Date: Fri, 22 May 2015 06:38:32 +1030
From: Robert A. Armstrong <rob.aa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Schoolie - Chapter 42

If you are new to this story, may I suggest that you read patiently from
the beginning, to understand the plot and the characters.

If you are a regular, thank you for your continued interest!

Warning: If relationships between boys and men is not your scene, or if
you're under age, or if it is not legal for you to be reading this, then
please leave, now, before somebody finds out!

Otherwise, enjoy!



From Chapter 41


"You'd better cum soon," I gasp at him after many enjoyable minutes,
"because I can't hold back much longer."

He increases his tempo to rabbit speed and begins to grunt. I stop
breathing. I can't hold on! I let fly into the towel. As my glutes contract
and my anal muscles grip him vice-like, I feel him explode. His whole body
spasms uncontrollably. I feel his fluid heat fill me. I reach behind me,
grasping his glutes and I roll onto my stomach. He's on me. He cries out,
as if mortally wounded, continuing to spasm, and then he collapses his
whole weight onto my back.

At some stage I resume breathing. His nose and mouth are near my ear. His
puffing slows.

OMG. Where did that passion come from? Who would know that love-making
could be this beautiful?

Aware that my body has been able to provide him with such intense pleasure,
I start to cry.


Chapter 42


I wake. I haven't moved through the night.

I remember the ecstasy of thrilling him.

I remember crying.

I remember him whispering, "Are you OK, Tom?"

I remember whispering back, "Hell, yeh!"

I remember him nuzzling my neck, wiping my cheek, laying an arm across my
chest and a leg over my lower body.

He hasn't moved either.

I feel something begin to stir. I smile and think, `Who needs a clock? He
has an alarm cock!'

I enjoy the feel of him nestle vertically between my cheeks and I savour
his every slight movement and his pre-conscious little moans.

He inhales deeply and lets out a long, low sigh. He's waking.

I tenderly extricate myself from his entwining limbs and turn over to face
him, pressing my body against his. I kiss his eyelids and then his
mouth. Our cocks greet each other like a reunion of long-lost friends.

We cuddle. I run my upper hand all over the reachable parts of his body. If
I wasn't so spent from last night, and the fact that we have school today,
I would willingly do it all again.


Today's the day! Uncle Bill; Will's Dad. On-site discussions about the
house. Work for Marty and the twins' father, Jan. Will and I are the only
ones who know that something is going to happen today.

"Need to pee!" I tell Will and roll out of bed.

I pass Marty as he comes out of the bathroom, heading for the kitchen. He
says in a low voice, "You guys need to learn to keep the noise down. It
kept me awake for ages!" I smile at the thought of whatever prolonged
pleasure he might have derived from listening to my fun with Will.

I shower and dress and while Will is `cleaning up' I speak with Marty in
the kitchen. "Marty, I have a proposition for you."

"You have my attention," he says. "I've never been propositioned by a sexy
young Schoolie before."

"You wish!" I tell him. "No, this is a business proposition."

"So I get to have fun with you and you pay me as well?" He's in fine form
already. He must have had a really good night!

"I suppose you could put it that way," I say, smiling, "if you can call
eating a horse-shit pie, fun." Haha! I love watching his expression change
when that subject is mentioned!

"Marty, everything that Will and I told you at your Mum's place about the
property and the house is true." I pause to let that sink in. "The only
part that wasn't true was the Monopoly game. And today, we are expecting
the architect, our financial advisor and a local building inspector to pay
us a visit to check out the site."

He looks astounded, perhaps contemplating whether to shoot me or if he's
imagining the real consequence of his bet.

Will drives. As we turn the corner at The Village, I notice that the front
door of the pub is open.

"Stop," I tell Will, laying my hand on his arm. He pulls over and I hastily
get out and cross the otherwise empty road, even remembering my childhood
training to look both ways, stopping in the doorway as I am greeted by a
cloud of dust flying out.

"Oh, I am sorry!" I hear from a smiling but apologetic middle-aged female
face. "I didn't know that there was anyone here." She places her broom
against the door frame.

Even though I've been here for months, I've never made the effort to
contact the staff at the pub. I feel somewhat embarrassed at doing it now,
but I know that Will hates the place because of his mother's drinking
habits and it's where she used to pick up men to bring home for `a good
time'.

"Tom Grant," I introduce myself. "I'm the school teacher."

"Julie Smith," she replies, extending her hand but then suddenly
withdrawing it again to wipe it first on her apron. "Yes, we've all seen
you coming and going with Little Willie."

I make my apologies for not coming over before this and she acknowledges
her understanding of Will's reluctance to come in, and, hence, mine. I
still feel guilty! Snubbing the locals is not the done thing in the
outback.

"We saw you the night of the fire with Little Willie. It's wonderful that
you've been looking after him," she says.

I remind myself that this is a small town. Everybody knows what's going on
- well, not quite everything!

I bring her up to date with Will's growth and change of persona from the
`Little Willie' by which he used to be known by everyone.

"Of course," she replies, and then adds, to keep the conversation going,
"You may not be aware that my dad was the licensee here for many years but
he died of liver cancer about two years ago. Now my husband and I do most
of the work even though mum owns the place."

It seems to dawn on us both at the same time that there must be a reason
for me standing in her doorway. "Oh, yes!" I say. "Do you happen to have
any accommodation available for tonight? We're expecting some visitors
today but are uncertain whether they're going to stay or not overnight. I'm
just checking."

"Oh, that's OK," she replies. "Yes, we have rooms. Just let us know
later. It will only take a few minutes to put fresh linen on the beds. I'll
open up some rooms so that they are properly aired. How many might be
needed?"

"I'm not sure," I answer. "Maximum of three. Is that possible?"

"Certainly. Not a problem," she replies. "As I said, just let us know."
Then, nodding in the direction of the car across the road, she comments,
"It looks as though your students are arriving for the day." I follow her
gaze and see Karl and Kurt talking to Will. I thank her and head back
across the strip of red earth.

"Hop in, guys. We'll give you a ride to school to save your legs!" They,
and Will, laugh. They've walked almost as far to the car as the short cut
across the paddock would have been. Karl and Kurt clamber into the back and
I resume my previous position. "You may proceed, driver," I tell our
chauffer. More laughs!


Everyone is out in the playground for morning recess when we hear a strange
sound. One of the twins spots the source first and points. Everyone else's
gaze follows his outstretched arm.

The helicopter, at first seeming as though it's heading straight towards
us, veers off and flies in a broad arc almost out of sight down in the
direction of Marty's place and then returns in a series of diminishing
circles. The children are ecstatic, jumping and waving their arms. It
hovers high, almost above us, and then descends slowly, over past the
earth-moving machinery, raising a huge storm of redness caused by the
downdraft from its rotor blades.

