Gran's House
by Kit
Chapter 21
The weather was cold the following morning, but there was bright sunshine and very little wind, so I took Stephane for a drive around some of my favourite local beauty spots. A couple of those were on higher parts of the open moorland, where there were few sightseers even in summer. I felt the isolation was somehow both relaxing and invigorating, but I got the impression that Stephane thought it was a bit desolate.
"Don't you think that today would be great for a run?" he asked immediately after lunch.
"I didn't know you were interested in running," I replied, taken by surprise.
"I've never really tried it, but I know how much you enjoy it, so I thought maybe I should give it a go. And there's no reason for you to give up a perfect opportunity just because I'm here."
As I'd not had a good run or a bike ride for four days, the idea was certainly tempting.
"But you don't have any running shoes," I pointed out.
"I have my trainers. They're very comfy. They may not be perfect, but I'm sure they'll be fine."
"Okay," I said, giving in to the temptation, "but tell me if your feet start hurting, and don't push yourself too hard trying to keep up. It's not something you can just go and do without practice."
"Okay, okay, Grandad," he quipped. "If I've had enough, I can just watch you perform, or I'll go and sit in the car."
He borrowed a spare set of my running clothes, and we went to one of my favourite easy routes. It was the sort of place I went to in order to get back into training when I felt I'd gotten out of shape. There was also some very pleasant scenery to enhance the whole experience. After a few stretching exercises, I started off at what I felt was a very relaxing and relatively slow pace.
After about ten minutes, it was clear that he was struggling, although he didn't say anything. So I slowed to what was for me just a jogging speed, and he began to look more comfortable. However, I didn't want him to find the experience unpleasant or too tiring, so I headed back toward the car, having done only about a fifth of my usual distance for that route.
When we got back home, he said that he'd enjoyed it, but I wasn't really convinced, though perhaps he just meant that he'd enjoyed the scenery. We had a chaste shower together, and I could tell that some of his muscles were tensing up. When he admitted that they were aching, I made him lie on the bed while I gave him a massage. He clearly enjoyed that, and he made quiet humming sounds that made me think he was almost purring with pleasure.
"This is another hidden talent you have," he said lazily as he lay on his stomach and I kneaded some leg muscles.
"Not really hidden," I said, not mentioning that it had been one of my favourite activities with Mai Li.
"There're people who'd pay good money for this," he said, then moaned as I reached the back of his thighs.
"I doubt they could afford my prices," I joked.
"Probably I can't, either, but maybe I can pay you in kind," he said suggestively.
"Maybe you can," I teased, gently slapping his buttocks, "but not right now. We need to get dressed and start getting ready to go to dinner."
Knowing how generous my godparents were with drinks and not wishing to inhibit Stephane's drinking, I decided that we should go there by taxi. As expected, as soon as we arrived, Uncle Geoffrey asked us if we'd like a gin and tonic or a different cocktail. Aunt Anne came from the kitchen and suggested that Stephane might like to try a Negroni.
"I thought you'd have got over those by now," I said jovially. "I'm surprised that you still have the ingredients."
"Pish! The ingredients don't go off, and we always have oranges," she replied with good humour. "It makes a pleasant change from G&Ts, and you know I like variety."
"I've heard of Negronis," Stephane said, "but I've never actually tasted one."
"Well, now's your chance," she said. "Geoffrey can see to it while I get back to cooking."
With that, she went back to the kitchen before either my friend or my godfather could have any further say in the matter. Stephane seemed genuine when he said that he liked the cocktail, so I assumed that he wasn't just being polite.
As expected, and as I'd warned Stephane, much of the evening was a mild form of interrogation for him. However, all went well because Aunt Anne was relatively gentle with her questions, and he was skilful in his answers. In fact, I had the distinct impression that he had experience in dealing with similar questioning. For example, when asked if he had a girlfriend, he replied, 'Not at the moment', thereby evading the truth while avoiding a lie.
Around nine thirty, I made my excuses to leave, saying that I had to be up early the following day to make preparations to pick up my brothers and that I'd promised to bake a cake. The fact that my godparents had to go to work the following day was probably the reason that they didn't try to cajole me into staying longer. However, they did make me promise to bring the boys round for Saturday afternoon tea at their house.
"That was fun," Stephane said when we were in the taxi.
