Date: Sun, 27 Mar 2016 21:29:37 +1100
From: Robert A. Armstrong <rob.aa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Schoolie - Chapter 50

I know that 50 chapters seems long. But, if you are new to this story, may
I suggest that you read patiently from the beginning, to understand the
plot and the characters. You'll enjoy it much more and understand what's
going on!

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 49

In one brief (well, almost-brief) statement, Will has put everything right
- that his father was not the one-night-stand predator that everyone had
thought, who had gotten Lilly pregnant. He has thrown the culpability back
on her. He has revealed the reason for his and my similar appearance and
has cleared the air about why we will be living together.

He turns to Uncle Bill, our dad, and embraces him. I cannot remain seated
and I join them. Family hug! I reach for my trusty handkerchief, mop my
face and then give it to Will.

There is nothing more to be said.

Davo presides over the signing of the papers, and it's done! I'm the owner
of the 'Jintabudjaree Station'.

There is spontaneous applause and cheering and then we all hear the loud
rumble of thunder.



Chapter 50

The room falls silent and still, except for the diminishing reverberation
of the thunderclap.

There is a bright flash then another loud boom re-animates everyone and
re-ignites discussion. All heads turn to the windows along the length of
the dining room wall.

"Look! It's raining!" somebody calls, and everyone presses closer to the
glass panes to see the sight.

One expletive is dropped, and the offender is reprimanded to be aware that
children are present. An apology is offered.

"It's REAL rain," another exclaims. "Not just the pretend overnight stuff!
Look at it!"

I hear it; I see it; and even from inside the house I can smell it - a
heady, earthy wetness. I inhale deeply and enjoy the super-oxygenated
air. It must be absolutely and refreshingly intoxicating outside.

Exclamations of surprise and joy abate quickly as practical issues are
raised.

"We'd better not waste too much time in getting you back home," Marty tells
his mother. "If it continues at this rate, any normal cars soon won't be
able to grip the road and stay in a straight line."

Julie's husband says to me, "It'll be OK for four or five hours, Tom,
because the earth is so compacted from years of being driven on. But, after
that, if the water soaks right in and softens the earth, the thickening mud
will prevent anything except horses and maybe a tractor or the best of
4-wheel drives from travelling on it."

Uncle Bill and Julie's husband continue a little tête-à-tête while
I circulate and check on all of my cherubs, reassuring them that everything
will be OK. I am aware, given the length of the drought, that the youngest
of their brothers and sisters may have never seen rain like this, let alone
experience lightning and thunder.

I see Mum and Mrs T. join in the discussion with Uncle Bill. There is much
head-shaking in apparent disbelief then some obviously reluctant,
head-nodding agreement.

With a motion of her hand, Mrs T. summons Andy away from Kurt who has
joined his brother and Will half-way down the row of windows. She speaks
with him. He rigorously shakes his head. She hugs him and whispers in his
ear. He wails, "NO!" and runs out of the room, crying.

Kurt gives chase, calling him, "Andy! Andy! Wait!" Will and Karl follow
close behind.

Amid the growing activity in the room of moving bodies, I step back towards
Uncle Bill and the others. "What's up?" I ask. I can tell from their faces
that it's not happy news.

"I think that we had best not stay for the second night or we may never be
able to get back to the plane," Uncle Bill says with an air of calm that
covers his undisguisable concern. "Thomas, could you please help us collect
our things and drive us up to Cunnamulla? Julie's husband thinks that
you'll make it there and back easily in that Beast of yours."

In the flurry of movement and commotion of the locals around me, there are
hasty good-byes and encores of congratulations which are echoed with my
thanks.

I step onto the verandah to take in the scene, only to be greeted with an
astounding sight. The track from the road out here to the homestead, and
everything north of it, is bone dry. Rain is only falling to the south, as
though a hundred metres from the house is the extremity of its reach.

There is nothing magical about this. At home, many times, I've seen it rain
on one side of the street, while the other side remains unaffected. I look
again. Southward, rain is falling as far as I can see - that is, to the
horizon. So Marty's and Acacia's places and the road down to Big Town will
be copping it, while Reg's place and the way back to Cunnamullla might be
still dry. I can't judge exactly where the line extends eastward.

Many of the men assist in loading all of the equipment back into the Pub's
vehicle. Julie's husband presents me with a small tub of cooked meat and
another larger one of salad. "We may not even get through all of what we
have kept for the pub," he offers. "I'm sure that you could find some
hungry mouths to help devour it." He smiles. I shake his hand and thank him
profusely for his generosity and efforts today. It's only then that I
realise, and remind him, that there is no refrigerator here and no
electricity. "I have a spare generator and at least one extra bar fridge at
the Pub," he tells me. "Call in and I'll lend them to you, and I'll give
you a tin of fuel to run the generator. That should keep you going until
you decide on some more permanent things." More thanks are expressed, and I
tell him that I'll pick them up after dropping everyone at the airport. I
love these country folk. I'm now probably one of the wealthiest guys in the
district (on paper at least) and yet he's still intent on giving me stuff!

My brain runs through a check-list of essentials. Fridge, electricity,
lights, water... Wait! How do the toilets flush? Where does the water come
from? I don't recall seeing a tank of any description. No windmill. No
pipes. And where does the waste go? Another puzzle. For that matter, was
there any toilet paper in the bathrooms? I didn't think to check that
out. What did they use back in the 19th Century? What did it look like?
It's impossible that it was of the modern supermarket 3-ply variety that I
need to purchase.

Now, where are the boys? I call their names across the `great hall' and to
the upstairs rooms but receive no response. I can guess where they are. I
find them all in the Landau. Kurt is physically comforting Andy while Karl
and Will offer words of solace.

"He doesn't want to go home," Kurt explains to me. "He wants to stay, at
least another night, as they had planned."

I'm brutal. "Sorry, guys. If it wasn't raining, it would have been OK for
Andy to stay. I'm sure that the rest of you would know what the roads could
be like, after heavy rain. We have to get everyone to the airport this
afternoon." Then I wonder whether or not they can actually remember what
the roads might be like, with it not having rained for years. They don't
reply, and cajole Andy into joining his mother and the others.

"I'm driving," Will tells his father and, as if anticipating a
counter-suggestion, adds, "It will be good experience." Mum and Mrs T. join
them.

I tell Uncle Bill that I'll take Andy to retrieve his bag from Marty's and
will then meet them at the pub shortly.

Andy half-heartedly gives Karl a hug. He is not so restrained with
Kurt. When they separate, both boys exhibit tear-streaked faces. The twins
join their father, Jan, in his utility.

Everyone leaves. I run up the steps to close the front door (as if I need
to!). Before closing up, I think to retrieve a couple of towels from an
upstairs bathroom, in case we need to dry ourselves if we get wet. From the
balcony the vision again reminds me of that line of cows to the milking
shed except, this time, it's beasts of the 4-wheeled variety heading away
from me. At least it will be dry back to the main road. After that, I'm not
at all sure.

