Johnny Come Home
by Rafael Henry
Chapter 19
I have access to the Head Man's study, just like the cleaner has. Every couple of days I get the call to sort out another of his computer problems. For example, he can't renew an ink cartridge. So in I go and do it for him. While I'm there I have a good nose around his machine. I'm also needing to know more about Duncan's 'incident' and who else was involved. Duncan had been caught with another person doing something he shouldn't. Well, there's nothing new in that. I read the witness statement ages ago now, but I've got no further as to the other person's identity.
After another rummage around, being very careful to put every item I had moved back exactly where I found it, I located a likely looking set of small keys in one of the smaller drawers either side of the kneehole desk. Towards the bottom on the left is a deeper drawer which was locked. A locked drawer is a drawer that's locked for a good reason. I tried three of the keys in the bunch before I found the fourth one worked. I was in.
There were four buff coloured foolscap folders in there, both at least an inch thick, one on top of the other. One was marked 'Reported Incidents – Boys' , and another, 'Reported Incidents – Staff'. The third was marked 'Interview candidates – current' , and the fourth one, ' Interview candidates – past' .
I would like to have taken all four home for some extended bedtime reading but clearly I couldn't do that. So I had a very limited time to peruse as many of the sheets of paper as I could in the space of time I might be expected to be in the Head's study. Looking at the clock on the wall, I gave myself until two thirty. Half an hour, give or take a couple of minutes. I started with the file concerning the current crop of boys. As you would expect, everything was carefully dated and with specific times of the day where possible. Every kind of issue was recorded in there, most being what you would expect to occur in any impolite society; bullying being common, thieving, rank insolence towards staff, accidents of one sort or another, sudden illness, and then occasionally, sex rears its ugly head. Sex between boys of course, that merited some action. Question. If two boys are discovered engaged in a mutual masturbation session, should they be punished, assuming they are of a similar age. If not, than that's more complicated.
Ian something had been discovered in the same bed as Donald. They appear to have fallen asleep after a session together, evidenced by a couple of very damp tissues in the bed. Oh dear, how tragic. I read the letters the boys' parents received which were equally tragic. So why do they put the boys' beds so close together? Answer, it's cheap because you can cram eight boys together in one room. And when a couple of very nice lads feel like giving and receiving a little warm comfort, it's all their fault is it? And when a very senior boy is required for discipline purposes to sleep oh so very close to a very junior boy like Duncan, that's ok too? Duncan didn't object to the older boy's advances. Quite the opposite probably.
Unfortunately it was noticed. Just a couple of months to go before the boy's Advanced Level examinations too. That beautiful little boy with the lovely eyes looking at him. He pulled at the sheet and blanket to loosen them enough to put his hand inside to touch Duncan. First on his tummy with no adverse reaction from the boy. A green light. Then a little lower, and still no contra- indications. The green light shines brighter. They both want the same thing.
He found that Duncan's pyjama bottoms were already undone and open. What the boy found was already hard and ready for him. Try just two fingers and your thumb. That should work nicely on this one.
It did.
With Duncan turned over and facing away from him, he settled back to undoubtedly the most exciting climax he had ever experienced, quickly splashing onto Duncan's bottom bed sheet, breathing quietly and deeply, and that image of Duncan fresh in his mind. The feel of a hard penis in his hand, belonging to one of the angel class.
And then the next night, and the one after that too; in fact most nights.
Until the Assistant Housemaster came on his rounds, and came upon the boy kneeling half way down Duncan's bed, with his head and one of his hands somewhere they should definitely not be.
It was timed at nine fifty-one precisely. I can imagine the words spoken so quietly; because I've heard those words; 'You two, put your dressing gowns on and come with me.'
Life can be so very cruel.
Arrangements were made for the individual concerned to sit his exams at another school, the results of which, it was agreed, would be forwarded in due course.
So I had found it. All of it. But there's something I need to know that only Duncan can tell me. Was it an assault on innocence? Or was it, hopefully, an expression of affection, and more?
Duncan became a day pupil after that, hence his living with his grandmother. With the best will in the world, not too many grannies understand a soon to be a thirteen-year-old boy in the midst of change. But I do .
Straightaway she agreed to my offer to take Duncan out on educational trips to the jolly old seaside. Duncan's granny. Other boys were going, or so she assumed, on those sketching trips at weekends to the Cornish coast. Besides, it would be good for him to get out and about because he was so very slow at making friends. And there was his artwork, and how good it would be for that too, not that she really understood it all. He was such a shapel y boy, with those lovely grey-green eyes and soft light brown hair that laid forward over his forehead so nicely. He was never any trouble; until that happened. The poor boy, it must have been a dreadful shock.
My father had insisted, rightly, that I shouldn't carry a passenger until I had had three months of driving experience. John, Richard and their not-such-a-baby-brother Sis were due to come down to Cornwall in two weeks for their annual holiday all together at the Hut overlooking the far end of Endellion Cove.
Duncan was keen to go, asked Granny if he could, and got the thumbs up. She was pleased that the boy had something to do. A sketching trip to the coast. Lovely.
