Justice

A story by Bard Boy [bard_boy(at)protonmail(dot)com]

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanciful fiction set in the future. None of this is real, nor an endorsement, nor a meaningful prediction. This isn’t futurism. This isn’t a manifesto. If it’s illegal for you to read material that involves descriptions of sex between adult men, sex between young boys, sexual exploration amongst children, and sex between adult men and teenagers, this is not the place for you. Don’t read on if that is the case.

Explainer: This is a (sort of) continuation – or rather, expansion – of the story left behind in Solstice. I wasn’t sure exactly how to categorise it on this site, so here it is. Readers of the Adult Friends, Adult-Youth, Incest, and Young Friends categories may find themes of interest here, though categorising it purely as any of the above would only disappoint or offend some readers of those categories. This isn’t a quick jerk-off story. If that’s what you’re looking for, I wrote one of those here. In fact, this story isn’t even that sexy. But it does contain sex – implied, mentioned in passing, reminisced about, and sometimes described in graphic detail.

A note on language use for non-UK readers: This story is largely set in the northeast of England, and many characters use vocabulary, phrases, and pronunciation which reflect patterns of speech in that part of the world. The most obvious example is in characters’ use of ‘mam’ to mean mother. Think Billy Elliot. James grew up almost entirely around Jake and Manny, speakers of West Midland English, whose patterns of speech, pronunciation, word choice, and idioms are markedly different from North East English. This is why James and Manny go for ‘mom’ over ‘mum’, use words like ‘scrage’ to mean a graze or cut to the skin, and drop phrases like ‘fart in a colander’, all while expecting other characters to understand what they mean.

Setting: The locations used in this story are all – with the exception of James & Manny’s old houses – absolutely real. I’d encourage readers to explore Google’s Street View if they want a better impression of how to see the world through James & Manny’s eyes.

 

 

Records of Events of the City of Durham

Tuesday 6th July 2055

Weather: sunny, humid, still, 35°C (the man is out of the weather house)

Chief MacKenzie recommended to the council that they should endorse Sheriff Emmanuel Kwame Addo (EKA) as chief investigator and City Recorder James Martin (JM) as chief justice for the case of Archie Stephens (AS) and Angelika Wojnowski. The council made those endorsements. EKA is responsible for establishing and recording the facts of the case. JM is responsible for considering those facts and making an assessment of AS, taking both into consideration before recommending appropriate action. Interviews with AS have commenced. He remains in custody within the castle grounds.

There was light drizzle overnight, but it has done little to curb the humidity. A storm is expected within the coming days.

City Recorder: Mr James Martin

 

**

 

James was at Archie’s door bright and early the next morning, the heat of the day yet to set in. There had been drizzle overnight that cleared the air ever so slightly, and the sun beat down on the city in the little, high loop of the river, threatening to strangle them with humidity again. There was no chance Archie could have communal breakfast in the castle, so alternative arrangements were required. James let himself in.

The room was dingy; the curtains firmly shut. It was hot and sticky, even with the window evidently open from the sounds of the birds outside. It smelt of sleeping boy and urine. James’ nose sent the message to his feet just in time for him to avoid tripping over the full potty and spilling its contents everywhere. Evidently Archie had given in to the necessity of using it during the night.

“Arch?” said James, sidestepping the bowl and gently shaking the little boy’s shoulder. “Archie, mate. Time to get up and get your breakfast.”

“Mmph,” grunted Archie, pressing his face into the pillow.

“C’mon Arch,” said James, ruffling the boy’s hair. Archie turned over to face James, letting his eyes flutter open. He blinked a couple of times, before his eyes widened and his body froze. He must have forgotten where he was in the depths of his slumber.

“Where’s me mam?” he squeaked.

“It’s alright, Archie,” said James, kindly. “You’re in the castle, remember, with me? You’re safe here.”

Archie’s brow furrowed, and his mind began to work again. “I remember,” he nodded. Out of nowhere, on the next breath, he began to sob, chest collapsed into the mattress. “I had bad dreams last night,” he hacked. “And nobody heard me or came to help me, and I couldn’t get out. It was scary!”

It was so sudden that James was taken aback. He perched on the edge of the bed and rubbed Archie’s shoulder, buffeting the boy’s body against his thigh. Part of him thought it could be crocodile tears, but he also realised it probably added up with the shock and trauma of the past twenty-four hours.

“I know, Archie,” said James. “I know. Let it all out, now. You’re safe with me. No need to be frightened. We’re awake now, and it’s normal to have nightmares when horrible things happen like yesterday, isn’t it?”

Archie sniffled and nodded, recovering enough to lift himself a little higher in the bed.

“Come on now, matey. Time to get up. Let’s get you washed and dressed, then we can get some breakfast down you.”

Archie shuffled to dangle his legs from the bed as James stood up. He looked disdainfully at his full potty. “Is that gonna be emptied out?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said James. “We can do it now. I know you don’t like using it, but it’s better than weeing your bed, isn’t it?”

“I’d just go out the window, if I could reach,” said Archie, staring at the closed curtains. “I’m not a baby. I don’t piss the bed.”

“Mind your language, Archie,” said James, unsure why the boy’s casual swearing ticked him off so much. “Do you want to carry the potty, or shall I?”

“You do it,” said Archie, screwing up his face. “I don’t wanna touch that.”

James sighed and led the boy to the nearest bathroom. He disposed of the contents of the potty in the toilet and turned to find Archie absentmindedly looking around the room.

“Right, stinker. Time you had a wash. Head over the sink first.”

Archie pulled a face, but he went and stuck his head over the bowl as requested. James took the water jug in one hand and unceremoniously dumped a load over Archie’s head.

“How, man! The water’s cold!”

“Stop mithering,” said James. “It’s been on the windowledge in the sun. It’ll be lukewarm.”

“What’s mithering?” asked Archie, as James slapped a gob of shampoo into his hair.

“It’s a regional word, I guess,” said James. “It means farting about; complaining over nothing.”

“You said farting,” guffawed Archie.

“Shut up or you’ll get soap in your mouth,” said James, rinsing out Archie’s dark blond tangle without warning. He’d had his hand firmly on the back of Archie’s neck and shoulders to stop him squirming out of place, and released it. Archie stood back up, hair running rivers all over his face and torso.

“You’re funny,” he said, smirking at James. “You act like you’re all clever and proper, but really you’re dead silly.”

“You’d better watch out then,” observed James monotonously. “Pants off. You need a scrub down.”

Archie huffed and took an age removing his briefs, finally clamping his hands firmly over his crotch as the underpants slumped around his ankles. James had wet and soaped up a flannel in the lukewarm water. He ignored Archie’s stubbornness and roughly washed his face and neck, remembering how once upon a time his role was reversed.

“Lift your arms,” instructed James. “I need to do your armpits.”

“But you’ll see me willy!”

“One arm at a time then so you can keep one hand over it.”

Archie huffed again and released his left arm. James rubbed the flannel savagely at the boy’s bare pit. He squealed.

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“Tickles, man!”

James ignored him and washed down to Archie’s left hand. He took a scrubbing brush to the fingernails and made sure all the grazes and scratches were cleaned out. Archie was allowed to switch the hand cupping his genitals, and the process was repeated with the right arm and hand.

“Move your hands now,” said James. “Need to wash between your legs.”

“Why?” complained Archie.

“Because it’s important to keep those parts of your body clean.”

“Why do you have to do it?”

“Because you obviously don’t want to. Now spread.”

Growling with childish outrage, Archie reluctantly moved his hands and stepped one ankle out of his undersized briefs to allow James access between his legs. James quickly and roughly rubbed the washcloth all over the boy’s front and back, finishing with a wipe deep between his cheeks.

“Done now,” announced James. “There’s a towel if you need it. Otherwise, back to your room and get your clothes back on.”

“It’s embarrassing to have you watch me with my clothes off or see what I’ve done in the potty,” pouted Archie. “You’re punishing me.”

“It’s not meant as a punishment, Archie,” said James. “Really it’s not. Unfortunately, it’s just the way it has to be at the moment. It’ll get better. You’ll see.”

“I had to take all my clothes off before,” whined Archie. “They was looking at me naked.”

“I know, mate. Some things are meant to be private. But it’s only me and Manny. We’re boys too, the same as you. We’re not going to make fun of you.”

“There was that other bloke,” said Archie, darkly. “The nasty one. He barged in while I was in the noddy, like.”

“You mean Rob?”

“I dunnaa.”

“He’s good at barging in where he’s not wanted,” said James, shaking his head.

“He’s a wanker,” growled Archie.

“Language, Archie,” said James, raising his eyebrows.

“He is though.”

“Alright, Archie; how about this,” James suggested. “If you’re embarrassed, Manny or I will take you to empty your own potty; we won’t look at what’s inside. Then if you want to go to the toilet, or need a wash, only Manny or I will take you – and we don’t care cos we’re boys the same, and used to see each other naked all the time when we were little.”

“That sounds better,” said Archie. He shuffled his feet a little and played with his hands. “James?” he said, having found his courage. “Could I go to the toilet now? I really need a poo, and I don’t wanna do that in the potty when I’m in that room.”

“Course,” said James. “Come on. I’ll wait outside the door and you can sort yourself out. I trust you. Just make sure you wash your hands after.”

 

**

 

An early February sunset played through the French doors at the back of the house, as James and Manny sat on the laminate floor playing with Robot Wars toys that Jake had found in the shed. The air was alive with pinprick drizzle in the garden outside, as the changing weather tried to pluck the withered husks of the vegetable plants back into life following the long winter.

The boys stared at each other and grinned. They were dressed practically identically, Manny still borrowing James’ clothes for lack of opportunity in the cold, snowy months to go out and gather some of his own.

“Three!” chanted James.

“Two!” replied Manny.

“One!” they shouted together. “Go!”

They pulled back on their chosen plastic models and released to let them go. James had chosen the quick, wedge-shaped robot with the powerful flipper, Chaos 2. Manny had gone for XTerminator, a bulky little tank with a front scoop and pickaxe mounted on the top. The two models raced at each other from either end of The Gauntlet: two ramps onto a central platform adorned with swinging mace balls and floor spikes. Manny went for a mace ball, swinging it back to aim at Chaos 2, but went far too hard, causing it to skim over the robot. James saw his chance and pressed the pump to push up the floor spike under XTerminator. Manny’s robot popped up in the air just as James’ crashed underneath. Chaos 2’s mighty flipper dashed open on contact, hurling XTerminator from the arena.

“Yeah!” cried James.

“Aww, man!” said Manny, giving a silly thrust of his bottom lip and picking up his stricken robot. “You failed me, XTerminator!” he said, glowing with melodrama, holding the little toy robot up to his face. “You failed me!”

“I’ll be Craig Charles,” said Jake, wandering in from the living room. “Come and have your post-battle interview.”

“Who’s that?” said James.

“He was the presenter. He looked a bit like my dad.”

Manny squinted at the man in the leather jacket with yellow Robot Wars trim, grinning out from the toy set’s cardboard box. He stuck out his bottom lip again. “Your dad was brown like me?”

“Nah,” said Jake. “Doesn’t mean he didn’t look like him, though.”

“S’pose,” said Manny. “Me and James look the same under our clothes, don’t we?”

