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)

Copyright 2013-2022.  Robert Armstrong.  This complete work of literary art is protected by US, Australian and International copyright law. It is the sole property of the author and may not be reproduced in any form whether in whole or in part without the prior express written consent of the author.  
License is granted to Nifty Archive Alliance, Inc. for electronic publication on the Nifty.org website. All rights reserved.

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 86:

"So, are you going to do with William what you and I did last night?" I ask, grinning.

"That was fucking awesome," he replies, not bothering to use Mr Grant's politer version. "Maybe he won't want to do that. But, I'd love to practise more with you!"

"Not tonight, though," I tell him.

"Why not?" he asks.

"Because William will be expecting you. That's why!" I reply. "Besides, at the end of the week, he and Mr Grant will be going on long holidays, and goodness knows when you will see William again. He might not even come back here next year when Mr Grant does."

A look of horror appears on Karl's face.

"Then what will I do?" he asks.

"There's always me," I put to him. "But, what about Jacko?"

The grin returns to his face. That same goofy grin!

 

Chapter 87 – William's Last Day

Tuesday. We are all excited to see whose names we will be given!

Unfortunately, Mr Grant makes us wait until the end of the day before we find out.

"Remember!" he reminds everyone. "Don't tell anyone whose names you get. The `nice' comments are meant to be surprises."

As we line up at the door to leave, he gives everyone two folded and paper-clipped coloured pieces of paper.

 

"Not to be opened until we get home!" Mr Grant tells us in the car. "Otherwise, you three will try to find out what the other two have! I know you all very well!"

 

As we clamber out of the car, Mr Grant reminds us of the significance of our comments remaining anonymous, adding, "There are plenty of places where you can go to see whose names you have. Apart from your bedrooms, there is the library, lounge room and the dining room." He adds, "I suggest that you might like to use another piece of paper to make some notes or a draft of what you want to say about each person. You can always change them before you write the final copies.

"I'll take the library!" I tell William and Karl, giving them the choice of the rest of the house.

Closing the door, I eagerly slide the paper-clip off the first piece.

Mr Grant has gone to a lot of trouble if the others are all written like this one! And I'm not unhappy with the name that I see!

I read, `I think that WILLIAM is...'

I instantly know what I want to say! And I smile, also thinking of some of the things that I can't write!

Using a pencil and paper from the writing desk, I make a note... `...a very clever artist whom everyone appreciates for drawing our faces on all of the birthday cards over the years. We will miss him."

That will do for starters!

My second piece of paper says, "I think that SUSANNA is...'

I'll have to think more about this one! I haven't had a lot to do with the little kids, especially the girls!

Susanna is the youngest person in our school, about the same age as little Eric, and she always helps him with his work whenever she finishes first.

However, I do make some initial notes about her... `beautiful smile, friendly, helpful, does colourful drawings.' I'm sure that I'll think of more before Thursday's party!

I wasn't really expecting to end up with Karl's or Jake's name, and I'm glad that I didn't get Jane, although I did think of some positive things about her, too! Just in case.

 

"That was quick!" Mr Grant tells me as I join him in the kitchen. "Are you happy with your choices?"

"Firstly," I tell him, "They weren't my choices, were they? And, secondly, yes, I am."

"So, who...?" he starts.

"Secret!" I say, cutting him off and make a zipper across my mouth. "Remember?"

I have to wonder whether he gave the names out randomly, or did he give certain names to specific people?

"Wait! I've just had another thought," I tell him, and I head back to the library.

On the desk there's a small pile of the same, coloured papers that Mr Grant has used. I take two pieces. Two extras won't be noticed! Tomorrow, I'll give one to Jane and one to Jake.

I copy, as best as I can, his writing. `I think that MR GRANT is...'

That will be a surprise for him, mixed in among the others! Besides, I'd love to hear what `Tarzan and Jane' actually think of him.

I think back to that very first day when we all met Mr Grant. We were shocked that he looked exactly like our `Little Willie', and how Jake hid up in the tree and jumped down to try to scare him. It's hard to believe that a full year has passed! And so much has happened! I'll remember this year happily for the rest of my life! Too much to think about right now!

 

It's Wednesday. We clean up at school, take down all of our art work and get the room ready for tomorrow's party. Using a stack of old magazines that were on the bottom shelf of the store room, we all make some colourful decorations, which we can take home tomorrow.

