Date: Thu, 03 Aug 2023 23:29:17 +0000
From: Jonah
Subject: The Happiest Days  chapter 4

The Happiest Days
by Jonah

This is a story about love - real love - at work in the lives of good
people.  It follows on from "Halls of Academia," but the story really began
many, many moons ago with "A Letter from America".  There are no real
people herein so, if you think one of the characters is based on you, or on
somebody you know, have another think and come up with a different answer.
Having said that, I didn't invent every character.  A couple of them were
originally crafted by another author.  I have to (well, actually, it is my
pleasure to) thank Jacob Lion, in the USA for his permission to use his
characters in my stories.

I hope you will enjoy this story, and I'm grateful to Nifty for enabling me
to bring it to you.  Nifty does not charge either me or you for doing so,
but it does cost money to do it.  Please consider donating to Nifty at
https://donate.nifty.org/ to help keep this site going.

Chapter 4    Life goes on.

Friday involved Garret taking Lloyd to school.  For the first time since I
had known him, he didn't want to go.  Neither did Lloyd.  I had fed them
both, but had guessed that Lloyd would want to stay with his friend.  I had
tried bribery - how would it be if I arranged the train-running session
that we had planned for Wednesday for when they got home.  Lloyd is way too
smart for that.  He instantly spotted that I was offering, with conditions,
something that I had already promised to deliver on Wednesday without those
conditions.  When he grows up, it will be a clever politician who manages
to put one over on Lloyd.

When they had gone I prepared Philip's breakfast and went to wake the
little fellow.  He came downstairs in just the tight, white uderpants that
he had worn last night.  He didn't want breakfast.

"OK Philip, can you help me with the washing up?  I'll wash and I'll give
you a tea towel."

He had been brought up to be polite and helpful.  In spite of his present
situation, those qualities still held good.  Wordlessly, he took the tea
towel from me.

"Thanks mate.  It won't take us long to do it between us," I told him.  "Oh
- I can't wash that one - it's got your breakfast on it.  Do us a favour -
just eat that for me."

"Har-har!" he responded sarcastically.

The smile on his face was ironic, but it was a smile.  The nearest anybody
had seen to a normal reaction from him since yesterday when the sky fell on
him.

The same thought must have occurred to him because, a moment later a
different smile - this time self-deprecatory - crossed his face.  He sat
down and began to stuff his face with toast and scrambled egg.

We did the washing up and put everything away, then I sat down in an
armchair and motioned for him to come and sit with me.

He sat on my lap and I noticed that his little bare feet were both enclosed
in one of my hands - the one that wasn't wrapped around his shoulder.  I
said nothing about this and a moment later, his head was resting on my
shoulder.

"Are you sad?" I asked.

I felt, rather than saw, him nod his head.

"That's alright," I told him.  "That's the right thing for you to be right
now.  It won't always be, but now it is."

"How will I know?"

I had been right.  He had been overcome by emotions that he didn't know how
to express or deal with, and he was afraid of getting it wrong.

"You don't need to know," I told him.  "When it happens, you'll deal with
it and, if you get it right, God will love you for it.  If you get it
wrong, He'll still love you, so it doesn't matter.  A lot of people love
you.  We know that what you're going through is hard, so we'll help you as
much as we can."

"Do I have to love you?"

"You don't have to do anything but, I'd like it if you did."

"It's bad when I love people."

So that was it.

"Did you love your mummy?"

  The nod of the head was almost imperceptible.

"And your daddy?"

Tears came.  I'd guessed that would be a hard one.

"He did some bad things?"

Another nod.

"I guess he did some good ones too."

Another nod.

"People are like that," I told him.  "You'll work it out as you get older."

The doorbell rang so I extricated myself from under the cute little boy.

"Do you want to go up and get a shower, then get yourself dressed?" I
asked.

"Do I have to put my socks on?"

"Not if you don't want to.  i've put some clothes on your bed."

"OK!"

I let Linda in as he disappeared upstairs.

"How is he?" she wanted to know.

"Better than you'd expect," I told her, "but there'll be no dancing in the
streets for him for a day or two."

She grinned, which made her look quite pretty.  I'd never really thought of
her in that way (surprise, surprise) but she was quite a personable young
lady.  When I say "young", she was about my age.  She managed to combine a
passion for helping people in need (I could identify with that) with a
quiet competence (I couldn't identify with that).

"Did he not get up yet?"