“Hmm,” said Jake. “You’re probably right, but I might need to check to make sure.”

Manny smirked nervously. James laughed.

“Yeah, and we’re like mini versions of you, Jake,” he said. “So you have to show too!”

“Alright, boys,” said Jake. “Save it for bedtime. I have to get you both fed first.”

“Are we going to sleep naked again?” said Manny.

“Course, silly!” giggled James.

“Do you like being naked with us, Manny?” asked Jake.

Manny blushed crimson.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” said Jake. “You don’t have to.”

Manny took a deep breath. “I think I do. Like it, I mean. It’s like… I dunno. All boys together, or something?”

“Yeah!” cried James. “All boys together! Willies rule!”

“All boys together!” laughed Manny, launching himself onto James and tickle-wrestling him to the floor with a thud that reverberated through the room. The boys kicked and squealed, tickling and pawing at each other’s arms, rolling over and over each other. Jake smiled and left to get started on dinner.

 

**

 

Manny met James at the door of Archie’s room. The boy was inside getting himself dressed.

“Alright?” said James.

“Yeah,” sighed Manny. He looked tired.

“Sure?”

“It’s okay,” Manny said. “We had Theo in our bed in the middle of the night. Bad dreams about giant bees or something. Took forever to get him settled.”

“Apparently he’s not the only one to have been having nightmares,” said James, nodding at Archie’s door.

“Really?” said Manny. “Well, hardly surprising, is it? Seemed to me like he spent most of yesterday in shock. Should’ve checked on him, really.”

“I had a weird dream, too,” said James, only for Archie to interrupt by swinging the door open.

“Are we having brekkie now?” asked Archie.

“Yeah, let’s go,” said James. Manny looked at him quizzically. “I’ll tell you about it later,” James responded, and they led Archie between them off towards the hall.

Archie evidently expected that they’d just be entering the hall with everyone else, so was confused when they took a back staircase, out of the way. “Where we going?” he squeaked.

“You’ll see in a second,” said Manny, encouraging the lad further downstairs.

“I thought we was having breakfast!”

“We are, Arch,” said James.

“No!” squealed Archie, twisting to turn back up the stairs, only for Manny to catch him firmly by the wrist. “Get off us!” he screeched. “Get off us!”

“Calm down, Archie!” said Manny, looking at James with blank surprise. James also looked startled, and he shrugged. “We’re just going downstairs. You’ll see in a second if you come.”

“You’re taking me to the dungeon!” Archie was thrashing about trying to burst free of Manny’s grip. He punched Manny’s hand, forcing James to grab hold of his free arm.

“Ow!” said Manny. “What do you mean, the dungeon?”

“You’re gonna take us down there and tie us up in the dark so I can’t move or nothing!” wailed Archie, struggling against the grip of both men with all his might. “You’re gonna hurt me cos I was bad! I dinnit want yous to hurt me! I dinnit! I dinnit! I dinnit!”

“Archie,” said James, kneeling before the panic-stricken boy and stroking his face with his free hand. “Archie, mate, we’re not going to hurt you, okay? Me and Manny are on your side. We want to help you, right? But we can’t do that unless you trust us. Do you trust us, Archie? Have we done anything to hurt you so far?”

“No…” sniffled Archie.

“You’re gonna trust us then?”

“S’pose…”

“Good boy,” said James. “Let’s show you what’s really down here.”

Archie hiccoughed as he allowed Manny and James to lead him down the rest of the stairs, a hand each. They emerged into a space with an old pool table at its centre and a table made up with three chairs around it. There were three plates, three glasses of water, three apples, and two central plates containing a mound of steaming scrambled eggs and a pile of little round flatbreads.

“See, silly,” said James, stroking the back of Archie’s head. “It’s just a place for us to have breakfast in peace.”

“Is that egg?” asked Archie, quietly.

“Yeah,” said Manny. “Hope you like it.”

“I do,” replied Archie. “What’s that round stuff?”

“It’s bread, Arch,” responded Manny. “Have you not seen it before?”

“I never ate at the castle before,” said Archie, shaking his head. “Me mam cooks for us from what we’ve got around our house, like. And in the winter sometimes they bring the leftovers down from here for us to heat back up.”

“You’ll like the bread,” said James. “It’s nice.”

“What is this place?” asked Archie, fingering the side of the pool table.

“It’s the dungeon, Arch,” replied James.

“Dinnit make fun of me!” protested Archie.

“It really is the dungeon,” said Manny. “Look.” Manny opened a side door and revealed a pitch black, cavernous room. As the light of the lamps in their room danced in, and their eyes adjusted, they began to make out a forest of tables and chairs upturned for storage, and an old, broken-down bar against one side wall, beer taps glinting in the lamplight.

“Why is all this stuff in here?” said Archie.

“Cos nobody has used this as a dungeon for hundreds of years,” said James. “Look at that lady up there, see?” James pointed to draw Archie’s attention. Chained to a high shelf was a statue of Marilyn Monroe.

“So she’s the only prisoner,” giggled Archie.

“See,” said Manny. “We were never going to hurt you.”

“I get it now,” nodded Archie. “I… I’m sorry I made a fuss like that.”

“That’s okay,” smiled James. “Everyone makes mistakes. Let’s get around the table before our eggs get cold.”

James caught Manny’s eye over Archie’s head as he trotted happily towards the table. Manny frowned. Find out what that was about, he mouthed. James nodded.

Archie didn’t talk much as they made their way through their breakfast, but he did confirm that bread was nice after he took his first tentative bite. He even went back for a second helping of eggs.

“Watch out, Arch,” said James. “Too many eggs and you’ll be farting all day long.”

Archie laughed. “He’s really silly,” he said to Manny. “He pretends he’s serious, like, but he’s not.”

James and Manny had finished their eggs. James began tucking into his apple. Archie had got up to look around the room again.

“What’s this green table for?” he asked.

“It’s a pool table,” said Manny. “It’s a game you play with balls and a stick. You have to make the balls go in the holes.”

“Oh,” said Archie, sticking his hand into a pocket to investigate the hole, and looking surprised when he realised it disappeared deep into the table.

“You want a game, Arch?” asked James. “We can teach you how to play.”

“How do yous knaa that?” squeaked Archie, incredulously. “I’ve never seen nowt like this before.”

“When we were kids, the man who looked after us used to take us to a place sometimes, near his old house,” said Manny. “It was full of tables like this one, and bigger ones for a game called snooker. Some of them didn’t work anymore, but some did. We played for hours and hours sometimes.”

“He used to tell us,” began James, “that when he was maybe your age or a bit bigger, he used to go there with his friends, and one of them used to insist on using the one special table all the time. It had a picture on the felt of a lady in just her underwear, and his friend was obsessed with it.”

“Grown-up ladies’ bodies are weird,” said Archie, ruffling his nose and sticking out his tongue. “Babies come out of their front bits headfirst.”

“How d’you know that, Archie?” asked James

“I saw it happen a few times,” said Archie. “It was disgusting. There was all blood and guts everywhere, like.”

“I think it hurts a lot,” said Manny, looking distant as if replaying a scene inside his eyeballs.

“I had to help when my sister was being born,” said Archie, proudly. “Me mam was screaming the place down. I was like, mam, I cannit help ya if ya make us deaf!” He laughed his head off. James smiled.

“Shall we have a game, then, Arch?” said Manny, snapping out of his reverie.

“How about me and you against Manny?” suggested James.

“Alright,” said Archie. “What do we have to do?”

Archie was particularly useless at first, barely able to avoid smacking himself, or others, or the walls and furniture with the cue. James kept encouraging him, and repositioning his arms and body, eventually helping Archie to at least shoot straight. Manny had started deliberately missing shots just to keep the game going. Archie lined up to aim a particularly easy pot, a yellow ball just hovering over one of the corner pockets. James helped him shape up again, leaning over to help direct Archie’s movement. Archie squinted at the ball, his tongue playing at his upper lip. He prodded the white towards the desired ball. It was followed by the clack!  of two balls touching and the rumble of the yellow ball dropping into the pocket and being spat out the far end of the table.

“Hooray!” said James, lifting Archie’s hands in celebration.

“Well done, Archie!” said Manny.

“I did it,” grinned Archie. “I got one! Did you see that?”

James looked up to realise another boy was watching them. He’d recently started teaching Aaron, a twelve-year-old who looked lanky and gormless – a skinny, awkward young boy – but was in fact rather bright. James considered him one to push towards an apprenticeship with Doctor Amrit. He’d tried that before with a girl, Imogen, but her family raised lots and lots of chickens on the south side of town, and it was decided – by whom it was not clear – that she’d prefer to use her brains just to teach kids to read and write, so as she still had plenty of time to help out with the chickens. Aaron was a second chance at getting a youngster for Amrit, and James now had a few years to crack it. His father was a carpenter, and his mother looked after little kids whose parents were busy with other things. Surely there was no obstacle for Aaron.

“Um… morning, James,” Aaron said, pulling shyly at his tee-shirt. “Kitchen asked me to come get all your plates and that if you were done.”

“Oh, that’s okay, Aaron,” said James. “We can give you a hand if you like.”

“It’s no bother,” said Aaron. “I brung the tray.”

Aaron began loading plates and cutlery to be returned to the kitchens. His back seemed quite deliberately to the three around the pool table. James looked up at Manny. Manny made a swinging gesture with his hand under his chin. Game over.

“Come on, Archie, you win,” said James. “Time for us to go and have a little chat in my office, I think.”

 

**

 

“Do you like girls, Archie?”

James and Archie were sat facing each other in the comfy chairs of James’ office. Archie had a dog-eared, off-lime armchair, so worn and soft in the middle that it seemed to swallow his little body when he sat down. A glass of water, sweetened with a dash of blackcurrant cordial, sat on the corner of the desk closest to him. He fidgeted with his hands.

“I s’pose.”

“What do you think about girls?” asked James.

“I dunnaa what you mean, like,” protested Archie, curling against one corner of the armchair and pulling his arms inside his tee shirt defensively. “Can’t we talk about summat else?”

“Sorry, Archie. I didn’t realise it was a hard question.”

Archie wriggled, his body cooped up in his top. If he looked at James at all, his gaze didn’t get far beyond the man’s shoes.

“Archie,” said James, softly. “I’m not asking if you fancy any girls. I don’t care about that. I just want to try to understand your feelings a bit better. That’s all.”

“I don’t fancy anyone!” Archie defended, pushing his shoulder further into the side of the chair.

“What do you feel, Arch?”

“Dunnaa…”

“Your mom’s a girl. How do you feel about her?”

“I really, really love me mam, obviously,” said Archie, rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here without her.”

“I could see how much you loved her from watching you with her yesterday,” smiled James. “She loves you very much too.”

“Yeah…” said Archie, his voice wavering a little. He blinked back the threat of tears and released an arm to wipe roughly at his nose with the back of his hand. “I love me sister, too. She’s a girl.”

“It’s always special to be close to your brothers or sisters,” agreed James.

“Aye, like, I’d do anything for Bella. I’d fight anyone who tried to hurt her, no matter who they were. I love her to bits.”

Archie smiled a broad smile, his head back against the chair. His eyes were still clouded glass. James was struck with the contradictions of this little boy once again, but something about the sheer emotion of Archie’s bond with his mother and sister pulled at James’ gut. It was familiar, like putting on an old pair of pants that had gotten lost at the back of the drawer. He watched Archie; let the lad’s little reverie last a few ticks longer.