Mr Grant reminds everyone to bring their `nice' notes, and to please put the paper clips back on them.

 

Thursday. Jane and Jake's parents arrive with a lot of food and drink, which is all put into the craft room for later. The next thing that happens is that Mr Grant starts to collect the notes into a pillow case, shaking them as each new one is dropped in. I add mine, then offer to gather the rest, so that he won't notice Jane and Jake adding three instead of two.

There is no school work today. Yeah!

The morning is spent playing everyone's favourite games. However, we give hoppo-bumpo a miss! William is now too strong to take on any competitors.

After we have our morning break, we play soccer. Everyone except Jane and Jake, who stay inside with Mr Grant to `set up' for the lunch party.

As he usually does, William umpires, but he also helps the little kids, on both sides.

It's pretty obvious that little Eric has taken a real liking to William, and spends a lot of time holding his hand when he's not kicking the ball. William ends up standing with Eric hanging off the end of one arm and Susanna clinging to his other one. Sometimes things can get a bit rough for these little ones.

I'm glad when Mr Grant comes outside to tell everyone to go to the toilet, wash their hands and then to line up at the door before going inside. I was starting to get tired anyway. Besides, I need to pee.

There is something `grown up' about the school's four oldest boys (soon to be only three) hanging out together at the urinal.

"Whatcha looking at?" Jake asks Karl, nudging him with his elbow, obviously catching the direction of my brother's eyes.

"You've got lots of hair!" Karl answers, somewhat embarrassed at being caught out. "It goes all the way up to your navel."

"Must be an O'Brien thing!" Jake tells him, finishing off. "Same as William. Same as Marty and his brothers."

Karl and I both look towards William, who moves his hands out of the way, as if to confirm his hair growth, as Jake has commented.

I think about Jacko. Even though he's not an O'Brien, he would fit right in! And extra! Maybe Karl was just doing a comparison. Or, maybe, since becoming friends with Jacko, he has developed an interest in hairiness.

We all line up at the school door, smallest at the front. It's obvious that summer is here. Most people are fanning themselves. The shadow of the school verandah is refreshingly cool after chasing the soccer ball around, in the sun.

This is exciting. We are about to go in for the last time. The end of another school year!

 

Almost all of the desks have been rearranged around the room, and I'm surprised by what I see set in the middle of all the food. A large cake. It's nobody's birthday, but across the centre of the white icing is written in blue, `Good Luck, William!'

Above the writing is a large, red heart.

And, around the rim of the cake, I can count 10 smaller hearts. That's one for each of us kids, and even one for Mr Grant. I look closer. Each of these has a small letter on it in white. I begin to try to read the message of the smaller letters, then realise that each letter is the initial of one of our names! In order of our ages. From T, J, J, K, K right down to E, S.

T? Obviously meaning `Tom', Mr Grant!

As we normally do when celebrating somebody's birthday, the little kids choose their food first as Jane and Jake explain to everyone what is on each plate.

By now, we all understand that it's better to take less food at our first opportunity, and then come back for `seconds' later. Or, in William's case, `thirds' and `fourths' and ... whatever.

Jane pours the drinks for the little kids in their plastic cups, and we all sit.

Mr Grant lifts the pillow case containing the `nice' notes onto his desk, giving it a final shake.

He reaches in and chooses one.

There is a sudden hush across the room and everyone looks at him.

Mr Grant reads, "I think that DAVID is... a person who likes to ask lots of questions and who looks after his little brother."

I immediately wonder who would have written that? Not one of the little kids! Karl? Jane?

I'm not sure who starts, but everyone claps.

The next one is, "I think that WILLIAM is... really big and looks like Mr Grant."

Obviously, from a little kid!

Clapping.

Next: "I think that KARL is...very handsome and I like his smile."

So, Karl has a secret admirer, does he? Definitely not Jane! Maybe one of the younger girls. And, I couldn't disagree with her! And there's a lot more that I like about my brother too. LOL.

Lots of loud clapping. Lots of agreement!

Next: "I think that WILLIAM is..." This one will be mine! "...very clever at drawing people and horses."

Clapping.

That one wasn't mine!

What happened to mine? By my calculation, there should only be two for each person!

Then it happens. Mr Grant pauses when he removes the paper clip, but he reads it anyway.
"I think that MR GRANT is..."