I look around. Andy and I remain, the last to leave.

He's not in a good mood. "Are you OK, Andy," I ask anyway, hoping that he
will talk to me.

"No!" he replies pitifully, then latches onto me and hugs me tightly,
laying his head on my chest.

"What's up, buddy?" I say, running my fingers through his hair and then
rubbing his back. "I'm your friend. You can tell me."

"I've gotta go home... I've gotta go NOW!" he sobs. "And I don't wanna go!"

I let my hand drop to his surfing-developed buttocks and press his body
against mine. He doesn't flinch.

I decide to meet his show of childlike petulance head on.  "Andy, you're
not a little kid any more. You're a big boy, aren't you?"

"Uh-huh," he squeaks between air-sucking sobs.

"Then, you know that big kids don't throw little tantrums when important
decisions have to be made, and often they don't always go the way that we
want them to. Do you know that?"

"Uh-huh," he repeats.

"And I know that it's hard for you to understand that your mum and mine,
and Uncle Bill need to leave pretty soon, because of what the rain will do
to the roads here, but it's the right decision. Can you understand?"

"Uh-huh."

"After all, you wouldn't want everyone to be stranded here for days or
weeks, would you?"

I know, as soon as the words leave my mouth, that it was the wrong thing to
say.

"Oh, yes!" he gushes, looking up at me with his penetrating, pleading eyes.

"Why would you want my Uncle Bill to not be able to do his work, and for my
Mum not to look after Dad and Amelia, and for your mum not to be able to go
to work?" I put to him, but I know that he was not thinking about any of
these people.

"Um," he begins, "Sorry. I didn't think about that. I would just like to
spend more time with you and Will," then he adds, "...and Kurt."

I thought so.

I lean back on the Beast and pull Andy with me so that his body weight is
leaning against me, crotch to thigh, each with one of our legs between the
other's two.

In front of me there is heavy rain, only a matter of 100m away. It is
really weird because above me and behind me it is dry. It is a strange
sensation, standing on dry red earth yet watching it pour with rain. It is
like being in front of an HD movie screen, with high fidelity sound.

"Do you like Kurt that much?" I ask. "You only met him a little while ago."

"Oh, Tom, I can't explain it. He does things to me," he replies. I am a
little surprised, considering the short time that they could have had in
private.

"What did he do to you?" I ask slowly, suspiciously, protectively.

Andy doesn't answer before I feel a stirring and a hardening between our
bodies. It's not mine. He's pressing into the front of my leg.

"I don't mean he did anything to me actually," Andy replies, being
defensive, "but it's how he makes me feel."

"And how does he make you feel?" I put to him, more tenderly, with my hand
in the small of his back.

"Well, when we first met and shook hands..." He pauses as if replaying the
scene in his mind. "While he was holding my hand, well, my thing, my cock,
went really hard, like now." He pushes his erection against me, as if I
didn't know what he meant. "And it happened again while he was hugging me
in the big buggy thingy."

I interrupt, "That's OK, I know how that feels," I tell him and, beginning
to plump up myself, push my body forward against his own.

"But it was different, Tom," Andy tells me, openly but seriously. "While I
was holding his hand and getting hard, I had a tingling in my... balls. I
thought I was going to have a big boy dream while I was awake. And I had to
let go of his hand, or it would have happened for sure."

"Did Kurt know what was happening and what you were feeling?" I ask.

"I hope not," he replies. "That would have been too embarrassing!" Then he
adds, "And it would have been much more embarrassing if I had not let go of
him!" He slowly, and quite possibly subconsciously, as if reacting to a
primal urge, begins to slowly hump my leg. I have an instant flashback of
us in the shower at the beach. I think, not here, not now!

"Come on," I tell him. "You'd better jump in. We can talk more on the way."

He surprisingly declines my offer of assistance, assuring me that he is
capable of scrambling up and buckling himself in.

I climb in on the other side, snap my seat belt into place and drive.

"Look, Tom," he says after a few minutes, "I AM a big boy." He proudly
indicates the leg of his jeans and the very obvious outline of his
adolescent erection.

"No doubt about it, Andy," I tell him, "I think you're getting bigger every
day." He smiles, no he beams, at me. Isn't that just what every teenage boy
wants to hear?

"You wanna feel it?" he asks coyly, leaning back and raising his hips to
give his `thing' more prominence.

OMG. Temptation! Can I resist it here, now? As if!

I reach across, lay my hand on his firmness and I feel it pulse. Then,
exercising far more self-restraint that even I thought possible, I take my
hand away, and say to him, "Don't you want to keep this for Kurt?"

He appears a little shocked. "Do you think that he might like to touch me
there?" Andy asks in all innocence. It tells me that, despite playing
hide-and-seek in dark places, they have not even reached the point of
feeling each other's body, even though I'm sure that both of them would
enjoy that, and more.

"That's not for me to decide," I say. I add, as if to encourage him, "I do
know that Kurt's a big boy too. I've seen him swimming in the river with
his brother and Will." I don't tell him any more than the bare necessities!

Only a matter of seconds later, Andy calls, "Stop, Tom. Quick!"

I plant my foot on the brake. "What's wrong?" I question him. The Beast
slides to a halt in the dust.

"Aargh! It's gonna happen!" he squeals, opening the door and jumping
out. He's almost crying as he grits his teeth and attempts to remove his
jeans in a hurry.

I watch as, the instant his cock is liberated from his underpants, it
squirts stream after stream of excited teenage fluid upwards and outwards
into the air.

I walk around to his side.

"Wow!" I say. "Look at all that." The dry earth is streaked with Andy's
ejaculates. "You certainly are a big boy. I'm glad that you didn't do all
that in your pants!"

"Me too," he puffs. "When you touched me and I thought of Kurt being a big
boy, I couldn't stop it. I think that I'm almost afraid now to go too close
to him in case he leans on me or something and this happens." He eases the
last few drops from his cock and lets them join the accumulation of wetness
on the otherwise dry ground. He wobbles his diminishing firmness at me and
stuffs it back inside, then smiles at me and says. "It felt great, though!
It was much better than just doing it myself in the shower."

"Come on, big boy. Back in the car!" I tell him and I head for the driver's
side.

We continue driving. He suddenly appears somewhat melancholy. "But now I've
gotta go home, and I won't be able to find out if he likes me or
not. Before that fu..., I mean that `trucking' rain came, I was hoping to
spend some more time with him today and perhaps even tomorrow. Now I won't
get the chance." He looks as though he is going to cry.

"Andy, before we leave for the airport, why don't you go over to Kurt's
place and say good-bye?" I put to him, trying to lighten his mood. "He
lives right across from the Pub, in the house closest to the school." He
turns his face to me and his half-hearted grin expands as the idea
permeates his mind and develops further.

We come to the wooden bridge across the river. On this side it is dry. On
the far side it is raining. Weird!