“What about men, Archie? How do you feel about them?”

“Dunnaa,” said Archie.

“Do you think men are scary sometimes?”

“Maybe,” he said. “But when I was a bairn there were lots of men around, like.”

James had to laugh. When I was a bairn… he was still barely ten years old.

“Why you laughing for?”

“Just the way you said it,” said James. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just cos you said when I was a bairn, and to me you’re still little.”

“I’m not little!” Archie protested. “I mean, when I was little. Properly little.”

“So, when you were little you spent a lot of time around men?”

“Yeah. Me and me mam lived with the gang, over by the sea. There was the two of us, then – I dunnaa – ten blokes?”

“Just you and your mom and ten men?” asked James.

“Nah, there was other women, too,” said Archie. “But more blokes than women.”

“And other children…?”

“Yeah,” said Archie. He puffed his chest out pridefully. “But I was the oldest.”

“So one of the men was your dad?”

“One of them was, but I dunnaa which one. There was lots of ’em!”

“You don’t have even a little clue which one was your dad?”

“Well,” began Archie, smirking to himself, “I know it weren’t Sammy, the black man. When a black man goes with a woman it makes a brown baby, and I’m not brown.”

“That’s true enough,” smiled James. “But what if a black man makes a baby with a black woman?”

“Hadaway man!” guffawed Archie. “Dinnit be stupid! There’s no such thing as black women!”

James was trying very hard not to laugh again. He instantly thought of meeting Manny’s nana, and what he’d make of the turn this conversation had taken. Instead, barely controlling his mouth, he managed to pose Archie a simple question: “Where do black men come from, then, if there aren’t any black women?”

“Easy,” smiled Archie, looking satisfied. “Sometimes when a black man goes with a woman and it makes a baby, if the baby is a boy they can come out black instead of brown. And that’s where black men come from.”

James was in tears trying not to burst out laughing in front of Archie. “Arch, who told you this?”

“Nobody,” said Archie. “I worked it out for meself.”

James couldn’t help snorting and blowing a raspberry with his lips.

“What’s the matter with you now?” sighed Archie. “I thought you was clever, like.”

“Sorry, Archie,” giggled James, calming himself down as much as he could. “Tell me more about the men, then.”

“Well, there was one bloke called Tyrone. He was really nice to me all the time. He played with me whenever I wanted and never got angry and called me names or shouted or smacked me bum. I think he might have been me dad.”

“You think?” said James. “Where is he now, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Dunnaa. Probs still by the sea, like. We ran away from them.”

“Why did you run away?” asked James. “Why did you have to?”

“Some of the blokes…” began Archie, looking instantly uncomfortable again in the chair. “Some of the blokes… well… I dunnaa. They weren’t very… wasn’t very nice.”

“Are you okay, Archie?” asked James.

“Yeah,” replied the boy. He wriggled his bottom against the chair and crossed and uncrossed his ankles. He took a sip of his cordial.

“Were the men not nice to you, ever?”

“Sometimes they’d get angry,” said Archie. “A lot. And they was drunk a lot, too.”

“Did you and the women and the other kids get hurt when the men were angry and drunk?”

Archie let out a very deep, long sigh. “Sometimes,” he whispered. “A lot.”

“What sort of things did they do, Archie?”

“I…” Archie squirmed again in the chair. He balled his fists and rubbed them against his face. “I… I dinnit wanna talk about it now! They were… they’re just bullies. That’s what it is.”

“Bullies aren’t nice, are they, Archie?”

“I hate bullies!”

“Was Angelika a bully, Archie?”

“She’s horrible,” spat Archie. He’d gone from sounding whiny seconds earlier to sudden, palpable anger. “I really don’t like her.”

“What makes her horrible?” asked James, internally alarmed at the sudden change in Archie’s tone.

“She’s a nasty bitch,” growled Archie. “She says nasty, horrible things. I hate her.”

“Did you hurt Angelika because she was nasty?” asked James. He made sure his calm, inquisitive tone didn’t change, but suddenly his heart was thumping a samba again.

“I told her to shut her mouth!”

“Or what?”

“Or I’d shut her trap for her,” said Archie with a big, heaving sigh. “She got what she asked for.”

“She deserved it?” asked James.

“Aye,” said Archie, arms crossed and frowny faced.

“You got her back?” suggested James.

Archie didn’t directly respond. He just huffed and folded his arms tighter.

“Does getting revenge prove the other person is bad?” tried James.

“Dunnaa.”

“Does hurting someone on the outside prove they’re nasty on the inside?”

“I don’t get what you’re saying, man!” stropped Archie, sliding out his legs and riding the seat cushion half off, so he was flopped out, arms still folded, with his legs bent at the knee to hold his back still on the chair, his chin buried into his chest.

“Did hurting Angelika show that she’d hurt you inside, or did it just hurt her outside?”

“Hurt her outside,” mumbled Archie, grumpily.

“Right, so it didn’t change whatever it was she’d done?”

“No.”

“How has hurting Angelika made you feel inside now, Archie?”

“I feel… I feel...”

The cushion slid fully out from underneath Archie’s bottom, causing him to drop to the floor with a bounce and a thud. James sprang to his feet and gathered the boy up.

“Here, silly,” he said. “Come and sit with me.”

James sat back down and manoeuvred Archie into position between his legs, to rest on one of his knees with James’ arms supporting his shoulders. He was loose and pliant, like kneading dough in the kitchens.

“How has it made you feel inside now, Arch.”

“Sad,” he whimpered, softly. “Sad, and upset, and… I feel like…”

“It’s okay,” whispered James, stroking Archie’s back gently. “Take your time. I’m here.”

“I feel…” Archie grunted, barely able to make the words come out. “I feel… wrong. Like, dirty all the time. Like I’m wrong, and bad…”

“Because you hurt Angelika?” asked James, soothing the boy’s spine back and forth with his hand.

“Cos I… I…”

Archie was weeping silently on James’ knee, sat totally still, barely moving, save from the quaking of his body that rocked through James’ thigh. Archie wasn’t breathing; just crying. James continued to stroke they boy’s back, his head aflame with a thousand thoughts, alarms howling up and down amongst the smoke. Eventually Archie had to breathe. His body couldn’t hold up any longer. He took a great, rasping, gulping breath, sobs heaving through his body as oxygen flooded his lungs again.

“I… I…” he heaved between sobs, tears soaking the collar and shoulders of his stretched-out tee-shirt. “I wanna… go back… to me room!”

“Okay,” whispered James, hauling the hysterical boy into his arms and standing up. “Okay, matey. Don’t worry. We’ll take you back now.”

“James?” sobbed Archie, leaking all over James’ shoulder as he carried the lad back to his little cell.

“Yes, Archie?”

“I made me mam feel sad and upset as well, didn’t I? And Bella too.”

“I suppose so Archie,” replied James. “Because they care about you and are worried about you. But don’t you worry about that now. We’ll take you back and you can have a nice little sleep and feel better.”

“What’s Bella gonna do now I’m not there if she has a bad dream?” Archie sobbed against James’ neck, his arms wrapped around James and balled into fists between the man’s shoulder blades. “How’s Bella gonna sleep?”

 

**

 

James tried to think of the first time he realised how much he loved Manny. How much it meant to him for his joys and sorrows to be Manny’s and Manny’s to be his. Stood outside Archie’s door, with the back of his cranium to the heavy wood, it came to him, just as he heard the muffled sound of the boy beginning to cry himself out and fall into a nap. He’d been twelve that summer. That was when it became clear to him for the first time that he and Manny would be companions for life, no matter what.

 

**

 

“Manny?” said James, in a groggy whine. “Is that you? What are you doing?”

“Shh! You’ll wake Jake up!”

“Why are you in my room?” whispered James, as loudly as he thought he could get away with. “I was just drifting off to sleep!”

“I wrote something but only you’re allowed to look at it,” Manny whispered in return. “Here!” Manny handed James a piece of paper, which crackled and crumpled in his fist as he pushed it onto James in the dark of the bedroom. “You have to read it now, though.”

“Why?” said James. “And how? Jake doesn’t let me keep matches in here for the candles, and he’d know if we went to the kitchen to get some.”

“Don’t worry. I brought this!” said Manny, flicking the switch on Jake’s wind-up torch to reveal himself grinning broadly next to James’ bed, dressed in only his boxer shorts.

“That’s bright!” complained James, squinting at the sudden luminosity. “Point it away from me!”

“Sit up!” said Manny, bouncing himself bottom-first onto James bed and scooting back over James’ thighs to sit his back against the cool of the wall.

“Why are you so annoying?” groaned James, bending his legs at the knee and reluctantly pulling himself up to rest half sat-up against the headboard of his bed. “What’s so important that I have to read it in the middle of the night?”

“You’ll see! Just read it. I want to watch while you read it.”

“And you shouldn’t just barge in here when I’m in bed,” continued James, in his special affronted voice that he mainly reserved for Manny. “What if I’d been… well, you know.”

“I’d have joined in!” giggled Manny. “Read it!”

“Give me that!” said James with an exaggerated huff as he snatched the torch from Manny. “Okay, what have you written?”

 

**

 

What I did with Megan in Wales

On the second day in Wales I said I needed a poo when really I didn’t and I went to the bushes with Meg. She said she needed a wee but I didn’t know if it was true or wether she was wanting to play like me but anyway I was hoping I would see her fanny and maybe her bum too.

When we went a little way into the bushes weare no one could see us I asked Meg do you really need a wee and she said yeah and I said I need one too but I don’t really need a poo. So she said shall we go together and I said would you like to go one at a time so we can watch each other. I was really nervus that I said the rong thing but she sort of blushed and giggled and said ok but you go first. I said how much you wanna see and she shrugged and said I dunno. So I pushed your pants that I was wearing rite off and kicked them away so I was totally naked in front of her.

I started forcing wee out but it was hard because I was getting hard. So really it was just Meg looking at my stiffy while I tried to force some dribbles out. Then I said do you want to aim it and she said is it hard and I said yes it will be when you touch it and she laffed at me. Then I took her hand and put it on my hard willy and let her point it while I did more wee. Then I said to her look the skin moves back if you push it but then she did it too hard and it was a bit sore so I said it’s your turn to wee for me now.

I didn’t put your pants I borrowed back on yet and meg said are you gonna stay naked and I said yes will you get naked too please. She said I’ll take my bottoms right off but I’m leaving the bikini top on and I said ok because she didn’t have any boobs anyway so there was no point in moaning. So meg kicked her swimming trunks off and squatted down and she had this puffy front hole with little blonde hairs around the edge and wee came out of it in a big gush so I leaned in to see as close as I coud without getting wet. I said meg I really like your fanny I think it is pretty and she said thanks I like your thing too it is bigger and better looking than my brother has.