He looks around, focussing on our side of the classroom. He's obviously scanning faces for guilt, to see who is responsible for this!

I try to look surprised. I hope that I'm not overacting!

He looks at me, points, grins and mouths my name. Our game.

I point back at him, mouth `Mr Grant', but then shake my head. Is that lying? After all, I didn't write whatever is on the paper!

He reads again, "I think that MR GRANT is... the best teacher that we've have ever had at our school."

Not just clapping! Cheering!

Hmm. Maybe this is Jake's. I expected Jane to write more. When Mr Grumpy left, I heard her wishing for someone young and handsome. I wonder what she has actually written!

We keep eating. And listening. And clapping.

Then I hear, "I think that KURT is..."

I stop chewing, feel my heart beat faster and I stop breathing, waiting to hear what somebody thinks of me.

"... very clever, really nice, and he likes to help everyone."

If there was a meter to measure the applause, it would be a toss-up between Mr Grant and me.

I'm really pleased, but feel my face and neck get very hot.

I look around. Who would have written that? My brother? William? Jake? Probably none of those. Jane? Possibly. David? Maybe.

I'm tempted to point at Mr Grant and mouth his name, but I'm pretty sure that it wasn't him. Maybe.

As soon as Mr Grant resumes, I realise that there are way more than two notes for William.

It hits me. This is exactly what Mr Grant intended – to give every one of us a chance to say something nice about William on his last day of school!

Mr Grant IS the best teacher that we've ever had; the best that I've ever had! What a fantastic Christmas wish I made last year! Everyone can thank me later – well, in my dreams.

 

I think that I've never seen William so emotional! Not the way he was when his house burnt down, or when his mother did nasty things like destroying his paintings.

He's gone from being the big, stupid `Little Willie' to `William, the artist' – a young man whom everyone loves and appreciates, for his talent and kind heart!

After Mr Grant has read all of the notes, and when pretty much all of the food is gone, he tells us that it's time for William to cut the cake.

William stands up and says, "Before we do the cake thing, I would like to say something."

Everyone goes quiet.

He tells us, "When I started here in Kindergarten, I was the same age as Eric is now. And probably the same size. And I haven't missed a single day! But, for some reason I never learned to read like everyone else did, and I spent a lot of time outside, playing with toy horses out in the dirt."

He pauses. Everyone stays silent. I have no idea where this is going!

Then he says, "This year, Mr Grant came to our school and taught me to read." He adds, "With a lot of help from these guys..." pointing to Jake, Karl and me. "I know now that it's really important to be able to read, so you little kids need to make sure that you take your reading lessons very seriously."

This is his last day so he can say what he likes. But, although this is pretty boring, everyone is respectful and listens.

Then, he tells us, "I am really grateful for what you have all done for me, and how friendly you have been, and I want to give you a present, to say `thank you' for everything. Yes, even the little kids have been great and friendly. Eh, little man?" he says, pointing to Eric.

He goes to the corner of the classroom behind Mr Grant's desk and brings back something that's wrapped up. It's big.

"This is my present to you all," he says, propping it on Mr Grant's desk and beginning to take the wrappings off it, asking Eric to help!

When everyone sees what it is, there is a gasp, and I really have to stop myself from getting teary. This is a beautiful present!

It is a magnificent painting of our school. And not just the school! William has painted each and every person here, including himself and Mr Grant. All of us! The painting is big enough so that everyone's face can be clearly identified.

Mr Grant looks surprised too. So, somehow, William appears to have painted this without Mr Grant knowing. How on earth did he manage that?!

I look at it carefully. William has included Karl's eyebrow, although most people wouldn't even notice it. And the girls' plaited hair with their different-coloured ribbons. And little Eric's freckles. And the button of David's shirt which is usually undone near his belly.

He has painted all of us in the clothes that we normally wear to school. We don't have a uniform, but we all have our favourite `school clothes'.

And, he's painted a small deputy sheriff's star onto Jane! Just as a joke.

And we're not standing in rows like we did for the school photos that Mr Grant and Marty took of us earlier in the year. William has done us in groups.

Jane and Jake are together but facing in different directions – Jake is standing and looking towards Karl and me, and Jane is sitting, reading to the little kids. David is with Eric who is sitting on the ground with a soccer ball between his crossed legs. David has his hand raised to ask a question!

I'm amazed that I can see everyone's face so clearly.