I hadn't thought that I would need to use the wipers out here, but they are
very effective - they are still new after all. We pass the pub, turn left
and head straight towards Marty's. We pull up, but his SUV isn't here. He
is probably still at his mother's place. Andy quickly gathers all (few) of
his clothes, pitches them (with obvious annoyance) into his bag then zips
it.

On the drive back to the pub I can hardly discern any loss of traction on
the road; the Beast grips well. No need to engage 4WD just yet.

I pull up outside the Andersen's place to be greeted by father and twin
sons on the verandah. "OK, Andy," I tell him. "Here we are. I reckon that
you might have about 10 minutes to say goodbye. Come on."

"Hi, Tom," Jan calls as the pair of us dash from the Beast to his verandah,
managing to be struck by only half of the falling raindrops on the way.

I explain that I need to drive Andy, his mother, my Mum and Uncle Bill to
Cunnamulla so that they won't be stranded here if the rain sets in, and
that Andy wanted to say goodbye to the boys. I don't single out Kurt, much
to his (and Andy's) relief, I'm sure.

"No problem," Jan smiles perceptively, and I immediately wonder whether he
had seen Andy and his son preoccupied with each other at the homestead.

All four laugh at my attempt at staying dry while dashing back to the
Beast, or is it because I almost `come a cropper', skidding on the mud, in
my haste, and only just managing to stay vertical, albeit with four limbs
all pointing in different directions?

At the pub, I pull up next to Will's car and enter via the side entrance
rather than by the raucous public bar, to where many who were at the
homestead appear to have retreated. Uncle Bill and Will are helping the
ladies with their luggage. Mrs T. looks past me for Andy and, not seeing
him, looks questioningly at me. "He's saying goodbye to Karl and Kurt
across the road," I tell her. "We'll collect him when you're all in."

We stow the three sets of luggage alongside Andy's bag behind the back
seat. With the tail gate up, I only get marginally wetter. Will hurriedly
puts his overnight gear into his car then joins the rest of us. Uncle Bill
excuses himself to `settle the bill' with Julie Smith.

When he returns he tells me that he insisted on paying for two nights'
accommodation, despite her protests.

Mum has everything organised. She and Uncle Bill will occupy the second row
behind Will and me in the front. Andy is to ride with his mother in the
back row.

My passengers all buckle up and I head across to pick up Andy. This time, I
don't get out, but Will winds down his window and, speaking across him, I
call, "OK, Andy. Let's go!"

This time he hugs both Karl and Kurt and shakes Jan's hand, who also
ruffles his hair. "See you, champ," Jan tells him. "It was a pleasure
meeting you. Next time, stay a bit longer, eh?"

I think the irony is lost on Andy whose only emotion at the moment appears
to be a separation-from-Kurt anxiety.

Uncle Bill slides open the side door, and Andy, running to the car and
climbing in, gets less wet than I did. Uncle Bill slides the door
shut. There is much waving.

"Drive safely, Tom," Jan calls.

"See you, Mr Grant," Karl cries.

"Bye, Andy," Kurt calls out, with somewhat choked emotion. I almost feel
cruel separating them.

Andy protests the seating arrangement and everyone accedes to his request
(no, his demand) that he and his mother sit close to Will and me - in the
second row. There is an unbuckling and re-bucking of seat belts.

I look at Andy in my rear vision mirror, and his silent streaming tears
reveal his emotion.

We pass Thunungara and Will reminds everyone that it is "where Jake, Jane,
Uncle Reg and Aunty Di live", which is politely acknowledged by the
adults. Andy is silent, and remains that way for an hour.

Suddenly the road ahead is dry, and after allowing an extra half dozen
sweeps from the wipers, I turn them off.

Andy becomes animated. "See!" he protests. "The rain has stopped. Why can't
we stay?" I glance at him in the mirror. Arms crossed and pouting. If he
was standing, I'm sure that he would be stomping his feet as well in a
puerile tantrum of protest.

Mrs T. answers, "Andrew, it might be dry here, but it is raining very
heavily back there, and we needed to make sure that we could get out. By
tomorrow that might not be possible."

Andy is far from dissuaded. "Then why couldn't I stay, and you could go
home?"

"You couldn't remain here, Andrew," his mother admonishes. "Where would you
stay?"

"With Tom and Will," is his curt reply.

"Andrew, that's very rude of you," she tells him. "You just can't invite
yourself to stay at a person's place. Besides, you have to go back to
school. You seem to be well enough now."

"I could go to school here. Tom's a teacher, you know." I'm uncertain
whether he has pre-planned this, but there is certainly nothing wrong with
his logic.

And so it continues; his arguments and her counter-arguments. And vice
versa.

The other four of us in the car hold our tongues. At one point, I sense
that Will is about to intervene, but a stern look from me puts a stop to
that, while the parent-child thing continues.

Finally, another twenty minutes and lots of re-hashed arguments down the
road, Mrs T., exasperated, turns to me for my assistance. "Tom, please tell
Andrew why it would be impossible for him to stay here with you and go to
school here, and what an inconvenience that would be for you and for
everyone else."

I reply with a question. "Mrs Thompson, has Andy been back to school since
his `accident'?"

"No," she replies, civilly. "He hasn't, yet."

"And there is only a handful of weeks until the next holidays, isn't
there?"

"Yes." She responds, quietly guarded, perhaps anxious about where my words
are heading.

"Then," I begin slowly, "if I was to invite Andy to stay with us until the
end of term, and bring him back home to you at the start of the holidays,
would that be a bad thing? There is plenty of school material for him to
work on, and it's not as though they would be doing anything extra with him
at his own school. They're probably not expecting him to return so soon
anyway. All of the children here work very hard and they all help each
other. It sounds to me like it could be a good way to ease him back into
school life."

I look at Andy in the mirror and wink. If his smile was any broader, I'm
sure that his face would suffer muscle spasms! "Thank you," he mouths to
me.

I wonder who is going to speak up first.

Of course it's Andy. "See, mum. I told you so!"

"Now, you wait just a minute, young man," she says at him. "For one, you
don't have any clothes to wear, and secondly... and secondly..." She is
fighting to find some words. "You need to get back to the hospital to
continue your treatment."

"I don't need to go back to the hospital!" He rails on her. "I feel really
good!"

Mum, ever diplomatic, but at the risk of losing a friend, puts in, "Enid,
you have seen how much Andrew has improved since he has been here, haven't
you? And me? And you? There is something about being out here that the
hospital and doctors could never provide. Wouldn't you agree?"

Sensing defeat closing in on her, Mrs T. has one final card to
play. Clothes. "But Andrew only brought enough clothes with him for a
couple of overnights and a change for one day."

Will, ever ready to save the day, chirps up, "Andy and the twins are almost
the same size. I'll bet that they have some spares that he could borrow."

"And next Saturday we can go into big town and buy a few extras. No
problem." I quickly add, putting an end to Mrs T's concerns. Almost.