It takes a couple of minutes for the dust to settle before anyone steps
out. I know that it's about 200m away but the person alighting from where
the pilot should have been looks like Uncle Bill. Don't tell me he also has
a licence to fly one of those things!

The children wave and cheer. However, they are not the only ones enjoying
the (for some) once-in-a-lifetime spectacle. The pub verandah is lined with
staff and patrons, most probably stunned by this intrusion upon their
peaceful isolation.

The three travellers, all dressed in fawn-coloured trousers or jeans, two
with shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, head straight for the pub. I'm
not so blind as to miss the shape of one as womanly.

There is much hat-raising and hand-shaking before the throng, following the
strange trio, pours back through the open corner doors.

I ask Will, Jane and Jake to `hold the fort' for a few minutes while I
`investigate'. Will knows what is going on; the others don't.

The relatively short distance takes me less than two minutes to walk. Uncle
Bill, ever vigilant, spots me first. "Thomas!" he says, grasping my hand
and hugging me to him. "How are you... son?"

He introduces me to the others.

"G'day, Tom," young Ash effuses, warmly copying Uncle Bill's physical
greeting. His dress today is more conservative than when we saw him
previously. His hoodie and skin-tight jeans have been traded for
countrified dress, which doesn't at all disguise his `cute arse' as Will
had described it at the time. Also, his `strange hairdo' is pulled back and
neatly secured under a new Akubra. His `bit of a beard' remains but it
looks somehow neater, perhaps trimmed. Today he looks more like an
architect!

"Hello, Mr Grant," the council inspector says professionally, settling for
a hand shake. "I'm Helen O'Sullivan. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Please call me `Tom'. Only the school children call me `Mr Grant'," I
say. She nods. She's a little younger than I had anticipated (for a council
inspector). My guess would be 30-ish.

Uncle Bill offers to buy me a drink but I decline. "On duty!" I tell
him. "Come over to the school and say hello to my cherubs after you've all
quenched your thirst."

I return to the school and the children resume their lessons. I tell
everyone that we will be having visitors.

Through the school's western windows I soon see the trio pacing from the
pub, back to the machinery, over to the river and then past Jan's place,
continually pointing, with Ash and Helen taking photos and making
notes. They return and stop in the street outside the pub. Uncle Bill
points. Ash and Helen snap and write.

After they have begun heading towards the school I see Marty's SUV pull up
outside the pub. He was obviously attracted by the mystery of the
helicopter. Two people get out - Marty and Acacia. They firstly scrutinise
the trio heading away from them then they both disappear inside. I'm sure
that Mum O'Brien doesn't want to miss any of the `local news', and what
better place to find out `stuff' than in a near-full public bar!

The three pause outside the school gate, turn and gesticulate towards the
river, back to the pub and across to the river gums beyond the parked
machinery. Photos. Notes.

"Our visitors are here," I say to everyone. They all jump up to
look. "Continue with your work and I'll go and bring them in. Do you
remember what we practised?" I ask.

"Yes Mr Grant," they reply, as one.

"Will, would you come with me please?" He's doing exceptionally well to
contain his excitement! Jake, on the other hand, cannot restrain his
curiosity.

As he passes him, Will delivers Jake a restrained slap to the back of the
head. "Payback time!" he chuckles, remembering the derisive treatment from
Jake for his unbelieved overt truthfulness at the `family lunch'.

Uncle Bill and Will hug and exchange father-and-son pleasantries then Will
is introduced to Helen.

"Mr Grant number three?" she inquires.

"Actually, I was christened `William O'Brien', but that could change," Will
says matter-of-factly. Apart from the new `WOBG' (William O'Brien Grant)
initials on his artwork, this is the first time that I have heard him
mention a change of name. This invites further discussion, later.

Will extends his hand to Ash who clutches and uses it to pull Will to him
and they engage in a serious round of close back-slapping. I kick Will in
the ankle for his enthusiasm then we both break into a hearty
laugh. Remembering our first meeting, Ash may have an inkling as to why;
I'm sure that the others don't. Why would they care, or comment, about our
juvenile display?

A quick glance back at the windows reveals that all of the children are
working diligently, except for one who is intent on seeing what is
happening and whose eyes are almost bulging at the spectacle of the
greetings by the gate.

As I turn to lead my guests up the path to the verandah, Jake scurries back
to his seat.

Helen makes some unexpected conversation with "I've been with the local
council for three years and this is the first time that I've been here."
Then she adds, "Since I left school, that is."

"Did you visit here while you were still at school?" I ask, pausing at the
single step.

"No, Tom," she smiles, then pauses before adding, "I went to school here
myself."

Will and I both have one of those time-stands-still moments, staring at
each other in amazement. I offer, more as a question than a statement,
"Then you will probably know many of the locals."

Looking to Will, Helen says, "The O'Brien clan and my family were very
close when we were here." Then she continues, "My grandpa and then my
father used to own a property out of town," indicating with a wave of her
arm to the north, "before he sold it and we moved to the city, where I
completed a degree in civil engineering. This is the second council for
which I have worked since then. It's weird being back here," she adds. "I
recall that there were a couple of more houses around then, now there's
only one left. It was always the best one - close to the river and the
weir."

"That's Karl and Kurt's place," Will throws in. "Their dad, Mr Andersen,
manages a property north of here. It's about two hours drive away."

"Does the property have a name?" Helen inquires, with raised interest.

"I don't think that I've ever heard it mentioned. Have you, Will?" I ask
him.

"Whispering Gums," he replies. "It's a really unusual name, and nobody is
sure why it's called that. But that's what it's always been as far as
anyone can remember, and it hasn't changed."

"That was my dad's place and it was my grandpa who gave it that name when
he was young, I was told," Helen comments. "The story was told that he used
to sit by the creek on Sundays and draw pictures of the wild life. He left
me the complete portfolio of his decades of drawings in his will. I still
have it at home. It's brilliant. He used to see so many things that other
people missed, and he used to draw them. People didn't have cameras in
those days," she says.

We all pause our walk to listen as she continues, "Grandpa used to tell
people that, apart from the calls of the birds and animals, even the trees
had their own unique language. He said that they used to whisper things to
him and that's how he knew everything about everyone. Mum always told us to
behave ourselves or the gum trees would whisper to grandpa what we had
done! I tried smoking at about the age of 10 with one of the farm hands and
somehow grandpa found out. Mum said that my dad and my uncles and cousins
and brothers and I were too scared to do anything bad in case the trees
told grandpa, and then we would be in big trouble! I think that the
property was just given its name as a warning to little kids to always be
good, or grandpa would end up knowing about it!"

