Date: Mon, 28 Oct 2019 08:04:19 +0000 From: Andrew Passey Subject: The Village Part 1 (Young Friends) This is a new story a bit inspired by my Grandad's diary (see The Evacuee) and as it's not true it's allowing me to play around with things a bit more. I'll still be keeping my other ongoing stories on the site going and might even through a new one on to the site in the new year. Anyway hope you enjoy and before you start please do donate to Nifty here to keep this great site going: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html I spent the first 12 1/2 years of my life living with my Dad in South London. My mother died from complications from my birth so I grew up an only child with a single parent in a small well kept house in a middling part of London. Growing up without a mother was hard but in those days I wasn't the only one who has lost a parent. I was born in April 1927, the world was changing fast in my childhood with the depression of the early 1930s but at the same time technological advancements beginning to improve the lives of more middle class families like mine. At that stage another world war was a distant possibility, after the horrors of the trenches it felt like everyone wanted peace and it seemed everyone wanted to move on from the death and destruction. Of course this didn't last and come 1938 Nazi Germany was flexing its muscles. As an 11 year old I didn't really pick up on all this, I just hung out with my friends playing football in the streets around our houses or in the park. There weren't that many cars around really so we have a free reign to turn our little street into a full on football pitch at times! My Dad worked fairly high up in the RAF so while not rich we did live in a nice part of London. With the stress of possible war he would often come home from work looking worried. There was no TV though and I never ready the paper so I was pretty much unaware what was around the corner. In September 1938 I started secondary school. I made great new friends and I spent a great year with my old and new friends in the parks and each other's houses. I turned 12 in April 1939 and soon after my Dad sat me down and talked about the "changes" my body would go through. I was extremely embarrassed but he gave a full and frank description of everything and told me I could talk about anything I wanted. That summer I hung out with my friends and had a great time, I knew from swimming with them that a couple of them had started puberty and their dicks were slightly bigger and they were getting the odd wisp of hair. I was still hairless but after my dad had the chat with me I knew about masturbation and as my dick would get hard over that summer I started to masturbate and had dry orgasms. On a Saturday in mid August my Dad called me downstairs for a chat. He looked ashen and like he might have been crying. I instantly got really worried and asked what was going on. He took a deep breath and said big changes were coming. "I know Dad, we've had this talk about my body", he smiled sadly at me. "Not those changes Rob, big changes to the world. A war is coming, unlike one we've ever seen. Soon we'll almost certainly be at war with Germany, I'll be away with the RAF training new recruits and travelling to who knows where. I won't be able to protect you or look after you. I'll be away for weeks at a time. So you're going to have to move away from here for a while". "What?! No!! I can't leave you, and where would I go?!" I spluttered. He smiled sadly "I'm sorry Rob, I don't want this. I don't want to leave you or lose you but there is no choice. At least for now you'll have to go and live with Aunty Madge". "But I've never even met her!" I said in shock. My Dad sighed. "I know Rob, it's complicated. When you're mother and I married we left the village of Bradley to move down here. Your mother was very keen to move and never come back. We left your Aunt Madge there with her family. Your mother was very strong willed, and she made it clear she never wanted you to go back to the village, even for a visit. Once she died I felt I had to honour her request. However events have now superceded that". I was confused (partly at the use of the word superceded) and asked why and what was wrong with Aunty Madge and the village. "Nothing is wrong, it's just.......a bit different. I can't tell you unfortunately, I'm not allowed to. You'll understand in time. Nothing will happen until you turn 13 in any case and hopefully before then the war will be over and you'll be home with me". I burst into tears and begged him to let me stay, he cried as well and held me close. He told me he'd written to Aunty Madge and that he'd be taking me up there in a weeks time. I was inconsolable but he was relentless and not for turning. That last week I sulked and barely spoke to Dad but it did no good, I said goodbye to my friends and packed all my stuff.I slept in my old bed for the last time for a while, I didn't sleep much though, I woke up worried and fretting about my immediate future. The next morning we had a last breakfast together before we were interrupted by a knock on the door. My Dad went and had a conversation with someone there. He came in looking sad and concerned. "I'm so sorry Rob but I'm not going to be able to take you to Bradley. I'm urgently needed with work and have to go to the base. My colleague will drive you in his car to your aunt". This wasn't what I wanted to hear and I burst into tears. Dad held me close and told me it would be fine and he'd see me soon. I sensed he was saying that for my benefit and didn't really think he'd see me soon but i guess "soon" is a fairly moveable feast. So only half an hour later Dad was gone and I was in an Austin 8 being driven up to the depths of Shropshire and to the village of Bradley which sat on a bend in the river Severn. I'd never been in a car for any length of time, the rattling and the speed seemed amazing to me.T he journey was uneventful although it was a shock how rural England was. Living in London I'd taken from granted that there were lots of houses, people, buildings. Here we would go for ages and not see any one else. I got bored and the journey seemed to take forever. However we got closer to our destination and as the man driving me said we were almost there, I started to check out the surrounding area. Approaching Bradley from the valley head I could see the river splitting a village of well over 100 houses, maybe 200 if not a few more. A bridge joined the two parts of the village together. Above the village a a huge manor house lay on the small hill looking down on it below, I could see a small road winding up to it from the village centre. In the far distance out of the village, there were a few factory smokestacks. It was a world away from London and as we approached the village my heart started to beat quickly with worry and concern....