Date: Fri, 13 Sep 2013 00:00:30 +1030
From: Robert A. Armstrong <rob.aa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Schoolie - chapter 18

It has been a while since I began this expression of my fantasy. Thank you
all for sticking with it.

This is the final chapter of what I had originally planned.

I hope you enjoy it.


From Chapter 17

OMG! That photographer! Of course! I recall the exhibition that I attended
with my high school art class when I was about 13. The iconic country
pub. The river gums and the sunsets. The old shack.

OMG. I now clearly realise the cause of all my episodes of déjà vu!
My chin and bottom lip start to quiver, almost uncontrollably, and I feel
my eyes in the early stages of welling up with tears. I cover my mouth as I
start to choke up and ask Will for a tissue `to get some bloody dust out of
my eyes'.

My heart is pounding. For once Lilly had it right. His is world famous!

Should I tell Will now, or not?

OMG. I know who Will's father is!




Chapter 18

We turn in to the motel, a simple single-storey line of about a dozen units
with the Reception area at the end closest to the entry. I pull up outside
the well-lit office, clamber out and stretch away the kinks in my body from
the few hours of driving that I have just completed. Will follows suit.

Upon entering, the homely lady behind the desk looks up, smiles and asks,
"Mr Grant?"

I nod to her and reply, "Yes, I'm Thomas Grant and this is William, my
brother." Will looks at me and smiles a goofy little-brother grin. Our
hostess looks at both of us, back and forth. I can see the wheels turning
in her mind, `just brothers, or twin brothers?'

"We are very close brothers," I smile and produce my Driver's Licence for
identification and a credit card for payment.

She seems keen to chat and asks about where we have travelled from, our
destination, the dryness of the countryside to the west through which we
have passed, and she even asks about the condition of our stomachs -
whether or not they need filling.

"It's OK. Thank you." I tell her. "One of our friends packed us a basket of
goodies which we haven't attacked yet. Are there coffee-making facilities
in the room?"

"Yes, certainly," she replies. Then she adds, "Seeing that you and your
brother won't need dinner, which was included in the tariff, would you like
to join my family and me for breakfast instead? No extra charge. About
7:00am? We would be delighted to have some company."

Not having seen any other cars outside, I suspect that we are the only
guests for the night - or the week! This place is half way between
somewhere and somewhere else. When I booked, the distance from Marty's to
here seemed about right for us to drive after a day's activity.  We
wouldn't have reached the next place that I'd found until nearly
midnight. So this was it!

I thank her, and accept her offer. Will thanks her also.

Just then, a slim-statured lad of about 15 or 16 enters the reception area
from the residence at the rear. Younger than Will but older than Jake. Our
hostess says, "Hi, honey. We'll have two guests for breakfast in the
morning. Please show Mr Grant and his brother William to their room. Mr
Grant, this is my eldest son, Sam. He'll take care of your every need."

Sam takes the key from his mother then extends his hand to me. Firm grip; I
like that. "Pleased to meet you, Mr Grant. Welcome to our motel." In a
remarkable customer-friendly voice he adds, "This way please, Mr Grant,
and...," he pauses, "Mr Grant? Or is it William?"

Will shakes his hand (and holds it a little too long, I think) and says,
"Hi Sam. Pleased to meet you. Just call me `Will'." Sam smiles as he looks
back and forth between Will and me.

He leads the way. "May I help you with any luggage, Mr Grant?" he asks. His
mother has trained him well.

"Thank you, Sam," I reply, "but we only have one small bag each -
toiletries and pyjamas." Will looks at me in a way that communicates, `we
will not be wearing pj's tonight!'

Sam responds, "That's OK, Mr Grant. I always like to help the customers."
Then he flashes a quick smile at Will who, in turn smiles at me and shrugs.

I say, "Will why don't you walk with Sam and I'll move the car." The two of
them start off down the row of rooms. I kick the engine over and switch on
the headlights, illuminating them from behind, and I follow right on their
tails.

Now, you know how, sometimes, you can just tell that a guy is not wearing
any underwear? Well, I can tell that about Sam instantly. His pulled-up,
one-size-too-small cotton pants are riding up between his cheeks, with no
hint of an underwear hem to break the curve of his firm, round orbs. He
reminds me of an older version of Karl and Kurt. He and Will seem to have
hit it off instantly and are chatting animatedly as they walk.

They go all the way to the last room. Sam inserts the key, turns the door
knob and switches on the lights. I pull up the car as the boys enter. I
switch the car off, grab our two `overnight' bags from the back seat,
leaving the remainder of the luggage in the boot.

Upon entering, I put Will's bag on the single bed and mine on the
double. Will smirks.