"Wow!" Will says. "I'll bet Mr Andersen would love to hear that, and a lot
more about the property as it was back in those days."

As we enter the classroom, all of my cherubs stand as a mark of respect, as
we had rehearsed.

As I introduce each of my guests to the class, they intone...

"Good morning Mr Cook," to Ash.

"Good morning Mrs O'Sullivan," to Helen who corrects me and them with `It's
Ms O'Sullivan, actually'. I look at the ring on her finger and she mouths,
`divorced'.

The cherubs repeat, "Good morning, Ms O'Sullivan."

"Good morning, Mr Grant," to Uncle Bill.

Their confused stares, especially from Jane and Jake are accompanied by an
outburst from young David to me. "Gosh, Mr Grant, he has the same name as
you!"

I look at Jane and Jake. I can see the wheels of their minds spinning.

It's time to let the cat out of the bag... slowly. "You're right, David. Mr
Grant and I are related." I add, "And, he's a very famous photographer
too."

Well! Jane's gaze immediately swings and focuses on Will. I'm sure that she
has heard that phrase more than once, previously, from Will's mother,
Lilly, and repeated in country gossip over many a dinner. However, I can
tell from her confused expression that she isn't able to reconcile the
snippets of information... yet.

I introduce each of the cherubs by name to the trio. When I get to `Jane
O'Brien and her brother, Jake', it is Helen who immediately shows interest.

"What's your father's name?" she asks.

"Reg," both Jane and Jake reply at the same time.

"What! Some lucky woman managed to get Reggie to the altar? I thought that
you might have belonged to Jack O'Brien. He already had three boys and a
baby on the way when we moved. What were their names?" she ponders. "Ah,
yes... Sean, Chadwick and Martin."

"Chadwick??" Jane, Jake, Will and I all blurt out together.

"Do you know him? Is he still around here?" she asks, encouraged by our
dismay.

It is Will who gives the quick version of the O'Brien family tree. "Jane,
Jake and I are cousins. So are Sean, Chad and Marty." Then he repeats,
"Chadwick?? Really?"

It's difficult for the three O'Briens to contain their mirth. Jane and Jake
keep repeating to each another, "Chadwick!"

"We all used to call him `Chad' of course," Helen offers, "but when he was
in trouble at home, his mother always called him `Chaaaaadwick'. We did
too, sometimes, just to annoy him. He hated it and used to chase us and try
to catch us."

Will continues, "Sean and Chad live in Big Town. Sean runs the ambulance
station and Chad's the local police officer. Marty's still here. In fact,
Tom and I live with him... at the moment. Jane, Jake and their mum and dad
(Uncle Reg and Aunty Di) live at Thunungara Station, east of here. Uncle
Jack died about 10 years ago."

"I know Thunungara," Helen replies, looking at Jane and Jake. "I've been
there." The whole class looks at Helen and then at Jane and Jake, who can
only shrug their ignorance.

"That was a long time ago," Helen adds, "when I was going to school here."
There are gasps. "My parents were friends with Reg and Jack's parents and
we often had Sunday dinner together. I remember. Now, let me see, when I
left here I was eleven and the handsome Reggie was twenty. Jack was his
older brother and Jack's boys would have been about 9, 7 and 5. Lilly was
Reggie's and Jack's little sister of about fourteen. "She adds, "It would
be interesting to catch up with everyone again."

Time to move the conversation on! "Let's see what we can arrange. I saw
Marty and his mum drive up to the pub l little while ago and Reg will be in
to pick up Jane and Jake later. Maybe we can all have dinner tonight."

I have not forgotten the purpose of the trio's visit - to discuss plans for
the new house and the possibility of building the row of cottages and the
restoration of the pub.

"Now, children, is there anything that you would like to ask our visitors
before they go and do what they are here for?"

Jake raises his hand and asks, "Can you please tell us, Mr Grant, why you
are all here?" It's a question that must be running around in many people's
heads at the moment; not just those inside the school room.

Uncle Bill keeps it simple. "Well, Jake, we're here to investigate putting
up some new buildings and fixing up an old one. Mr Cook is an architect and
Ms O'Sullivan is an inspector with the local council." There is a buzz in
the room.

Jane is next, and addresses Uncle Bill directly. "What will the new
buildings be, Mr Grant, and where will they be?"

Uncle Bill is good at this. "I can tell you Jane, that the new buildings
will be over there," he says indicating the ground west of the school," but
I can't say anything else yet. The owners haven't given me permission to
tell you any more."

Jane and Jake look from me to Will. The truth, as previously heard by them,
is beginning to register. Will makes a fist with one hand and then slaps it
with the other. Jake gets the message!

David politely asks, "Excuse me, Mr Cook. What does an architect do?"

Ash replies, "I design buildings; how they look, how they are built, and
what materials are used in their construction. It's my job to give all of
the plans and drawings to the builders so that they can build it exactly as
the owners want it to be. That's everything from the foundations to the
roof. And I have to include any council rules that have to be
followed. That's what Ms O'Sullivan's job is as an inspector - rules."

Helen takes up Ash's lead. "It's my job, as an engineer and council
inspector to make sure that all of the council rules are included in the
design and construction of the buildings to ensure that everything is done
safely and properly. The architect, Mr Cook, and I will work together to
make sure that the builders know exactly how everything is to be done. I
will also come out and inspect the work, to see how it's going and to check
that the rules are being followed." She then switches into a
motherly/schoolie mode. "Do you children have rules at school and at home?"

There are general nods of agreement. She directly addresses some of the
little ones, "Can you tell me a rule that you have to follow?"

"My mum says I have to wash my hands before I eat anything. I don't want to
get bad germs," is one response.

And from another, "Mr Grant says we have to push our chairs in when we get
up so that nobody falls over them."

"It's good to have rules so that everyone knows what they have to do, and
that they are safe," Helen concludes, turning her gaze to me as a sign to
`take over'.

David can't resist asking another question, "Mr Grant, is that your
helicopter? I've never seen a real one before."

Uncle Bill: "No David, it's not mine, but I borrowed it from a friend and I
have a special licence to be the pilot. Maybe..." he pauses, and whispers
to me. "What are the rules for taking children for a ride?"

I whisper back, "We'd need the parents' permission. Are you planning on
staying the night? I could send a note home today and, if parents are in
agreement, they could go up briefly with you tomorrow."

"OK. I won't say anything to get their hopes up," he replies. "What time do
you finish today so that we can talk about everything?"

"I'll tell you what," I say. "Why don't the three of you make yourselves at
home next door in the craft room? There are chairs and a big table in there
- plenty of space to work, and Will and I will be right here to talk with
you about anything, instead of waiting until later."

