Date: Thu, 5 Jan 2006 13:42:58 +0000 (GMT)
From: Mike Arram <mikearram@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Henry in the Outfield 19

XIX


  `I wish I'd asked him if he was crappy at cricket too,' mused Henry.
  `I wish you'd asked him what the afterlife is like ... if God exists, if
there's intelligent life on other planets,' retorted Ed.
  `I'm willing to wait to find out the answers to those questions.  I've
come as near death as I want for the next fifty years at least, thank you
very much.'
  Ed mused in his turn, `You liked him a lot, didn't you.'
  Henry gave a start, `Jed?  Yeah, he was really something, and you had
your dick in him, so don't get jealous, if that's what this is all about.'
  `No, no.  Anyway, how could I be jealous of a dead kid?  But he sort of
homed in on you.  It was like he was resurrected just to be your guardian
angel.  And he was aware of you too, he knew things about you, cared about
you, you in particular.  So what I mean is, that in his case human love
survived death.  He loved his Nathaniel, irritating prat though he was, and
he loved you too.'
  `Mmm.  I suppose there's a lesson in this Ed?'
  `No.  Just saying that death may not be what it's cracked up to be.'
  `So I hope too.'
  Edward and Henry could not stop returning again and again to the events
of November 5th.  It was now near the end of term and Christmas was coming
fast upon them.  Edward would be disappearing up to London tomorrow as term
ended, and the boys were in the sixth form common room, sorting out books
and homework.  Ed was now seventeen, and Henry would be having his birthday
next month. Life had gone on.  They had heard from Highgate that Justin and
Nathan had finally taken the plunge and moved to Ipswich.  They had set up
home in a cottage next to Uncle Phil's garden centre, and Nathan would
start as its manager in the new year.  An amusing series of e-mails from
Nathan was charting Justin's transition from city boy to country gent.
  Andy and Matt were moping, missing the boys, and Ed was about to be
greeted with enthusiasm, although how he was supposed to stand in for a
force of nature like Justin was more than Ed could understand.  Henry was
going to join him after Boxing Day, when his parents were off on holiday
with his grandparents in Spain.
   It had been a glorious school term despite the uncanny distractions.
Henry's B team had won not a single game, but as Mr Walker said, with some
irritation, he had never encountered a team that lost with such style and
so cheerfully.  Henry was complimented.
  They trotted down to chapel and the school carol service.  They did not
occupy adjacent stalls as that would have been against their low key
philosophy.  Henry was so happy that day, that he decided to sing out the
familiar carols, until Mark Peters thumped his arm and told him to pack it
in.
  Ricky arrived back from Manchester that evening, along with the dreaded
Rachel.  Ricky hugged and kissed everyone, but Rachel just shook hands.
Her body language was something to see.  Henry finally realised that she
was desperately shy, but even so the fact that she sought defence in casual
and thoughtless rudeness did not endear her to him.  Her allusion to Henry
still possibly believing in Father Christmas, clearly meant to be funny,
came over as cold and patronising.
  Her evening sermon was on the subject of Christmas as an essentially
pagan reaction to the dark season of the year.  Dad had some mild things to
say about the subject of renewal and hope hardly being pagan themes, but
this was steam-rollered in the usual way, with the implication that the
opinion of a man who professed to believe in the fictions of religion was
hardly worth listening to.
  Mum smiled and said that once you'd had children you tended to think
differently about such things, which for her was aggressive retaliation.
Rachel laughed once more, and said that Richard and her had decided that
children were not for them.  Richard looked as though this was news to him
and for once intervened.
  `Rachel, I don't think that's something we'd discussed.'
  `Did we not?  But you know my views, Richard.  After all, it is me who
would have to go through the pain and the squalor of it all.'
  Mum snapped, `Let me tell you, Rachel,' she came in heatedly, `there may
be pain and there may be squalor at childbirth, but if that's all you can
focus on, you've lost the plot about life and about being a woman.  Out of
the discomfort -- which I can tell you all about -- comes precious new
life.  My two boys were the greatest gift to us that ever could have been.
I'd go through ten times as much pain for the pleasure and love they've
given me.'
  `Er ... now, now Mum,' intervened Richard, aware of quite how hotheaded
Mum could be when she lost it.
  `Oh I was not meaning to talk about particular cases, Mrs Atwood.  But
after all, children are hostages to fortune.  They don't always turn out
the way you'd like and expect.  Take Henry, now.'
  `What!!' all the Atwoods said together.
  She ploughed on oblivious in her intellectual dreamworld.  `I'm sure he
was quite a nice little boy, but he's grown up to be homosexual, which can
only be a terrible problem for Mr Atwood in his situation.  Not only do you
have the worry of what might become of him in the gay underworld, but Mr
Atwood's job has to be on the line because he's encouraging a scandalous
and faintly disgusting affair between two teenage boys.'
  They sat with mouths open.  Mum looked at Dad, and Dad looked at Ricky.
No one looked at Henry.  Ricky finally said, perfectly calmly, `I think
there's a train at Church Stretton at five, which'll get you home by nine
Rachel.'
  `What?'
  `It's time you left.  I won't have my parents and Henry insulted by this
sort of rudeness.'
  `I'm sorry, Richard, but I was just speaking my mind,' she retorted,
bridling up.  `After all, you know I don't suffer fools gladly.'
  And then Dad mildly said, `So how do you live with yourself?'
  It earned him Henry's eternal respect.