"Tom," Will says, "Sam just asked me if I'd like to play some of his
computer games with him. I've never even seen computer games before. Would
it be OK, for a while?"

"Sure, Will," I reply. ""Just don't be too long, OK?" I wink at him. He
reciprocates.

Sam turns and I now have a good view of the front of his tight pants. Wow!
I don't know what he's got packed in there but if he was wearing underpants
I could believe that he had a couple of pairs of socks stored away in
them. Nobody could ever call him `Little Sam'! I force my gaze to his
face. "That's very kind of you, Sam. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Mr Grant. I won't keep him for more than about 15 or
20 minutes." I smile when I think of what Will could achieve in that time,
if Sam was of a similar mind.

With Will away, I turn down both beds and put the jug on to make myself a
large mug of coffee. I retrieve Di's goodies and start into some peanut
cookies. I sit down to peruse all of the reading material provided in the
room.

Just as I finish my coffee, the door opens. Sam says, "Good night, Will."
Then, looking beyond Will towards me, he adds, "Good night Mr Grant."

I reply, "Good night, Sam. We'll see you in the morning."

Will adds, "Yeh, we'll see you at breakfast. And thanks!"

Sam replies, "You're very welcome. And, thank YOU!" The two boys exchange
smiles then Sam disappears.

Will closes the door and then looks at the turned-down beds. "What?
Separate beds? Are you kidding me?" he asks.

"Not unless you are too tired to `get lucky'," I tease.

"Hell, no! I've still got plenty of energy to have a LOT of fun with you,"
Will says, smirking at me. His use of the word `still' alerts me to the
possibility of him having done something with Sam, or maybe he's simply
referring to being refreshed after the travel. Knowing Will, I'll bet that
it's the former. LOL.

"OK. Spill the beans! What games did you play with Sam? What did he show
you?"

Will laughs. "Well, he started showing me some combat games but I couldn't
even follow what was going on, so we didn't play them. And, the car racing
game was a bit too fast, but it was fun with Sam sitting next to me and
leaning on me every time we went one way around a corner. So I leaned on
him when we turned the other way. Soon, every time that I crashed, he
squeezed my thigh. And every time I squeezed his thigh, he crashed!
Haha. Our hands gradually got higher and higher and one thing just led to
another, you know?"

"So, you got lucky, eh?" I smirk at him, looking directly into his eyes.

"Tom, you should have seen what I saw!" Then, without any guile he
innocently adds, "Sam's hung like a horse and spurts like a fountain! Man,
was he ever horny!"

"He asked whether I wanted him to do me too, but I said that I didn't think
that I could manage any more today. You should have seen the weird look
that he gave me! His offer was hard to resist, but I'm saving myself for
some fun with you, Tom."

Oh, I told him that it was still OK for him to play with me while I was
giving him a hand - two hands actually! It was a monster! I didn't know
they came that big on people, only on horses! And, I think that there
wouldn't even be a hole big enough for him in the `Men's Room' at Marty's."

"He also asked if we were going to stay again on the way back" and whether
my brother would like to play computer games too. I told him that I'd have
to leave those decisions to you."

To change the subject from `Will and Sam' to `Will and Tom', I say, "OK,
Sport. You've been very patient in waiting for this night. How do you want
to do it?"

"Can we start in the shower?" Will asks, hopefully.

"Sure thing," I reply. "But, I want us to undress each other. Yeh?"

"Hell, yeh!!" he says, reaching instantly for my trousers.

"Hey, slowly!" I say, taking him in my arms and hugging his body to mine. I
want to savour the moment. And, because we are wearing identical clothes,
it will be easy for one to copy the other.

I undo the top button on his shirt. He does mine. I continue slowly
downward, inserting my hand inside his shirt when I reach half way and
rubbing his chest and gently squeezing his nipples. He copies. When the
shirts are off, he takes over the lead. The belts are easy. The trouser
clasps, buttons and zips are attended to very sensuously, with much
`feeling up' of each other's erections. Trousers off. We remove our own
shoes and socks. We face each other in tented underpants - complete with
matching wet spots.

"Let's do the rest at the same time," I suggest.

"Just like playing `mirrors' with Karl and Kurt, eh?" he replies.

"Yeh." We synchronise and rub each other's stiffness, jiggle each other's
balls and rub each other's glutes. But when I slide my hand inside the
waistband of his underpants and grasp his shaft, skin-to-skin, Will says,
"Tom, I think I'm gonna cum."

"Oh, no you don't!" I shoot back, and slap his bum hard.

"Ouch, that stings!" he complains. Then he does the same to me, and smirks.

"It calmed you down, right?" I joke.

"Too bloody right it did... but that's OK." He smiles.