"Splendid!" Uncle Bill says. "I'll just duck back to the pub and organise
something for lunch. Also, Ash has some house plans in the chopper that he
will want to fetch, so I'll take him with me."

Uncle Bill and Ash head off. Helen stays and busies herself talking to the
children, especially focussing on the little ones. I picture her as the
perfect motherly type and I can't imagine why any man in his right mind
would divorce her! Karl and Kurt seem attracted to her as well. They keep
on watching her and listening in to what she's saying. I'm sure that they
miss having their mum around!

Uncle Bill and Ash return, carrying a few things. They walk along the
verandah, through the doorway and head straight into the craft room. Helen
joins them and Will asks permission to `go and have a chat'. He has his dad
here! I can tell that he likes Ash and who wouldn't want to be with Helen?
"Sure!" I tell my overgrown student for whom, I regret, this will obviously
be his final year in the classroom.

My brain strays into another direction; to the questions that I have
intentionally or unconsciously locked away and which now demand to be
asked. Why would we bother to build a house together in this remote outback
speck on a map if he will no longer be attending school and be with me
during the day? And, what if I'm only here for the obligatory three years
and then the Education Department moves me to somewhere else in the state?

An answer comes. Because, even in such a short time, I've learned to like
it here - the place and the people. Besides, Will and I would still live
together. And, his family is here. He can continue to work his magic in the
art studio - if he's not touring the world. LOL. With the restoration of
the pub and the construction of the cottages, this place could even become
an activity and cultural centre in the outback for tourists. And, how many
teachers would request to be appointed to this place - the Department
should be happy (if a bureaucratic process could ever be `happy') to not
have to replace me!

Extra thoughts run through my mind.

We could have horse riding (per Reg and Will), quadbikes (Jake), sheep
shearing (Marty and Jan), accommodation (the pub and cottages), catering
(the pub, Di and Acacia), working sheep dog displays (Reg, Jan and Marty),
chopper flights to showcase the area (hmm... somebody). Then, of course,
people can talk with the (famous) artist-in-residence, and have their
portraits done by him and (perhaps) even purchase some of his other works.

I must inquire whether there might be a `local' aboriginal artist who, if
he or she wanted to, could sometimes share space with Will, and who could
add a truly Australian perspective to a tourist's experience, talking to
them about their art and culture.

The whole current community could benefit! Local men and women could sell
their crafts and handiwork. There might even be things for Jane and Anna,
if they don't marry and move away. Hmm, who knows what matrimonial
prospects that tourism might bring to town for them! Karl and Kurt could
grow into some of the activities too, maybe helping with the quadbikes
or... who knows what skills they could develop. Then, there would always be
cottage cleaning and maintenance and `outback gardens', and...

Yes! It could work!

I snap myself out of my latest reverie as I notice Marty and Acacia emerge
from the pub. Instead of Marty taking his mother home, his SUV is heading
over this way.

I let the cherubs out for lunch, with Jane in her usual role as lunch
monitor and playground supervisor.

"The two nice men that we me in the pub invited us to come and join them
for lunch," Acacia chirps to me. "I hope that's all right with you, dear?"

"Of course," I reply. They are in the craft room with Will. And, there's
one whom you haven't yet met. Come in and I'll introduce you." Did that
sound as though there might be another man awaiting her scrutiny? She is
bristling with enthusiasm. I think, `or is it because Acacia will now be
the disseminator of so much new information about town'.

There is a large platter of neatly-arranged sandwiches in the middle of the
table and multiple bottles of chilled water. Nobody is seated and no
documents are open.

Uncle Bill assumes the role of host. "Ah, come in. Helen, let me introduce
you to Marty and his mother, `Mum O'Brien'." It's obvious that the word
`Acacia' is to be avoided. `Mum' it is! "Folks, this is Helen O'Sullivan,
who is the local council inspector for the little project that I
mentioned. You've already met Ash, our architect."

Pleasantries are exchanged.

At this stage, Will and I have no idea what Uncle Bill has told `Mum' and
Marty about himself! Ash, obviously adept at reading people' faces as well
as plans, takes in the uncertainty of my expression and then says, "Marty
and Mum, Bill didn't tell you that we are working for the project owners,
Tom and Will, and that Bill himself is supervising the costs and
expenditure, as their financial advisor."

Acacia's smile confirms that she understands the absolute truthfulness of
Will's and my story at that lunch. More information to tell people! Her
grin and nod to me convey acceptance and hint of her blessing.

Marty's face is very different. Is it shock? Disbelief? Or, perhaps, the
fear that something very unpalatable in his mouth will become a reality?

He croaks out some questions to Will and me. "So you ARE partners?" He
knows that we are when in bed, but business partners is a different story.

"Yes, indeed," Will replies. "Isn't that what I said?"

"And you DO own the land?" he continues.

I can't resist. "Yes. Isn't that what he said?"

"And, you ARE planning on building a..." He can't get the word out!

"Will fills in the pause. "Yeh. Well, I changed my mind about the
castle. Hey, didn't I tell you that too?" Marty still has the expression of
having had a slap in the face with a monopoly board!

Uncle Bill raises his eyebrows at what conversation might have previously
taken place, and says, "An art studio."

"Sorry?" Marty replies.

"Ash has designed Will an art studio, with some living quarters attached."

"A house to replace the old house?" Acacia inquires.

"Definitely bigger than the old one," I tell her.

"And a few other bits and pieces around the place," Ash adds, without
giving anything away at this time.

Uncle Bill says, "Marty, Tom has asked that you be offered some work on the
project. Are you interested?"

He looks at me as if to say, `What on earth is going on here? Who the hell
are you??'

"It will pay well," I tell him.

"What work?" he asks.

"We can give you a complete list of everything and the details later. Then
you can choose which of it you would like to do," Uncle Bill tells him.

"But we would be in a position to give you a rough idea tonight, if you
like," Ash contributes.

"And," I add, "after you've considered it, I'd like to offer a similar deal
to Jan Andersen, so that he and the twins can stay here after Whispering
Gums is sold. It should keep you both fully employed for about four months
and `cashed up' for a fair time after that.

Marty looks at Acacia. He stifles a nervous laugh. Actually, though, I
think he could be about to cry with happiness and is trying to be very
stoic.

Jan Andersen is new information to Uncle Bill. He asks me to step
outside. We do, while the others continue to talk.

"Helen O'Sullivan," Acacia says questioningly. "We had a girl here once by
that name when my boys were all youngsters at school."

"That would have been me, Mrs O'Brien," Helen replies. "I lived at
Whispering Gums but we left when I was eleven. I think that Marty had just
started Kindergarten."

"I thought that you looked familiar," Marty says. "But you've... changed!"

"Grown up! Haven't we all, you included, Squirt," she laughs.