William has painted himself behind my brother with a matey kind of arm resting on Karl's shoulder. Mr Grant is standing next to me and I can't see his hand that he normally uses to swat me.

Even though William and Mr Grant almost look the same, I can tell which is which.

For somebody who knows us all really well, William has put lots of `special information' into his painting.

Mr Grant was right when he told us that William is going to be a famous artist!

At the bottom is written, `My School', with the year, and it's signed WO'B-G. That's the name that William is going to use for all of his paintings: William O'Brien-Grant.

I don't know whether to cry or laugh! It's all pretty emotional. I see that it is for William too.

He tells us, "And I even know where it should go." He points to the back of the classroom where the wall is blank, behind which is the store room.

He gets Mr Grant to help him carry it and hang it on hooks that William must have put there before school, or maybe while we were out playing. It's at a perfect height for everyone to see clearly.

William's `My School' looks perfect up there, and everyone can see themselves looking out. I reckon that the parents are going to be amazed when they come in and see it this afternoon.

"What about the cake?" David asks aloud.

He's going to be similar to William when he's older, and possible even rounder!

And, "What are we going to sing?" David asks Mr Grant. "It's not William's birthday! But we have to sing something."

Mr Grant teaches us, "For he's a jolly good fellow..." and we sing it twice. Then Mr Grant says "Hip, hip..." and we all respond "Hooray!" Three times.

William, after wiping his eyes on his sleeve, and with help from Jane, cuts the cake and gives everyone the piece with the heart that has their initial on it.

What a perfect and happy way to end the school year! Totally different to when Mr Grumpy was here last year; we couldn't wait to get away.

Today, nobody is in a hurry to leave. Everyone wants to talk to William. So do the parents, as they come in to collect their children. The painting is a fantastic talking point, and the parents seem happy to hang around and chat. The fathers shake William's hand, and the mothers all kiss him. And he comes in for some special thanks from David and Eric's mum.

Mr Grant should take a photo of William, with his red face and watery eyes!

Mr Grant also gets his share of thanks from the parents for a year of very positive changes in the kids' attitudes. If my Dad was here, he'd be saying `Amen to that!'

"You heading off for your holidays, today?" I hear one of the parents ask Mr Grant.

"Not today," he answers. "Jan and Helen Andersen have invited William and me to a Christmas lunch on Sunday, then we will head off to our favourite motel for the night, and arrive home in the Gold Coast on Monday.

Motel? I immediately think of Sam and Mikey! Some people will be having fun on Sunday night!

As the `crowd' thins to only a few of us, I ask, "Mr Grant, do you know whether my Dad is coming to pick up Karl and me here, like he usually does at the end of term?"

"Actually," he replies, "Your dad and Helen are coming into The Village for dinner with us all at the pub. My shout, seeing that Helen has invited us to lunch on Sunday. And, I think that Jacko is coming with them as well."

My brother's ears must be finely tuned to Jacko's name and he suddenly joins us.

"Did you say that Jacko and dad and Helen are all coming to have dinner?" Karl asks.

Mr Grant replies, "Yes. That's right. But it's not going to be a late one, because your dad wants to take you both shopping in Big Town tomorrow, then on Saturday everyone will be busy preparing for Sunday's Christmas dinner."

I wonder how come Mr Grant knows so much about what my Dad is doing and planning!

 

It's not long before we see the Land Rover come across the bridge, then watch it turn the corner, heading for the pub.

Karl, William and I head off and leave Mr Grant to lock up. We run, and I'm actually keeping up with William all of the way. And I'm still faster than Karl.

Dad, Helen and Jacko are hardly out of the Land Rover when we reach them. Slightly out of breath – us, not them!

 

I decide to have the lamb cutlets with roast veges.

"So," Helen asks, "Are you two happy about going into Big Town tomorrow for a bit of Christmas shopping? Your mother and grandparents wouldn't be expecting anything, but a small gift would be nice. You being there will be a surprise, and a real present for them!"

Dad adds, "Helen and I will top up your wallets with $150 each; our Christmas presents to you both."

He's caught me with a mouthful, so my brother takes the opportunity to say something.

Karl answers, "Yeah. Cool. Thanks."

I swallow, say my thank-yous, then ask, "Would it be all right if we went into Cunnamulla instead? There are more shops there and, if we leave from Whispering Gums and use the back road, then the drive to Cunnamulla would save us much more than an hour instead of driving here and then going on to Big Town."