Then I said to her when she was finished you touched mine so can I touch yours too and she said ok just a second and got a leaf to wipe some of the drips off. Then she said it might be a bit wet still I hope you don’t mind and I said no that’s kind of sexy to me. So I was still hard and I leant down and put my hand right on her fanny and squeezed it a bit and it was really warm. Then I rubbed around the outside of it a bit and felt the slit part with my middle finger and let it rub inside a bit and she gasped. So I knelt down and went to kiss it too but she laffed and pushed my head away and said I was desckusting. So I said I’ll show you my bum if you let me see yours and she said ok and turned around and bent over so I rubbed my fingertip against her bum hole. Then I turned around and let her do the same to me. Then she said ok that’s enough now let’s go back to the sea so I put your pants back on and she put her bottoms back on and we went back to the sea.

Girls bodies are really interesting and different and maybe I should have asked to see her boobs anyway even if she hasn’t grown any yet. My willy has been hard the whole time I was writing this and I hope yours is too now.

Manny xxx

 

**

 

James finished reading the letter and gave Manny a wide-eyed grin. Manny beamed back and the two boys giggled together, only barely containing themselves when they heard the sound of movement on the bed in Jake’s room next door. James squirmed out from beneath the bedsheets and sidled right up next to Manny, thigh-to-thigh leaning against the wall.

“Look!” said James, stretching the waistband of his underpants as far forward as it would go. Manny took the torch and shined it directly onto James’ crotch.

“Stiffy in the spotlight!” he whisper-giggled.

“Let’s read it again!” said James. “I’ll read it out loud.”

James read the note again in an excited whisper, but the boys had to stop after almost every sentence, either for giggles or to make grabs for their own – and eventually, each other’s – boy bits. James finished reading and dropped the paper to his lap, looking Manny in the eye and bursting into another round of giggles and sniggers.

“Thanks, Manny,” he said. “I’m glad you showed me that. It was really sexy.”

“That’s why I wanted to see you read it!” said Manny, glowing with pride.

“Just needs one more thing,” said James, crawling roughly across the bed to make a grab for a pen on his desk, before plopping himself back against Manny’s thigh, shaking the entire bed. He folded the paper in half and wrote on the back cover.

Secret message

For James eyes only

Absolutely NO! peeking

James and Manny sexiest boys forever

Summer in Wales, age 12

“I’ll keep it with my important stuff,” said James. “I like to keep things like this as reminders. I dunno why.”

“Thanks, James,” said Manny. “I’m really happy that you liked it!”

James had crawled forward again to drop the folded piece of paper on his desk. He turned towards Manny and knelt, palms on his bare mid-thighs, smiling at the other boy. “Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?”

“Will there be enough room?” said Manny.

“Even better if there isn’t,” grinned James. “Take your pants off!”

“Okay!” said Manny, whipping down his boxers to reveal his willy still stiff and throbbing. James also discarded its underwear, throwing it at random across the room in the dark. James crawled back under his bedcovers.

“Get in!” he said to Manny. Manny leapt into place to scoot in alongside James, pressed into spoons in the single bed. James reached his arm over to feel for Manny’s ramrod, imagining Meg doing the same under sun-dappled eaves a couple of days previously. “If I do yours, will you do mine?”

“Yeah,” breathed Manny, reaching a hand behind himself to pull James’ stiff willy away from his right bum cheek and take it in a firmer grip. “First one to finish has to kiss Jake’s bum in the morning!”

“Deal!” laughed James, and he began to manipulate Manny’s dick at pace.

 

**

 

The kitchen didn’t get much sunlight during the mornings, so it was always cool at breakfast time, especially when barefoot on the floor tiles. James and Manny were sat at the table in their pyjamas. Jake busied himself with preparing breakfast in his dressing gown. James let out a great yawn, aspirating it with a high-pitched accompaniment.

“Tired?” said Jake, not turning around from the worktop.

“A bit,” said James, stretching his arms out above his head.

“I’m not surprised, you two up giggling half the night.”

“No we weren’t!” protested Manny, looking at James with a wobbly smirk. James couldn’t stop himself sniggering. He had to hold both hands to his face to stop himself laughing. Manny got the giggles too.

“Right,” said Jake, opening a drawer to source a chopping knife. “I believe you, thousands wouldn’t.”

The boys burst into another fit of bottoms-wetting giggles, their eyes dancing brightly at each other.

“That’s why when I stuck my head through Manny’s partially-open bedroom door this morning, there was nobody there.”

“You should be happy we want to spend time together,” said James.

“Yeah, Jake,” added Manny. “We were having fun. Not arguing or fighting or anything.”

“I am happy,” said Jake, leaning over the chopping board. “Just remember: not every night can be sleepover night. You do need to get your rest, too, or else you won’t ever grow, and you’ll have to be my little boys forever.”

“We’ll be sensible, Jake,” insisted James.

“We’re trustworthy,” grinned Manny, before bursting into giggles again.

“Oh, Jake?” smirked James. “Manny has something he wants to give you, isn’t that right, Manny?”

“Oh, no!” laughed Manny, screwed up his face, and slipped off his chair to creep up behind Jake.

“What are you pair of prats up to now?” sighed Jake, beginning to chop tomatoes. He was making them his special Turkish egg and tomato and chilli breakfast thing. They were always able to get the chillies to come in under the plastic sheeting at the height of summer.

Manny knelt down behind Jake as he worked, looked back at James and stuck out his bottom lip, though his eyes were a silly smile.

Go on! James mouthed, grinning widely. Manny sighed.

“Here’s a special present to say how great you are, Jake,” said Manny, in a rehearsed monotone. He stuffed his head underneath the bottom of Jake’s gown and reached up until his face was pressed into the man’s rear end. James heard him land a big, wet smacker on one of Jake’s hairy cheeks.

James was instantly in such a violent fit of quaking, squeaking giggles that this time there really was a little spot of dribble left on the crotch of his pyjama bottoms.

 

**

 

James came across Manny on his way to lunch. When he heard the main refrain of Atlas Air by Massive Attack booming out of the chapel organ, he knew it could only be one person. He watched at the door a while, remembering the jealousy of his youth, when Jake tried to teach them how to play the guitar and Manny was such a natural that he soon outstripped his teacher, while James could just do the basic chords. Anyone with hands and muscle memory can do the basic chords. Manny was so good, Jake started taking them to the old village hall, a few miles down the road, where there was an old piano for him to play. It was dilapidated and out of tune, so they learned to tune it. Jake explained which notes the keys were but said he couldn’t play so he couldn’t help, and Manny should just experiment. And Manny did.

Now he was building a bassy rhythm with the bottom-end keys. Jake used to tell them the lowest keys were called la boîte diabolique, but neither of them really believed him. As James approached Manny down the aisle, he realised Manny was singing along. Yes, shall we take a spin again in business? The time is fixed, let’s sweeten our facilities. It took all the man in me, to be the dog you wanted me to be.

“Manny?”

Shall we take a spin again, no witne– Oh! Jay! What are you up to? You alright?”

“Yeah, course.”

“Well, you’ve got a face as long as Livery Street.”

“Difficult session with Archie.”

“Thought as much.”

“You’re talking to him this afternoon?”

“Yeah. Should I be gentle?”

“Try and get him to talk about what happened yesterday morning. There’s something going on behind the scenes that we’re not seeing.”

“Right,” said Manny. “No worries. Lunch?”

“Let’s go,” said James. “Smells like veg broth.”

 

**

 

James absentmindedly made his way across Palace Green after having eaten his lunch. The sun was high in the sky, and the intense heat baked him into the hill like he was made of gingerbread. Sweat clung to every part of his body as he walked over the grass to cut down the street alongside the cathedral and come out in front of St Chad’s. There were a couple of people walking back and forth, to and from the castle, but James ignored them. His head was engaged with thoughts of Archie and childhood.

“James!” a voice shouted. He thought it might be in his head. Then he realised it wasn’t. “James Martin! Don’t you fucking dare ignore me, you fucking stuck-up little prick!”

James turned around in shock to identify the source of the shouting; his heart jumping. It was Adam Wojnowski, marching towards him, arms and torso quivering, eyes boring through him with white-hot intensity.

“That little freak killed my daughter!” he bellowed, drawing up to James. “He battered her and drowned her in cold-fucking-blood! And you do what? Play games with the little scumbag!” He prodded at James’ chest with each of the last few words. James’ heart sank. He’d done the wrong thing again, and Aaron, of all people, had betrayed him.

“Adam, I’m so sorry for what’s happened, I really am,” stuttered James, stumbling over his words.

“Really?!”

“But… but if I don’t build a relationship with Archie, I can’t get him to trust me and open up, so… so I can’t find out what r-really happened!”

“What really happened?!” Adam roared at the top of his voice. “What really happened?! I’m gonna say this slow, since you don’t have a kid of your own: he fucking murdered my daughter! My daughter! That’s what happened! If you can’t see that, you’re worse than him!”

James felt himself shaking. Adam was much bigger than him, built formidably, and lost far beyond his tether. It was like standing beneath a portable, vibrating solar eclipse. “It’s my job to assess the facts and work out how to resp–” James yelped as Adam lifted him far off his feet by the scruff of his tee-shirt.

“Adam!” another voice called. It was Dan Turner, emerging into James’ vision from the side at a sprint. “Adam, marra, let’s not do this, eh?”

Adam pulled James face to face with him, so close James could taste Adam panting. “Only a fucking queer like you would feel sympathy for a little rat like that. Does he remind you of yourself, the little freak boy?” He sprayed James’ face with saliva as he spat every word through gritted teeth.

“Adam!” barked Dan, yanking James loose of the man’s grip. “You don’t say things like that! There’s no need for any of this. Let the man do his job and ignore it if you don’t like it. There’ll be a time and place to say your piece, in the proper way. You got that?”

“Fuck off!” said Adam, pushing James away by his chest. “Fuck off, the lot of yas! Fucking shite, man!”

James felt the stretch that had appeared in the front of his tee-shirt as Adam turned his back and stormed away towards the cathedral entrance. Dan clapped James on the back.

“You canny, man?” he asked.

James nodded and swallowed hard. “I think so.”

“It’s not right, y’knaa, what he said, like. You’re just doing as you’ve been told. Folk have to respect that. No need to bring owt else into it.”

“I know,” said James. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not alright,” replied Dan, shaking his head. “He’s beside himself, like, but it’s proper disrespectful to be saying what he said. No excuses for it.”

“Really, Dan, I don’t want to think about it,” said James. “Thanks for breaking it up.”

“Aye,” said Dan. “Just watch yourself, eh? It’s not your fault, but you know how folk can be, butting in left, right and centre.”

“Thanks,” said James, and headed off on significantly wobblier legs back on his short journey to St Chad’s. Dan stood and watched him disappear through the door.

James weaved through the corridors of the old college, dimly aware of their faded grandeur, heading for the glass-roofed indoor courtyard and its door out to the gardens. He was trying very hard not to cry as he emerged out into the knee-length grass, and heard yet another, much more welcome and familiar voice, calling his name.

“Uncle James!”

“Hey, Theo!” smiled James, letting the boy run up to him and be taken into his arms. “How are you?” he said, forearms supporting Theo’s bottom as his nephew wrapped his legs around James’ waist and draped his arms about James’ neck.

“I had a bad dream!” said Theo.

“Oh, no!” said James. “That’s a shame, matey. Are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah!” said Theo, smiling into James’ face. “We came to see the tortoise! Did you come to see him too?”

“I did,” confirmed James. “Hi, Tracey.”