"What! How could you remember that?" Marty asks, shocked but bemused.

"Well, it's what your brothers, Sean and Chad always called you," she
replies. "Wasn't it?"

"It really IS you!" Acacia jumps in, giving Helen a hug. "We often wondered
what became of you and your family. I'd love to spend some time with you,
chatting and finding out more."

Uncle Bill and I return to catch the end of the conversation. Yes, Acacia
always loves chatting and finding out more stuff, then `disseminating' the
information.

"That's all good," Uncle Bill says, "because I've decided that we can stay
the night, if that's OK with Helen." She nods. He continues, "I'll arrange
dinner for us all at the pub in their formal dining room. And we must
invite Jan and his boys as well."

"I've already checked out possible accommodation, just in case," I tell
him. "Julie Smith said that short notice wouldn't be a problem."

I do the mental calculation - Uncle Bill, Ash, Helen, Acacia, Marty, Jan,
Karl, Kurt, Will and me - ten of us. Eleven, actually. I had forgotten
Anna. I wonder whether she will take an instant liking to Ash, just like
she did to me.

"This will be an evening to remember!" I say. "There will be lots of
talk. Lots of questions and, hopefully, lots of answers."

Acacia's eyes sparkle. Lots of `information'!

Helen asks, discretely, "Will said that Reggie and his family live at
Thunungara."

She doesn't ask the next most obvious question, but Acacia has the answer
ready. "Unfortunately, my Jack was killed in an accident ten years ago and
their young sister, Lilly, Will's mother, left for `greener pastures' with
some friends just recently."

"Oh, I am so sorry, Mrs O'Brien. I remember that Jack was a really good
man. And that Reggie was such a rascal, and handsome too!" Well, that
lightens the mood somewhat and everyone laughs.

"Would you like to say `hello' and talk with Uncle Reg and Aunty Di?" Marty
asks.

Acacia jumps in. "Marty, why don't we drive Helen up there now? We can have
a chat over a cup of tea and then come back." Then to Helen, "What do you
say, sweetie?"

"You used to call me that when I was little!" Helen responds.

"Yes, I did. It suddenly came back to me," Acacia tells her. "Come on! It
will be fun."

I think, `yes, fun for her to `share' her new knowledge with Di! And to
gather more.'

Uncle Bill says, "You go on, Helen. Ash and I will talk with Will and Tom
about the plans while you're socialising with the handsome Reggie and the
lady who stole his heart. Is there anything new that we should know from
the Council's perspective?"

"No, not really, Bill. Maybe some minor changes from the original design,
but we can discuss those at any time," she replies.

Acacia takes Helen's arm and leads her towards the door. "Come on
Marty. Time's a-wastin', m'boy!"

Marty smiles, shrugs and follows, dutifully.

I check on the cherubs, all hard at work, have a quick word with Jane who
is working with the little ones, then each of the other `seniors' and
return to the craft room.

Uncle Bill and Ash talk Will and me through the latest version of the
plans. Three separate project elements. "We can suggest and confirm these
with the relevant people tonight, but I thought that the house could be
under Marty's supervision, the cottages, which Jan could oversee, and the
pub, for which Ash is going to take control personally, with so many
heritage requirements and the need for specialist craftsmen. Those men
would be accommodated at the pub, and also lend a hand with the house and
cottages."

He continues, "I'm going to ask the pub owners to join us after dinner. We
plan to do the entire pub restoration at no cost to them. I had a brief
work to the Smiths while I was organising lunch. To say that they are
excited would be an absolute understatement!"

He confirms what I see and have heard: "I suppose the most notable feature
of the designs that Ash has drawn is that all of the buildings will have
similar period-design exteriors, consistent with the original style of the
pub. This will create a rare consistency that will attract a lot of
attention within his profession. At the same time, energy efficiencies will
be included as well as state-of-the-art communications. I haven't told the
Smiths about those yet. I wanted to leave a bit of icing for the cake."

During the conversation and briefing, Will and I lapse into a game of
kicking each other's ankle when one hovers too closely to Ash. Uncle Bill
observes what is happening but simply shakes his head at the juvenile
display by his two sons.

Ash says that having now, personally, seen the pub, he would like to
re-draw some aspects of the design for the house and cottages for styling
consistency. Also, that he would like to take some more time to study the
pub's interior and its unique (by modern standards) roof design and to make
an extensive list of those exterior parts that will need to be either
repaired or, otherwise, replaced.

"Why don't we both just go back over there?" Uncle Bill suggests to
Ash. "I'll arrange dinner for eleven of us and you could take your photos
and make notes." Then, to me, he asks, "What time will Jan Andersen be
home?"

"That's a question for Karl and Kurt," I say. "It's time that lessons
resumed, anyway."

"I need to use the toilet first," Will says, and disappears through the
main door.

When I go outside to gather the cherubs, I catch sight of Will and one of
the twins going into the toilet.

"Hello Mr Grant," I hear. "Is it time to go inside, now?"

"Yes, Kurt," I reply, noting who was asking the question. "I just need to
wash my hands, first."

"Me too!" he chirps. "And I need to pee."

"You be very careful, young man," I say to him quietly. "Don't do anything
to make people suspicious!"

"It's OK, Mr Grant," he replies. "I'm not stupid!" And he skips off ahead
of me to the toilet, fist-bumping Will and Karl as they emerge and pass
him.

"OK, children. Time to go in," I call. "Go to the toilet if you need to,
and wash your hands."

I wait. Then walk. As I enter the toilet, Kurt flashes his gear at me by
lowering the front of his shorts. Then he pulls them up again and
giggles. I give his bum a hard slap as he passes me. "Cheeky devil!" I tell
him and I can hear him running back towards the building.

I relieve my very full bladder and wash my hands then return casually to
the classroom.

Will, Karl and Kurt are waiting at the door. "Karl said that his dad should
be home about five o'clock," Will informs me.

I say to the twins, "Boys, we are all having dinner at the pub tonight and
would like you and your dad to join us at 6 o'clock. Can you please tell
him that when he gets home?"

"Hell, yeh! I mean... Yes, sir. Thank you Mr Grant," Karl responds. Will,
to whose expressions Karl has been listening too much, gives him a light
slap to the back of his head. The three of them head into the classroom and
I tell Uncle Bill that six o'clock will be ideal.

"Wonderful!" he replies. "Come on, Ash. Let's go and talk to the Smiths."

The afternoon session is quiet and productive. Almost. At least the four
senior boys keep their discussions down to a whisper while I read a story
to the younger ones.

There is a high degree of excitement when I disclose the possibility of
them having a short ride in the helicopter tomorrow. I explain the need for
a parent's permission and I hand out a brief explanatory note that has room
for mum's or dad's approving signature.