Helen looks at Dad. "That sounds reasonable," she says, adding. "However, I don't need to come with you. Maybe Jacko would like to join the three of you for the trip."

I don't need to look at Jacko or my brother because I reckon that they are both grinning. And, I'll bet that they will `offer me the opportunity' to ride up front with Dad, just so that they can be in the back seat together. They'd better be careful! Dad has the rear-vision mirror.

Dad turns to Jacko, who nods.

"That's settled then," Dad says. "Cunnamulla it is."

"So, what are your plans for the next few days, Tom?" Helen asks Mr Grant.

"Well," he replies, "Tomorrow, Will and I want to meet with Ash, to check on the progress of everything in town, all of which looks just about finished, and to review some plans which I asked him to draw up for a few new buildings at Jintabudjaree. Saturday, we'll make sure that the place is clean and pack everything. Sunday, after lunch, we'll leave straight from your place and head to our motel accommodation for the night before reaching the Gold Coast on Monday."

William adds, "But, there's not a lot of cleaning to do. The house seems to look after itself."

"Maybe it's the ghost who cleans it!" Karl suggests, and grins as though he has just told a hilarious joke, and is waiting for the applause.

"It must be handy to have a ghost who cleans up," Helen says. "I'm sure that I'd love to have one, especially after the twins are born."

"Has anyone actually ever seen a ghost out there?" Dad asks.

"Melinda Robert said that she did, just before she collapsed." Karl replies. "It really scared the sh...ip out of her."

Before anyone can comment on his language, Mr Grant adds, "Andy told us that he saw the ghost on the day that we couldn't find him. Remember?"

William and Karl confirm what Mr Grant has said, and, intentionally filling my mouth with potato, I nod.

I don't let on that I've seen Uncle and that he's spoken to me and told me about the history of Jintabudjaree and the murder of his people, and some other things, which I haven't shared with Mr Grant yet.

Mr Grant adds, "Will and I will be gone for about six or seven weeks, so I'd be happy for anyone to open the school windows occasionally, and go out to the homestead at any time, just to check on the place and the landau." He hands the school keys to Dad, then adds, "Kurt has the key to the front door at Jintabudjaree."

Everyone turns and looks at me.

"So, there IS a key!" Karl says loudly. "I knew it! I guessed as much! Show it to me!"

I hold out my open palm.

"Where is it?" he asks.

"You're looking at it." I reply. "I have a magic hand."

Karl knows about my magic hand and magic mouth, but only in relation to when we are alone together, usually at night!

"It's true!" William tells everyone. "I've seen him use it!"

And William has felt me use it too! On him.

Karl tells everyone, "I reckon that there are `magic spots' on the door and the floor, and Kurt knows all about them!"

I think that I should change the subject before anyone starts to read other meanings into the conversation!

"What will you two be doing for the next six weeks?" I put to them, looking from Mr Grant to William.

"Tom has promised to teach me to ride on a surfboard these holidays," William says, excitedly.

It is strange hearing him refer to Mr Grant by his first name, but then, from today, William isn't one of his pupils anymore, is he? Just his brother!

"And catching up with our friends at the beach," Mr Grant adds.

"Maybe you'll get a chance to see them again too," he says to Karl and me, reminding us that we met them at the beach during a previous holiday.

That was the day that Karl `made friends' with Joey!

William tells us, "And Andy was actually one of the original group that I met when they taught me to ride a body board."

I catch Mr Grant give a wink to Dad! There is something going on that I don't know about!

We enjoy dinner. And dessert. Mrs Smith refuses to take any money from Mr Grant, saying that dinner is Mr Smith's and her Christmas present to him and William.

 

I lie in bed, alone, my brain sore from trying to think of good presents for everyone.

I won't be buying any handkerchiefs, socks, tea towels, baby shoes, souvenirs, expensive things or cheap stuff! I want things to be personal.

In my mind, I keep matching up things that I think are appropriate to my mental list of names, all the time getting more and more tired!

 

One day I'm going to wake up before that rooster! And I'll creep out and yell in his ears! Hey! Do roosters actually have ears? All I can say is, he's lucky that Helen found a turkey to have for dinner on Sunday!

I'm glad that I am able to get the coffee and toast going before Helen gets up.