It was my turn to grin.

"If that had been the case, he'd have been down here in his underwear the
moment he heard your voice," I told her.  "No, he's up, breakfasted and
helped me with the dishes.  He's just gone to get himself showered and
dressed.  Would you like a cup of tea while we're waiting for him?"

I made us tea, and a glass of orange for Philip when he appeared.

When he did appear, it was a little boy that I scarcely recognised.  His
eyes sparkled and his teeth shone.  His blonde hair was neatly brushed and
he'd dressed himself in denim shorts and a bright yellow sweatshirt.  He
smelled, and indeed looked, clean from his head to his bare toes.  I
resisted, with difficulty, the urge to applaud the effort that he'd
obviously made.  If Linda still believed that the best option was for us to
adopt him, I reflected, this moment was not going to change her mind.

To be honest, it rather confirmed for me that I agreed with her.  I was
going to have to sit and have a serious chat with Garret.

There was another ring of the doorbell.  On the doorstep was a young man
dressed in what I can only describe as "smart/casual" without the "smart".
His demeanour said "newspaper reporter" as if he had been wearting a badge.

"Mr. Khan?" he didn't wait for an answer.  "Daniel Dorset - "Telegraph". I
just need to ask a few questions and maybe take a photo or two of that
young man over there."

He was inside the door by this time and my inclination was to use my
shoulder to put him outside again.  I was sure that, with my karate
training, I could do it but....

"Hello Danny!"

His face fell.

"Hello Linda."

"Danny, it won't surprise you if I tell you that you can't ask questions
and you most definitely can't take photographs but ,before you go, I need
to ask you something.  You're the first of many aren't you?  You're only
here on your own because you're local and thought you'd get ahead of the
pack?"

He gulped, then nodded his head.  He did not look happy. Linda persisted.

"And, as somebody with more experience of the press than li'l old me, is it
your opinion that the others won't simply go away as you're going to?"

"I'm not going to be able to use any of this am I?"

She shook her head.

"No you're not Danny, but don't worry - neither will any of the others."

He made the best of it.

"See you then, " he said, turning.

"See you Danny.  You've been most helpful.  There'll be a D notice on it
within the hour and, if you're really good, I won't tell your editor that
it was your doing."

Wow!  Please remind me never to rub her up the wrong way.

Within five minutes she had been on the phone to Mr. Justice Fulmore, who
had authorised Lloyd's adoption, and the necessary notice had been issued.
Another call to Sergeant Robbins led to a squad car being parked at the end
of our drive.  It was now official that, not only would any gentleman of
the press who ventured near be warned off by the Norfolk Constabulary, but
they would be apprised that any newspaper that ran the story would be out
of business from the moment the first edition hit the news-stands.

The rest of the day was calm by comparison.  Since Garret was working, and
I wasn't, we had agreed that I would do dinner, in spite of it being his
turn.  Philip and I went shopping and, apart from collecting the makings of
a barbecue dinner, complete with ice cream, we also bought spare clothing
for Philip, which would reduce the rate at which he helped go through
Lloyd's things, and also help him to feel as though he belonged with us.
To be honest, it certainly felt to me as if he did.

We got home and, instantly, his shoes and socks were off as he laid on the
settee with his feet on the arm.  I was well aware that this had nothing to
do with exhaustion, but was by way of an invitation.  Was I that
transparent?

"Five minutes," I told him.  "Then we have to get the barbecue lit."

His toes got fondled. His soft soles felt good against the side of my face,
and he'd wiggle his toes when he did that, but I was firm about my timing.
At the end of five minutes I told him,

"Shoes on!  It's time to sort out the barbecue before the others get home."

"Are we just going on the patio?"

I could see where that was leading.

"We'll be getting the train out later - you'll need shoes for that.  Put
them on now please."

End of conversation.  He didn't like to wear footwear of any sort, but he
had asked the question and I had given my answer.  That was good enough for
him.  I was surprised.  Lloyd accepted instruction in the same spirit.
Most of the kids at school, faced with an order, would argue with it -
would question it - would propose subtle changes to it - would try to
persuade me to change my mind.  Lloyd didn't do that and neither,
apparently, did Philip.

"OK," he said as he picked up his shoes.  I had forgotten that he only had
school shoes.  I'm sure he had others but they would be in his old house,
and I couldn't ask him to go there.  I should have thought of that while we
were shopping.

