A Pure and Honest Heart
by Zambezi
Chapter Eight
The brief moment of excitement with Bob Davis which launched the term off had three effects on Brad. First, it strained his relationship with the Headmaster to the point where both avoided each other and barely acknowledged each other when they couldn't. Second, he was seething with anger against the school and authority generally almost constantly, which affected his concentration in class and elsewhere as he gradually became consumed by anger at the establishment. Third, he found that Marcus Carter - now devoid of all confidence in anyone except Brad - had become almost a constant shadow.
He remembered learning that distaste for authority was a natural part of adolescence, but had also figured that having reached eighteen he was going to be largely past that. He had spent all of his life, after all, supporting authority and making them proud. He was less surprised about Marcus' sudden interest in him; the aftermath of the assault had promoted the forging of a close bond even before Davis' brief and unwelcome return. But it was the total breakdown of his relationship with the Headmaster which troubled Brad the most, because if his brother Jamie was to get anything less than a full scholarship then the discretionary bursary to make up the difference would fall into his hands. Privately, Brad was having a lot of difficulty reconciling the long term implications to his brother of his outburst with the need to do the right thing.
Alongside his classroom concentration falling away, he suddenly found himself playing hopeless cricket. Bowling in the first two games of the season he went wicketless as he served up a collection of half volleys and long hops which went sailing to the boundary. He didn't bat in the first game, but in the second he could barely get the ball off the square before his tortured innings came to an end after a 19 ball duck as the team crashed to a ten wicket defeat..
He explained his troubled mind to Tony Fleming one evening about a fortnight into term as they each nursed a beer in the Sixth Form bar. "How can doing what is so obviously the moral and right thing to do lead to such a bad thing?"
The Zimbabwean replied with a considered tone. "Christ Man. When did you get so old? First, there are always going to be differences of opinions about what is the right thing to do. Even when it is so blindingly obvious to you, and indeed the rest of us, we have no understanding of the position the Headmaster was in. Second, he is a very experienced and senior person in this little parallel universe that is Trinity. You have no guarantee that his opinion of you will actually influence his view on your brother. Third, if this dilemma is the worst situation you or I will ever have to face as adults then we are very lucky people. Life is always about value judgements. You've said it often enough that you judge people on the choices they make, not on the ones they can't. Well, I'm not saying this is one that has returned to bite you on the arse, but it was your decision - whether you thought it through properly or not which I think is half the problem anyway. If people don't like you for your choice and cannot respect your right to make it, then you don't want them as friends. There are plenty of us left who do support you."
"God you sound so together Tony."
"Just saying what you would say mate. But because I have the luxury of not being in the middle of it I could see that, while you couldn't."
Brad downed the last of his beer. "Now you really do sound like me! Thanks for the support; I really needed that talk."
"First time for everything."
Brad walked back to Wordsworth a little relieved, but now faced with having to deal with his next problem. In the two weeks he had been back at school since the end of the Easter vacation Marcus had taken to appearing in his room every evening to chat about nothing at all, much like Richie had done at the beginning of their friendship months before. As the days went on, he opened up and spoke at length about his insecurities and fears. That Marcus had serious trust issues was obvious, that he found solace, advice from the heart, and a safe haven with Brad equally so. The similarities between him now and Richie six months previously were not lost on Brad, and they were not lost on Richie either who began to feel a bit left out.
Before either of them really understood it, they were barely speaking to each other until one night as Brad was trying to shepherd his juniors up to their rooms for bed time his request for Richard to move as well was met with a firm "No."
Brad was taken aback. If there was one person above all in his life by this stage he knew he could reliably count on to obey his orders, it was Richard, and for the first time since they met he was genuinely at a loss as to how to deal with him. The threat of detention soon got him moving, and as Brad lay in bed that night he eventually realised that his relationship with him was at risk because he had failed to manage the boy's feelings over Marcus, and because he had taken him for granted and not forced the relationship to adapt to changing circumstances in each other's lives.
The thought of losing Richie terrified him as he tried to drift off to sleep. More than ever, he wanted to hold him in his arms as they fell asleep, to stroke his soft, scented, light brown hair to calm him, to protect him from the world around him, and above all to make him feel valued. As he tossed and turned, he thought of nothing but Richie and the love he felt for him. Finally, he looked at his alarm clock. It read 06:03 and he realised he had lain awake all night thinking about having Richie in his bed with him. They hadn't even been sexual thoughts but Brad knew that things had changed irrevocably, despite all his reservations about facing up to it in the preceding weeks, and that this morning as he got out of bed to face the new day he was truly in love with Richard Young.
By cricket practice that afternoon Brad was so dog-tired physically and distracted emotionally the coach, Mr Newman, called him over and asked what was wrong.
"Nothing Sir, I am just having a lot of trouble concentrating at the moment. A lot on my mind with exams and stuff, and my brother. I don't think he's gonna be able to come here."
"If you say so, fine. If you want to talk about anything, give me a shout. But I hate to say this to you, you're really out of form and if it was anyone else I couldn't justify leaving them in the team."
"Are you dropping me?"
"Logically, I should. You only have a few more games until the exams start, Kieron Wilson has been bowling with as much pace and much more accuracy than you this season, and Mike Hepple will form the basis of our spin attack for the next two years if he stays for the Sixth Form. Either one could take your place, but I can't replace you with both and neither knows one end of the bat from the other. Besides, Saturday's game is at Woodlands, and I want our most experienced eleven on the field. I'm gonna pick you one more time, mainly because I know you have a score to settle with them, but your place is under threat and if you don't perform this will be it. I'm sorry."