When I return to the kitchen after peeing, Helen is there, wearing her dressing gown which really shows off her baby bump. Or should that be `babies bump'?

"Thank you," she tells me, opening her arms for a hug.

"Perfect timing!" I tell her as the toast pops. If you take the coffees to the lounge room, I'll bring the buttered toast. "Marmalade?"

With both of us settled into the comfortable chairs, she smiles and asks, "Is your Christmas shopping list settled? And, are you and Karl buying combined presents, or individual ones?"

"We decided that we'd do presents from each of us this year instead of from both of us,"
I reply.

"What if you both buy the same thing for the same person?" Helen asks, then sips her coffee.

"Probably won't happen," I say. "Even though we often share common thoughts, I can safely predict that his choice of presents and mine will be different." Then I add, "So if you end up with two tea-towels covered in Australian birds..."

I don't finish the sentence.

She looks at me with, not a frown, more like a weird grin.

"Don't worry!" I tell her. "I'm not buying tea-towels! I want to get people something more personal."

Dad comes in, dressed for the day, looks at our coffee and toast and says, "It's OK, I can get my own!"

By the time that Jacko and Karl join us, our coffee mugs are empty and our plates contain nothing but a few crumbs.

It's Jacko, of course, who asks, "Anyone want a refresher?"

"Thank you, but I need to have a quick shower and get dressed," Helen replies.

"I'll join you for another coffee," Dad tells him.

"Kurt?" he asks.

"Sure. Why not?" I answer. "Need any help with the toast?"

All eyes instantly turn towards my brother.

"Hey! No pressure!" he answers, throwing his hands into the air and heading for the kitchen.

 

After our bacon and eggs, I have all of the plates and coffee mugs, stacked, sorted and ready to wash.

"I'll handle the washing up," Helen tells me. "You four, hit the road! The shops should all be open by the time that you get there."

 

I quietly remind Jacko and Karl about Dad's rear-vision mirror and warn them to "Behave!"

 

Dad parks outside the Chinese restaurant. We all agree to go our different ways and meet back here for lunch at 12:30.

"Synchronise watches!" Dad tells us, which sounds kind of corny, but appropriate.

 

My mental list of presents goes straight out of the window when, in one large store, I spot a set of coffee mugs. Six in a set. Really bright, different colours. And not all sets have the same colours. Wow! And, these are nothing like I've ever seen before. Sorry, `previously'.

One of the salesmen explains to me about the outside clear plastic `shield' and the inside actual coloured bit that holds the coffee. "Insulated," he tells me and explains how everything works. "They're called travel mugs," he tells me. "Part of the lid opens and closes so that you can drink when you want to, then seal it again. And the insulation will keep your coffee or tea hot, or your lemonade cold."

Amazing!

I can save money by buying two sets and giving a different coloured mug to each of the people on my list. Mum, Ma, Pa, Dad, Helen, Karl, Jacko, Mr Grant, William and one for me. Ten. And two left over. I'll keep a pink one and a purple one for my little twin sisters, even though they will be too young to use them for a long time yet. Perfect!

I ignore the sets of smaller-sized mugs, and go straight for the larger ones.

The friendly salesman wraps the two boxes for me in brown paper and puts them both into a large orange carry bag. I also get some Christmas wrapping paper and some name tags. And extras, in case Karl doesn't think of them. I remember seeing some sticky tape in a drawer at home, but I buy some more, just in case. It's too far to come back for something so small if we have used it all up, or there isn't enough remaining.

I take my time walking around town, checking out shop windows that I hadn't noticed previously. And, nodding `hello' to friendly faces.

"Good morning, Mr Taylor," I greet him, stepping into his shop. "We are just in town to buy some presents for Christmas. My brother and I are going to see our Mum in Brisbane and give her a surprise on Christmas morning."

"You must be Kurt," he replies. "Your name pops up frequently in Archie's memories of Whispering Gums. I confess that I couldn't tell you and your brother apart!"

"Yes, Mr Taylor. It's me, Kurt," I answer. "My brother is probably still walking around deciding what to buy, but my shopping is all done." I indicate my bag from the gift shop.

"Hi Kurt!" I hear, and turn to see a broad smile on Archie's face as he approaches his uncle and me. "Can I interest you in a new pair of trousers for Christmas? Or jeans?"

Is this actually a correct use of `Can I?' instead of `May I?' I'll have to think about it!