I ease his underpants down and off and allow him to do the same to me. He
grabs me in a hug and rubs his body against mine. He takes hold of my cock
and leads me to the shower, like a dog on a short leash.

I turn on the water, adjust the temperature and step in. He follows. We
soap each other liberally. This feels so good, rubbing the firmness of his
muscular body and feeling him rub me.

"Will, let me lead again, OK?" He agrees and I crouch on one knee. I lick
around his inner thighs, his lower abdomen and wiggle my tongue in his
navel. I go around a couple of times. It's so much fun to hear him groan
and to feel him shudder when I get to certain spots. Then, cradling his
balls in one hand while grasping and kneading one of his butt cheeks with
the other, I start licking - balls, around the base of the shaft and
upwards to the head. I repeat this multiple times then take him into my
mouth fully, suck hard once and then pull off.

"Is that it?" he asks disconsolately.

"No. Just the beginning," I reply. "Your turn."

He appears to have memorised my every movement. He doesn't miss a single
one. Except, when he takes my head into his mouth, he can't stop himself
and continues bobbing and sucking earnestly, as if this is his only chance.

"Whoa!" I urge. "You like this?"

"Hell yeh! OMG. You have no idea!"

"OK. Let's keep going, but don't cum! OK?"

"Gotcha!"

He tells me to pull off him a couple of times. The duration between each is
getting shorter. "All right," I say. "Dry off quickly. We can finish this
on the bed."

We towel off the excess water. I lay one towel on the bed and tell Will to
keep the other one handy. He lays himself on the towel and I assume a 69
position, with both of us on our sides.

"Just copy what I do," I coach him. He's a quick learner and his tongue
action around my head and slit feels fantastic.

I feel his finger searching for my hole. I know what he wants. I coat my
finger with saliva , tickle him in the right spot and insert it slowly and
gently.

"Ooooh, Tom. That all feels so good. But... I can't... hold on... any
longer!" He shudders His cock throbs. I take it all in.

"Here I come too, Will. You don't have to take it in your mouth if you
don't want to." He ignores my warning and I pump him a mouthful. "Spit onto
the towel if you like, Will." He ignores me again, and swallows, grimacing
a little.

"I've waited so long for that, I wasn't going to miss it for the world," he
chirps as he comes up for air.

He lays himself flat on his back. "Roll on top of me," he says breathily,
reminiscent of the very first time that we jacked each other off, except
that, now, the positions are reversed. He wants to kiss. I can taste my cum
in his mouth. I ease off him with my back to him, and he spoons up to me
immediately, wrapping one arm over my body.

We fall asleep in an euphoric embrace.

My phone alarm rouses me from a deep sleep. It must be 6:15am.

As my mind quickly clears away the night fog I become aware of two
sensations - a hand on my stiff cock, and a stiff cock along the cleft
between my glutes. I wiggle my hips to see if there is any response from
Will.

I hear, "Hmmmm" first, and then there is movement. I feel his body tense in
a wake-up stretch. When he realises where both his hand and his cock are,
there is some gently rubbing of both. "Sorry, need to pee," he says
apologetically.

"Me too!"

We clamber off the bed. Will rushes straight for the bathroom. I grab our
two towels and follow.

While he is unloading a strong stream into the toilet bowl, I run the
shower and step in. I direct my own flow directly into the shower drain.

"Join me?" I ask, unnecessarily.

"Hell, yeh!" he replies, flushing. I reflect that this has become one of
his favourite expressions. He almost literally jumps in alongside me. "Can
I lead?" he asks.

"Hell, yeh!" I respond which elicits first a stare, and then a good laugh,
from him.

He starts with the soap, upper body, shoulders and neck. It's as though he
has become my personal massage therapist. He moves my body around -
rinsing, soaping, rubbing, rinsing. He works his way
downwards. Pecs. Abdomen. Glutes. Thighs. Calves.

As he comes back up, he focuses on working between my legs - underneath,
back and front, giving everything a good `clean'. As he fingers my hole he
asks tentatively, "When can we do this for real?" And he slowly pushes a
soapy finger inside.

"Not today, buddy, but maybe it won't be two virgins going back to Mary's,
eh?"

"Hell, yeh!"

He repeats on me what he learned last night. OMG. He is so good already!
When I tell him that I'm about to cum, he stands up, applies some soap to
his crack and backs onto me.

He moves his butt up and down, ensuring that my stiffness is between his
cheeks. I hug him to me hard, and assist his movements by thrusting my cock
in rhythm with him.

"Here it comes," I gasp and shoot between our bodies.

"I can feel it," Will says. "It feels hot."