“Hello, James,” she said, smiling. Then she saw the obvious stretch in the front of his shirt, the sallowness of his skin, and the wateriness of his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“It’s nothing,” said James. “Much better for seeing you two.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” said Tracey. “Theo, why don’t you go and find the tortoise and bring it back up here for all of us to play?”

“Kay, mammy,” he said, allowing James to gently lower him to the floor, so he could run off through the grass to find the star attraction.

“What’s happened?” asked Tracey, touching James softly on the arm.

“I ran into Adam Wojnowski,” mumbled James.

“Oh.”

“One of the boys saw Manny and me teaching Archie how to play pool over breakfast. He wasn’t best pleased.”

“Argh, no…” sighed Tracey, shaking her head. “Come here.” She pulled James into a hug and rubbed his back. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“I think he would’ve done, had Dan Turner not showed up.”

“You have to tell Manny,” said Tracey. “You can’t be putting up with this, just for doing your job. Kenzie should never have put the two of you in this position all on your own.”

“It’s fine, Tracey,” said James. “He’s just still in shock. We probably shouldn’t have been so casual with Archie. He has a point.”

“No, he doesn’t,” said Tracey. “It’s up to you and Manny to handle all this in your own way. No matter how devastated someone is, they don’t have the right to go around roughing people up because they disagree with them.”

“I just don’t want to think about it anymore,” said James.

Tracey touched his elbow again and they stood in silence. Theo was somewhere down the garden, excitedly talking to the tortoise.

“Come on, Henry! We’ll never get anywhere if you keep going that slow! No, up here silly! That’s were mammy and Uncle James are waiting for us!”

“Did Manny mention anything about last night to you,” asked Tracey, with a sharp intake of breath.

“Only that Theo had a nightmare,” replied James. “Why? Is there something else?”

“I said some things that I probably shouldn’t have done,” said Tracey. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t think they’re true.”

“What do you mean?”

“About Jake,” said Tracey, lowering your voice. “About how the two of you were abused. I don’t want working on this Archie thing to open up any old wounds for the pair of you.”

“There aren’t any wounds to open,” said James, shaking his head, “because Jake never hurt us. He loved us and raised us in his own way, and we loved him back.”

“I know that’s the way you both feel,” said Tracey, “but I don’t want to see either of you get hurt. Promise me you’ll talk to each other. And to me. I’m here if you need me.”

“I know. Thanks, Trace.”

“S’alright,” she said. “We’re family.”

“Mammy! Uncle James!” hollered Theo, running unsteadily up the garden with Henry the tortoise held out in front of him.

“Don’t fall!” replied Tracey instinctively, watching her little boy stumble through the long grass with the wriggling reptile.

“I had to pick him up cos he was being too-oo slow!” chirped Theo, grinding to a halt in front of the adults. He plopped the tortoise down at their feet and stroked its head tentatively with a forefinger. “There you go, Henry. You’re in the right place now.”

“He likes this time of year,” said James. “It’s the right temperature for him.”

“He sleeps all the winter,” nodded Theo. “I remember from when I was four.”

“Clever boy,” said James. “Doctor Amrit takes him somewhere warm every winter and lets him go to sleep.”

“He’s going away!” said Theo. “But I can catch him easy. Come back, Henry!”

“Shall we get him some nice leaves to eat?” suggested Tracey.

“Yeah!” said Theo. “It was just lunchtime, so he must be hungry if he didn’t eat before.”

James wandered over to a nearby plant and plucked a stem of leaves. Theo bounced after him.

“Do you know what this is?” James said.

Theo looked at the leaves closely. There were purple and white flowers growing on the end of the stalk, so Theo leaned in for an exaggerated sniff.

“Smells funny,” he said.

“It does a bit,” said James. “It’s called catnip. Cats think it smells funny too, and when they sniff it, it makes them act all barmy.”

“Really?” gasped Theo. “Will you show me with Shelley one day?”

“Course I will,” said James, ruffling Theo’s hair and eliciting a giggle.

“What about tortoises?” he asked. “Will Henry like to sniff on it too?”

“I think he might like to eat it,” said James. He handed the stalk to Theo. “Why don’t you give it him?”

“Thanks!” said Theo, snatching excitedly at the stalk of catnip. He bounced into a deep squat in front of the tortoise. “Look Henry, I got you cat-nit to eat!”

Henry looked at the plant with bored exasperation. He chomped down on the flowers with his beak at an unconcerned pace.

“He likes that, Theo,” said Tracey. “Are you going to feed him the rest?”

“I’m going to feed him all of it!”

James had wandered back to stand beside Tracey and watch Theo happily play with Henry.

“How long are you going to put off getting back to the carpentry?” he asked.

“No idea,” said Tracey. “Look at him. I’d miss him too much.”

“It doesn’t have to be all day, at least not at first,” said James. “Besides, I’m sure Theo would love getting to play with other kids his own age all day long.”

“I know,” said Tracey. “I know. This probably sounds bad, but I just don’t… I don’t trust the women who look after the little ones to do and say the right thing with him all the time. It’s like I have this urge to make everything perfect for him all of the time, and I can’t bear having any of that out of my control.”

“It’s natural,” replied James. “I think all parents must feel like that about their kids. But it’s also natural for him to have to go off and have experiences of his own sooner or later.”

“I’m not ready to let him go.”

“He’d be fine, really. Besides, here Theo has everything he needs. Friendly people around, other kids his own age to be around; neither me nor Manny had any of that.”

“Angelika Wojnowski had all of that, too, though.”

“S’pose,” James conceded. “How many other kids has that happened to here, though?”

“Yeah, yeah,” sighed Tracey. “I know, I’m paranoid. It’s really scary, though. You’d understand if you had one of your own.”

“Why do people keep saying that to me?” huffed James, somewhat involuntarily.

“Oh, sorry…” Tracey winced. “Was that one of the things Adam said? I didn’t mean it in a bad way, like.”

Theo had sidled up and placed himself under James’ arm, leant against his thigh. He looked up expectantly.

“Uncle James…?”

“Let me guess,” said James, squatting down at eye-level with Theo. “Tickle mouse?”

Theo broke into a wide grin and nodded his head enthusiastically. James ran his fingertips along the crests of Theo’s shoulders.

“Hmm…” said James. “I wonder where the mouse could be today.”

“Not telling!” Theo whispered with excited breathlessness.

“Do you think it’s maybe… under here?” said James, rubbing the tip of his forefinger under Theo’s chin. Theo smirked, clamped his chin down, and shook his head. James forced his fingers under Theo’s slightly sweat-dampened chin and neck, tickling him all around there and rubbing his fingertips back and forth in circles through Theo’s dark, wavy hair, tickling his scalp. Theo squealed and giggled. As James slowed the tickling down, he watched him with big, hickory eyes.

“Hmm, no mouse there,” said James. He ran his fingertips along Theo’s breastbone. “I think… I think it must be in here!”

James’ right hand dived for Theo’s left armpit. He reflexively clamped the arm down and shook his head. “Not there!” he said.

“Well, I’ll have to check to be sure!” replied James, his fingers darting up the sleeve of Theo’s tee-shirt and digging savagely at a slippery, slimy armpit. Theo squealed and writhed as James supported him with his free arm.

“It’s not there!” he squeaked and panted.

“Ah, well it must be the other one, then!” growled James, and pushed the fingers of his left hand into Theo’s right armpit, assailing the boy from both sides. Theo was fitting with laughter and flopped down on his back on the grass, wriggling and rolling and kicking his legs. James relented.

“No mice there.”

“Mmph,” grunted Theo, shaking his head, his lips sealed and smirking.

“I know where it must be,” said James, running his fingers up and down Theo’s flanks as he shook and squirmed in anticipation. “I know here that mouse is hiding. It’s right… up… here!”

James darted both sets of fingers up Theo’s top and set about tickling his sides and belly at light speed, causing his little nephew to scream and writhe in the grass, kicking his legs and flailing his arms.

“I got it!” laughed James. “I got the mouse!”

He tickled Theo harder. Theo tried to squirm away.

“Uncle… James… stop...” he panted. “I’m… gonna… wee…”

James let go and raised himself back up on his haunches. Tracey watched on over his head, smiling broadly at the two boys playing in the grass.

 

**

 

Shelley, the castle’s tortoiseshell cat, was curled up on James’ chair when he returned to his office. Dropping a sprig of catnip in the middle of the floor soon shifted her. She was on it within seconds, inhaling ravenously at the scented leaves. She rolled onto her back, purring intensely and twisting back and forth on the rug.

James had just turned away from her, pen in hand, to try to begin making some sense of what had happened with Archie that morning, when Rob pushed his door open uninvited.

“Can I help you?” James snapped.

“Little bird tells me you’ve been enjoying spending time with the murderer boy.”

“Really?” sighed James, turning to his paper and scribbling a note so as not to have to engage with Rob’s gamesmanship.

“Very friendly, the two of you, I heard.”

James ignored him. He couldn’t focus on what he wanted to note down, but he continued trying to mindmap anyway, just to exclude Rob from his train of thought.

“There’s rumours about you, you know, James Martin,” sneered Rob, taking a step closer.

“I’m trying to work, Rob,” said James. “I don’t know if you’ve realised, but there’s this really important and sensitive matter that I’ve been asked to recommend judgement on.”

“Some people are saying that you’re not just a bog-standard poofter. Word is that you’ve been taking it up the arse since you were the killer kid’s age.” Rob took another step closer, looming over James at his desk. “Seems to me a person like that might not be the best judge of something like this. Might find a bit too much sympathy with weird little boys, if you know what I mean. And if he made the wrong call, imagine what people would think when they found out why?”

“Are you done?” said James, scribbling at the paper in front of him.

“You tell me,” said Rob, taking another step closer. “Aaaargh! Oh fuck! What the hell is wrong with this fucking cat?!”

There was the sound of caterwauling and hissing. Rob leant onto the back of James’ chair, spinning it around as he lost his balance and went off hopping across the room. Shelley was attached to his lower leg, bushy tailed and dug in with all four sets of claws. She hissed and spat again, before landing another bite on Rob’s calf.

“Oooh! Fucking get her off me!”

“I wouldn’t pick a fight with her, Rob,” said James, shaking his head. “She’s high as a kite right now. She probably has no idea what’s going on.”

“What’ve you done to her you bliddy lunatic?! Aargh!” With a strong kick of his stricken leg, and a push at Shelley’s face that earned him a nip on the hand sharp enough to draw blood, he had the cat disentangled from his trousers and skin. Shelley trotted angrily to the far end of the room and circled back around, hissing and spitting at Rob again.

“It’s like a fucking nuthouse in here!” boomed Rob, taking a kick at James’ green armchair with his good foot before crashing noisily from the office. The sound of him stomping like a petulant child echoed back up the staircase.

James looked at the page in front of him, tore it away and balled it up. He growled as he threw it at the wall. Shelley timidly went back for another hit of catnip, taking several big sniffs before trotting woozily over to hop onto James’ desk. Her eyes were still tunnel-wide, and her tail had half de-fluffed. With the paper out of the way, she shuffled into a seated position in the middle of James’ desk and smiled across at him with her eyes.