"I can't afford new clothes for him," she says, almost embarrassed.

"But I can," I tell her. "I just became the owner of a homestead and
200,000 acres! Just think of it as an early, or belated, birthday
present. Actually, when is your birthday, Andy?" I add.

"May," he says. "May 10. I'll be 14."

"Early birthday present, then," I tell him.

I can't see her in the mirror, but I hear Mrs T. She blows her nose to
disguise the fact that she is crying. "Thank you, Tom. You are too kind,"
she sniffs.

We all take that as a capitulation of her position. Andy stays!

"Hell, yeh!" Andy cries, punching the air.

"I beg your pardon, young man," his mother scolds.

He rephrases his jubilation. "I mean, thank you, Tom. I would be most happy
to accept your invitation." This is over the top, but designed to placate
his mother. I wonder if she realises that he is `pulling her chain'.

His mother has another practical question. "But where will he sleep?"

Mothers!

Will answers, "We have beds for three in our room at Marty's." Then,
thinking better of explaining the sleeping arrangements, he adds, "And four
new double bedrooms in the homestead. I think that there will be enough
room for one more body."

The rest of the journey is a combination of excited babble from Andy,
reminders of good manners and dental hygiene (among other types) from his
mother, encouragement from Mum, `how great school will be' from Will and
some advice from Uncle Bill about Andy taking the opportunity to learn as
much as he can about `country life'.

Fathers!

As a parting gesture as we approach the airport I say, "I'll have Andy call
you every night from my phone."

Soon it is Mrs T. who is suffering obvious separation anxiety as we wave
her, Mum and Uncle Bill goodbye.

On the return trip, Andy and Will swap places and proceed to talk to each
other. There are two conversations going on at once. I try to take in
both. I wonder if either is actually hearing what the other is
saying. Will's focus is school and Marty and the homestead and the
Landau. Andy babbles about staying with us, and the homestead and new
friends. Kurt's name crops up about every breath. Is Will hearing this?

After what seems a long time of driving we abruptly re-encounter the
curtain of rain, and drive into it. It feels more like diving into it.

The conversation quickly changes to rain, mud, 4WDs, horses, whether people
(including us) will be able to get to school, etc. The only time that Kurt
is mentioned is in how lucky he and Karl are to live so close to the
school.

Will and Andy focus in on the topic of horses and the Landau, while I
ponder something far more immediate. Where will we sleep tonight? Will
there be three in the bed at Marty's? Or should one of us sleep on the top
bunk? Who? I consider the possible pairings in the lower bunk, and the
isolation of the other. Will said that he missed me. He meant he misses
having sex with me. How could we do that with Andy above us? Will is not
known for being quiet - just ask Marty! Yet, to separate him and me and
have one of us paired with Andy, will do nothing to appease Will's
horniness, or mine for that matter.

Would it be any different at the homestead? Maybe we could invite Kurt to
join us. I'm sure that neither he nor Andy would object. But then, how
could we invite Kurt and not Karl? Five of us? How would that work? Would
the three boys be OK in one room while Will and I `catch up' in another
room? A threesome? What if Andy wants to `get to know Kurt better', but not
with Karl present?

Aargh! This is going to be more complicated than I had thought! It's doing
my head in.

The rain continues all the way into The Village but there is a noticeable
diminishing of its intensity. The way is slushy but not dangerously
slippery, with the majority of the water having run off to one side or the
other, depending upon any camber on that section of road. I only now
realise that the roads are slightly elevated above the surrounding
landscape which, at the moment, resembles a shallow lake with protruding
vegetation instead of the saltbush-studded dry earth as I remember it
previously.

I decide to call in at the school because I realise that Andy hasn't seen
it. I `park' as close to the gate as possible. Will helps Andy make the
short dash to the verandah.

Inside, Will gives Andy the `royal tour' of both rooms and the store
room. He shows Andy where he sits and my desk. Without being told any more,
Andy chooses a chair to sit on. It's Kurt's. Weird! Will looks at me and
raises his eyebrows. I shrug in return my own wonder at Andy's choice.

The senior boys' group of tables has room for another chair. So, apart from
Will, Jake, Karl and Kurt, there will now be a fifth, Andy, until the next
holiday break.

We hear a commotion and two blond urchins clatter onto the verandah and
shake their heads causing raindrops to fly in all directions. They remind
me of dogs emerging from a river. Their hair falls across their faces,
masking their individual identities.

"We saw your car, Mr Grant," one says from the doorway.

"And decided to make a run for it to see what you and Will were doing
here," the other adds.

Almost simultaneously they brush their wet hair straight back off their
foreheads and flick the excess water off their hands.

"And what did you think that we'd be doing?" I ask, without really
expecting them to answer.

The pair of them step from the outside door through into the
classroom. It's only then that they spot Andy. They are so surprised that
they stop as if they had walked into quick-drying cement.

After a pause of two or three seconds, while his mind process what his eyes
are showing him, Kurt, with the broadest of grins, growls, "Somebody's been
sitting in my chair!" reminiscent of our recent dramatization of
`Goldilocks and the Three Bears' for the little kids.

"Guilty!" Andy responds, smiling back at him. Then joining in on the
literary allusion, he moans, "But I didn't eat your porridge, honest!"

Father-Bear-style, Karl adds his own two cents worth, "OK, Goldilocks. We
won't eat you this time." And he growls, "But don't try sleeping in our
beds. Understand?"

Is he joking or serious? Is the warning simply in continuing the story with
some unintentional innuendo, or is he actually jealous of Andy's presence
and how it might upset the happy `understanding' with him and Will and Kurt
and me?

"He's welcome to try mine," Kurt enthuses, then immediately blushes deeply
at the realisation of his own words, too late to stop them escaping. And he
said `he' (meaning Andy) instead of `she' (Goldilocks). Then he clamps his
hands over his ears so that he can't hear any potential rebuke from his
brother, or me, or Will, or (very unlikely, I suspect) from Andy.

I ponder that our worst fears rarely eventuate. He's safe.

He turns to me with pleading eyes, looking for some lifeline to pull him
out of the hole that he just dug for himself. At the same time there are
multiple glances exchanged among Karl, Will and Andy, all trying to gauge
each other's reaction.

Then, as if the Schoolie always has the answer to everything, they all
focus on me. Jury, judge and executioner?

This one is easy. "That depends on which bear you are, Kurt," I tell
him. "Father Bear's bed is too hard; Mother Bear's bed is too soft; but
Baby Bear's bed is just right."

They all exhale heavily and relax at my deflection of the issue back to the
fairy tale. However, they don't count on my warped sense of humour and of
me knowing the four of them as well as I do. I ask, "So, Kurt, which one
are you - hard, soft or just right?" He looks shocked. So do the
others. But I smirk broadly and all four of them burst into laughter.

I should have known better!

"I reckon he's hard," Will teases.