I rinse us off, turn him around and give him the second blow job of his
young life. When he warns me that he is going to cum, I stand and press our
two cocks together. Mine has lost its rigidity but not its chunkiness. He
cums between us. I step back a litte and watch his last spurts find their
resting place in my pubes.

We hug. We grind. We wash. We dry. We brush. We dress. I mess up the single
bed so that it looks slept-in.

I am about to gather our bags to put into the car when I hear a knock at
the door. `Now who could that be?' I wonder. `Probably horse-boy,' I tell
myself.

Will opens the door. "Hi, Sam."

"Hi, Will. Ready for breakfast?" He is beaming, and I think that he's added
an extra pair of socks to his collection. Haha.

"Good morning, Mr Grant," he says politely, acknowledging me. "Do you need
a hand with anything?" I think of replying that he's 15 minutes too late,
but I resist.

"You two go on ahead," I tell them. "I'll be there shortly." I watch them
nudge each other buddy-fashion as they disappear.

Sam's mother introduces me to the `rest of the family' - a younger brother,
Mikey, who is about 10 or 11, judging by his face and height. I wonder
about another part of his body for a split second, but then concentrate on
a congenial conversation with our hostess. We all enjoy our food.

After a second cup of coffee, I offer to help clean up, but am told that
the boys will do it. That's how they help out and earn pocket money while
their dad's away on roster working in the Central Queensland coal mines -
ten days on and four days off.

They stand and wave us goodbye - `horse-boy' Sam, `pony-boy' Mikey, and
their mother.

"Can we please stay here on our way back?" Will asks tentatively. I tell
him that I've already arranged it with Sam's mother, and he smirks. "Hell,
yeh!" he whispers to himself.

We swap drivers a couple of times. I don't want Will to be driving in busy
traffic when we get there. The conversation covers many topics, however
`Sam' seems to figure prominently.  So does Will's first bj, and his
second, and the feelings of both giving and receiving. And the anticipation
of many more!

I also take this opportunity of privacy to introduce the need for personal
cleanliness and safety in going all the way. Even though I hope that Will
and I will be monogamous, I feel responsible for teaching him how to take
all the precautions. I know that I cannot predict the future, only wish.

I explain what an enema kit is for, why condoms are used and the benefit of
lube - for both people, `top' and `bottom'. He listens intently and asks
sensible questions. A perfect student! And, I can tell, he is keen to put
the theory into practice!



Will is impressed by the sight and sound of the surf across the highway as
I pull into the double driveway and park outside the under-house
garage. With our car windows down the salt sea smell is refreshing to me,
and a novelty to him.

I raise the windows. We exit the car, stretch after the last long ride, and
then grab our bags and bits and pieces from the back seat and the boot. I
explain to Will that not everyone on the Gold Coast is as honest as people
'back home', out west, and locking the car is a necessity. So I do it.

We head up the five steps to the verandah and double front doors. Without
bothering to knock or ring, I unlock the door and invite Will
inside. "Hello. Anyone here?" I call. No answer. I suspected as much with
the family sedan missing from its usual spot on the driveway.

I give Will a quick tour of the house - entry, lounge, dining, kitchen,
rumpus room and deck with a view to the pool in the back yard. Will is
impressed. Then up a flight of stairs to the four bedrooms - Mum & Dad's,
Sis's, one used as an office, and the fourth as a guest room. There is also
the bathroom, with shower, toilet, vanity basin and a large corner spa
bath.

Alongside the bathroom is another flight of stairs to my room. We head
up. The third step creaks. "Sister and parent alarm," I tell Will. "Nobody
sneaks up on me unless they go two at a time. And if they try that, I'd
hear them anyway." He smirks.

My room could best be described as an attic / retreat, with its own shower
and toilet positioned directly over the bathroom on the floor below, for
plumbing reasons. It's a rather large space with sloping ceilings that
match the roof line with two set-in dormer windows that overlook the beach
and ocean. The walls and sloping ceilings are decorated with pictures of my
favourite sporting heroes; actually, many desirable sport-toned
bodies. LOL.

There is my double bed with bedside tables and lamps, two chests of drawers
and a large mirror robe. My computer desk is set between the dormer
windows, very conveniently placed to take advantage of the views and to
break the drudgery of work, or simply for looking at the magnificent
scenery - both water and people.

I note that a single camp stretcher has also been placed in the room and
made up. My parents obviously considered that my guest might like to `bunk
in' with me for the two weeks instead of being downstairs next to them and
Sis. Very thoughtful! I had previously emailed them from big town that I
had met a poor, local artist who paints horses, landscapes and portraits,
and that I am bringing him on his very first trip to the beach and to
experience the ocean.