  Ricky was tragic for a few days, but he loved Christmas and he brightened
up.  He particularly brightened up when Mark Peters's eldest sister
returned from university and he met her at a live music night in the King
Billy.  They didn't see him much for the rest of the holiday.
  It was as Henry was packing to get the London train two days after
Christmas, that Dad sidled into his room.
  `You OK, love?'
  `What do you mean, Dad?'
  `You shouldn't take to heart the thoughtless prattling of that Rachel
girl.  No one here thinks the less of me or of you because you're in love
with Ed.  Dr and Mrs Mac even said you two were very sweet together, and I
thought he was an old Tory.'
  `I guess.  But I know that not everyone is OK with gay Henry, that would
just be expecting too much, eh?  But we'll soldier on, me and Ed.  We're
only seventeen, for heaven's sake.  We've got A levels and university to
worry about yet, before there's the rest of our lives.'
  `I love you Henry, more and more each day, the more I see you rise to
life and its challenges.'
  `Then that's all that counts isn't it,' said Henry, and hugged his
father, resting his head on his shoulder.  He felt a kiss on his hair.
  Despite surviving the Strelzen tram system, Henry was nearly defeated by
the Northern Line.  He got on the wrong branch, and when he traced his
route back, he was stuck in a tunnel at Camden Town for a half hour, the
tube getting hotter and the people more annoyed.  There was no car to meet
him at Highgate tube station, and his mobile hadn't worked underground.  He
flipped it and got Ed.
  `Hey little babe, where are you?'
  `Tube station down the road.'
  `I shall run to meet you immediately.'  And he did, coming pounding down
the hill and kissing Henry in the darkening street, quite careless of
sideways glances.  He took Henry's case and trundled it along behind them.
The Highgate house was quite full.  Matt and Andy had decided to have a
house party between Christmas and New Year, and Will, Felip and Oskar were
in the hall to give Henry a hug and a kiss.  Matt's brother, Carl, and
cousin Katy were there, and there seemed to be a thing going on between
them, so far as Henry could make out.  When he mentioned this to Matt, he
was gobsmacked.
  `You what?'
  `Well, haven't you seen the way they always sort of are sitting in the
same sofa and find excuses to go down into the village together?'
  `But he's a totally committed sportsman ... he even timetables his
affairs!'
  `Looks like he's found an opening in his busy schedule then.'
  `Blimey,' Matt looked stunned, `I'd never even considered the
possibility.  What will my mum say?  She can't stand Katy's side of the
family.'
  On New Year's Eve, the house was full of friends, and Justin and Nathan
came up from Suffolk.  They disappeared into Ed's room and got an update on
what had happened since Bonfire Night.  `Nothing,' said Henry.
  `Phew,' Nathan replied, `Then that can only be good.  Nathaniel's at rest
with his Jed and all is well.'
   `So how are you?'
  Justin grinned, `Up to me knees in compost and loving it.  S'great being
yer own boss, not that working at Andersons was that bad, but we can do our
own thing now.  Nate's rearranging the greenhouses and now the Christmas
trees are gone, we're replanning the yard.  I got this idea of doin' a line
in pet supplies.  Me theory is that yer typical gardener is big into pets