I said I'd pick Duncan up at nine but I arrived at the terraced house in S. George's Road an hour early; deliberately early. Number 22, a neat and very attractive period stone-built place. Granny answered the bright red front door.
'Goodness you're early. It's Alex isn't it?' she says pushing a wisp of grey hair sideways and away from an eye. Her narrow face and grey eyes looked full of history. I immediately took to her. Her lined and characterful face radiated kindness and understanding.
'Do come in. Duncan is upstairs and nowhere near ready I fear.'
Good. I'm not averse to a pleasant surprise, and to find Duncan still in bed.
He was too, lying on his back, mouth open and breathing sweetly, and in dreamland. The dark back bedroom was small and warm with the slight scent of sleeping boy, a musky and very sexual scent I know well. I always thought I could tell when a boy has just masturbated to productive conclusion. I could smell it on him. I looked over to the window, the drab curtains closed all bar a narrow slither of early morning light shafting across onto the boy's bed, a single divan against the wall to the left of the door. A duvet with bluebirds all over it lay partially over Duncan, one hand visible next to his head on the pillow, palm upwards, fingers curled. This scene took me back to my dormitory at S. Endellion. Five minutes between the waking bell and getting up. Lying in our beds, awake now, on our backs, hands under heads, contemplating another day. Just a sheet and blanket over us, some with the tell-tale bump halfway down.
There's no harm in a sneak preview is there?
He's not entirely covered by the duvet so it's just one single movement required.
He's got one hand jammed between his legs, very high up, and one knee slightly raised. I'm taking a long hard look. So this is what he looks like.
There's nothing unusual about him, very typical in fact, and I've had the pleasure of observing quite a few erect penises in my time, and not just in the flesh like here and now. But this one belongs to Duncan, therefore special. Very special. If this was Johnny right now I would have plans for him, but it's not. It's time to replace the boy's covering, secure with the thought that I know more about him now than I did three minutes ago, and I'm liking it very much.
I pushed my fingers very gently through the light brown hair that covers most of Duncan's forehead. It all felt slightly moist. He takes a deep breath. And then another. He's waking. I keep my hand on his forehead, a layer of fine hair between my palm and his skin. A tender touch I hope he will recognize.
'You feel very warm Duncan.' I say quietly, as the boy's eyes open.
He smiles with those eyes.
'You're early.' He says, his voice soft and full of sleep.
'I know. Sorry. Do you mind?'
'No.'
'I've got your clothes here. Your Granny sent me up with them. Are you ready to get up now?'
Duncan looks at the small pile of clothing I'm holding. Just three essential items.
'Will I need swimming trunks?'
'Best to bring some.'
'They're in there. On a shelf.' He says, pointing to the ugly Edwardian free-standing cupboard in the opposite corner, and the only other piece of significant furniture you could get into the small room.
Everything is in there, a school blazer on a hanger, pale blue shirts, a tie, a couple of pairs of trousers, jeans and so on. Below are shoes of one sort or another. A newish pair of leather sandals. Bare feet, bare legs, bare arms, and open sandals for Endellion Cove. Bare feet in the sand.
There are shelves to one side with everything else a boy needs by way of school and casual kit. I have been given these intimate moments.
'Would you prefer me to go downstairs now?' Is a question I ought to ask as Duncan prepares to exit his bed.
'No. You can stay if you like?'
'Good. I'd like that.'
I sit at the foot of Duncan's bed to watch. I'm sure he wants me to be interested, and I am. What he had remains undiminished and beautiful, alas soon to be covered. A naked boy, upstanding and proud to be so. As I was for Quintus. As Johnny was for me. As I was for him.
'Shall I wear them Alex. Now?'
'No. You can change if you need to at the Hut. Just these shorts will do you.'
I found them in the cupboard. Just my cup of tea.
'These?' He says, accepting the gift suspiciously.
'Yes. You'll look great.'
And he does, turning his back to me to force his head through the tight gap in his tee shirt. I look down at the presented rear view. I'm sure it was presented. Perfect.
'You'll need a jumper too. It's always cooler by the sea and the weather forecast is not great today. And don't forget your sketchbook Duncan. That's what we're going for. Remember?'
There goes that mother hen again. I'm a nurturer according to Anna, and as I get to know myself better and better, there's a reason for that.
Granny saw us off, waving from the front door, her grey hair moving across her face in the breeze. She's brave to have taken on Duncan, but love will always be a light to penetrate the darkness and overcome it. We hope and pray. There was little traffic relatively early on a Cornish Saturday morning. Duncan is in thoughtful mood as we motor along in the Mini, his bare arms folded, bare legs stretched out, and those typical early teen feet that look too big to belong to him.
'It's bigger than I thought it would be Alex.' He says, looking around the Hut, curiously named Rose Cottage. Maybe at some time there were roses around the door. Not now. Garth, a keen gardener, had managed to overcome the jungle behind the wooden building and establish a rudimentary veggy patch.
'That's my dad's room. This one is for everyone else. We've had six in here loads of times.'