I hear the familiar grumble of Reg's Land Rover and look up to see it and
Marty's SUV joining the couple of waiting parents' vehicles near the
gate. Reg is earlier than usual today.

A 5-minute early mark is received with enthusiasm by the cherubs. No
complaints. As if!

Having exited the building in their routine orderly manner, some children
then dash to their parents, brandishing their to-be-signed permission
slips. I hear excited babble.

I walk to the gate, tell Marty, Acacia and Helen that Uncle Bill and Ash
are still talking at the pub. Marty decides that they should all join them.

That leaves me with the parents.

As I begin to explain the `helicopter ride' to one mum, the others all
gather around. One asks whether she, too, might be permitted to take a
ride. I see no problem with that. It would be a wonderful, shared family
experience. And, it confirms my earlier thoughts about the attractiveness
of such an activity for tourists... and, it seems, locals. I wonder how
many people from Big Town might be prospective passengers.

Reg tells me that he is thrilled to have been re-acquainted with `Young
Helen' and at the prospect of her future visits as she inspects `the
project'. He hasn't heard the full story yet, but concedes the reality of
discussions at `that lunch'. He apologises for expressing his doubts and
that he looks forward to hearing whatever details remain untold by
Acacia. I promise to fill him in as soon as all of the plans are finalised.

Jane and Jake assume their usual front- and back-seat. As they begin to
drive off I hear Jane tell her father, "Dad, Mr Grant said that he's
related to the other Mr Grant, the helicopter pilot, and that he (meaning
Uncle Bill) is a famous photographer."

I see the one still-functioning brake light on the `old girl' briefly
illuminate while Jane's words are taken on board, then Reg drives off. That
comment will be well analysed over their dinner table tonight, I'm sure. Di
and Reg may very well have the last laugh on Acacia if they correctly
surmise the logical implications of THAT piece of information alongside
what they had already been told by Lilly.

The boys lock up. Karl asks me the reason for the dinner. I explain that I
had already spoken to their father about a lot of work here and that the
dinner was all about that, which is why he is invited, and them. Karl looks
at Kurt who nods excited approval at the prospect of not having to move
away.

Will says, "I'm going to Karl and Kurt's for a bit. Can you please pick me
up when you're leaving?"

I begin to correct his English, "May I..."

"Yeh! Yeh! Of course you may come and pick me up!" he says cheekily, then
the three of them take off via the `short cut' across the paddock.

I pull up my car alongside Marty's SUV and head for the open doors. Nodding
acknowledgment to the patrons as I pass, I follow the unmistakable sound of
Acacia's voice to find the group of them in the lounge area. Acacia, Marty,
Uncle Bill, Ash, Helen as well as Julie Smith.

At Uncle Bill's offer of a drink, I settle for a lime juice and sparkling
mineral water over crushed ice.

People turn to look at me, surprised. I guess that I'm just no longer a
beer drinker - especially after the over-indulgence with Marty when I first
arrived!

I merge into a non-participative role amid the buzz of general
conversation, centred mostly around Helen and her recollection of life here
twenty years ago.

I allow myself some moments of contemplation...

I'm sure that Di and Reg have chatted with Helen about the `old days' and
what has happened both in her life, and here in The Village, since
then. They know that the `project' is a reality, but Helen would not have
disclosed the details to them. Reg has now acknowledged Will's and my
ownership of the land and that a house is to be built near where the old
one was.

Marty is facing the prospect of months of well-paid work related to the
construction of a `super art studio' for his young cousin and Will's
look-alike, the city-slicker Schoolie. And a bit more. And the prospect of
having to eat THAT pie! I wonder if he thinks that Will would not proceed
with the bet. If I know Will, Marty is not going to be happy!

Jan has the promise of work and not having to send his twin boys back to
stay or live with their mother.

Karl and Kurt are very happy at being able to stay. So would Will be. So am
I.

Helen Smith is thrilled at the prospect of the no-cost restoration of their
pub. But, she is yet to learn of the bonus to her business of providing
ongoing accommodation for project workers and of the tourist plans.

Acacia thinks that she knows everything. She still has a few shocks in
store!

Anna, at home, knows nothing!

Jane and Jake know that `something' is going on, and Jake is in the process
of being made to `eat humble pie'.

Jane has told Reg that `the other Mr Grant' is a famous photographer and
related to `our Mr Grant'. Will they put the pieces together? Will's sire
was said to be a famous photographer. Will and I almost look like
twins. Are we, too related? And is `the other Mr Grant' referred to by the
other adults in Jane's company as `Bill', actually Will's father of whom he
spoke at the lunch, the `Big Willie' cause of Lilly's pregnancy? Is he now
back here, in The Village?

Nobody has thought, yet, to ask what Uncle Bill is getting out of all this.

Helen will be making regular trips back to The Village as the project
progresses. Is there any chance of her and Marty striking up a friendship?

And, what of Ash? Will he be merely the cause of two much-bruised ankles
for Will and me? Or should we take him into our circle of `close friends'?

"Another drink, Tom?" I hear. I realise that my glass is empty.

"Thanks, Uncle Bill," I reply, but I'd like to go back to Marty's and
freshen up a bit before dinner. I'll collect Will on the way."

There is a sudden pause in Acacia's current monologue. She and Marty stare
at Uncle Bill and me. Oops! Now that slip of my tongue has provided her
with a REAL piece of information! A family link! Wait until she `compares
notes' with Reg and Di.

Helen says that she needs to collect her belongings from the helicopter and
then head to her room and "change into something a little more
comfortable." Uncle Bill and Ash will probably follow suit.

I pull up outside Karl and Kurt's place and immediately head towards the
front door. I am suddenly confronted by three boys with poorly-disguised
erections in their shorts; one much more prominent than the other two. I
look from one to the other. Will smiles and shrugs. Karl has the decency to
blush. Kurt, slightly behind the other two, frames his bulge with both
hands then smirks provocatively at me. I shake my head and say to Will,
"Come on. We need to clean up before dinner." Then I add, "Don't forget,
boys, to tell you dad to come across at six o'clock. We'll be in the dining
room."

"Yes, Mr Grant," they reply together.

"Getting lucky, were we?" I comment to Will on the way home.

"Hey! They started it!" he offers as the most lame excuse that I've ever
heard.

"As if!" I tell him, and we both laugh. "Don't worry!" I continue. "We can
get lucky tonight. Full on."

"Hell, yeh!" is Will's response.

I add, "We don't have to stay until the end. Besides, if I know your dad,
he'll be a bit of a night owl, especially with some sort of audience!"

Will and I, naked in our room, muck around a bit then shower. We decide to
put on our matching clothes that we wore to Mr Verdi's restaurant, and
check ourselves out in the mirror. "Nice!" I say. Will echoes my
sentiments, and we laugh again and head to the kitchen for a coffee.