Karl, grasping his brother's crotch, announces, "Nope, he's soft."

"Just right!" Andy half-whispers.

"OK, guys. Enough!" I tell them, calling an end to the suggestive innuendo
before it goes too far. "Come on, I'll drop you two home, to stop you
getting any wetter, if that's possible." I walk across to the twins and
ruffle their wet hair, then put an arm around each one's shoulders and
guide them back through the doors.

Will calls after us, "Hey, there are two puddles on the floor. Did you guys
pee yourselves?"

The look on Andy's face is priceless. And his laughter is not restrained.

I tell them about the towels behind the front seat and ask the twins to use
them so as not to wet the seats. "Yeh," Will chides. "No peeing on the
seats either!"

Andy laughs loudest. He's going to love it out here!

There is a second vehicle outside the Andersen house. It's the Council SUV
that Helen O'Sullivan was driving earlier today. I do a U-turn so that the
sliding side door for the twins is as close as possible to the path. Jan is
waiting on the verandah and beckons me. The boys dash out and I follow,
having to make my way around the front of the Beast. Wet but not yet
soaked!

Helen, carrying towels, joins Jan and the twins to whom she hands one towel
each. "Do you need one, too, Tom," she asks.

"Thanks, Helen but I have a couple in the car," I tell her.

"Tom," Jan starts. "Could I ask a favour?"

"Of course, neighbour," I tell him, smiling.

He hesitates. "Say `no' if this is an imposition, but is there any chance
that Will could keep an eye on these two ruffians tonight?" he says,
further messing up their tangles of wet blond hair. I am about to answer
when he continues by way of explanation, "I've asked Helen whether she
would like to spend the rest of today and tonight out at Whispering
Gums. I'm not sure what we'll find out there after this sudden change in
the weather, but I could certainly use an extra hand, if necessary. I'm
sure that the owners and Helen would love to swap stories before they
vacate for the new purchaser, whoever it is."

I look at Helen. She is smiling, but looks a little flushed in the
cheeks. My `creative' (aka `dirty') mind extends to the sort of hand that
she might give him, but I dismiss that thought just as quickly.

"Of course," I tell him. "Will would be delighted." I don't even need to
ask.

Then, my mind returns, again, to sleeping arrangements. Would my little
brother be happy to stay here with the twins instead of warming my bed?
Would Andy be happy, and Kurt for that matter? What does Karl think? Would
he prefer to have Will alone to himself for the evening? I can foresee a
lot of hardness, and not just Father Bear's bed!

"Will!" I call. "Can you come here for a minute, please?" I'm sure that I
should have said `may?' somewhere in there.

He takes fewer strides than I did to join us on the verandah.

I repeat Jan's request, which is met with Will's almost-predictable "Hell,
yeh!" followed by a more sedate, "Yes, I'd be happy to help out, Mr
Andersen." There are smiles all around.

There is some excited tittering and then Will says, "I have a great
idea. Why don't we all go and stay out at the homestead? There are enough
bedrooms for everyone. Marty has some lanterns in his garage and we could
sit around and tell ghost stories, or something." He adds, "And it wasn't
raining out there when we left."

I begin, "Well, I suppose that we could do that. Julie Smith's husband said
that he would lend me a small fridge for the salads and meat that he left
us plus a generator and some fuel."

Will and the twins rush inside to collect `their things'. "Hell yeh!"
echoes through the house. Andy peers at us through the Beast's windows,
obviously wondering what is going on.

"Are there enough pillows and blankets?" Helen asks.

"I think so," I tell her. I didn't peel the quilts back to check, but when
I felt the beds they seemed fairly well padded, with blankets, I
assumed. Then I wonder how such an old house could have fresh linen and
blankets that are not full of dust. Another mystery.

The boys re-emerge. Each twin is carrying a pillow and Will is the bearer
of a single bag. "Pyjamas and toothbrushes," Kurt enlightens me,
intercepting my glance.

"Let me get you some extra food," Jan says and disappears indoors. When he
returns with a small hamper (of sorts) he also has a lantern. "LED with new
batteries," he says. It's better than candles.

The three boys head for the Beast and I can hear excited voices telling
Andy what is about to happen. Did I just hear `trucking hell yeh!' from the
car?

I explain to Jan and Helen that the rain is not widespread and that it
might still be dry at Whispering Gums, as it probably is out at the
homestead. "Have a good time," I wish them, and then head for the car.

As we all wave them goodbye, I think to myself that they are standing
rather close together.

"Are you going to leave your car here at the pub?" I ask Will. He looks
undecided. "It might be a good idea to drive it down to Marty's while the
road is still good," I suggest. He obviously contemplates a number of
alternatives and their consequences then agrees.

"Who's coming with me?" he asks. Karl volunteers, and they make the switch,
leaving Kurt and Andy in the back of the Beast to ride with me.

"I'll go first," I call to Will. "I'll use the spotlights to show the
way. Just make sure that you drive in my tracks. OK?"

He agrees.

Despite the fact that it's not yet officially the time for sunset, it is
quite dull. The spotlights are brilliant - pun intended! I travel at a safe
pace and check frequently to ensure that Will is still behind me. My poor
car (his car) looks as though it is competing in a cross-country
rally. It's going to need a good clean. Maybe if he leaves it just outside
Marty's garage the rain will wash off most of the mud.

We turn off onto the track to Marty's and I go even slower so that Will can
drive closer. I'm fully familiar with the twists and turns of the track,
but it looks different when semi-covered in water. I have to navigate
mostly by familiar trees and other discarded objects. We pull up and are
not greeted by barking dogs, which are probably taking shelter under the
house.

Will drives around the back of the house to leave his car near the garage
and to enter via the back door near our bedroom. Andy, Kurt and I use the
front door and head for the aroma and light in the kitchen, where I can
hear Marty giving a rendition of a John Denver song that my Mum was always
singing.

"Hello, sunshine," a naked (except for an apron that at least covers his
front) Marty hails a boggle-eyed Andy. "Did you miss your plane? Let me
check the timetable for the next one." He pauses and flips the pages of an
imaginary list on a pretended clipboard. "Nope. None scheduled. So, it
looks like you're stuck here. Did they abandon you or something?" He
doesn't wait for an answer.

He smiles acknowledgment at Kurt who is staring at him where clothes ought
to be, and then we are all joined by Will (carrying his overnight bag) and
Karl. Will looks at Marty and rolls his eyes. "I should have known," he
says and then for the twins' benefit, "It's one of Marty's House Rules -
I'll explain it in the car."

I begin to introduce the twins to Marty when he cuts me off. "Hey," he
says, "I know these guys! I live here too, remember?" He also reminds me
that, apart from being around The Village all his life, we all had dinner
together in the pub with Uncle Bill, his mother and their dad not so long
ago. Oh, yes.