His uncle grins at his sales technique, but says nothing.

Having spent so little of my $150, comparatively, on the coffee mugs, I'm tempted!

"Maybe one pair for me and another for my brother," I reply. "We are the same size, you know."

After receiving a coffee mug, like everyone else, Karl won't be expecting a second present from me.

Archie grins. He picks up a tape measure from the counter and drapes it around his neck. His eyes sparkle. I'll bet that he'll want to measure my inside leg! Maybe something else!

"I don't have a lot of money," I tell him, and turn to look at Mr Taylor. "Do you have some good ones that don't cost a lot?"

I think. Maybe I'll only buy something for my brother. I don't have to get a pair for me as well just because we are twins.

Mr Taylor tells Archie, "Show Kurt the range of chinos, and we might be able to do a special deal for him, especially if he buys two."

"Mates' rates!" Archie whispers as he leads the way, weaving between racks of jackets and pants.

"Pick a colour," Archie tells me. "I reckon these are your size, but we can always check everything," he adds, playing with the tape measure.

I select two: a light colour, similar to my jeans and one which Archie describes as `khaki'.

"Lead the way," I say, and I follow him to the fitting room.

"I know what the inside leg of these two is," he says, grinning. "Has yours changed?"

I remove my jeans and it's obvious that Junior is already alert to what's going on!

Archie takes my inside leg measurement, with the back of his hand encouraging Junior to full `alertness'.

"All good," Archie tells me. "Anything else I need to measure?"

I help Junior escape, and Archie measures his length and distance around. I wouldn't have thought of doing that!

"So, how similar are we?" I say, grinning at him.

"Much the same," he replies.

"Show me!" I tell him. "I can see that yours is ready to measure."

Archie drops his black trousers and underpants and hands me the tape measure.

"Yes. Almost identical!" I say, showing him the number.

We give each other a quick squeeze. Then, tucking Junior back in, sideways, I try on the khaki pair.

"One pair or two?" Archie asks, doing himself up.

I've thought about it. "I reckon, just the one," I tell him. "They're a present for Karl. I don't need to buy myself a present."

"Which colour?" he asks.

"What would you recommend?" I ask him. "You're the expert."

"Hmm. Khaki for Karl," he answers.

We head back to the cash register and Archie has a quiet chat with his uncle.

"Mates rates, as I said," he tells me. When I told Uncle George that it was just a present for your brother, he said that you could have them at cost price. That's what he paid for them."

I hand him a $20 note, and he begins to put them into a `Taylor's Tailoring' bag.

"Any chance that you could just wrap them, so I can put them into the other bag?" I ask.
I don't want Karl to see where I've been or he might guess what I've bought."

"No problem!" Archie replies. And I add the brown-paper parcel to the big, orange bag.

"Chat soon!" Archie says, and we bump fists.

"Thank you very much for that, Mr Taylor," I say, shaking his hand on the way out.

 

I had expected to be the first one back at the Chinese restaurant, even after walking around. But, I'm not.

"Hi, son," Dad says, getting up from my favourite seat by the window. "I was keeping it warm for you!"

We both ask more or less the same question at the same time.

"What are you doing back here so soon?"

"I've finished," I tell him. "What about you?"

"Helen and I have bought a couple of things each time that we've come in to see the doctor," Dad tells me, grinning. "So, I've finished what I need to get too. Just one thing, for Helen."

I give him a look that asks the question.

"Well, I couldn't buy what I wanted to surprise her with while she was with me, could I?" he tells me.

"Do you want to have a coffee while we are waiting for Jacko and Karl" I ask.

"I suppose that I could have another one!" he replies, grinning.

I take that to mean that he's been here a while, and has already had one.

After putting my orange bag into the car, we sit and watch the people go by, while we sip and chat.

"Have you noticed how buddy-buddy your brother and Jacko seem to have become lately?" Dad asks, not looking at me, but still staring out of the window.

 

(to be continued)

 

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If you like the story, and haven't said 'hello' yet, please take a couple of minutes to email me.

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The partly-parallel version to this story, `Schoolie', told through the eyes of Tom Grant, gives the backstory specifically for Tom, William, Andy and Jintabudjaree.
Find `Schoolie' at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/schoolie

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If you're interested, I have 26 (A-Z) short stories at

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-friends/massage-tales

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