"I've had worse, so don't take it personally," I said, thinking that he was being ironic.
"No, I really mean it was fun," he said, sounding amused. "They're nice people, and the conversation was entertaining. The questions kept my brain stimulated, and I learned even more about how you got to be how you are."
I wondered if he was referring to my alleged failings, such as being snobbish or aloof, and I wanted to ask for details. However, the back of a taxi didn't seem to be an appropriate place for such a discussion, so I didn't pursue the matter. Stephane seemed to become caught up in his own thoughts, so very little was said by either of us during the rest of the journey home.
When we got inside the house and started taking off our shoes, I noticed that he was wincing and moving awkwardly.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Just a few stiff and sore muscles," he replied and grimaced as he reached for his slippers.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let you run so long," I apologised as I grabbed the slippers and started putting them on his feet.
"Oh, wow, now I have my own foot servant," he joked. After a brief pause he added, "And maybe I need another massage."
"Okay," I agreed and grinned. "Let's go upstairs."
He hobbled up the stairs ahead of me, but I guessed that most of his apparent discomfort was a performance designed to gain my sympathy. As soon as we got into my bedroom, he started taking off his clothes.
"How do you want me?" he asked suggestively.
"Wait a second," I said, then went into the bathroom, returning with three very large towels and a bottle of baby oil, by which time he was already naked.
I spread the towels on the bed and asked him to lie on them, telling him that I'd start with his back. I undressed, and with my knees on either side of his body, I started rubbing the oil into his shoulders, then his back and down to his ankles. Then I started some serious massage and muscle kneading. The sounds he made were mostly moans of pleasure, but when I pressed his lower back and some of his leg muscles, he yelped in pain.
"Do you want me to stop?" I asked after the first yelp.
"No, it's already feeling better. And like I said before, people would pay for this."
"You mean masochists?" I joked.
"Probably them, too. I'm not a masochist, but I think the initial pain is worth the result."
As part of the massage, I also manipulated his legs and feet to gently bend his joints and stretch the muscles. After about half an hour, I asked him to turn over, and I repeated the process on the front of his body, ending up with what some might refer to as an intimate massage.
"Wow, wow, wow!" he said after he came down from his orgasm. "That was amazing. You could make a fortune doing this professionally."
"How do you know I don't?" I teased.
"I don't have enough cash right now, so maybe I can pay you in kind?" he asked lasciviously.
"Oh, I'm sure you can," I replied in a similar tone, "and I'll tell you how, but let's have a shower first."
An hour or so later, we lay in bed with my head resting on his chest, and I was just starting to relax into sleep when he spoke, causing my head to vibrate and my ear to tickle.
"Paul, if you're not too tired, can we talk?"
His serious tone caused me a little concern, and as often happened when I became nervous, I resorted to a joke.
"If your muscles are still sore, you can have another massage tomorrow, but I don't have enough energy now."
"No, my muscles are much better now," he said, and I could feel his gentle laughter vibrate the side of my head. "If you have enough energy, I'd really like to talk."
"Okay."
I lifted my head and rolled onto my side, facing him. My expectation had been that he'd turn so that we'd be face to face, but instead he remained on his back.
"This has been the best few days of my life," he said, "and tonight's the last night before the last night of my visit, so I'm glad we're making the most of it."
"Erm, I'm not too tired to chat, but I'm too tired to solve puzzles," I replied, feeling confused. "The last night of your visit's on Sunday."
"Sunday's the last night, but that means it's going to be sad. At least, I'm going to be sad. The next two nights we can't sleep together because your brothers are here. So tonight is the last night when we can be together without being sad."
"Okaaayy," I said slowly, beginning to get a glimmer of his meaning.
"Anyway, because tonight is so important, I didn't want to risk spoiling it by talking about things. But if I leave it until Sunday, and if it does spoil things, then there won't be time to fix it before I go home. But I need to say things on this visit to get them off my chest and be open. And you deserve honesty."
I started laughing gently, and he turned his head toward me.
"Don't make fun of me," he chided, sounding hurt. "This is serious, and it's important to me."
"Sorry," I apologised. "I wasn't making fun of you. It's just that I suddenly imagined how Connor would react and how he rolls his eyes when he tells me to stop rambling and get on with it."