After a reasonable elapse of time Marty arrives. "Bill decided to stay at
the pub, but Mum invited Ash to visit her place and meet Anna, so we waited
while he changed," he says. He adds, "Poor guy doesn't know what he's in
for! And you should have seen the look on Anna's face when he walked in
with Mum! I said that I'd be back to pick up the three of them as soon as I
changed for dinner. I gave them half an hour, at most. It will take Anna
that long to get ready, so Ash should be reasonable safe." He chuckles to
himself. `Cruel bastard!' I think to myself.

Will puts his hand out and wiggles his finger tips for the keys then he and
I head for the pub.

In the car we discuss Will's dread of the place, and I suggest that he
tries not to look directly at the men in case he recognises any as being
one of his mother's `visitors'. Instead, he should spot a distant object
and head for it. He could always follow me and just focus on my backside if
he prefers. His chuckle is encouraging, for both of us.

It's amusing to see the number of double-takes by patrons as
identically-dressed Will and I walk through the public bar to the dining
room. I don't know any of them, and I'm sure that Will doesn't want to.

I overhear various whispers to the `who is that?' question. `The new
schoolie', `Staying at Marty O'Brien's', `Little Willie', `Lilly's son',
`Hasn't he grown?', `Which is which?'. It's all quite amusing.

My ears isolate the word `helicopter' from somebody, but I can't tell
whether it's in the same context as Will and me, or part of a totally
different conversation. For some of these folk, a change in the direction
of the wind, or the time at which the kookaburras started laughing is a
valid topic of conversation, let alone a helicopter and heavy machinery! I
think that the quality of discussions in The Village is about to be
uplifted even further!

Uncle Bill and Helen are standing, wine glasses in hand, with their backs
to a blazing fire on a long side of the dining room. The walls are an
off-white colour with panels and beams of dark wood. Oak? I look more
closely and the wood appears to be hand-finished rather than
machine-tooled. What a magnificent piece of history! Apart from the flames
of the fire, the room is lit by multiple wall-mounted lights which appear
to have been converted from gas lamps to electricity. I note that one of
the light bulbs is not illuminated. Between the lights hang various
pictures - most are historical photographs, a few are faded advertising
posters from bygone days. All are fascinating.

Of most interest are some photographs that show The Village in its heyday,
with a barber shop, a general store and the pub in all its glory. Ash will
love these. Then, there are some houses, indeed, exactly where it is
proposed to build the new cottages. I have a sudden surge of adrenalin to
think that The Village will be partially restored - in fact, it should be
better than the original slab huts with thier rough wooden roofs. I don't
know where Ash is going to procure the materials but he must have done some
research to have drawn everything the way that he has, in stone, with
shingle roofs.

Julie Smith appears and takes drink orders for Will and me, and we join
Uncle Bill and Helen's conversation which, prompted by the photographs,
centres on the historic and future appearance of The Village. Helen shares
her memories of the decaying little township before she moved away, but
also her excitement at this unexpected re-development. Her actual
involvement, through her job, is a bonus for her.

Jan and the boys are next to arrive. While Karl, Kurt and Will quickly form
their own discussion group, I introduce Jan to Uncle Bill and Helen. It
only takes Jan and Helen a couple of minutes to be deep in discussions of
Whispering Gums then and now, including the work that he has done on the
property. UB shows an interest in his espoused management and carpentry
skills.

I pose a raised, inquiring eyebrow to Uncle Bill who acknowledges, with a
discreet nod of his head, my suggestion that Jan should, indeed, be engaged
on the project.

Marty, Acacia, Anna and Ash fill the complement of dinner guests.

"What have I missed?" Acacia asks as an opening introduction. How typical!

Jan has `bumped into' the O'Brien trio previously, but they don't know too
much about each other, apparently. Mary, it appears, has done some casual
work for the owners at Whispering Gum, so he and Jan at least have had a
brief, but positive, working relationship.

Julie Smith ensures that all have drinks, including the boys, then draws
our attention to a chalkboard alongside the fireplace, with tonight's
offerings from the kitchen - predominantly a variety of meats with
appropriate sauces. Dessert will be apple pie, home-made of course. Yum!

Everyone makes his or her choice and Julie Smith makes no written notes,
committing everything to memory. Before leaving the room, she politely
indicates each person by name and recites their choices. Spot on! I am
amazed. And I think that everyone is impressed.

Acacia, Uncle Bill and Anna take seats at the side of the large circular
dining table which are nearest to the fireplace. Will, Karl and Kurt
commandeer three seats on the opposite side.

Ash sits next to Will with Marty between him and Anna.

Kurt `reserves' me a seat next to him, then Jan and Helen (next to Uncle
Bill) complete the circle.

So, running around the table, we have Acacia, Uncle Bill, Helen, Jan, me,
Kurt, Karl, Will, Ash, Marty and Anna.

Will smirks at me and, with a slight nod of his head, indicates his
proximity to Ash. I squint a warning to him to behave himself!

Discussions continue and Acacia strains to glean every snippet of available
information.

The generously-portioned dinner is served. My choice of pork and spiced
apple sauce with roasted vegetables is delicious.

Talk continues over dinner and from what I can pick up it's mainly personal
information. You know, who-I-am and what-I-do type of stuff. Acacia is
intent on missing none of it. I don't know how she can tune in to so many
separate conversations at the same time. Practice, I guess!

At one point during the meal, Kurt rubs his knee up and down against my
leg. I look at him but can say nothing with his father on the other side of
me. The little imp smiles up at me, all very innocently and, to any casual
observer, respectfully.

Jan excuses himself to `answer a call of nature'. Uncle Bill rises
too. "You'd better show me where it is," he says, jovially, and follows.

A few minutes later they return, deep in discussion. There's nothing like
'hanging out' together to start a conversation! They stop just inside the
door and Uncle Bill signals Marty to join them. More discussion. It's
hilarious to observe Acacia's attempt at trying to hear across the room and
having to settle for (I'm sure) unaccustomed lip reading and interpretation
of body language. Uncle Bill shakes hands with each of Jan and Marty, who
then shake with each other. It appears as though deals have been done!

A few minutes later Uncle Bill stands and taps his glass three times,
producing crystal-clear bell tones. There is instant silence, except for
the background noise of the patrons out in the bar. Julie Smith and her
husband join us, obviously as pre-arranged by Uncle Bill.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he begins, sounding much as he would in addressing
an international symposium of art gallery directors or those invited to a
showing of his latest collection. "May I say, firstly, that it has been a
pleasure to meet those of you whom I did not know previously. You have a
beautiful little township here and I would like to share with you some
information about its future."