I drop my bag on the double bed, and Will puts his on the single, together
with his A1 art portfolio from the school and a large parcel, wrapped in
cloth and tied. I haven't asked him what it is, but I could venture an
opinion that he's brought a gift for the family.

"Hello!" I hear from downstairs.

"Hi. Coming down." I call back through the open doorway.

I'm first down the stairs and Will is right behind me. He stands beside me
and I begin to make the introductions. The looks that Dad, Mum and Sis give
us are priceless, reminding me of my first encounter with Jane and the
cherubs in the village. Sis even rubs her eyes, as if that would relieve
her double vision! With Will having grown since that first encounter, we
are now the same height. So, with identical haircuts and wearing our
selected, matching clothes, we have much the same affect on them as we did
on Marty and the children at the school.

Will's youthful and sometimes-exuberant behaviour is really the only way to
tell us apart now except perhaps, to those who know us well, by our
slightly different speech. I speak a little faster and my natural voice is
perhaps a semitone lower than Will's. Everyone looks from one of us to the
other and back. I know what they are thinking, but I choose not to say
anything about the similarity.

"Dad, Mum, Sis, this is Will. Will, meet my family."

Will confidently steps forward and shakes hands with each of them. "Pleased
to meet you Mr Grant, Mrs Grant, and Sis." I suddenly realise that I have
forgotten to tell Will my sister's name.

"Will, this is my thirteen year old sister, Amelia, but I just call her
`Sis'. She prefers `Sis' to `Ame' or `Melly' or any of the other variations
that I've come up with."

Sis is the first to speak. Avoiding the question in everybody's mind, she
says, "I hear that you're an artist. I do cartoons. Would you like to see
some?"

Mum saves Will from Sis's gallery of monstrosities by offering us all
afternoon tea. "Amelia, let Will settle in first. Will, we'd like to hear
all about your village and your work. Thomas has told us so much already,
but I'd rather hear it all again from you, first hand."

Sis and I both poke out our tongues at each other, as we usually do when
Mum calls the other one of us by our full name. I can see that this amuses
Will. I'm tempted to call him `William' to see if I get a similar
response. I wouldn't put it past him.

Mum tells us to sit at the dining room table and she heads into the
kitchen. Sis takes the seat next to Will. My heart beat quickens, hoping
that she doesn't annoy him like Anna has in the past. On the contrary, he
seems to actually enjoy her company. Maybe there is a kindred artistic
spirit that each of them senses or perhaps, simply, a thirteen year old is
no threat to him. He asks her about school and what things she likes to do
with her friends. He just won her over! However, he'll find that while it's
easy to start her talking; not so easy to shut her up. Almost like an
O'Brien!

While Dad ventures upstairs with some things he's brought in from the car,
I set the table with crockery and some cutlery. Mum returns with a teapot,
one plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies and another with buttered
slices of coffee and walnut cake - my favourite, next to custard
tarts. Good onya mum!

Will enjoys chatting with Mum and Sis. Dad soon returns and joins in -
mainly questioning Will about the village, its history and its
geography. Trust an accountant to ask for the facts! Will gives them all a
fairly accurate thumbnail sketch of the township and the various members of
the O'Brien clan, including a little about his `missing' mum. He also
includes `others' like the twins. He leaves out the personal bits then
simply says, before being asked the question about the person he has not
mentioned, "I never knew my father." My family is too polite to ask why
not.

Will excuses himself and dashes up the stairs, returning quite quickly with
the parcel that I saw. "Mr and Mrs Grant, I would like to give you this as
my `thank you' for allowing me stay with you." Mum and Dad are both
impressed at his manners. Sis is keen to see what is inside. Dad indicates
that Mum should be the one to open it. She does, carefully.

"It's beautiful." Mum gushes, and gives Will a hug. "Thank you, dear. Where
did you buy this delightful picture?"

Will beams with pride as he modestly replies, "No, Mrs Grant, I painted it,
and I'd like you to have it. I made the frame myself too." From where I am
sitting I can't see it, but I just assume that it's one of his horses. Mum
and Dad gasp and remark at the quality of what they are seeing, and Will
gets an extra hug from Mum and an approving squeeze of the shoulders from
Dad.

Mum, with what I detect might be a tear in her eye, quickly covers it again
with the cloth and says, "I'm going to hang this in the lounge room later,"
then she takes it into the lounge and sets it beneath a blank spot on the
wall.

"Wow," Sis says. "You are good. Thomas said that you were great, but I
thought it was just another one of his usual exaggerations", earning her a
poked tongue from me for her `Thomas' jibe, and a pout for the
exaggerations remark. She gets an admiring look from Will. Honestly, if
those two were cats, they would both be purring!