"I'm not rambling," he said, clearly still feeling a little hurt. "I was just setting the context."
"I'm really sorry if that sounded like I was being critical. When I have something important to discuss with the boys, I also try to give the background and set the scene instead of jumping straight in. It's just that a picture of Connor came into my mind. Sorry again."
To emphasise my sincerity, I put my arm over his chest and gave a sort of sideways hug.
"That's alright, then," he said, and after taking a deep breath, he continued, "Anyway, I really need to get some things out in the open. I want to be honest with you, and I really hope you'll be honest with me."
Whatever was on his mind was clearly very important to him, and the whole thing was giving me cause for concern. So I, too, wanted to get whatever it was out in the open.
"That sounds good to me. I agree."
He took another deep breath and said, "So the sex is great and the best I've ever had, but you know I didn't visit you just for sex, right?"
"Yes, I know."
"Good," he said, then as if this was something that he'd been rehearsing in his mind for a long time, he continued, "The first time I saw you, I started to crush on you. At first, I couldn't believe my luck at sharing a flat, but then I realised it was really a sort of torture because I knew you weren't, erm, available.
"Then when you and Mai Li broke up, I thought it might be worth the risk of seeing if something might happen between us. Even if you weren't bi, I thought you might be one of those straight guys who sometimes get their rocks off with another guy. And if things went badly, it wasn't long before the end of our time at uni. So I took the risk."
"That's very brave of you. No matter how horny I was, I doubt I'd take such a risk."
"Well, it turned out okay," he said, "and I wasn't too scared because I knew you weren't the violent or nasty type. And I reckoned if you weren't interested, then the worst that would happen is that you'd start ignoring me. I was sure you wouldn't tell Kelvin and Mark, but even if you did, I could deal with it."
"Yeah, even if I didn't find you attractive, I'd have been flattered, and I'd never have been nasty or outed you."
"Of course I know that now," he said, putting his hand on my arm and squeezing gently. "But there was a bigger risk that I hadn't considered. I didn't know that I'd fall madly in love with you. I didn't know how much it would hurt when I realised that you would never feel the same about me."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"It's not your fault. You can't help how you feel or don't feel. And at the time, when we were actually physically together, I could temporarily forget that you didn't love me. Sometimes I thought it possible that you had some affection for me and that you weren't just using me."
"You were my friend long before the benefits," I pointed out gently, "so of course I felt affection for you. And the sex made that even stronger. It makes me sad that you thought there was even a possibility that I was just using you."
"I know that now, but I didn't know the real you then. Although we were fiends, I just saw the surface. I thought you were emotionally cold, but now I know you're just very private, and you avoided showing your feelings. Actually, that's probably one of the reasons I admired you. It made you seem superior and above the lesser mortals who allowed themselves to be controlled by emotions."
"But… but…"
"It's okay. I know you're not really like that. It's just the impression I had then. Anyway, when the end of term came, and I thought I'd probably never see you again, I decided that a clean break would be best. Then while I was in France for almost six months, I tried to forget you."
There was a long silence as I thought about this and while he waited for my reaction. As he'd been so open with me and had been prepared to show his vulnerabilities, I decided that he deserved an honest and considered response.
"I don't think that I've ever really fallen in love," I said eventually, "at least not like the love at first sight in the romance stories. Even with Mai Li, the love grew gradually as we spent more time together and became more intimate. You started as my friend, and when we started having sex, I did begin to feel a huge amount of affection for you. I think it was just growing into love when we left uni."
"Why didn't you ever say anything?" he asked, then immediately corrected himself. "No, I know that's just the way you are. But what made you feel it was growing into love?"
"You may think this is weird, but it was the, erm, scent. I mean, not aftershave or anything like that, but the sort of scent you can't smell. Like the last few times when we slept together and I sniffed your bedsheets or your skin or your clothes, it just felt, erm, right. Comforting. Like I belonged… I suppose you think that's a bit gross."
"No, no," he reassured me, "it's not gross at all. Maybe a bit odd, but not gross."
"Maybe I'm just more sensitive to things like that," I said and went on to tell him about the first time I'd met Liam and Connor in person and my theory about pheromones.
"Anyway," I concluded, "when I went home and didn't see you again, I missed you, and I missed your scent. I realised that there was a bond, but I didn't really want to admit that I might love you."