too.  So yer combine the two.  Uncle Phil seems to like the idea, bein a
huntin' fishin' and shootin' type of bloke.'
  Nathan added, `Have you heard the big news?  Andy's bought the next
estate to Uncle Phil's as his English base.  So we get to see him a lot ...'
  `... yeah,' said Justin, `and we makes sure he buys his plants from us
too!'
  The front door bell rang, and they piled out and down the stairs, Justin
sliding down the bannisters and leaping into the arms of a tall, blond
American man in the hall, and almost knocking him down.  Oskar came up
fast.  `You alright Pete, shall I have this animal put outside?'
  `Hey Justy, man!  Kiss and hug.'  The two went at it almost as if they
were lovers.  Justin introduced Peter Peacher to Ed and Henry.  They shook
hands. Oskar then had his turn and led his boyfriend upstairs rather
urgently.
  `We know what yer doin!', yelled Justin after them.
  But there were two blond Americans at the door, a boy of Henry's age was
standing there waiting to be noticed.  Justin grabbed him too.
  `Don't fuckin' hug me you pervert,' the boy said.  `You know I'm not
gay.'
  `Christ, you've grown, Eddie!' Justin said.  `OK ... er, Eddie Peacher,
you don't know Henry Atwood and the new Peacher acquisition Ed Cornish.
Guys, this is the youngest Peacher boy, Eddie.  He's a twin ... which
reminds me, where's your sister, Harriet?'
  `Shopping in Paris with Sylvia.  She's gotten all girlie this past
year. Can hardly talk to her nowadays, that's why I tagged along with
Petey.  I need the male company, and even queers will do.  I take it Ed and
Henry are ...'
  `Sorry,' said Henry.
  Eddie grinned at Henry, reminding him irresistibly of Fritz.  He was not
a particularly handsome boy, although he had that wholesome, freckled and
outdoor air that some American youths seem to acquire, nor was he all that
tall.  He was taller than Henry, but only just came up to his Ed's eyes.
He put out his hand and gave Henry and Ed a friendly grin and a shake.
They walked him into the lounge and they started swapping their life
stories as boys do.

Everybody sat round with drinks in the big back lounge waiting for the
chimes of Big Ben with the TV subdued in the background.  Champagne was on
ice and the tables were crammed with food.  Andy was snuggled into Matt and
there were several other couples being intimate.
  `You know what's traditional on this night?
  `What?' said Katy.
  `Ghost stories.  Anyone got a horror film they want to watch?  Maybe a
short story to read.  I've got all the M.R. James books.  Matt reads well.'
  Justin, Nathan and Ed looked at Henry.  He thought about it and decided
that the time perhaps had come.
  `Er ... well,' he said, `I've got a story ... and it's true, what's more.'

THE END


This concludes the first of Henry Atwood's adventures.  You might call it
Henry in the style of (a very gay) Montague Rhodes James.  The second Henry
novella follows shortly, `Henry in High Politics' which is more Henry in
the style of John Buchan (with a seasoning of Anthony Hope).
  A huge - positively enormous - thank you to those good people who have
contributed opinions, advice and appreciation while Henry in the Outfield
has been posted on Nifty.  It was very welcome and much added to my zest in
writing.  Finally a big thank you to Nifty for hosting yet another of my
stories.  Remember, Nifty needs your support.

Mike