Date: Mon, 02 Nov 2015 17:43:26 +0000
From: polarlord@hushmail.com
Subject: The Old Butchers Shop - 01

It was the noise of Rocky barking at the newspaper boy which woke me. I
groaned thinking "I wish I didn't have to go to school." Then the
realisation struck me. It was Half Term holiday. No school for the rest of
the week. Seven whole days of freedom if you include the weekend. I lay in
bed luxuriating in the soft cotton sheets. It was time to go back to sleep.

My reverie was rudely interrupted by Mum's voice echoing up the stairs.
"Philip, don't lay around in bed all day. It is 8 a.m. and you know I have
to go to work. Come down and have breakfast. Now!"

I'd learned during my 13 years in this prison camp, that when Mum ended a
sentence with the word "Now!" you didn't argue. If I didn't escape the warm
embrace of my bed right now my life would be hell. I stumbled down stairs
to the kitchen scrubbing the sleep from my eyes as I went.

"Philip, where are your pyjama bottoms? If your father saw this he'd have a
fine word to say. You know he hates you running around in just your
underwear."


"Come on Mum, it's not like anyone will see me. Anyway Dad sleeps in the
nude. And he isn't here. He's off on business in Italy again. Do you have
to go to work today? I thought we could go out and do some stuff. You know
Billy's gone off with his folks to the Water Park. I've got nothing to do
all day."

"I'm sorry Philip, but you know my boss has gone off sick. Someone has to
open up the shop and run things while he's away. I'll be back by five
tonight. At thirteen you should be able to look after yourself. I've left
you some food in the fridge and there's some money on the worktop if you
need it. I've fed Rocky."

"It's boring Mum. I still don't have many friends since we moved here last
year. How about me buying a new XBox game. That would keep me busy."

"No Philip, you know your father grounded you on computer games after that
last school report. You are lucky you can still use the internet. Anyway I
have to go. You can call me if anything goes wrong. Now, give your mother a
kiss, and don't forget to shower before you dress. You smell of stinky
boy."

She swooped at me for one of those wet noisy kisses on my forehead, then
dashed out of the house to start her car. As I sat eating cereal and milk I
wondered what I could do for the day. I idly watched the TV as I ate. There
was a report on angling and how some guy had caught a record weight of fish
in a competition. It prompted a thought. I could spend the day fishing down
at the river. I hadn't done that for months. Dad doesn't seem to have the
time to spend the day fishing with me since he'd started his new job. When
I'd finished eating, I climbed the stairs to throw on some clothes. I
needed to buy some bait from the local angling shop before I could go
fishing and it gave me a chance to give Rocky his morning walk. Half an
hour later I lied to the dog that I'd be back soon as I climbed onto my
bike with my fishing tackle and fresh bait. I'd be back in time to clear
the breakfast stuff before mum came home.

The route from home to our favourite fishing spot involved cycling along a
very busy road. At one spot in an old part of town the road gets really
narrow and Dad insists I ride on the footpath and not the road for that bit
of the journey. I was riding along looking up at the grey clouds hoping the
rain would stay away when suddenly someone stepped out from his front door
on to the footpath. There was no way to avoid him and I crashed into him
knocking him down.

The guy scrambled to his feet and complained. "Bloody young hooligan. What
the fuck are you doing cycling on the footpath. I should call the police
and have you charged with dangerous cycling. You are a menace."

"Oh God I'm sorry Mister. I didn't see you. Are you okay?"

"Of course you wouldn't see me if you riding with your head up watching the
clouds. Idiot. If I'd been old you could have injured me."

I almost giggled, because he was very old. At least 60 years.

"I'm really sorry Mister. Dad says I've to use the footpath on this bit of
the road, to be safe. I was looking to see if it is going rain. I'm going
fishing today."

"I have bad news for you sonny. The forecast is rain. You are going to get
soaked today. That hoodie of yours and those skinny jeans are going to
offer no protection. It's why I'm carrying this umbrella. Anyway, are you
okay after the crash?"