"So why didn't you ever try to get in touch?" he asked, almost like an accusation.
"Because I'd promised not to," I replied, stating the obvious. "And what good would it have done? After all, you were in France. Isn't that why you waited until you got back to England before contacting me?"
"Being honest, I waited so long because I was really trying to forget you. Or at least, I expected someone like you would be in a relationship by the time I came home. If I knew you were in a relationship, it meant I could more easily give up hope and forget."
"That doesn't really make any sense," I said blankly.
"Emotions usually don't make any sense. That's part of what I meant when I said I envied you for being so cool and aloof."
"Only apparently aloof," I corrected him.
"In any case, I couldn't forget you, and I decided to get in touch. When I found out you weren't in a relationship, and when I saw something of the real you in our video chats, I realised that I still loved you. So I just had to come and see you."
"And have your wicked way with my body," I teased.
"Mainly see how you really feel about me now and if you could ever love me."
There was a long silence while I thought about everything we'd said and all the implications.
"Paul, is everything okay?" Stephane asked eventually, sounding quite worried.
"Yes," I replied gently. "It's a lot to absorb."
To reassure him, I gently turned him to face toward me and pulled him to me in a tight hug. Then I relaxed my hold on him and pulled back a little.
"You know that however much I love you, my priority has to be my brothers, at least until they're adults."
"So does that mean you do love me?" he asked, making me realise that I hadn't been explicit enough.
"Yes," I replied, fully accepting the truth of my feelings for him.
"Oh wow!" he said gleefully, pulling himself even closer to me. "And I really understand the priority thing. I'd always expect you to do what's best for your brothers."
"Great," I said, feeling happy but emotionally drained. "We can talk more tomorrow, but I'm knackered now and really need some sleep."
The next morning, I was awakened by Stephane gently shaking my shoulder and whispering my name in my ear.
"Sorry to wake you," he said when I opened my eyes, "but you said you wanted to get up early because there's lots to do today."
Looking at the clock on the bedside cabinet, I saw that it was six minutes past nine, at least an hour later than I usually woke up.
"Good grief!" I said, then turned my head to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks for waking me up. We need to get a move on. There's a lot to do today before we go to see Sarah and David."
"Ah, yes. Another interrogation," he said with surprisingly good humour. "I guess it's appropriate that I get grilled before tea."
"Don't worry. They're really very nice people, and any grilling will be very mild, at least compared with last night with Aunt Anne."
"I'm not worried at all," he said blithely. "Remember, I've worked in a hotel, dealing with all sorts of customers, and I've also worked as a waiter. So I've had a lot of practice staying calm and pleasant even in difficult situations."
As we were getting dressed, he seemed to be moving a little stiffly, so I asked him if his muscles were still sore.
"Not really sore, but just enough for me to know that they're there. Anyway, it feels much better than yesterday," he said. With a cheeky smile, he continued, "Of course, another massage would make things even better."
"I'd be glad to oblige, but unfortunately there isn't enough time just now," I replied, reflecting his smile.
When we went downstairs, Mrs T greeted us with a 'good morning' and a wave of her duster.
"Ah, you're up," she said brightly. "I was worried that I might disturb you when I started hoovering."
"Good morning!" I replied. "Just in case it affects your routine, we'll be in the kitchen most of the morning. I'm doing some baking."
"That reminds me," she said. "Thanks again for that cake. It was lovely, and Mr T said it's one of the best you've made."
"Thanks," I replied, knowing that praise from Mr T was praise indeed.
During breakfast, Stephane looked me in the eye and said, "What we talked about last night…"
"Yes, I remember what we said. I hope you don't regret it, because I don't."
"Of course not," he said, "but I was a bit worried that you might've changed your mind."
"It may take me a long time to make important decisions or to work out how I really feel, but once I do, my decisions and feelings don't change quickly or easily."
His previously concerned expression dissolved into a smile, which further raised my own spirits.
"I'm really glad that we sorted things out," I said.
"Of course I'm happy. Very happy," he replied, "but is everything sorted out? There are a lot of details…"
"I'm sure that we can work out the details now that we both know where we stand."
"You're always so confident," he commented with a hint of disapproval.