So smooth are his words that, if Uncle Bill was a visiting politician, an
onlooker could be forgiven for being instantly suspicious of double-talk,
perhaps surmising that the purpose of the heavy machinery was to bulldoze
the entire town.

I look around the table. Ash, Helen, Will and I know exactly that `the
future' will bring about. Anna, Karl and Kurt don't have a clue about what
is happening. Jan and Marty know part of what is planned. Acacia has no
idea! This is not her preferred position on the information-sharing
continuum.

Uncle Bill continues, "I'm sure that there have been rumours - good and bad
- about the machinery and why a helicopter would bother to visit you all,
and bring three strangers to your Village. Let me put as much of the
speculation to rest as I am able to, at this time."

He has everyone's attention. His pause (either for dramatic effect or for
his customary anticipated applause from an audience) only heightens
interest. Acacia takes a deep breath in anticipation. Uncle Bill says, "The
two fine young men here," indicating Will and me, "now own all of the land
between the school and the western stand of eucalypts at the bend in the
river."

Will smiles at Ash, nudges him and then pokes the tip of his tongue at me.

Jan, Karl and Kurt look at each other, then at Will and me, suddenly
realising that they are living on somebody else's property, mine and
Will's. I lean towards Jan and confide, just loudly enough for the others
to hear, "Don't worry! We have no intention of increasing your rent!" which
is met by nervous titters of amusement.

Uncle Bill is undeterred by the interruption. "While it is not my
intention, nor my prerogative, to disclose to you how this has come about,
I can tell you that they have plans to build on the land, towards the
western end. Ash, here, has, in consultation with Tom and Will, designed an
art studio and residence in which Will can continue his creative work."

Then he adds, "Folks, you may not realise it, but Will is going to become
quite famous. I'm not sure whether you are familiar with his portraits and
landscapes and animals, but some of the best art critics and gallery
directors in the country have seen his amazing work and are excited at the
prospect of his emergence on the Australian and global art scene."

The locals all look at Will in wonder and disbelief.

Karl punches him on the shoulder. "Famous, eh?"

Will appears lost for words and sits in apparent humble embarrassment.

"Onya, Michelangelo!" Marty stumbles to get out. Laughter all around the
table eases the mild nervous tension.

"And I am pleased to tell you," Uncle Bill continues, "that Marty and Jan
have agreed to oversee the work and to undertake a degree of it
themselves. Not only that, but there are plans to build, at the same time,
a street of Victorian-style cottages in the exact location as those which I
see in some of these magnificent photographs." He points out certain items
on the walls.

There are gasps.

The unvoiced question, `Why?' evidenced by the inquiring facial
expressions, hangs heavy in the air.

Uncle Bill doesn't answer it. However, he does add, "In addition, this
magnificent hotel in which we now sit, will also undergo a complete
restoration to its original nineteenth-century glory, something which I
shared with Mr and Mrs Smith earlier today - at absolutely no cost to
them."

There is spontaneous applause and murmurs of commentary at this revelation.

"Mr Cook," Uncle Bill says, indicating Ash, "will take primary hands-on
control of the restoration of the hotel and ensure that it, Will's art
studio and the cottages are all consistent in style and appearance. I have
no doubt that in twelve months' time, your Village will be the talk of
western Queensland, perhaps even the whole state, maybe even farther abroad
than that.

I am accustomed to seeing Acacia's mouth open but, never before, muted in
bewilderment! Well, she has a clutch of new information to `disseminate'
but there are many questions to which I am sure she would like to know
answers...

How can Tom and Will jointly own the land?

How can they afford it?

Why build a street of cottages?

Who would live there?

Who's paying for all of the work?

And, why?

I smile to myself that the real `scoop' for her would be knowing the
relationship between Uncle Bill, Will and me. She has already heard me
refer to my biological father as `Uncle Bill'. What she doesn't know is
that Reg and Di now possess the vital missing piece of her puzzle.

Dessert is delicious, especially with a heap of ice cream and lashings of
whipped fresh cream!

I'm busting for a pee, but am scared that Kurt would follow me! I don't
need any rumours or innuendo, thanks. Nor any of Marty's `creative
thinking' which could be far too close to the truth for comfort.

Saved by Will! He announces that he `has to go' and the twins join
him. I'll go as soon as they return.

Many have standard coffees. Some, like Uncle Bill, choose something a
little more `exotic'.

Despite the fact that the conversation is healthy and continuous, Jan
announces that it is way past the boys' bed time and that he needs to get
them home. "We don't want them falling asleep in class tomorrow," he says,
smiling at me.

I reply, "Will, too!" Then I add, "Besides, I need my beauty sleep as
well."

Will opens his mouth to comment but I point a silencing finger at his
face. His mouth closes, but everyone, surmising what was about to come out
of it, laughs. I join them.

Will and I say `good night' to all of those who will remain, then we head
out with Jan and the boys. I overhear Jan say to Uncle Bill, "I'll be back
soon."

As I pass Julie Smith, I thank her for a wonderful meal.

More double-takes on the way out, this time from behind alcohol-blearied
eyes.

I shake hands with Jan, Karl and then Kurt who holds on for much longer
than is comfortable for me. "Come on Superman. Let Mr Grant go home!" Jan
admonishes jovially.

"Thanks, Jan," I tell him. "I thought that he might have put super glue on
his hand."

"He does that to me some nights," Jan replies. "I think that it is just to
delay `lights out'. I usually find that a well-directed swat to his tail
does the trick!"

I think, `Kurt would just love that!' He persists and hangs on. I bend
down, rise with him over my shoulder and expose his backside to his father,
who dutifully administers what is necessary to release the grip.

"Nice work!" I tell him.

"Any time!" he replies. "Next time, feel free to take matters into your own
hands."

If he only knew how much I would enjoy that. And Kurt too.

Alone in the house, Will and I are mucking around in bed when I hear the
dogs bark. Marty's home after dropping his mother and sister at their
place.

I hear his door close, which is unusual seeing that he seems to enjoy
listening to Will and me pleasuring each other. Perhaps he's not in the
mood tonight.

Will and I continue, and the rogue bed spring squeaks for another hour.


I wake to the sound of the toilet being flushed. It's morning. What is
missing is the usual smell of bacon cooking. Marty's having a slow start
after a long night, apparently. However, I can discern the aroma of
percolated coffee instead of our usual instant stuff.

I extricate myself from Will's entwining grasp to take an early morning
pee.

As I step into the corridor I catch sight of his naked body take the final
few steps before disappearing back into the bedroom without closing the
door. Nothing unusual, except... that... it wasn't Marty!

What I have just seen is the unmistakeable and ultra-cute arse of
architect, Ashley Cook. Ash!!



To be continued...

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