I explain to him what we are intending to do and ask him about some
lanterns. "I'll get them for you," he says. "But it's a while since I used
them. I'm not sure about the batteries." All eyes follow Marty's taut,
slightly hairy backside out through the door.

Will collects some necessities and I do the same. Andy already has his
things all packed in his bag.

"Why don't you all come back for breakfast?" Marty suggests, re-entering
with a lantern in each hand. "It will be good to have a house full of guys
again.

"Does that include the local dress code?" I ask, wondering how Andy and the
twins (and their bodies) would react to becoming a pack of naturalists and
parading starkers.

"Of course, unless that poses a problem for anyone," he replies smirking
THAT smirk.

"Conference. My room!" I say to the four boys. I lead. They follow. Will
closes the door. He can guess what this is about.

"Guys," I begin, and take a deep breath. "One of Marty's House Rules is
that there are no women or girls allowed." Everyone hums and coos their
accord with the idea. "And," I continue, "that, while here, guys usually
wear no clothes."

I stop and wait for the expected expressions of shock and disapproval. They
don't eventuate. Just a hushed `Wow!' from one of the twins.

"Mr Grant," Karl says, "You've seen my brother and me naked in the weir,
and we've seen you too, so I don't think that there would be a problem with
that. And we've all seen Will too."

Will adds, "And Andy and us (indicating me and him) have all seen each
other naked in the showers at the beach."

There is only one unexplored side to this issue. I broach it, "So, Andy,
how do you feel about being seen naked by Karl, Kurt and Marty, and about
looking at them without any clothes?"

There is a moment of silence. "It could be embarrassing," he says. He
covers his crotch and then adds, coyly, "You know, Father Bear's bed. I
can't control it. It just happens."

I try to assuage his feeling of awkwardness, "I assure you Andy, that if
you get hard, you won't be the only one!"

"But, what if I'm the smallest?" he asks. I think that for some boys, size
does matter; at least, comparatively!

Will puts his arm around Andy's shoulder and tells him, "Believe me. You
won't be!" He looks at Karl and Kurt who suddenly seem even more excited at
the prospect.

"If it's a problem for anyone, we don't have to do it. Marty will be OK." I
encourage him to do what he feels comfortable with.

"No, it's really OK, I guess," Andy croaks, searching for his confidence.

Will adds the last House Rule about `what happens in the house stays in the
house' and gains assurances from everyone that nothing will be said to
anyone else about our breakfast frolic, or anything else for that matter.

"So my mum won't find out?" Andy asks, revealing a true anxiety. When
assured that she won't, he brightens considerably.

Will has the final word, "If anyone says anything, we'll just have to cut
his balls off and feed them to the dogs!" There are groans of mock pain,
and I sense a pervading camaraderie! An all-in hand shake with a group
`Hell, yeh!' seals the deal.

We tell Marty the `good news', and he says that he's looking forward to
having a lot more sausages than usual at breakfast. The simple double
entendre causes everyone to laugh, nervously or excitedly.

Everyone declines the chance to `ride shotgun' alongside me in the
Beast. Andy and Kurt sit behind me with Karl and Will in the back seat. I
stop at the pub and help load the refrigerator, generator and some more
supplies, courtesy of Julie Smith and husband.

In only a matter of minutes we roll across the old wooden bridge onto dry
ground. As we pick up speed, it's eerie seeing dust in my rear vision
mirror while, at the same time, rain out to my left, to the south.

I broach the matter of sleeping arrangements. "There are four bedrooms,
guys, and five of us. How do you want to arrange things tonight?" I can
think of multiple potential combinations, but I'll leave it to them.

Andy speaks up, "Tom, I really don't want to sleep by myself in the big
house. It could be really scary!"

"That's perfectly understandable, Andy. I'm sure you're not the only one,
and thank you for having the courage to say so." That discourages the
tittering from the others.

Andy and Kurt turn around to face Will and Karl.

There is much chattering and gesticulating. It's left to Will to deliver
the verdict. "OK," he starts. "Karl is going to share with me and Andy will
share with Kurt. That leaves you in a bed by yourself, but if we hear you
crying and think that you are scared then one of us will come and give you
a hug!" They all giggle at his demeaning of me; perhaps also at the hint of
a boy climbing into my bed.

I can think of a couple of smart-alec retorts, but I let them slide. "Good
choice!" I commend them, and wonder who will be the first to come and
`comfort' me.

When we reach the homestead I decide to see how the Beast likes sharing a
stable with the Landau. Perfect. Everybody grabs his own gear and we head
around the corner and up the front steps. I want to check
something. "Karl," I ask, could you open the door, please?"

He tries unsuccessfully. "It must be locked, Mr Grant," he tells us.

"Kurt?" Same result and response.

"Will?" He knows what's about to happen, or not happen, but still doesn't
know of my theory. Nope.

"Andy?" He walks up to the door, bangs the knocker loudly, turns the handle
and pushes the door open.

"How the hell, did you do that?" Karl asks. "Did Tom give you the key?"

"Search me!" Andy replies. "I dunno! Maybe it's magic, or something!" Then
he asks, "None of you knocked first, did you?" as if that was the secret.

I warn them, "So don't get locked out unless you have Andy with you!" I
smile. They laugh, but I can tell that they are unconvinced. We leave our
bags in the `great hall' and head back downstairs.

Will helps me carry the refrigerator. Karl and Kurt bring the portable
generator and Andy carries the 5L tin of fuel. We set it all up on the
verandah where, only hours earlier, the food had been cooking. Will
displays his `country expertise' and hooks everything up and gets it
running. "I've helped Marty heaps of times," he proudly announces. We all
pitch in carrying the food, including Jan's hamper, and everything fits
neatly into the fridge.

"So, let's get set up inside," I suggest. "You can choose whichever room
you like, except the black and white one next to the bathroom. That's
mine." I'm looking forward to sleeping in the master's bed.

Will and Karl choose the green room adjacent to the southern bathroom, on
the opposite side of the house. Andy and Kurt spurn the pink `girly' one in
favour of the blue one next to mine on the northern side.

"OK," I tell them. "Go and get settled and try out the beds. I'll meet you
back down here in 10 minutes. Does anyone need a lantern yet?"

The response is unanimously `No,' and they take off up the stairs, like
kids at a camp, laughing and whooping.

I call, "Make sure that you each take a towel with you from one of the
bathrooms." I decide to take Jan's lantern `with the new batteries' up to
my room and leave Marty's two down here for us to use as it gets darker. I
check that both are functioning. All good!

It takes me all of a few seconds to drop my bag upstairs, secure the
lantern on a side table and flop backwards onto (almost `into') the
bed. Hmm. Very soft and comfortable! If I were to stay in this position I
could easily fall asleep. Not yet! I opt to `do the rounds', quietly.

I stand outside the closed blue room door and hear Kurt ask Andy, "So, how
big is yours?" Obviously, his interest has been stirred by Will's earlier
comment. Boys! I leave them to get to know each other better in private.