"You need some confidence if you want to get things done," I said. "Of course, I know that there're details to deal with and that maybe problems are ahead, but I'd be surprised if you hadn't already thought about that."
"Okay, I didn't want you to think I was being presumptuous, but…" he began, but stopped, apparently reluctant to complete what he'd started to say.
"Maybe I like you being presumptuous," I said, hoping that it would encourage him to continue. "After all, it was pretty presumptuous of you to seduce me last year."
"Okay," he said, blushing a little. "There's a good PGCE course at Linchester Uni, and until it starts, I'm sure it'll be much easier to get a job here in the city than in my little hometown. So maybe I could apply for the course at the uni and work here until September."
"That sounds like a great idea," I said without much certainty.
"But?" he prompted, looking unhappy.
"But you know my brothers have to come first. Although I'm sure you'll get on with them, I have to consider how you living here might affect the adoption process, especially if it's known we're in a relationship. Also, my godparents are religious, so I don't know how they'd react if they found out I was in a relationship with a man."
"So that's a 'no', then," he said, showing his disappointment.
"I'd really like it to be a definite 'yes', but until I can work out how it might affect my brothers, it's a desirable 'maybe'," I said, feeling horrible because I'd obviously hurt him. "Of course, once the adoption's completed, then Social Services won't have a say in who lives here."
"We can't be sure how long that will take," he said despondently, "and I need to start applying for courses and looking for a job soon."
"Can't you do that anyway, even if you're not living here?" I asked hopefully.
He didn't say anything and merely looked at me disdainfully with one raised eyebrow. I immediately realised that I was suggesting that he make a commitment to an uncertain future while I made no commitment at all.
"I'm sorry," I said contritely. "It was unfair of me to suggest that. You deserve better than that, and I shouldn't be so selfish."
He smiled, and the disapproval disappeared from his face, so I felt at least partially forgiven, but his disappointment remained, and I still felt guilty.
"Look, I'd really like us to live together," I said. "On Monday, I' ll get in touch with Rose, the boys' social w orker. I'll tell her that we want you to live here, and I'll ask her advice. Once I've talked with her, I'll let you know what she says. Then we can make some definite plans."
"It doesn't seem fair that our happiness depends on the whim of some social worker," he complained unhappily.
"At the moment, Social Services are responsible for the care of my brothers, and we need to keep their goodwill," I pointed out. "For example, if you were living here permanently before the adoption, you'd probably need to be interviewed and have a background check."
"That's okay," he replied, resigned but still not happy. "I've nothing to hide, and I'm happy to jump through hoops if we can be together."
"I'm really sorry to lay all that on you," I said. "I'm certain we can make things work out how we want."
"Okay," he said. After a pause he added more brightly, "You know that if I lived here I'd pay rent, so that would be a bonus for you."
It seemed that both of us had run out of things we could think of to say on the matter, and we fell silent.
"Right, then," I said, standing up and starting to clear the kitchen table, "we really need to get started on the baking, and we can discuss things while we do that."
"We?" he said. "I've no idea about baking."
"I'm sure you're more than capable of being my assistant," I said, "or at least you can keep me company."
While we worked in the kitchen, we made some decisions, not only about what we'd do but also about how we'd present the situation to others. One decision was that he'd return as soon as possible for another visit, by which time we hoped we could make plans for him to move here.
As arranged, we arrived at the foster home at around three o'clock. David opened the door, and although the greeting was as warm and welcoming as usual, it appeared that he was concerned about something. He led us to the kitchen, where we handed over the cakes to Sarah and said hello to Susie, who was a little shy because of Stephane's presence.
The most likely scenario that I'd considered was that the foster carers would find something for me to do that would enable them to chat with Stephane alone. However, David asked if he could talk with me in his office while Sarah showed Stephane around the house. When we got to the office and sat down, he explained that he'd already had a chance to speak with Stephane at the football match and that now Sarah could have the opportunity to speak with him.
"The reason I asked you to come to the office is mostly to consult with you about a computer matter."
"Go ahead," I invited him. "I'll do my best to help."
"As you know, I installed parental controls on your brothers' phone and on all three of the children's laptops. Besides that, I occasionally check the laptops, things like browser history, to make sure that there's nothing, erm, inappropriate. Well, yesterday I found things on Mike's laptop that he shouldn't be able to access."