Mum says, "Oh, Thomas, I almost forgot to tell you. Uncle Bill is in town,
and I've invited him to dinner. He should be here in about an hour. Why
don't you show Will around the beach area in the meantime." Will and Sis
both poke their tongues out at me. Smart arses!

"And then he can look at my cartoons." Sis chimes in.

`Uncle Bill.' I think to myself. `I haven't seen him on over five
years. From what I recall of his sense of humour, this will be
interesting!'

Will and I head upstairs. A long car journey has a funny effect on one's
bladder. After we both relieve ourselves, we head downstairs, out of the
door and walk up to the pedestrian crossing on the next corner. With a
green light, we cross to the promenade. Although it's late in the
afternoon, there are still many 'beautiful people' strolling up and
down. There are young families with toddlers and babies in strollers,
oldies taking a 'constitutional', joggers with their iPods and earplugs and
then there are the toned bodies - male and female - just showing off the
results of their exercise regimes, diets and sun tans. The lycra running
shorts on some leave very little to the imagination. Little willies don't
wear lycra! Posers! Will is again impressed. We are getting a number of
interesting looks as well. Twins? No - unfortunately! Karl and Kurt are so
lucky!

We walk for about twenty minutes, stopping occasionally to look at the
action in the water and on the beach. The afternoon sun from behind us
gives everyone down on the beach a golden glow. Will is mesmerised by
people riding their surfboards in a gentle one metre swell - guys mostly,
in multi-coloured board shorts. "Would you like to try that?" I ask. His
body language tells me that he would, but his lack of immediate response
betrays an anxiety. "Don't worry. We'll begin with small waves." He flashes
those precious pearly whites at me, acknowledging that he's willing to
`have a go'. I think I'll start him on a long board, riding tandem with me,
so that he can get a feel for the waves and I can help him gain his
balance. Besides, he'll look terrific in one of my wet suits - almost as
good as lycra. LOL.

We head back. Sis immediately pounces and drags Will up to her room to
display her creations. Dad and I sit in the lounge area and are chatting
about the dryness of the countryside and the journey back, when the
doorbell rings.

I have my back to the door. Dad gets out of his seat, walks past me, and
opens it. I remember Uncle Bill's voice the moment that I hear him
exchanging jocular insults with my dad. He always was an extrovert, and
forever ready with witticisms and cynicisms.

At that moment I hear Sis thundering down the stairs. "Uncle Bill!" she
squeals.

"Amelia. My, how you've grown! How old are you now? Ten?"

"I'm thirteen, Uncle Bill," she says with some measure of disdain, falling
right into Uncle Bill's trap!

He doesn't respond to her, but immediately says, "Thomas, you haven't
changed at all since I saw you last." I rise to greet him only to discover
that he has taken Will's hand at the bottom of the stairs. He is standing
with his back to me. While he is pumping Will's hand, Will is looking at me
rather perplexed about what to say.

Enjoying this mirthful situation where the joke is going to be on him for
once, I say, "I'm over here, Uncle Bill." He looks over his right shoulder
and, upon seeing me, relaxes his grip on Will's hand and swings around to
face me. I think the colour drains from his face a little as his mouth
opens wider, although no words escape.

He looks back over his left shoulder at Will, then again at me. I walk over
to shake his hand. Will moves to stand alongside me. Uncle Bill's head
doesn't move, but his eyes certainly do, flicking back and forth. Finally,
he breaks the silence with, "Well, after seeing Michael Keaton in
`Multiplicity', I didn't think that a clone machine was possible. In the
movie the clones got worse. In this case, it appears that the clone is
better than the original."

I punch Uncle Bill's shoulder. He smiles. I've just fallen into his trap,
too.

Will says to me, and indicating Uncle Bill, "Hey! I like him!"

I introduce them. "Uncle Bill, this is my friend Will. He lives out west
and has joined me for the holidays. Will, this is our Uncle Bill. He
travels a lot. We never know when he's going to turn up." Nothing more is
said about the similarities - for now.

Amelia drags Will back upstairs. Mum, who has emerged from the kitchen,
gives Uncle Bill a hug and a smooch. They hold hands and look at each
other, then hug again. Mum says that she needs to return to preparing the
dinner which won't be long. Dad takes Uncle Bill to the lounge to `catch
up' on the missing years. I decide to help mum and set the table for six.

Dinner is delicious, with much idle chatter about everything and
nothing. When mum mentions `dessert', Uncle Bill suggests that we have it
in the lounge room while he shows us some of his latest work. He can plug
his iPad into the TV. "It is high definition, isn't it?" he asks. Mum, dad
and I don't bite. Amelia does, "Of course it is!"

Will asks innocently, "What's high definition?"

Uncle Bill thinks that Will is pulling his leg and says, "Hey! I like him!"
parroting Will's early words.