I walk the long way `round to the room where Will and Karl are. Again I
stand and listen. Silence.

In their haste, they forgot to fully close the door and there is a
sufficient gap for me to peek and see Will and Karl lying side by side on
their backs and fondling each other through their clothes. I tip-toe away
from the door and head downstairs beneath the presence (I can't say `gaze')
of the headless zebra pelt. I'll allow them all 10 minutes and then give
them a call. A lot can happen in 10 minutes, especially with Andy admitting
to having such a `short fuse' when he's near Kurt, and with Will having had
no release (that I know of) for almost two days.

I think that we'll eat in the dining room and then `adjourn to the
gentlemen's lounge' afterwards, so I take one of Marty's lanterns to each
room. As I re-enter the `great hall' I hear a muffled but tell-tale groan
from somewhere upstairs. I look at my watch. Wow! Less than 5 minutes! Who?
If I was a betting man my money would be on Andy, but I wouldn't give long
odds on Will or Karl for that matter!

I look into the kitchen and realise that the only cooking facility is a
large stove with iron doors, behind one of which there is a neat array of
wood ready to be lit (as there is in all of the fireplaces in the
house). The other side appears to be a multi-shelf oven. I think that the
boys and I will all be having cold meat and salads! I'm sure that there
would be a local who could explain the use of a fuel stove to me. Acacia
would know! She knows everything!

I'm tempted to retrieve a lantern and explore the `treasure cave' but with
insufficient time available, I defer. At the moment I'm the only one who
knows of its existence. Andy and Kurt know of another. I wonder if there
are more `secret passages' to be explored.

I call, "Dinner! Anybody hungry?"

There is momentary silence until Andy and Kurt come bustling down the
stairs. I notice that Andy has changed shorts and wonder whether that was
by choice, or necessary as a result of getting to close to Kurt. I look at
his pants and smile at him. He knows that I know, and looks a trifle
embarrassed. They both join us, and I give Andy's shoulder an encouraging
squeeze from behind. "You OK?" I whisper. He turns and smiles at me,
nodding.

We hear giggles and look up to see the other two walking down the stairs,
totally naked, half boned up.

Will doesn't give me a chance to comment. "Hey," he says. "What's the
difference? Tonight or tomorrow at Marty's?" He adds, "We could have our
own House Rule about clothing."

Andy and Kurt look at me and I shrug. They take off upstairs like hounds
after a fox. Andy manages well, despite his coordination not being fully
restored. Will and Karl step back on the landing to let them pass. On the
way, Kurt takes a swipe at his brother's gear, but is thwarted by Karl's
quick reaction and agility. Kurt laughs but doesn't look back and keeps
running.

Beginning their descent of the last dozen steps, Will looks me straight in
the eye. "You too!" he declares.

I say nothing, but walk slowly towards them. As we draw level he comments,
"We figured that if anyone was going to be embarrassed, then why not get it
over and done with tonight instead of in front of Marty."

"I hate it when you are right," I tell him. Karl smiles. As I pass both
boys, I give Will a sharp slap to his bare backside then take off double
time before he has a chance to retaliate. I stop at the top of the stairs
and look at them from the railing. He pokes out his tongue. I
reciprocate. Very childish, but it's a conditioned response from living
with my little sister, Amelia! I wonder what Karl must be thinking!

"Come on. It's OK," I hear Kurt tell Andy as they pass my door.

"Don't touch me, please," Andy pleads, "or it will happen again."

"At least you won't have to change your shorts again," Kurt chortles.

When I emerge, trying desperately to avoid a full erection by thinking of
diving into an icy swimming pool, I focus on four amazingly handsome
adolescents who could easily act as models for a Greek sculptor, then I
feel myself beginning to lose my battle. They are all waiting for me at the
bottom of the stairs. I descend slowly thinking, `freezing, cold, icy...'
It retards the swelling, but I'm already partially there. All four are
between half- and full-mast, so I guess mine doesn't matter!

I didn't think that I would be the embarrassed one. Is it written across my
face? "It's OK, Mr Grant," Karl (the only one with whom I have not shared a
private intimate moment) encourages. "We won't say anything. It can be
another House Rule, can't it? Like at Marty's." I realise that it is
unusual for Karl and me to speak directly with one another. Apart from in
the classroom, he normally communicates with, and through, Will or Kurt. I
feel a pang of guilt for being unconsciously neglectful of him.

There is a brief awkward moment, then Will shouts, "Group hug!" and I find
myself surrounded by four naked boys who press their fleshly frames against
mine. Their hugging is not confined to above the waist! My backside
receives a couple of friendly squeezes. When we all separate, there is no
doubt about our bodies' capability of quickly simulating Father Bear's bed!
We look at each other and share the humour of our separate but similar
conditions.

I explain my thoughts about the dining room and then the `gentlemen's
lounge'. We collect plates and cutlery from the kitchen and then go to raid
the refrigerator on the verandah! The late day temperature, combined with
the effect of the slight breeze off the rain to our south, sees the tender
parts of our bodies quickly restored to `normal' size. I contemplate that
the boys are even more handsome in their natural (unexcited) state.

Food devouring is followed by plate and utensil cleaning, each doing his
own. We hustle across the hall to the lounge.

It's becoming darker and, I'm tempted to switch on one of the
lanterns. However, it's only then I notice, apart from the arrangement of
wood in the large fireplace, that there is a stack of firewood to the
window-side of the hearth. Of course! Light the fire! One
problem. Matches. I put it to the boys as to how they think we might get it
going.

Andy chirps, "We could rub two sticks together and start a fire." The
others look at him, almost sympathetically, surmising his viewing of too
many wild-life movies or reading of Boy Scout stories. `Another city
slicker!' I can almost hear them thinking.

Kurt grins, "Well, then, we might just have to huddle under a couple of
blankets to keep warm." Andy giggles the most.

Karl adds, "If Mrs Smith's husband was here, he could light it. He smokes,
you know."

Without a word, Will jumps up and dashes out of the room. A minute later we
all hear a loud banging. "That's the door knocker," Andy says, and ventures
into the hall.

Will and Andy appear at the lounge room doorway. "You were right about
taking Andy with us if we go outside," Will concedes. Then, from behind his
back, he `magically' produces a cigarette lighter. "Ta-dah!"

Before the `how' and `where' questions are even completed, Will says, "Mr
Smith must have left it after he lit the barbecue earlier. I noticed it up
one end of the window sill when we put down the fridge."

"In that case," I tell him, "you deserve to do the honours." The fire is
well laid and the flames catch quickly.

We sit, thighs touching, in a semi-circle in front of the fireplace. I have
Andy on one side of me and Kurt on the other. I know that they would like
to be next to each other, but there's a practical reason why they
shouldn't. Andy knows why, and I think that by now Kurt might too. Karl is
next to his brother with Will alongside him.

At first, everyone is mesmerised by the flames, and there is very little
talking; just murmurs of contentment. Then a discussion emerges about
whether the house is haunted or not.