"That's not good," I said sympathetically. "How can I help?"
"Of course, I can handle the personal side, grounding him and confiscating the laptop, but I can't work out how he bypassed the parental controls. I've told him that there's no possibility of him getting it back unless he tells me how he did it. So far, he refuses to say anything about that or about what I found on his computer.
"Anyway, it occurred to me that you might be able to work out how he did it. Also, of course, I already deleted all the offending content, but it's possible I missed something, and I was considering doing a complete reformat of the drive. However, that would mean he'd lose everything, including his schoolwork."
"Off the top of my head, I can think of at least a couple of ways that he could have got around the parental controls, but the most obvious is that he got the files from another kid, maybe on a flash drive."
"I thought of that, too," David replied, nodding his head, "but it seems unlikely. As you know, he's not the most sociable boy in the world, and I doubt that he has friends who trust him enough not to inform on them."
"Did you also confiscate his flash drives?"
"All the ones I could find, but at the moment he's not being very cooperative," he replied, shaking his head. "I asked the other children if Mike had given them any flash drives to hold onto, but they said not."
"And you didn't find anything wrong with the other two laptops?" I asked.
"No, nothing at all, and I took an extra-close look at Connor's because he and Mike have seemed quite close recently."
"Okay, that's a relief," I said. "As regards the idea of reformatting the drive, that might be the safest solution, and you could always ask Mike what essential files he wants you to back up before you do that. However, if he's got around the parental controls once, he could always do it again in future."
"Yes, I'll have to keep a much closer eye on things when or if I let him have the laptop back," he said thoughtfully, "and maybe a prolonged confiscation will deter him from trying again."
"Honestly, if he ' s clever enough and determined enough, he can probably get around any practical technical solutions that I could suggest."
"Mmm, yes," he said, nodding his head in agreement. "I think really the best thing is to deal with the situation on a personal level rather than on a technical level."
"Also, I'll talk with Connor and try to make sure that he's not involved in any way," I said, hoping that would ease some of David's concerns.
Having reached a conclusion, we returned to the kitchen, where we found Stephane helping Sarah to prepare for tea. It wasn't long before my brothers arrived home from school together, followed a little later by Mike and Katie. The former was told to go straight to his room and that his food would be sent up to him. The task of dealing with Mike was certainly not one that I envied.
Before we sat down to eat, Katie took a tray with Mike's food and drink up to his room. Everyone said that the red velvet cake was especially delicious, though Connor complained because I'd never made it for them before. He was also mildly critical that the fairy cakes had plain icing without any decoration or even initials.
Stephane, my brothers, and I departed immediately after helping to clear the table. Without needing to say it, my visitor and I realised that it would be better to wait until we were alone before discussing our interactions with Sarah and David. As soon as we got indoors, we all started to take off our shoes.
"I thought that visitors don't have to wear slippers," Connor said when he saw that Stephane was also taking off his shoes.
"He doesn't have to," I replied, "but he volunteered to do it."
The boys took their bag upstairs and unpacked, and when they came back down, they saw that Stephane and I were sitting together on the sofa watching the TV news.
"That's where me and Liam sit," Connor said accusingly.
"Don't be rude," I scolded him. "Stephane's our guest and can sit where he wants."
"You're not a guest," he replied, frowning.
"But it's my house, so I'll sit where I want."
As soon as I'd said that, I regretted not only the words but also the irritatable tone I'd used.
"I thought it was our house, too," Liam said, looking a little unhappy.
"Yes, of course it is. I'm sorry," I replied contritely. "I didn't mean it like that, and I didn't mean it to sound like that."
I got up and went to sit in my usual armchair, but Stephane remained on the sofa, merely moving all the way to one side. As there was enough space to seat three adults comfortably, the boys went to sit next to our guest, with Liam in the middle. My brothers weren't interested in the news and asked if they could change channels, so I nodded to Stephane, who handed the remote control to the older boy.
Although the tension in the room was beginning to fade away, out of consideration for Stephane, I thought it would be more comfortable for him if we left the boys to watch TV. However, before I could invite him to watch the news with me in the parlour, Connor spoke up.
"So if Stephane follows the rule about slippers even if he doesn't have to, what about the other rules?"