“You don’t like bullies, do you, Shell?” said James, timidly tickling her behind a pointed ear in case he was about to get savaged, too. She began to purr again, closing her eyes and pushing her chin and shiny, wet nose forward. Maybe James was right; Shelley really went for Rob because he was such a no-mark bully. Then a thought came to him; a thought that Archie had expressed earlier, almost offhand. I hate bullies! He stood ready to head out on a business call. Shelley looked at him quizzically. He sat back down and picked up his pen again, writing a short note with one hand and fussing the cat with the other.

James noticed a trail of blood spots on the stairs as he jogged down them. He detoured past Manny’s office on his way out. The door was closed; he’d be in there with Archie. He folded the note and slid it under the door.

 

**

 

The sun played shadow games with the eaves as James walked along the deep channel of the road under Whinney Hill towards Maiden Castle and Shincliffe. Bumblebees hung in the air in open disrespect of the laws of physics, and plenty of other bird and insect life skittered around, moving to the beat of their own up-tempo drum. He walked alongside the sports ground at Maiden Castle. Even in the strangling heat, some five or six kids were out playing late-afternoon football on the old rubber crumb. A girl picked up the ball fifteen metres or so out from where they’d dragged a small-sized goal into place on the halfway line, turned the boy in front of her so effectively that he fell roughly on his bum, and unleashed a bullet shot into the top corner of the net. She hopped into a spin in mid-air and punched the sky with delight as she wheeled around.

“Did you see that, James?” said a boy with white-blond hair and an effeminate voice. He was gripping the bars of the cage around the pitch to talk to James through it, and he leaned forward, emphasising the ampleness of his round bottom.

“She’s good, isn’t she, Ryan?” replied James.

“Yeah,” the boy nodded, and smiled.

“Better get back in your goal; the game’s starting again,” said James, nodding at the pitch.

Ryan turned around and jogged off into place. “Bye, James!” he called.

James arrived at Josh Holleran’s chicken farm a few minutes later to find that Imogen wasn’t there. “She’s with the goats on the far side of the river,” Josh gruffly informed him. James turned himself around back towards Maiden Castle, but, rather than following the road over the bridge back to the city, he turned right down a lane that followed the river around to the old sports field on the opposite bank from the fancier facilities, where he assumed Imogen and the goats would be. The six children had decided to take a rest from their game and took shade under the trees across the river.

“James!” called Ryan over the water. “Will you come and play with us?”

“Not today,” James replied. “Maybe another time!”

His arrival had therefore been telegraphed before he reached the spot where Imogen stood, the goats going about their business all around her.

“James,” she said, smiling. “Is this a social call?”

“Hi, Immy,” said James. “Afraid not. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, to do with this thing I’ve been asked to work on.”

“Oh,” said Imogen, scrunching up her mouth and furrowing her brow. “The murder? Is this about Angelika?”

“Archie,” said James.

“Right,” she responded. “What is it you think I can tell you?”

James was interrupted by a scruffy old billy goat coming to nuzzle itself up against him. He bleated and nibbled at James’ arm.

“Hello, Cubster,” James smiled warmly. “I remember when you were born.”

“Oh, you know Cubby?” said Imogen.

“Cybi was one of mine and Manny’s when we were teenagers,” said James. “We donated him to your dad when we gave up our farm.”

“I never knew that,” said Imogen, watching the old goat rub itself and bleat affectionately at James as he gently fussed it around the head and neck. “I did always wonder why he had such a funny name.”

“We visited Wales one summer,” explained James. “When our nanny goat had kids, we decided to give them Welsh names.”

“Oh, right,” smiled Imogen. “That’s actually really cool. What does it mean?”

“No idea,” laughed James. “Our dad just gave us a few to choose from and we liked that one.”

“Typical boys,” chuckled Imogen. “How can I help you, then?”

“I was wondering,” began James, considering how best to phrase his request. “I was wondering if you had any thoughts, from your experience, about how Archie tends to get on with other kids.”

“Can you be more specific?” said Imogen. “I don’t want to start talking off the top of my head and realise I’ve only said stuff because other people say he’s a murderer.”

“I taught you that,” said James, proudly. “Confirmation bias.”

“You’re too clever for this world,” nodded Imogen. “It’s like you dropped out of the sky or something.”

“I just had a good teacher,” said James. “Like you. And like Archie.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” said Imogen. “What kind of thing do you really want to hear about him?”

“Is he being bullied?”

Imogen sighed. “Well, I’m not the only person who works with the bairns his age,” she said. “And when I’m there, I always put a stop to anything like that as soon as I see it developing. But yes, in the couple of years I’ve known him, I would say Archie’s had some trouble getting on with other kids.”

“What sort of trouble?”

“Just bairns’ stuff; teasing, name-calling, all of that,” said Imogen. “I always stamp it out pretty quick, like, cos – as you knaa – what’s bairns’ stuff to us is serious stuff to them. But I do think he’s been an easy target, having only moved here a few years back, when all the other kids were born here, pretty much. And his mother isn’t exactly very social with the other adults.”

“So, he’s picked on for being different,” asked James, fishing for confirmation.

“Well, I don’t think he helps himself,” responded Imogen. “He’s not exactly the easiest kid to like.”

“He’s a ten-year-old boy,” said James, so defensively that it surprised him. “From talking to him, it seems to me like he’s been through some tough times that have maybe made him more cautious or wary. Don’t you think?”

“He can be quite timid,” mused Imogen. “But quite highly-strung as well, like. Maybe the two go together.”

“Did he ever have particular trouble with certain other kids?”

“Look, James, I knaa you want me to say Angelika,” Imogen grimaced, “but, honestly, I never saw any massive hostility between them. It was other boys Archie seemed to struggle with the most.”

Archie seemed to struggle,” parroted James. “Almost as if it was his fault he was being picked on.”

“You knaa what I mean,” snapped Imogen, shaking her head. She softened and reached over to place a hand on her teacher’s shoulder. “You’re really invested in this, aren’t you?”

“I never meant to be,” sighed James.

“They get under your skin,” nodded Imogen. “I thought you already knew that.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Ah, how man. Anyway, you reckon he is, like?”

“Is what?” asked James.

“You knaa. A murderer.”

James shrugged. “Probably,” he said, “but I don’t think it can ever be that simple when you’re talking about a ten-year-old.”

“Exactly the sort of thing I’d expect you to say,” grinned Imogen.

“Thanks, Immy,” smiled James.

“No bother,” she said. “And good luck, yeah?”

 

**

 

James’ mind wandered out of pace with his feet as he headed back to the castle. He thought of how kids could be with each other, and tried to trace the line between banter, childishness, and bullying. There had to be more to this. There had to be something to explain how a childish argument, or a child’s grudge, could turn to violent murder. There had to be.

James was thirteen; Manny was twelve. They were in the living room of the summer house, playing a game. One of their nerd games, as Jake called them; games that took hours to play and required the boys to invest all their creative energy into them. Having procured them was a masterstroke in keeping them quiet.

“You’re on Dantooine, boys. I know you’re on Dantooine.”

They were playing Star Wars: Rebellion. Jake played the evil factions all the time in their nerd games, because he had to be the game master so that the boys could play as the heroes and fashion their own story. He was the Empire, and they were the Rebel Alliance. And, with only a couple of moves left of the final turn, he had them cornered. He knew where their secret base was hiding.

“Get lost, Jake,” said James, sticking his tongue out.

“How dare you speak to the Emperor in that manner,” said Jake, completely deadpan. “You will regret your insolence when you’re toiling in my dungeon later.”

“Toil this,” razzed Manny, reaching forward from his cross-legged position to place their final unused hero on the board. “Jedi Luke Skywalker moves all our forces in Mygeeto to Dantooine!”

“No!” protested James. “What are you doing that for?”

“Cos he knows we’re there!” said Manny. “We can’t exactly hide it anymore, but if we move more forces back there, we might still hold him off.”

“Don’t be stupid,” hissed James. “He’s got half his fleet and a Death Star in Dathomir! If he moves everything across his Death Star will just destroy the base anyway!”

“If we don’t move everything to the base, his fleet will just capture it anyway!” Manny shot back. Their voices were beginning to rise.

“No, Manny!” said James. “I’m the Admiral, you’re the General. I can overrule you. I want Jedi Luke Skywalker to move to Dathomir and play this mission!” He flopped a mission card to attack and destroy the Death Star down on the board. It had Luke’s head on it; it was a mission that favoured him.

“But – but it’s my turn!” cried Manny. “Tell him he can’t do that, Jake. Tell him!”

“James,” said Jake, breaking character. “It is Manny’s turn. Why don’t you let him make the move he thinks is best?”

“You’re just saying that because you know it helps you win!” huffed James. “I’m the Admiral. I can overrule my General. That’s the rules.”

“Oh, stop being such a bumhole,” growled Manny, scattering the rest of his unspent mission cards face up across the floor in frustration.

“It’s the rules, Manny. You were gonna make us lose.”

“Okay, James,” sighed Jake. “If you want to overrule Manny, go ahead. But just wait and see what happens.”

“I’m playing Jedi Luke Skywalker with this mission in Dathomir,” said James kneeling over the board and moving the Jedi Luke piece. Manny shuffled his bottom around to turn his back to James and the board. His face was bright red and he clamped his eyes shut.

“Oppose with Darth Vader,” said Jake, bluntly. “Roll the dice.”

They both rolled. James’ attempt fell short by one fist symbol.

“What?!” said James. “You’re so bloody lucky all the time. It’s not fair.”

“Shut up, James,” whined Manny under his breath. James sat back down with his bum cheeks to his heels and silently fumed with his arms folded.

“General Tagge moves all forces from Dathomir into Dantooine,” said Jake. “Rebels, is this your base?”

“Yes,” mumbled James unhappily.

“Who’s the general opposing General Tagge?” asked Jake.

“Nobody,” said James.

“Why’s that?” asked Jake.

“We used our last hero in a different system already.” James grumbled.

“Okay, no tactic cards for you, then,” shrugged Jake. “Let me roll my dice first. Hmm. That’s a big score you’ve got to beat, plus my one of my cards says I can deduct some points from yours. Let’s see what you get.”

James rolled the dice. “Crap,” he said. “Do you want to land your ground troops on Dantooine?”

“Nah,” said Jake. “No need. I’ll just blow it up with my Death Star. Game over.”

Manny was still hunched over with his back to everyone. James knelt with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

“You alright, my big Manny?” said Jake, sprawling on his side along the floor to squeeze Manny’s knee. Manny shuffled on his bottom closer to Jake. Jake sat up and Manny leaned into him, letting Jake wrap his arm around him.

“I’m not crying!” Manny sniffled.

“It’s okay, Manny,” soothed Jake. “It’s just a little game, remember. We had fun right up until the end, didn’t we?”

“Yeah…” he grunted pathetically.

“James, do you have something to say to Manny?”

“Sorry I upset you, Manny,” said James, looking down at the game board from between his fingers.

“Come over here, you daft bat,” said Jake. James shuffled alongside him and he wrapped him in his other arm. “Look at the board and think about the moves you both wanted to make. Who was right?”

“Neither of us,” said James, glumly. “We lost.”

“You could think about it that way,” said Jake. “But I had you cornered and there was only one move left. I pretty much already had it won.”

“So James should’ve just let me make the move I wanted,” pouted Manny.