'Johnny and Richard?'
'Yes, every year. And now Sis of course. Can't leave him out these days. His mum, Anna comes too, for Sis. They go on the put-you-up in the living room.'
'Three of you in one bed?'
'In theory, yes. There would be room; just. But there's plenty of floor space.'
Duncan looks at me, with every right to be curious. We are all very close and there's not much each one of us doesn't know about the others. Apart now from the secretive Johnny. He still won't tell me what's going on.
'See that broken fence over there? It goes all round in a big square. That's our boundary, not that you'd know it. The tank's over in that corner.'
'What tank?'
'Drainage for everything. We use buckets of seawater. There are gas bottles for cooking. We don't wash much. Do you need to pee?'
Duncan nods.
That's something we can do together, so out it all comes, literally. Another sight of the elegant Duncan, exquisitely exposed. I watched each and every second of it, as he watched me, with Hillary's words of warning in my ears. Don't attempt to start anything Alex. But that's not going to be easy, but I shall heed her advice. Of course I shall.
I could see the cloud building up behind us to the south west. I know those ominous signs when it comes to Cornish weather. At some point it's going to tip it down.
That first Saturday early morning bike ride to Quintus's cottage, arriving wet and very cold. How kind he was; how loving; how caring. The warm bath, the soothing hands over my shoulders and back. Being wrapped in a towel and guided to the bedroom. The beating heart of anticipation. I shall give him my body laid on a warm white sheet, to do what he will with me. Surely he will make love to me and with me; us together for eternity?
We were twenty minutes into our walk when the heavens opened. Duncan didn't know it would happen but I did. So what. It's a surprisingly refreshing watering, everything soaked, tee shirts off as we enjoy the pitter patter of the large warm raindrops on our bare skin.
'Shall we paddle Alex?'
There's no one on the beach, not since the rain began to fall. It's just us.
'We don't want seawater in our clothes Duncan. There's no one about now. Come on.'
The tide is falling so we can leave our things safely where we're standing, nude. In seconds we are both in the water and out of sight of anyone. After the initial shock of cold water, we both feel warmer. With virtually no breeze, the sea is calm and ideal for a splash about. Duncan isn't confident in water, I can tell that, so when I walk backwards into deeper water he's reluctant to follow me.
'Come on, you're perfectly safe.' I say, holding my arms out towards him, encouraging him to come to me.
There's six feet or so between us as he falls forward and paddles his arms towards me. In a few seconds he reaches me and I have him.
'I've got you now.' I reassure the boy, with one hand behind his back.
'Put your legs behind my back. I'll carry you.'
Two hands now behind the boy's lower back, his legs tight around me, his chin resting on my shoulder. I can see Hillary's face, disapproving, tight lipped, a warning in her eyes. I can see Johnny smiling. I can see Quintus turning to look and then walking away. That's what he did, he just walked away and left me.
Duncan's grip on me tightened still further. I can feel his mouth on my neck.
'You won't let me go will you?'
'No, don't worry, I won't let you go.'
Then he bit my shoulder. Such sweet pain, as Hillary's words of warning drift away into silence.
We ran back up the sandy beach unseen, stopping at the top where the grass begins and the rough path back up to the Hut starts. We put on our sandals to protect our feet from the gritty and narrow sandy path back up the slope to the Hut. Various types of thorny vegetation are embedded in the sand so one has to be careful where you put feet.
Neither Duncan nor I felt like doing any work in our sketchbooks.
'Remember I need to get you back by three Duncan. Would you help me with the beds please. Dad asked me to change them. There are clean sheets in that cupboard. I'll take these ones off and take them home to be washed.'
'What are we going to do after that?'
'Nothing. I thought you might want to rest. The rain isn't going to stop for a while. Is that ok with you?' I said, pulling the bottom sheet off the double bed.
'In here? Are we going to rest in here?' Duncan asks as he stands by the bed.
'Seems like the obvious place.' I said, thinking that it's really the only place.
It's amusing because boys, myself included, externalize interesting thoughts like spending time with another boy in the cosy confines of a bed. Duncan is doing some thinking about what that might be like, cosying up to me in bed. What does he think will happen? He's speculating wildly in that little head of his, and sending me a signal with his body. As we arrange the clean and crisp white sheet on the mattress, his thoughts, and possibly his hopes are externalizing nicely as the blood begins to fill the spongy tissue of his corpora cavernosa. From little acorns into mighty oaks? Not quite, but still a lovely transformation, and full of……..I don't know what. Something, in all probability. There's no evidence for thinking that, no external growth of hair, no discernible lowered voice.
I look at Duncan in profile as he arranges the pillows for me.
Quintus had telephoned my home to get permission for me to stay the night at his cottage. A little problem with the car was the reason. I stood by the bed naked, and having externalized my expectations, I was excited. Quintus would stay with me, but not in the way I wanted and expected him to. Yes, he stayed with me for as long as it took me. And then I watched him leave me, passing through the bedroom door giving me one brief glimpse of a mighty oak.
Minutes later I heard the lavatory flush, and then silence.
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