I felt cruel forcing him to wear shoes but, if he rode on the train, even
if he kept his feet on the footrests, it would be too easy to flex his
knees so that his toes came into contact with the ground, the ballast, or
even the sleeper-ends.  If he wasn't wearing shoes, he would get hurt.

We got the barbecue lit.  I used a firelighter under the charcoal.  I
didn't like doing that, but needed to keep up the heat long enough for the
charcoal to catch.  It was better (and safer) than spraying lighter fuel on
it - which didn't really work anyway.  I put a couple of sausages on it so
that dripping fat would aid combustion.  By the time we were ready to eat,
the sausages would be ready for throwing away, but they would have done
their job.

Garret and Lloyd arrived just as I was putting some burgers on to cook.
Salad, buns, and all the other ancilliaries to a barbecue were on the patio
table.  I sent Lloyd to get out of his school things - being careful to
reinforce that I meant him to get into something else - I knew this boy
after a year of living with him.

Lloyd came back and set about extracting the diesel and coach from the
engine shed.  He parked it on the track outside the shed.  Since I was
still barbecuing, he daren't bring it further.  With the signalbox
unmanned, to come further would have meant passing a signal at "danger",
and Lloyd knew the punishment for doing that, since Garret had graphically
described it to him one afternoon.  For the uninitiated, the punishment for
passing a signal at danger is one that, other than on railways, fell into
disuse after the Spanish Inquisition.

Food was soon ready and everybody happily chomped.  It was a measure of how
well our family gelled that everybody helped everybody else.  We were
enjoying each other's company as much as we were enjoying the food.

Once everybody had enough, the rest of the food was laid on the warming
tray at the side of the barbecue.  I repaired to the signalbox and set the
road for the first move of the day.  Philip climbed onto the coach behind
Lloyd and held on tightly to his friend.  As the signal cleared, Lloyd
sounded a brief note on his horn and the train set off.  With Philip on
board, it was really a passenger train.  We ran trains until darkness
threatened to fall.  Every time the train came to the patio-end of the
garden, the crew would stop to refresh themselves and their passenger at
the barbecue.  As the meat supply dwindled, the ice cream was produced.  A
ready supply of iced orange squash was also kept on hand.

Since it was the longest day of the year (it was 24 hours like all the
others but you know what I mean), the sun didn't rush to drop below the
horizon.  When it did the train finally arrived outside my signal box, sans
Philip.  I dropped the signal back to "danger".

"Are you going in that way round?" I asked.

Lloyd nodded so I pulled over the points and he ran forward into the engine
shed, where he immediately shut off his charge and removed the key.

He shut the doors and then came to the signalbox where he climbed onto my
lap.

"Tired?" I asked.

"A bit."

"Ready for bed?"

He shook his head.

"Can we just stay here for a bit?"

"Of course."

He had kicked off his work boots, revealing that he had not been wearing
socks.  This was the point at which I noticed that he had maneouvred both
of his bare feet into one of my hands. Gently I massaged his feet.  I was
sure that he knew better than to be jealous of Philip, but I was also sure
that I wanted to keep it that way.

After a while, during which he lay back on me while I rested my cheek on
the top of his head, I said,

"Come on!  Bring your boots, we'd best get you and Philip to bed."

We padded into the house where we found Garret on the settee.  He was
casually fondling Philp's bare feet, which were resting in his lap.  Lloyd
and I exchanged grins.  It occurred to me to wonder whether Philip had
detected that Garret was the one he needed to convince.

More specifically, Garret was the one I needed to convince, and the sooner,
the better.

The conversation took place after we had tucked in the boys at opposite
ends of Lloyd's bed.

We retired to our own bed and Garret surprised me by opening the batting.

"What does Linda say?"

"About?"

"You're not stupid Simon.  You know very well what about.  I'm not stupid
either.  So far as Philip knows, he'll be on the streets in a fortnight.
Social Services don't want that to happen.  I'm pretty sure they want him
to stay with us.  Lloyd wants him to stay with us.  Philip wants to stay
with us. You, from what I can see, want him to stay with us, and I sure as
Hell do.  Do we know anyone who does NOT want him to stay with us?"

"You mean apart from his father?"

"That's a problem for social services."

" That's a comfort."

"Why?"

Briefly I told him how Linda had handled the press.  He chuckled.

"Yup!  With Linda on our side, I'm, suddenly optimistic.  Goodnight Simon."

"Goodnight Garret."