“Well, if you think about it a different way, both of your moves were correct,” said Jake. “You needed to make both of them to survive. So, you needed two turns, and a lot of luck. Unfortunately, you only had one turn, and no luck.”

The boys looked at the game board in silence.

“Come on, kiss and make up,” said Jake. The boys said nothing; they didn’t move. “Right, well you’ll be regretting that eventually while you’re both toiling in the dungeon for the rest of the day. Here we go.” Jake stood up with his arms wrapped around the two boys’ chests.

“No!” they squealed, laughing and trying to squirm away. “Aaargh!”

“Silence, worms,” said Jake, dragging two fighting and giggling young boys along on their knees.

 

**

 

Manny had to rouse Archie from his bed when he went to get him for his afternoon appointment. With neither he nor James having taken responsibility, it seemed nobody had bothered to bring the boy lunch. Manny left Archie to his own devices and went to get something for him to eat in the office while they talked. He left a plate of chopped fruit behind on the desk and went back to fetch Archie again. He was somewhat surprised to see the boy dressed and ready to go, and even more surprised to see him obediently bring a potty full of urine out with him and ask whether he might be allowed to flush it away. James may have found the morning difficult, but it seemed to Manny that whatever he had done had worked.

Archie sat opposite Manny in his office, crunching away at carrots chopped into batons, and pieces of apple and pear. Manny tried to ground himself in the situation; to find some steady base upon which to approach the lad sat boyishly gnawing at lunch across from him. Everything about Archie seemed to be built on shifting sands, and Manny wasn’t convinced he could be as sure-footed as James in negotiating the terrain. If James’ spirit animal wasn’t a cat, then it was surely a goat.

“Can we talk about what happened yesterday, Arch?”

“Not sure I can remember,” Archie responded, nibbling into more carrot.

“It wasn’t that long ago,” pressed Manny. “Only one sleep since then.”

“Two sleeps,” corrected Archie. “And I woke up a few times in the night cos I was having bad dreams, so it’s probably even more than two.”

“I still think you can probably remember what you did yesterday,” insisted Manny. “Just try.”

“It was yesterday,” said Archie. “I dunnaa how yous can expect me to remember everything I did then.”

“How about I tell you what I did yesterday?” suggested Manny.

“Go on then.”

“Well, I woke up in the morning in bed with my partner, then I drank some water and got my little boy up. Then I got him and me both washed while my partner slept some more. Then I went to the castle for breakfast and saw James.”

“You and James are, like, besties, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” smiled Manny. “We are. We’re brothers, really. We grew up together.”

“That’s cool,” said Archie, through a mouthful of apple.

“What about you, Archie? Who’s your bestie?”

“Ain’t got one,” he responded.

“There must be someone?”

“Hmm… not really.”

“What about your mom, or your sister?”

“Me mam don’t count. Me sister’s only a bairn, but aye, I’m close with her, like.”

“But no other kids from the city?”

“Nah. A lot of them aren’t nice. Tell me more about what you did yesterday.”

Manny got the uncomfortable feeling that Archie had managed to reverse the roles on him. Still, he continued.

“I had some work to do. Someone had reported some sheep had been mauled on Whinney Hill, and they reckoned it was wolves coming across the river. I don’t think it was, though.”

“I live on Whinney Hill,” said Archie, absentmindedly.

“Do you?” said Manny. “I didn’t know that. Maybe I saw you yesterday morning then.”

“Probs not,” said Archie. “I never saw you.”

“So what were you up to while you weren’t seeing me, then?”

“I went out to play by meself,” said Archie. “I got some chalk and was drawing pictures on that big wall with all the spikes on top, on The Hallgarth.”

“The prison wall?”

“Aye, me mam said they used to put all the bad men in the place behind that wall, back in the olden days.”

“What did you do after you’d drawn pictures, Arch?”

“I went back home and me mam yelled at me for having chalk on me hands and top, so I had to wash me hands and put a clean top on. Then she said since I was such a mess all the time, I should make meself useful and take Bella down to the river and get us both bathed properly, like.”

“Did you do that?” asked Manny, stealing a remaining slice of pear from Archie’s plate and popping it in his mouth. Archie smirked at him and pulled a silly face as Manny ate the pear.

“Yeah, I went down Whinney Hill and through that field with the weird metal thingies, to those steps into the water by that little house thing. We can stand a few steps into the water there and not drown ourselves or nowt. They have one of those boxes with the soap and that in it right on the steps. I think they must know we use it all the time.”

“You gave you and your sister a bath in the river,” confirmed Manny.

“Yeah,” said Archie, nodding.

“What happened next?”

“I took us back and me mam called me a good boy and said I could go out to play around the city if I wanted to, just dinnit be out too long, like.”

“Did you go out to play, Arch?”

“Aye. I took me boat that my granddad made for me mam when she was a bairn, and I went down to the river by where that bridge has fallen over.”

“A toy boat?”

“Obviously a toy boat,” said Archie, rolling his eyes. “How could I lug a real boat around?”

Manny had to laugh. “You got me there, Archie. How did you get down to that part of the river, then?”

“I went from mine down The Hallgarth, then Hallgarth Street, then across the big high bridge and down the never-ending steps. There must be a thousand steps there, like. I never seen owt as steep as that. I get out of breath even going down them!”

“I can see that bridge from my bedroom,” said Manny. “It is really high up. And the riverbank is really steep there. So, you went down the long steps and then walked along to the bend?”

“That’s it,” said Archie. “I was playing with me boat in the water.”

“Did you get in?”

“No, me mam won’t let us. Says I’ll drown meself, like.”

“So, you were on the bank with the boat on the water’s edge?”

“Aye,” nodded Archie.

“Is that where you met Angelika?” asked Manny.

“I don’t remember that part,” said Archie, after a pause, suddenly quieter and stiffer.

“You don’t remember, or you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Both,” said Archie.

“It can’t really be both, Arch,” said Manny, shaking his head.

“Well… it is. Alright? It just is.”

“Don’t get in a huff with me Archie. Please?”

“It’s your own stupid fault,” pouted Archie. “Asking me stupid damn questions, like.”

“Okay, Archie, you don’t want to talk with me about that part of yesterday,” sighed Manny, holding up his hands. “Fine. One other question, though, little man: where’s your boat now?”

Archie’s eyes suddenly widened. “Awww, no man! It must have got lost when that bloke grabbed me! Do you think it floated away, Manny? I’ve gotta find it! Me mam’ll be livid, like. That’s, like, the most special thing to all the three of us!”

Manny watched the sincerity in Archie’s eyes. They began to well up a little. He wanted to find the toy boat. Manny wanted it too. It could be evidence, and even if not, Archie would then owe him one for finding it.

“Alright, Arch,” said Manny. “How about this: I’ll go out looking for your boat. It must be near where you left it, right? I’ll leave you locked safe and sound in here and you can draw pictures at my desk if you want.”

“Really?” squeaked Archie, looking at Manny with surprise in his wide, grey eyes. “You’ll do that for us?”

“Yeah,” smiled Manny. “Course I will. It’s important to keep hold of the things that remind us who we are, right?”

“Aye,” smiled Archie. “Yeah, that’s right. You’re clever, Manny.”

“Can you keep a secret?” Manny responded, grinning widely.

“What?”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

Archie smirked and shook his head as Manny headed for the door, still grinning to himself. Archie shuffled into place on his vacated chair and made himself at home with the pens and paper. Manny went for the door handle and noticed a piece of paper had been pushed under the door. He reached down and opened it.

“He did fucking what?!” he growled to himself, crumpling the paper in his fist.

 

**

 

James ate dinner by himself. He’d deliberately come late, trying to keep a low profile. There was no sign of Manny, Tracey, or Theo. He was utterly ignored, and that was as much as he could have hoped for. That is, until he went to return his tray to the kitchen, and Kenzie approached from behind and grabbed him by the arm.

“James,” she said. “I heard what happened today. Come for a drink?”

James wanted to go to bed and curl into a ball. Possibly read; possibly just cry. That’s not what he said. What he told her was yes.

The Shakespeare had barely changed in a couple of centuries. The walls were largely bare and painted a stark white; the furniture was largely wooden, and heavily worn. The oil lamps didn’t look out of place. The whole pub smelt musty without need for the woodsmoke of a fire in the hearth to warm the room at the height of summer. It was empty. Only Dan Turner was there, dutifully manning the bar with his latest loan from the old university library in hand.

“Evening, Dan,” said Kenzie. “What’s in tonight?”

“Evening, both; everything reet?” he said, looking meaningfully at James.

“All fine, thanks, Dan,” said James. “Yourself?”

“Canny,” he said.

“What’s in?” repeated Kenzie.

“Got Turner’s summer cider – Gilesgate apple or Claypath pear – and some of that fire water that old man Hetherington brews in his bath. Potato or milk, I think. Plus all the old time stuff on the shelf, but y’knaa that’s only for special occasions, like.”

“I’ll have a cider, please,” said James. “Either one.”

“Pint?”

James nodded. In short order, he had a pint of Turner’s Claypath pear cider in hand, served in a glass reading, in slightly battered print, 32nd Durham Beer Festival – 2012.

“What about the chief?” said Dan.

“Large milk vodka, please.”

“If you’re sure,” said Dan. “I don’t think it’s sent anyone blind yet, but it’s on Hetherington’s head if it does.”

James sipped at his cider as Kenzie received her milk vodka. It was clear as crystal, like pure water. James had expected it to be thick and white.

“You can go through the back,” said Dan. “I’ll make sure no bugger disturbs you if anyone comes in, like. Not that I think another soul will.”

“Cheers, Dan,” said Kenzie. James nodded and went to follow her through the archway leading into the secluded rear of the pub.

“Oh, James…” said Dan, calling him back, “listen… about this Archie Stephens business – dinnit let it worry your heed, like. Most folk will back you whatever decision you come to. We all knaa you’re just doing as you’ve been told, like. I mean, I wanted to fucking kill the little bastard meself when I found him, but y’knaa, you step out of the moment and you think about it and you calm yoursen down. He’s still just a bairn when it comes down to it.”

“Thanks,” said James, feeling butterflies in his stomach and allowing himself a smile. “That really means a lot.”

“No bother at all, man.”

“What was he like, when you found him?”

“Archie?” said Dan, stroking his chin. “Now you ask me about it, I dunnaa, like. It was all a bit mad with the emotion and all that; not sure I could really say owt. He had this boat toy with him, though. I remember that. It was broke and he were trying to fix it, like.”

“Thanks, Dan.”

“Aye, you’d better go and have your talk with the boss lady before she gets impatient,” Dan winked.

James walked through the archway and found Kenzie waiting for him, sat at a large table.

“Dan’s a good lad,” she said, as James sat down. “He told me what happened today between you and Adam Wojnowski.”

James’ heart sank. “Oh. I’m sorry…”

“What for?” said Kenzie. “You didn’t kill his daughter.”

James blinked. He took a gulp of cider reflexively, watching Kenzie sip at her hypnotically clear spirit.

“Well?” she said.

“I thought I overstepped the mark with Archie this morning.”

Kenzie took a deep breath. “It’s natural,” she shrugged. “You’re trying to get into this kid’s head. That’s what we want you to do. You’re good with kids; so what? Everyone knows that. Adam was just lashing out because he’s in shock and needs people to blame.”

