the first time. I hope that we get on well together, like I have with
the Camerons."
"You'll be fine!" Helen tells him. "Anyone for another
cup?"
"Only to wash down one of those giant donuts on the
plate!" I say. "Do you need a hand?"
It's difficult to stay calm until Sunday.
Karl and I wear our `good clothes'.
Even Dad `dresses up' a bit. New jeans. New shirt.
Clean boots. He looks nervous!
When we arrive, the Camerons come outside to greet us,
perhaps anticipating the new owner. Even they have `done themselves up' for the
event. Mr Cameron has brushed his hair, and Mrs Cameron has on a new apron.
We go inside. Lunch smells wonderful.
I look at the table and two extra places have been
set.
Helen suggests, "Let's sit down and chat for a few
minutes."
"We're just waiting for the new owner," Mrs Cameron
announces. "I hope that they won't be too much longer. I don't want the meat
and vegetables to be overcooked, or to get cold."
We all sit.
Helen produces a paper from her bag. "I took a copy of
the transfer of ownership papers from the Council records, she says. "I thought
that you might like to see them."
"Does it have the new owner's details? Mr Cameron
asks.
Helen doesn't answer, but hands him the papers.
He starts to read.
Then he stops, dropping his hands to the table and
holding the papers.
"What's this?" he asks. He looks upset.
"That has all of the details on it," Helen replies.
"But... "he starts. "But it says that the new owner is
`Helen O'Sullivan'. Is that right?"
"So, you won't need the two extra places for lunch!"
Helen says, smiling broadly. Grinning!
"What? You?" Dad blurts out.
"You?" Mr Cameron echoes. I think, through a cheesy
smile, that he has tears in his eyes.
"You!" Mrs Cameron half-cries, then jumps up and gives
Helen a ginormous hug. LOL.
"It was an unexpected opportunity to return my
grandfather's property to one of his family," Helen replies. Then she adds,
"Besides, you've found an amazing property manager. I'm going to keep him on."
My Dad, whose brain seems to have been working at a
ginormous rate, says, "Well, I'm certainly glad that I asked you the other
question before I found this out!"
"What question?" Karl and I ask together, remembering
that there was something on his mind before we went to visit Mum.
Dad replies, "Daphne, if you'd like to start serving,
I'd like a word with my boys, outside."
He immediately heads for the door. Karl and I follow,
like two trained puppies.
"What's going on, Dad?" Karl asks, as soon as we step
off the verandah and take a few steps towards the bunkhouse.
"I don't know how to beat around the bush," Dad says,
"so I'll just come out with it. I've asked Helen to marry me, now that your
mother and I are divorced."
"YES!" I shout. I told my Dad that she was a `keeper'!
I liked her from the day that I met her at school when she was telling a story
to the little kids.
I give my Dad a hug.
"But," Dad continues, "Helen would not give me an
answer unless she knew that it was OK with the two of you. She didn't want you
to think that she was trying to take the place of your mother. She said that I
had to ask her again, after I had your permission to marry her."
"Permission?" Karl asks.
"Permission granted!" I reply, looking at my brother
and hoping that he agrees with me.
He nods, and grins.
We head back inside.
Helen is grinning. Mr Cameron is curious. Mrs Cameron
stops serving.
Dad announces, "What I am about to say, has nothing to
do with Helen being the new owner of Whispering Gums. I have already asked her
this once. I just needed my boys' approval.
He takes Helen by both hands, drops to one knee and
says, "Helen O'Sullivan, would you do me the great honour of marrying me?"
"Yes," she says quietly, then adds, "I firstly just wanted
to make sure that Karl and Kurt would approve, especially after the
announcement of the divorce."
Mrs Cameron, Karl and I all head for Helen and give
her the biggest group hug.
Mr Cameron shakes my Dad's hand and congratulates him.
"This calls for a celebratory lunch!" he says, emphasising `lunch'. It's a hint
for Mrs Cameron to keep serving.
I think that the expression for the discussion over
lunch is `an excited buzz'.
Before the empty plates are cleared from the table,
and with everyone still here, I feel the need to say something. The need to do
something that I once saw when Mr Grant was about to become the owner of
Jintabudjaree.
I stand up, take an empty glass and tap it with my
dessert spoon.
Everyone stops `buzzing' and stares at me.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I start, remembering Mr Grant,
the helicopter pilot's words. "This is the very first time, except in an
English class, that I have ever given a speech. And I'm really nervous."
Everyone is still staring.
"I want to thank Mrs Cameron for another amazing
lunch. But, it's even more special today because of the things that we are able
to celebrate."
I don't know where these words are coming from, but I
continue. "It's sad that Mr and Mrs Cameron are leaving, but I hope that they
will be happy in the future, whatever they are going to do."
"Hear! Hear!" Dad says.
I take a breath and go on. "And I'm sure that we are
really happy that Whispering Gums has been bought by a person who will really
love it as much as Mr Cameron has."
"Thank you," Helen says, blowing a kiss across the
table to Mr Cameron.
"And," I say, "I am really happy for my Dad, and for
Helen. Congratulations!"
I sit down, and everyone claps. Even my brother.
"Did somebody say `dessert'?" Mrs Cameron says,
standing, and wiping her eyes.
My Dad, next to me, shakes my hand, ruffles my hair
and says, "Thank you, son. I'm proud of you!"
I can tell, from the aroma, what Mrs Cameron has
cooked for dessert.
"May I help you with the apple pie, Mrs Cameron," I
ask, heading for the kitchen.
"Thank you, Kurt, she replies. "If you beat the cream,
I'll be back in a moment."
She disappears towards the bedrooms, and I take the
whisk to the cream.
She returns and says, "I have a going away present for
you"
"But I'm not going away," I tell her. "You are."
"Yes," She replies. "But I can still give you a gift,
can't I?"
She produces a parcel, wrapped in brown paper, and
tied with string.
I start to unwrap it.
When I see the familiar red colour, I immediately
start to choke up. I look at her. We both have tears in our eyes.
I cannot speak, but my face says, `What?'
She nods.
"You can't give me this!" I manage to blubber. It was
your mother's and your grandmother's."
"And I couldn't think of anyone who would appreciate
it more than you," she tells me. "You are a wonderful young man. Thank you for
being so helpful. Look on the inside."
I carefully turn the front cover of her prized recipe
book. Below her grandmother's name, and her mother's and her own, she has
written, `Kurt Andersen. Cook up a storm!"
We both start crying, giving each other a ginormous
hug!
(to be continued)
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The parallel
version to this story, `Schoolie', told through the eyes of Tom Grant, has
concluded.
Find `Schoolie' at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/schoolie
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at
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