Date: Sat, 09 Mar 2024 17:28:26 +0000
From: Jonah
Subject: Of sea and sand  chapter 8

Of Sea and Sand
by Jonah

Simon and Garret are here again,looking after their young family.If you are
unfamiliar with this family,we first met Simon in 'A Letter from America'
back in 2019. He was a teenager then,now he is well into adulthood. Garret
originated in another author's story. I want to thank Jacob Lion, in the
USA for his permission to use his characters in my story. That's one of the
things I want to make plain,all the characters in this,and all my other
stories are wholly fictitious.  They aren't based on real people. The other
thing I want to make plain is that, while Simon and Garret are both gay, as
are some other characters, this is a story about love - not sex,lust,or any
other substitute,but real Christian love. If it's pornography you want,
you'll have to find it somewhere else. Lastly,this story is brought to you
by Nifty,free of charge. Nifty doesn't charge me to publish it, nor you to
read it,but it does cost money to bring it to you. Please consider donating
to Nifty at https://donate.nifty.org/ so that these stories continue to be
available for all to read.

Chapter 8

We were all back at our digs in time for dinner at five o' clock. The
dining room contained two largish tables and, while we occupied one, the
Ryans and Mr.Stockdale occupied the other - Crystal sitting in her high
chair.

Mrs.Kesteven had roasted a big joint of beef and had baked a Yorkshire
pudding around it. Carrots and cabbage accompanied the mashed potatoes and
the whole lot was chased down by a treacle pudding.

The conversation, during the meal, was lively. Our boys had already made
friends with Timmy and Tommy, who reverenced them. Tommy had taken on board
that Barry had saved his life, and couldn't do enough for him.  Timmy
worshipped him not much less, since he still felt responsible for the
accident.  Sharon seemed to join in the general adulation, but included the
adults in it.  Rob said "thank you" very formally, but something was
lacking. Sharon had told us that the whole family had been at the beach in
the afternoon, but Rob had returned to the digs with a headache. I could
imagine things being a bit cool in their room for a day or two.

After dinner, Garret took the boys for a walk intending to walk off some of
the protein. I retired to our room only to find that Rob had followed me.
As I put the key in the lock he said,

"Simon, can we have a word?"

"Sure mate, come on in," I said as I opened the door.

He followed me in so I sat on the bed.

"What's the problem mate?"  I asked.

"I wanted to thank you properly," he said.  "I know I might have sounded a
bit off when I thanked you before. I think I'm in the dog-house."

"Why should you be?  "I responded. "How good a swimmer are you?"

"I don't swim," he replied.

"So, if you'd been there, we'd have had to rescue you too."

"If there'd been two adults with them, the twins wouldn't have got into the
water in the first place."

"I hope you were trying to fool yourself," I returned. "I've brought up
children so you're not going to fool me."

"It's not just that," he muttered to his stockinged feet.

I said nothing, letting a raised eyebrow do the talking.

"I didn't have a headache," he muttered.

I may have raised the eyebrow another fraction of a millimetre.

"I was in the Britannia with Les Stockdale."

"Does Sharon know?"

"God, I hope not.  Tell her if you want though. I deserve it."

"You're telling me this because you think it's my job to punish you?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I suppose someone should."

"Do you have a drink problem Rob?

"No!"

Did he sound a trifle too defensive? Too affronted. Was he protesting too
much?

"So why did you want to be in the Britannia with Les?"

"He's a lonely old man.  I didn't want him to have to drink alone."

"So you weren't being selfish. What makes you think you should be
punished?"

"It's not the first time she's caught me doing that sort of thing."

"And did you lie to her then?"

Silence.

"Sounds to me like you're telling me what you should be telling Sharon." I
pointed out.  "Don't you want to help bring up your kids?  My kids are
older now but, if I could spend twenty-five hours a day with them, it still
wouldn't be enough."

"It's different for you."

"Because?"

More silence.  I could see this one lasting forever.

"Because I'm a male homosexual bringing up three boys?"  I queried.

"Well......"

"You think that makes a difference?"

"There's bound to be feelings," he muttered, without meeting my eyes.

"I'm glad you know all about that." I responded. " This afternoon, as he
realised that he could have been responsible for the death of his brother,
Timmy became overwrought and fell, sobbing, into my arms.  I ended up
having to pick him up.  What feelings do you suppose were motivating me
then?  How do you imagine a male homosexual feels when he is holding an
almost naked six-year-old boy whose whole world has just come crashing down
on him and who is feeling emotions that most adults wouldn't be able to
cope with?"

I don't think Rob was a homophobe, but I could see a trace of alarm in his
eyes as I told him this last bit of news.

"Rob," I said more quietly, "to cope with that you need love - concern, yes
- sympathy, that too - but most of all, Love, with a capital L and not the
sort of pretend love that is really sex, lust, or desire.  Real love - the
sort where you have to put yourself on hold and be there entirely and
exclusively for the other person.  Now tell me those aren't the feelings
you would have felt if you'd been there instead of me."