I looked down and straightened the handle bars on my bike, but everything
else seemed okay. "I'm okay and don't think it is going to rain, but I'd
best go fishing now if I can, please."

"Go on. Off you go, but be more careful with that bike." He turned and
stumped off towards the town centre.

Ten minutes later I stood on the river bank casting my line into the best
place for fish. Then the rain started. It was just fine rain at first, but
it looked like the rain might stop soon so I stayed fishing. Within five
minutes the deluge had started. The rain was so heavy your couldn't see
across the river. I was quickly soaked through to the skin by the icy cold
rain. It was time to go home. I squelched up the bank to my bike, packed my
equipment and started walking the bike homewards. The rain was too heavy to
cycle safely.

On the way back I bumped into the old guy. I mean I really bumped into him
again. I had my head down under the weight of the rain and not looking in
front of me. He was unlocking his front door under the shelter of his
umbrella.

"I see your road skills haven't improved. Have you got far to go? This rain
is terrible."

I looked up and shook the rain from my eyes.

"No, it's only about 20 minutes walk. I'm alright. Sorry I bumped you
again."

"You'll catch a cold. Come inside the house and get dry. This rain is going
to last at least three more hours. If you want I can give you and your bike
a lift home."

I was going to say no, but he opened his front door and I could see a
roaring hot coal fire in the hallway. It too tempting I just wanted to
escape the rain. I followed him in through the door.

"Park your bike and fishing tackle against the wall. I'll go and get some
towels. You can use the phone to call your parents and let them know where
you are. This place is called the Old Butcher's Shop. Everyone knows it.
I'll see you in a minute."

I stood next to the fire, dripping rainwater and still shivering. The legs
of my jeans were beginning to steam when the old man reappeared carrying
towels and stuff. He'd taken off his raincoat and was drying his white hair
as he walked. "Here's a couple of towels and a clean spare bathrobe. If you
want to go upstairs you'll find a bedroom where you can take off your wet
clothes and dry off. If you bring your wet clothes down I'll pop them in
the dryer. They'll be dry and warm in about 30 minutes."

"Um, I'm alright really thanks. I'll just warm up a bit and dry myself then
go."

"Nonsense, with those wet clothes you'll just get colder. Have you phoned
your folks? I'll be through in the kitchen."

He turned, opened a door behind him and left the hall. I could see another
brightly burning coal fire glowing heat from an old black kitchen range.
Warm air flooded out from the kitchen, it carried the smells of a meat stew
cooking on the stove. The rain sounded even heavier outside as trucks and
cars splashed past the front door. I chose the warmth.

A few minutes later I stepped through the kitchen doorway tightly wrapped
in an over-large black bathrobe. I carried a bundle of soggy clothes and my
soaking shoes. My feet and legs were bare. The brick floor felt cold under
my feet. The old man was sitting beside the fire in an older farm house
chair reading the daily newspaper. Another empty chair waited beside the
fireplace.

"By the way we've not been introduced. I'm Thomas Jones. Most people call
me Tommy. This is my house. Come and sit beside the fire to warm up. I'll
deal with your wet clothes."

He rose and took the bundle from me, looking expectantly at me.

"Oh sorry I'm Philip Samuels. Thanks for doing all this. I was very cold. I
hope it's not too much trouble."

The chair was been heated by the fire. The solid wood seat almost burned my
bare thighs and bottom when I sat in front of the fire. I pulled the robe
under me to protect my skin from the heated wood. I saw Mr Jones glance at
my legs before he disappeared in to another room next to the kitchen. I
looked down and saw I was showing too much bare thigh. I pulled the robe
fully closed. The sound of a tumble dryer starting up came through the
doorway. Mr Jones soon returned and stood behind my chair looking down at
me.

"Did you call your parents? They must be worried about you out in this
rain."

"No I haven't called yet. Mum's at work anyway. She thinks I'm at home so
she won't be worrying about the weather. She'll think I've gone back to bed
as it is a school holiday."

"I see Philip. So you don't have to rush home straight away. It's just that
the drying may take almost an hour. I'm sure we can find something to do to
keep us occupied while we wait."

Continues....


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