Both boys looked at me as if they expected an immediate answer. Stephane had no idea what Connor was referring to, and he just looked puzzled.
"Rule One always applies to everyone in the house, and I'm certain that all decent people like Stephane will follow it even if they don't know what it is. Rule Two is something we all have to agree on, and the other rules apply only to people who live in the house."
"So he can use our stuff without asking?" the older boy said, obviously knowing the answer but wanting to test me.
"Like Rule One, all decent people would follow Rule Three, and Stephane is a decent person."
"And he's too old for Rule Five," Connor replied with a note of triumph, "so what you said before isn't really true."
"It was true, but maybe not completely accurate," I said and sighed. "I thought you'd want a simple answer, not a legally accurate definition."
"Well, I think it's too soon for Rule Two with Stephane," he replied, and casting an apologetic look at Stephane, he added, "Sorry."
The fact that he'd apologised to our guest was a good sign, and I thought it boded well for the future. Seeing that Stephane was still looking perplexed, I invited him to join me in the kitchen for a mug of tea. He correctly interpreted my reference to tea as a way of being able to speak with him privately and accepted my invitation. As he stood up, Connor spoke again.
"Can we have some fizzy pop?" he asked. "Cos it's a special day."
"Why's it a special day?" I queried.
"It's the first day me and Liam have been here with Stephane."
"Okay," I agreed, "but no burping competitions when we have a guest."
When we got to the kitchen, I started to make tea while Stephane took the boys their fizzy drinks. Then, while the tea was brewing, I explained the rules to my visitor.
"Carrying bags and baking cakes for visitors, wearing slippers, and now all these rules," he commented with a slightly disapproving frown. "It seems you grew up having to follow lots of traditions and rules."
"Are there any of the rules that you wouldn't want to follow?" I challenged.
"No, they're good, but mostly things people should do anyway, so they shouldn't need to be formal rules."
"Personally, I like them to be set out formally so that everyone knows where they stand," I pointed out. "And maybe it depends on your personality, but I think of traditions as being more like a comfort blanket or safety net rather than like a straitjacket."
"But don't you find it all so… constricting?"
"No, because if there's a good reason to do something, then I don't have to follow any tradition. I can think for myself. But if I'm not sure what to do, then tradition is a good guide."
"Okay, I'll have to think about that," he said, "but I do like the idea of Rule Two, even though it could turn out to be quite a burden. And I understand why Connor wouldn't want me to be part of it."
"Also, it's really intended for family, which is why it's just us three brothers and doesn't even include Aunt Anne and Uncle Geoffrey," I said, hastily adding, "which obviously doesn't mean it's okay for me to lie to them, but without Rule Two there isn't such an, erm, honour-bound duty to tell the truth."
"So I could never be part of Rule Two," he said sadly.
"You just said it could be quite a burden, so why would you want to join in with it?"
"Because it shows trust and reliability," he replied as if stating the obvious, "and it gives security when you know someone won't lie to you."
"Maybe when my brothers get to know you better, they'll get to trust you enough to include you," I said placatingly.
"What about you and me?" he asked and paused for a couple of seconds before continuing, "Could we, just us two, have Rule Two between us?"
"After our talk last night," I said, smiling fondly, "I thought that it was already in effect, but if you want it to be formal, then I agree that Rule Two now applies to you and me."
While we drank our tea, he told me that he'd enjoyed chatting with Sarah, who'd been charming and friendly, and that there wasn't even a hint of grilling. As far as he was concerned, it was just like meeting a new person at a party. He ended by saying that it was easy to see how Sarah and David had become my friends.
He asked about me disappearing with David into the office, and I told him that it was related to computer security. I added that I couldn't give any details because it involved the children in the foster home and so was confidential.
"Of course I understand the confidentiality," he said, "but I'm pretty observant, and it was obvious that the red-haired kid, Mike, is being punished for something. At the same time, David's worried about computer security. So it doesn't take a huge leap of imagination to guess that those two things are probably related."
"I can neither confirm nor deny that," I said, half-joking. "But it would be better if you didn't share your guess with anyone, especially not my brothers."
"Poor kid," he commented, clearly assuming his guess was accurate. "Isn't it just normal for teenage boys to have porn on their computer?"
"I never mentioned anything about porn," I pointed out, annoyed with myself for giving away too much information.