The seating arrangement is like this... Uncle Bill in one of the armchairs,
then dad and mum on a two-seater next to him, then, on the next two-seater,
Sis and Will. I take the other armchair next to Will. It's sort of like a
semicircle facing the TV. Uncle Bill has his iPad connected.

He starts with a dozen photos from his `Sea Change' collection, then a
similar number from a `Tree Change', both highlighting aspects of coastal
and rural living - promotional work that he's done for the Tourist Bureau.

Will has still not made the connection.

"The next lot are from a series that I did years ago," he says. "I called
it `The Western Hamlet'".

The first couple are of sunsets. Déjà vu. Then come `the pub', `the
church', `the shack'...

Will chirps, "Hey, that's my h..." but he doesn't finish. Uncle Bill flicks
to the next one.

"Wait! Stop!" mum calls out, and jumps up. Will is looking very confused,
as everybody else stares at his photo of the river, the weir and a pair of
arching trees that frame the school in the background.

Mum collects Will's gift from the lounge room and places it in front of the
TV. Then she uncovers it.

There is initial silence while everyone stares at both Will's gift and the
TV.

Sis: "Hey, they're the same!"

Dad: "No they're not. The trees are different, see - that one in the photo
has fallen down and has become a log in the painting. The river levels are
very different. In Will's painting everything has grown."

Uncle Bill: "When did you copy my painting? I've never shown this one. How
could this have happened?"

Will: "I didn't copy anything. I painted this last year. Your `Western
Hamlet' is where I live. And `the shack', as you call it, is my home, or it
was, until recently."

I join the conversation. "Uncle Bill, that's the village where I teach, and
where I met Will."

Uncle Bill: "I haven't been there for about 18 years, and I was only there
for one day. It was magic. The light was perfect for everything that I
wanted to capture.

"Uncle Bill, would that have been in late autumn?" By my calculation this
would have been 9 months before Will was born.

"Yes, how could you tell that?" He pauses then reminisces, "Ah, the
sunlight was stunning that day. And so were the locals, for that matter."
He laughs. Will and I don't. Mum, Dad and Sis see no reason to.

I think that Will has finally caught on! And, I'm sure that he is about to
burst into tears. He reaches across and grasps my forearm for reassurance.

Dad: "Don't tell me. You had fun with some of the young ladies there? That
would be just like you!"

Uncle Bill: "No... just one. For some reason I seem to remember her name. I
think it was Jillian or Lillian."

Will is unable to speak, so I fill in the gaps. "Uncle Bill. The Lady's
name was indeed `Lillian' or `Lilly' as I know her. She is Will's mother
and Will was born nine months after you visited the town. She spoke about
you for years, and named her baby son after you. `Big William' and `Little
William', or `Will' to his friends. Do you know what that means?"

Everyone is stunned. They look from the TV to the painting; from Will to
Uncle Bill. Uncle Bill can do nothing but stare at Will. I can almost hear
the wheels of everyone's minds grinding away while they process this
revelationary information.

Probably for the first time in his life, Uncle Bill is speechless.

Poor Will! He doesn't know what to do. I stand up and motion him to me. He
wraps his arms around me, and I can feel his tears on my shoulder. He turns
to face Uncle Bill. "You're my father?" he blubbers, like a little child.

Mum and dad excuse themselves to clean up the dinner dishes in the
kitchen. I give Sis a nod of my head towards the stairs, to make herself
scarce. Will, my Uncle Bill and I are left alone. Uncle Bill moves towards
Will, shakes his hand tentatively and then embraces him in a hug that has
each of their heads looking over the other's shoulder. Uncle Bill is facing
me. This is the first time that I have ever seen tears in his big blue
eyes. He relaxes and begins patting Will on the back.

I'm relieved, thrilled and jealous, all at the same time. Will now has a
father. A famous father. A rich, famous father - William Grant, the
renowned photographer. Will's uncanny perception and skill with artistic
media is obviously a genetic spin-off from Uncle Bill's own artistry. I
didn't know such things could be inherited. I think, `How is it that I
don't have my dad's ability with numbers? Or my mum's flair in the
kitchen?'

I attempt to break the tension by saying, "Big Willie and Little Willie."
Will looks at me and smiles. Uncle Bill is not as understanding and looks
puzzled. "He'll explain it to you, Uncle Bill. Why don't you two go for a
walk, and talk?"

Will composes himself with the aid of some tissues. Uncle Bill produces a
large handkerchief for the same purpose. "OK, Will..., son. Let's walk and
talk." They leave with Uncle Bill's arm around Will's shoulders.