“You don’t think it was my fault?”

“I don’t think people getting abused in the street for their sexuality is ever their fault,” said Kenzie. “Trust me. I’ve had experience.”

“What?” said James, blinking again.

“I also found out what that Rob bloke was up to earlier, as well.”

“Who told you?” coughed James, choking on his cider.

“The man himself,” said Kenzie. “I had him coming whining to me that Manny had given him a right going over about it all.”

“What did you do?”

“I told him to fuck off,” she laughed.

James snorted burning streams of cider down his nostrils and broke into another coughing fit.

“I said to him, if Manny told you to keep your big, ugly nose out of an investigation that doesn’t concern you, you damn well keep your big, ugly nose out,” said Kenzie. “And I also told him that if he has a problem with gays, he needs to find another place to live, because I sure as hell won’t have him sponging of us if he carries on spouting that sort of crap.”

James saw the fire dancing in Kenzie’s eyes in the dingy light of the back of the pub. Perhaps it was just the reflection of the oil lamp in her irises, but they seemed aflame.

“I never realised you were gay,” he said.

“You never asked,” shrugged Kenzie. “And why should you?”

“Fair point.”

“So, what I wanted to tell you,” said Kenzie, reaching her hands across the table to hold the hand that wasn’t attached to James’ beer glass, “is that I don’t have any problems about the way you’re approaching things with Archie, and I’m totally satisfied that you’re the right man for the job.”

James was blinking again. This time it was good tears.

“Oh, don’t get all emotional on me, you know I don’t do well with that.”

“Just, thanks,” said James. “Thank you.”

“Ah, well,” Kenzie said, “you can’t have thought you were the only gay around here.”

“Someone once told me that about one in ten people aren’t straight,” said James. “But I guess fifteen-ish people isn’t a lot when you’re one of them, a load of the rest are kids or lezzers, and some are bi and happily with women.”

“That’s what I am then? A lezzer?”

“Sorry,” said James. “Is that offensive?”

“From a pipsqueak like you?” chuckled Kenzie. “No, of course not.”

James smiled, and took a happy gulp of his drink. Kenzie followed suit.

“Was it that man you grew up with who told you that?” she asked.

“Yeah,” nodded James quietly.

“Listen, I heard what else Rob said about that,” said Kenzie. “If something did happen between you and that bloke, he didn’t make you gay, you know. Having sex early doesn’t change who you are.”

“I know,” mumbled James. “Just… I don’t know. Everybody seems to have an opinion on my life at the moment, and yet I’m the only one who’s actually living it.”

“I’m sorry, James,” said Kenzie. “I knew this would be a lot of pressure. You’re doing really good work for the community, and I promise I’ll back up whatever you decide on as much as I can.”

“Alright,” said James. He didn’t think she sounded very definite.

“How old were you, by the way?” she said. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“What?”

“Sorry. The last time, then. How old were you the last time you had sex with him?”

“Twenty-five,” said James. “I was twenty-five.”

“See,” smiled Kenzie. “There you go. He didn’t just have you because he liked boys. He liked you for you.”

“I know that,” sighed James. “I just wish everybody else did. Or at least that they’d shut up about it.”

“People are stupid,” grinned Kenzie.

“Should you be saying that?” smiled James.

“The Wojnowskis are having a funeral for Angelika, Thursday lunchtime,” said Kenzie. “I want all the council to be there.”

“Do I have to?” whined James. “They won’t want me there. I don’t want to cause any trouble. Why would I deliberately go somewhere where everybody hates me?”

“They don’t hate you, James, they hate the world at the moment,” replied Kenzie. She flicked her head up, sending her hair cascading around the line of her jaw like a row of falling dominoes. “Besides, that’s an easy way to show them you care about their feelings, and that you’re not trying to antagonise them with any decision you make about Archie; just being neutral.”

“You’re far too cunning for me,” James sighed.

“You aren’t trying to flirt with me now, are you James?” grinned Kenzie.

 

**

 

James did decide to read when he got back home. He searched through folders and binders until he found the right collection. Memories he’d written down when he was thirteen.

 

Spring, age 13. Birthday!

So, Jake took me to bed for my birthday treat as usual. I’d had a really fun day. He gave me and Manny some ‘nerd games’ he’d found when he went out scavenging without us. We let him go that time because we knew he’d be looking for an amazing present. And it was! Jake said we really have to use our imaginations to play these games and create our own story, and that they can go on for hours. I can’t wait to play them. There were some Lord of the Rings ones, and some Star Wars ones, and a couple of others. When he handed them over, Manny asked why he’d got them when he told us Star Wars was rubbish when we watched them over Winter Solstice. He said he got them because he knew we both liked them, me especially. And he was right! Jake is the best sometimes. He knows exactly how to make us happy on special occasions.

Anyway, back to the birthday treat. I was in bed with Jake, and he was sucking on me and licking me, and making me feel really, really good! Then, after I came the first time, he rolled me over on top of him and just kissed and cuddled me and told me how special I was to him. It was really nice just to feel close to him like that. I like it being the three of us, but it’s good sometimes to only be me and Jake, and to feel how much he loves me.

I asked if he’d put his fingers up my bum, and he did it. I asked him for two, then three. He looked at me weird and asked if I was sure, and I nodded and said really sure. So he pushed three in and oh, man, it hurt! But I kept my cool and went with it. Jake kept asking if I was alright, and I kept saying yeah I was. Eventually it just started to feel stretchy and really full, and he was teasing my boy button non-stop. I came again so hard, it was unbelievable! I think I actually saw stars. When I could see properly again, Jake was stroking my face and smiling at me, and telling me I was his big boy. I felt like it. I felt grown-up. I told Jake I’m a teenager so I’m grown-up now, and he just laughed.

I was scared to say it. I tried to ask him a couple of times, but I couldn’t do it. I wanted to give myself to Jake so, so much. I wanted him to have me. For us to be one together. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s true. I wanted him up my bum. There. I said it. But I couldn’t say it then, so I asked to suck him to try to calm myself down. Jake just said yes and that he wanted me to be comfortable. I think he could tell I was scared about something. I’m so bloody obvious all the time. It must be my face. Grr. Eventually, when he was getting close, I pulled off him and just blurted it out. Jakecanwetrydoingitupthebumagain! He told me to slow down and say it again. I did. Jake, can we try doing it up the bum again?

He said I’m not sure it’s a good idea; I don’t want to hurt you. I said I was grown-up and wanted to try it properly. He said let’s start by lubing you and stretching you and see how it goes. I let him probe my bum for ages and ages. It must have been about an hour. I was getting tired! I kept pining and kissing him and asking when we were going to do it. I really wanted it more than anything. Actually, no – I didn’t want it – I wanted him. Eventually he saw I wasn’t going to give up, so he looked in my eyes and I said to him, ‘Jake, please can we do it now?’

He told me to get into the position curled on my side with my knee by my chest, like when it all went wrong on Solstice when I was 11, because he thinks that’s the best position for the first time. He got up behind me and asked me if I was sure I really wanted it. I closed my eyes and I nodded and I grabbed his dick and pushed the head against my hole. He told me to push like I was pooing. I knew what to do. I’m grown-up, after all. It popped into me, and oh my word it seriously hurt at first, and I moaned like a big baby. Jake stroked me and kissed me and whispered how brave I was. He said it didn’t matter if I wanted him to take it out. He said I’d still be his big, grown-up boy.

I said no. I needed it. I could tell how close he was to blowing inside me too. I said he should just wait a bit and go slow when I tell him. So he did. And I could tell he wasn’t so horny anymore and wasn’t about to squirt, and for me it started to feel hot, and stretchy, and full rather than just painful and burny. I told Jake to push in, and he went in a bit at a time at first, making me grunt and whine a bit. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop it, really. Then, all of a sudden, the whole thing just slid into me. All of Jake’s massive man willy. It was the weirdest, fullest, stretchiest, squelchiest feeling ever! All of it was inside me! And it was pressing so hard against my inside boy parts, and his balls were slapped right up against my outside boy parts, like they were lovers too! It felt so weird, pushed right into my guts. I can still feel it a bit now if I concentrate. And when I feel that, I feel like we’re connected again. I guess Jake and I will always be connected. I hope so. I love him so much.

So Jake was inside me, and he was slowly going back and forth, and it was driving my inside boy parts crazy, which was driving my willy crazy and making my balls ache like they were going to fall off! I mean, they don’t even work yet! How is that possible?! It was all so warm, and stretchy, and full, and I could smell my own bum! My bum was open that wide and slurping and slapping so much that I could actually smell it at the other end of my body! Weird. Then, without realising why, I started crying. But it was good crying. I couldn’t stop it. Jake was worried and asking me if I was hurt – which, to be fair, I was, but in a good way – but I just kept repeating over and over that I loved him so, so much. I think he got that I was just emotional. I wonder if bum sex is always that emotional? I don’t know. It was overwhelming. I’ve never felt emotions like that before. I don’t even know the words. I don’t remember much of the rest, and Jake wouldn’t do it again because he said I might get sore and torn. He’s right. I could do without that, really. Especially if he tries making me and Manny go for poos one after the other again when the water runs low.

So, yeah. I’m not a virgin anymore. I’m a grown-up. And it feels good and my bum still feels soft and squishy and tingles, but all in a good way. Not a sore, hurty way. Well, not much. Well, not much in a way I can’t put up with for those amazing feelings again! Wow! Inside and out! My head is going a mile a minute!

The first thing I did when I woke up the morning after my birthday, before writing this, was kiss Jake all over his face. He told me I was a barmpot, and he was right. I was climbing all over him licking and kissing his face, like an animal. Then I decided to suck him off just how he likes it. I gagged and wretched when I realised I was tasting my own poo on his dick. But you know what? I kept at it, because I think he deserved it. And I’m a grown-up, and I can deal with nasty tastes and hurting if it means I’m close to the people I love. It made me a bit horny, in a weird way, too, like the first time I licked Manny’s bum (not that I would want to lick Manny’s poo at all). I went and brushed my teeth and tongue twice after. But it was still sexy.

The next thing I did was run into Manny’s room and kiss him all over, too. I wanted him to be part of it. I wanted to feel close to him too, and be connected to him forever. He was surprised that I was jumping all over him naked, but it made him really excited, really quickly! We did some sexy stuff until my willy started to hurt from all the action it’s been having, so I stopped and wrote this, while I still remembered everything I could.

I am the luckiest, happiest boy in the world right now. I love my family so, so much! I just feel so… I suppose the word is completed. Having sex with Jake – real sex – willy up the bum sex – was full of so many feelings I can’t describe, but all of them so, so good. I want him to love me like that forever. I love him like that, and I think that’ll be forever.

I don’t understand why any boy would be interested in girls when you can do that with boys (and men), and we’ve all got the same bits so we know exactly how to do it right. I get that girls make Manny excited, but I make Manny excited too. Maybe if Manny starts having it up the bum, me, him and Jake will be boyfriends forever? That would be the best. Manny must be the sexiest boy in the world. I’d love to be that close to him too.

 

James pushed the papers away. There was a tear running down his cheek, and he wasn’t quite sure why. He pushed it away; put out his light. The last thing he thought as he lay down to sleep was of Archie, alone in his tiny room, nobody to connect to him.