Amid the boys' conjectures of what ghosts might look like and sound like
and whether they would be good or bad and what they might do, I stand and
back up to the fire, savouring the warmth down my back and legs,
occasionally rubbing my cooler hands on the hot skin. One by one the boys
join me.

The expected bright moon has not yet appeared above the horizon. I wonder
whether it will shine from the north, or be obscured by rain clouds to the
south and, as the natural daylight dwindles to a memory and as the
glimmering from the flames takes over, the room is filled with the
flickering shadows of five bodies.

"That's sort of creepy, don't you think?" Karl whispers, indicating the
dancing images.

Ever playful, Kurt extends his arms sideways and waves them up and down,
creating a menacing shadow across the length of the room and onto the far
wall, while at the same time moaning "Woooo", ghost-like, only to receive a
cuff to the ear from his brother.

As the heat from the fire intensifies we edge farther away from it. We
resume our original sitting positions, but a little closer together, and,
in a close semi-circle we are able see each other's faces clearly by the
bright glow of the firelight.

We each tell stories, the scarier the better. Reality morphs into the
creative and more fanciful. Shadows become ghosts and ghosts become
monsters. Monsters include deadly snakes, man-eating spiders and even a
giant zebra. Will begins to deliver a tale of a murderous Jintabudjaree
elder who may appear at a full moon, looking for white boys whose genitals
he can cut off to offer to the spirit world. Because the locals boys know
of the J. curse, the atmosphere, no longer simply `creepy', intensifies,
firstly to scared and then to one of terror. I've got to hand it to him,
using a hushed voice with some unexpected inflexions, Will is a great story
teller. He has even given me goose bumps.

Andy cries, "You're scaring me, Will. Real bad! Now I've gotta go and pee."
He heads for the door.

"Do you need the lantern?" I ask him, indicating the one that I had set by
the door.

He calls, with a little trepidation as he walks, "Thank you, Tom, but I can
see OK. The fire is lighting up a lot of the hall out here."

I step out to verify that there is sufficient illumination for him to see
where he's going. "What about inside the bathroom?" I ask. "Why don't you
take the lantern anyway?" Despite being shaped like an old-fashioned
lantern, it's really a modern LED replica. I take it to him, show him the
on/off switch then he hurries back towards the stairs.

The others all suddenly realise the condition of their own bladders and
pass me, chasing after him.

With only one toilet in each bathroom, Andy and Kurt go to the right. Will,
stopping on the landing beneath the zebra, calls, "Hurry up with the
lantern. Karl and I will wait here for it." Checking with Karl, he adds,
"We're not in a desperate hurry, but don't be long." I offer to fetch them
the second one from the dining room but they decline.

"We'll be quick," Kurt calls, "Andy and I can pee together." Do I detect a
chuckle in his voice? I hope that he doesn't cause Andy to explode again!

They vanish inside the bathroom. Without the light from the lantern, that
end of the long hall is quite dark. I retreat to the lounge room doorway.

In less than a minute, Andy and Kurt, sounding very much relieved, come
down the right-hand stairs. Andy sits on the bottom step and Kurt crosses
to the other side of the landing and passes the lantern to his
brother. Will and Karl disappear. The only thing really visible at the
moment are the white stripes on the zebra. Almost glowing.

Karl comes down alone, leaving Will in the bathroom. Bigger bladder.

From the gloom I suddenly hear a familiar low voice, "Woooo! I am the ghost
of the big house!" I've heard that before, in the secret passage off the
bathroom. This time it's more intimidating, given the stories of the past
hour.

I hear Andy cry out, "That's not funny Kurt! Just as well I've already had
a pee!"

So, the mysterious ghost in the secret passage was ... Kurt. I realise that
Karl and Will have no knowledge of it.

"It wasn't me!" Kurt calls back.

"Of course it was!" Andy replies. "I know it was you."

"It wasn't him!" Karl says. "I'm standing right next to him. He didn't say
anything."

There is momentary silence and stillness while all three of them process
what has just occurred. Then there is a scurrying down the staircase, not
waiting for Will. My own flesh starts to tingle. Were there more than three
of us in the secret passage? Three boys push past me to stand in front of
the fire. Panting. Trembling.

Will descends. "What's going on?" he calls as he walks towards the lounge
room door.

"There's a real fucking ghost," Kurt blurts out. Then he apologises to me
for his language.

"Trucking ghost," Andy corrects him, which lightens the mood a little.

"There's no such thing as a real gh..." Will starts. Then, seeing our
faces, he stops mid-sentence. "You're all as white as a ..." Again, he
stops himself.

"Group hug!" I call. This time, despite the closeness of our bodies, there
is no rush of blood to our nether regions. But, there is tangible comfort
in our closeness. "Let's sit and talk," I suggest. We huddle closer than
our previous semi-circle. There is much back-rubbing. Words of consolation
from Will seem to have little effect, at least upon Karl and Kurt. Andy, on
the other hand, seems calmed, and is almost smiling.

After a few minutes, Andy burst out laughing, "I got you all! Ha ha!"

He confesses to being the `ghost' and that his accusation of Kurt was a
diversion, designed to trick everyone. "It worked! You should have heard
yourselves and seen your faces. You, too, Tom," He chortles.

There is no discussion. He is merely descended upon and outnumbered four to
one. Screams from being tickled and a screech, I suspect, from having his
balls groped.

"Let's leave the fire to burn itself out," I suggest to them, "and we can
all go up to our bedrooms. You each have a lantern in case you need to get
up in the middle of the night. Besides, the moon will be up soon and I
think that the full moon light through the windows should be enough for you
to see your way to the bathroom and back."

They each give me a hug. Even Karl. We go to our chosen rooms.

I locate Jan's lantern, flick on the switch and climb into the softness
that the master enjoyed. With the lantern next to the bed, I turn it off. I
hear some giggling from the blue eroom next to mine, but no squeals from
Andy. I guess that they've worked things out.

I lie still, recalling the events of the past two days with Mum, Uncle
Bill, Mrs T. and Andy. And the signing of the documents. And my house. A
million thoughts run through my head. The Landau. School. Andy. The
boys. Kurt & Andy together. Will. The rain. The secret passage. The
`treasure room' off the kitchen.

I feel myself drifting off. No ghosts.

Maybe an hour has passed.

It's still quite dark. No moon yet and no Jintabudjaree elder. I sense the
door open slowly and then close again. No creaks. Almost silently he
approaches. Stealthy steps. Closer. I exaggerate the sound of my breathing,
pretending to be asleep. He stops next to my
bed. Pausing. Thinking. Breathing. Waiting. Pondering. He feels for, and
then carefully lifts, the covers and slides in. Did he think that I would
not hear him, or sense him? He sidles towards me. I feel the warmth of his
bare skin against mine, and the pulse of his heart beat.

Who is it?



(To be continued...)

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