"What else would David be concerned about? I seriously doubt it was instructions about how to build a bomb," he said dismissively. "And you know the boy. Is it likely he's a terrorist or a racist?"
"No, I don't think that's at all likely," I admitted.
"There you are, then," he said triumphantly.
"Anyway," I said, standing up and taking our empty mugs to the sink, "we'd better check that the boys aren't getting up to any mischief."
Just after we'd finished breakfast the following day, Aunt Anne phoned to say that she and her husband had to attend to some urgent church business and wouldn't be able to host us for afternoon tea. However, they still wanted to see Liam and Connor and asked if we could meet them for lunch at the same hotel where they'd previously bought us afternoon tea. She added that, of course, Stephane was welcome to join us.
"Do I have to wear my posh clothes?" Connor asked, referring to the jacket, trousers and shirt that I'd bought him for his tour of my old school.
"What shall I wear?" Liam asked. "I don't have anything posh."
"None of us wore anything special last time," I pointed out, "just our ordinary nice clothes. This is just lunch, not anything special."
"That's a relief," Stephane said.
The change of plans led to a discussion of what we were going to do before lunch.
"We could start making cakes and trifle for Sunday," Connor suggested.
"That's not a bad idea," I replied. "Then we won't be so rushed in the morning. But we don't have all that long before we have to leave to meet Aunt Anne and Uncle Geoffrey, and it's not a good idea to bake when you're short of time."
"We've plenty of time to make a trifle," he persisted.
"But it doesn't take four of us to do that," I said.
"Actually, I've been thinking about the conservatory," Stephane said, looking at Liam. "I know you've got lots of ideas, but it won't be long until spring, so it would be good to decide soon exactly what you're going to do. Maybe you could draw a plan of the conservatory and work out what plants will go where. I can help if you like."
Liam's face lit up with a big grin, and his eyes flashed in delight.
"Yeah!" he said, nodding his head. "That's a great idea!"
"Don't forget to leave space in your plans for the furniture," I said. "Remember it's a place for people as well as plants."
Stephane and Liam went to the office to get a pencil and some paper, while Connor and I went to the kitchen. That gave me an ideal opportunity to speak with him privately.
"Connor, there's something I want to talk about," I said, leading him to the part of the room furthest from the door.
"What?" he said, showing a little concern.
"First, what we say now is private, just between you and me, and I won't ever tell anyone else," I said quietly so that no one could overhear even if they were walking past the doorway.
"Okay," he replied, still looking concerned.
"Did you know that Mike's laptop has been confiscated, and why David did that?"
"Erm, yeah," he said, frowning.
"Don't worry," I reassured him. "I know there's nothing bad on your laptop."
"Yeah, David checked my phone as well," he said, with a frown of annoyance.
"He did it because he cares about all of you and doesn't want any of you exposed to things that might be bad for you," I said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Anyway, I'm curious about how Mike got past the parental controls. Do you happen to know how he did it?"
"This is private? You won't tell anybody, not even David or Sarah?"
"I promise I won't tell anyone, not even Liam. Whatever you tell me in private will always be our secret unless you want me to tell someone."
"Brother promise?"
"Yes, brother-promise."
"He told me about it, but he didn't explain how. So I only sort of know."
"Did it involve a USB drive?"
"Yeah."
"Did you see any of the bad stuff on Mike's computer?"
He blushed and looked very uncomfortable, and I could tell that he was struggling with the decision whether or not to invoke Rule Two.
"It's okay," I soothed, "there's no need to tell me. But if you ever want to talk about this, or about anything else, you know that whatever you tell me in private will always stay secret."
"Okay," he said, relieved and beginning to relax.
"And I'm sure you already know, but of course it goes both ways. If I tell you something confidential in private, then it's a brother secret, just between us."
"What about Liam?"
"If it's a secret of mine that you want Liam to know, you'll have to get my permission to tell him. Or, better still, ask me to tell him."
"I don't like to keep secrets from Liam," he said unhappily.
"Neither do I, but sometimes it may be best for him. For example, you wouldn't want him to know what you saw on Mike's computer, would you?"
"No!" he protested, apparently horrified at the thought.
"Okay," I said, gently squeezing his shoulder, "let's make that trifle."
We were both very relieved that the conversation was over.
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