`Will is my cousin!' My mind repeats it. I'm uncertain whether I actually
vocalise it, but I'm ecstatic. I almost wish that Marty was here so that I
could say, `Hey, don't you speak to my cousin like that'. My pretend
`little brother' is actually my real-life cousin. Wow!

Mum and dad come back into the room. They both look upset. I can't imagine
why! They should be thrilled that Uncle Bill has found the son that he
never contemplated and Will has found the father that he never knew. Mum is
holding onto dad's arm and appears almost afraid to let go. "Thomas, we
need to talk to you about something."

"What is it?" I ask, almost jovially. "Hey, I've found a cousin! Isn't that
great?"

They beckon me back to the lounge. They sit together and I take an armchair
next to them. I can't understand why they appear so serious. After all, I
have a cousin! That explains a lot!

Mum begins, "Thomas, Will is a nice young man."

I can't disagree.

"However, he isn't your cousin." I look at mum and then at dad. He looks
really serious, even for an accountant.

"Mum, what are you saying? Uncle Bill is Will's father, isn't he?"

"Yes, quite obviously."

"And Uncle Bill is dad's brother, isn't he?"

"Yes, that too."

"Then, how is Will NOT my cousin?"

Dad finally speaks up. "Thomas, we are about to say something that you may
not want to hear, but we need to tell you." My brain is its usual slow self
in putting the pieces together. "Before your mother married me, Bill and I
were both dating her and doing more with her than unmarried people should
do, especially in those days. Your mother said she was in love with both of
us, but needed to choose one and spend the rest of her life with that one
only. She chose the steady accountant over the flippant photographer."

"After a six-month engagement, my brother Bill, begged to spend one last
night with her and then he would leave us alone to be together `for ever
and ever, amen' I think were his exact words. Your mum and I talked about
it and both agreed. A month later we were married. You were born a month
too early, but premature births were common so nobody thought too much of
it. But we both knew the reason. You are really my brother's son, not
mine. We didn't need blood tests, we could tell. But only your mother and I
knew about it. And we've kept it a secret all these years - until
today. Even Bill doesn't know. He actually has two sons."

There is silence. Mum and dad clutch each other tighter and look to me for
a response, probably fearing the worst. Hey, I've got a bigger secret than
theirs. At the moment I'm too scared to tell them. They might be more
ashamed of me than they think that I am of them.

I stand up and move to give them both a loving embrace. They stand and we
indulge in a long, group hug. I break the silence. "Thank you guys for
finding the courage to tell me. From my perspective it doesn't change
anything. Uncle Bill might be my father, but you're still my dad, as far as
I'm concerned. I love you guys. Don't ever think that I don't. We can't
change the past, and I wouldn't want to alter all of the loving years that
we've had anyway. I look forward to many, many more, even if it does
include Amelia."

That remark breaks the tension. "Let's get a cup of tea. Boy, do I need
one!" mum throws in.

Dad says, "I need a stiff drink. What will you have... son?"

"Coffee. With some walnut cake, if Amelia has left us any."

We talk for over an hour. Mainly about Uncle Bill and Will. I will still
call him `Uncle Bill' forever, even if he does find out about me. Dad tells
me that he is very well connected and a director of the National Art
Gallery. With his connections, it's quite possible that Will could become
as famous as his father, considering the quality of his work. I comment
that Will has brought a folder of much of his paintings and drawings with
him, which I'm sure everyone would love to see.

Just then, the door opens and Uncle Bill and Will walk in, joking together
as though they had been friends for years. I'm so happy for Will. But not
just for him.

Mum offers Uncle Bill a drink. I move to face Will.

"Hey, Will, I know you've just been for a long walk, but come with me to
the mall will you? The shops are open late here. There are some things I
need to buy."

I tell the others that we won't be long.

As we walk, and Will tells me how thrilled both he and `Big Willie' are to
have found each other and some of the things that his dad can do for him, I
have to add some good news of my own. "Will, there is something that I
really need to tell you."

"What is it... cousin, Tom?" he says and hugs me while we walk.

"Yeh, it's about that. Do you remember a certain promise that I made you?
The one promise that I haven't kept yet?"

"Yes. But, it doesn't apply to being cousins, though, does it?" I can't
discern his mood from the tone of his voice.

"Will, my news may come as a shock to you, but we are going shopping
for... an enema kit, lube and condoms. We will need them all... later
tonight. I never break a promise."

I'll explain it to him when I think the moment is right.

"Hell, yeh!" he shouts.


-----

Post script

Well, that's it. Many of you have expressed a desire that I write a 'Term
2' to follow on.

I have quite a number of ideas, but, please let me know what you might like
me to include, or what loose ends should be tied up.

And many thanks for your encouragement of my very first story!

Love you all,

Rob

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