There were tears in his eyes, but his voice was firm as he said,

"I'm sorry Simon. I'm really grateful. I'm not sure, if I'd been there,
that I could have done what you, and Grev,and Barry did."

"If Barry hadn't been so quick off the mark, there'd have been nothing for
me and Grev to do.  We'd have been too late."

"I didn't know that.  You must be very proud of him."

"Because I'm gay?"

He looked as if I'd hit him.

"Rob," I said quietly.  "Go and talk to Sharon. You're really missing out
if you let your kids' lives pass you by.  As for Les, why didn't you invite
him to come with you?  Perhaps he's never been a grandad."

"Thanks Simon," he muttered.

The departure of Rob brought peace, but not for long.  Garret was soon back
with the boys. I gave up trying to rest and went back down to the lounge.

The television might have gone on but Mr. Stockdale had a pack of playing
cards.  Whist was played until an early bedtime.

Monday morning was bright and sunny and the entire family took to
trainspotting.  Margate is a busy station but most of the traffic is
electric multiple units.  Nevertheless they are units that we would never
see back home so the boys were excited by them.  A good hour was spent in
spotting trains then we set off for the beach.

On this occasion we had thought to bring towels and bathing gear.  The six
of us were soon on the beach.  Grev found himself helping Lloyd build
sandcastles.  Barry was burying Philip in the sand.  Soon only Philip's
head and feet were exposed.  Somehow I wasn't surprised.  Grev returned as
Lloyd abandoned the fortifications to go and help Barry tickle Philip.

"It makes me realise what Eilene and I missed - not having kids," said Grev
as he sat down next to me.

  "Well, Eilene missed it," I replied.  "You've had loads of kids."

"It's not the same thing," he said, lying back and shielding his eyes with
his hand.

"Because Eileen didn't share those with you?"

"Well partly."

"They'd have grown up and then the same thing would have happened," I
pointed out.

"I suppose so,"

"There's no mileage in "might haves" and "should haves". It's now that
counts," I said flatly.

We dressed and consumed chips for lunch, after which we paid a visit to
Margate Lifeboat Station.

All the boys were fascinated by the two lifeboats, the larger one for
offshore rescues and the smaller D class inflateable that we could have
called out yesterday, but didn't because Barry had saved them a job.  We
spent a happy hour exploring the boats and their equipment. The boys were
also fascinated by chatting to an old lifeboatman who had seemingly just
come down to polish things.  Let's face it, who couldn't be impressed by
people who are prepared to risk their lives to save others?  With that in
mind, we called next-door at the lifeboat shop.  We stocked up with
tea-towels and calendars and Grev bought key-rings for each of our boys.
By the time we had finished it was getting on for time to get back to our
digs.

Mrs Kesteven had prepared liver and bacon with mash, peas and rich onion
gravy.  I don't remember ever giving the boys that before, but they seemed
to enjoy it. They certainly enjoyed the bread and butter pudding with
custard that followed it.

I was surprised when, after dinner, the entire Ryan family, plus Mr
Stockdale, prepared to go out.

"Would you like to come with us Simon?" Sharon asked.

"Where are you going?"

"The Britannia's got a beer garden so we can take the kids."

"And Mr. Stockdale," I added pointedly.

"Oh Les has been with us all day," she said, "which I believe is your
fault.  You were right - he's never had kids of his own, but he loves our
twins."

"I think I'll pass," I said, "but thanks for the invite, and I'm glad it's
working out."

Garret came in as she left.

"Where's everybody going?" he asked.

"Night on the town," I replied. "We were invited but I don't know whether
I've got the stamina for that."

"Well the Britannia has a beer garden if you did want to go," he pointed
out.

"Perhaps another night," I said, "unless, of course, I'm outvoted.  Do you
want to see what Grev says?"

"I think he's sleeping off his dinner and the boys are playing quietly.
Another night sounds good."

"Does anyone want a cuppa?" Mrs. Kesteven asked from the kitchen
doorway. "I'm just going to make myself one before Corrie comes on."

We took her up on that and she joined us so that she could watch Coronation
Street.  I seldom watch television, and never soap operas, but it seemed
pleasant sitting inactive and watching with her. The television went off at
the end of the programme and she sat and chatted with us.

Grev resurfaced at about half past eight and Mrs Kesteven made another pot
of tea.  We saw nothing of the boys.  We had still seen nothing of the
Ryans, or Mr.Stockdale, when Garret proposed an early night as we had a
busy day next day. I asked what he meant by that, but he refused to be
drawn. We retired at a little before ten o' clock to find that the boys had
already put themselves to bed. It was about an hour later when we heard
muffled giggles and the sound of quiet footseps on the stairs as the other
guests tried not to wake us.