"I appreciate your candour, Sir."
"Just doing what's best for the team. I know you'll understand."
Saturday May 8th 1999 dawned clear, hot, and bright over the Oxfordshire countryside that surrounded Trinity. Brad was pumped: his last ever tuition classes at Trinity would finish that day prior to the A level exams starting later that month and today was his last chance to show the bastards at Woodlands what he was made of, even if he was playing for his place on the team.
It was also Richard's fourteenth birthday. Brad still hadn't had a chance to talk to him over the last few days and they were still barely acknowledging each other. Whether by accident or design both found themselves at the coffee dispenser at the same time during breakfast that Saturday morning. Both smiled weakly at each other, desperate to say something without knowing what. Brad's mind raced back to those early exchanges back in the autumn, when they seemingly had entire conversations with their eyes. Then, Richie had been trying to tell him something and ironically Brad was now trying to say the same thing back. "I love you with everything in my heart but I don't know how to say it because I'm scared of how it will redefine me, you, and all the people around us."
As the thoughts ran around in Brad's mind, he thought he detected a glimmer of understanding from the younger teen. And when Richard winked, he knew. "Happy Birthday kiddo."
"Brad, I think we need to talk."
"Yeah," Brad sighed, "I agree. I'm off to Woodlands straight after fifth period; can we try and catch up in the evening?"
"Of course."
As both headed back to their tables, they were both a lot happier that their feelings for each other were back on the agenda. And about then, Brad remembered that Richie did not drink coffee.
Several hours later the team bus was already late leaving as it sat in its normal spot outside the Wordsworth entrance. Neither the wicketkeeper, who was also the captain, nor the scorer had appeared and Andrew Newman, the coach, was getting concerned. After twenty minutes he hopped out and went into Tom Stephens' cottage to phone down to the off-campus Tennyson House where both were from. When he got back onto the bus he went straight to Brad.
"Seems Ingram and Rogers were both involved in a big brawl in morning break and are confined to their rooms. If we don't leave ten minutes ago we're going to forfeit the game. You're the senior player - I'd appreciate some suggestions."
"Tony Fleming keeps for us in the Wordsworth side, and I'll find anyone who can score. Give me three minutes," Brad replied.
"You've got one."
Brad raced up to Tony's room and told him to grab his kit and run, explaining as they went. As they ran back down the stairs the only other boy they saw happened to be Richie, so Brad thanked whoever was watching over him that day and grabbed him too as they ran back out and into the bus, which started to move before the door even closed. It was one of those small mini-coaches and with the equipment coffins occupying several seats Richie couldn't find an empty row to himself, so he looked at Brad longingly and was nodded into the empty adjacent seat.
As the mini-coach, which had undergone a sudden transformation into a sports bus, careered down the minor road towards Witney so it could join the A40 towards Cheltenham and Woodlands School, Brad and Richie began to talk as they attacked their packed lunches.
"I've been wanting to talk for a couple of days," Brad began, "but could never find the right moment."
"Me too. I saw the look on your face the other night and realised you were really mad. When I remembered how I much I really loved you, I started to think about why." Richie suddenly stopped and looked around the bus. Thankfully, no-one appeared to be paying any attention. "And I realised I'd been such a shit to you," he continued, a little more circumspectly.
Brad shook his head as he responded. "It's my fault really. I was giving so much attention to Marcus that you kind of got pushed into second place and I never thought about how that would make you feel."
Tony stuck his head over from the seat in front. "He's good at that - he did it to me when he first started making friends with you!"
"Fuck off and mind your own business!" Brad shot back, tongue in cheek.
"Sorry, I didn't realise that it was a private conversation. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone from now on!" was the equally tongue-in-cheek reply.
Brad looked at Richie and asked loudly, mainly for any eavesdroppers' benefit, "God, why does everyone assume we're boyfriends?"
"Maybe they're secretly gunning for us, or it's just jealousy that they don't have such a dish like me," was Richie's equally public reply.
"Ugh, you two.." Tony responded, rolling his eyes with resignation, and turned away as he sat back down in his seat.
Brad and Richie smiled at each other. Before either of them knew it, they were having conversations with their eyes again.
"I know we've a lot to talk about and a lot to do if we're going to make this relationship grow any more, but I'm in it if you are," both thought to themselves. Unconsciously, as they smiled at each other their arms intertwined and their hands met between them as they continued.
"Rich, I am so sorry about the last three weeks. I know it's no excuse, but Marcus has been in a really bad way and I've been trying to help him. I would gladly do the same for anyone, you know, but I'm sorry this time I didn't keep you on side. I know how much it must hurt you to think I found him more important than you, and I hope one day you'll forgive me." He continued in a whisper, "I still love you very much, and that isn't going to change for a long time, hopefully for the rest of my life. I hope somewhere in that warm heart of yours you can find something to forgive me."
Richard was forthright in his response "Don't be silly. I was being an immature jerk; I knew what Marcus was going through and I always knew that he was coming to you for the same things I look to you for - guidance, leadership, acceptance, and friendship. If it makes you feel better of course I forgive you, but it's me who should be apologising. I am truly sorry, and I hope that we can put this behind us and go back to the way things were."
"Of course we can," Brad replied, knowing that things would never be the same once he had properly bared his soul. Their hands squeezed tighter as they nodded off for the rest of the trip: Brad was still exhausted from his sleepless night earlier in the week, while Richard hadn't been sleeping much better. The rest of the team were busy merely trying to hold onto their lunches as the bus defied both road traffic regulations and laws of physics in order to catch up the lost time.
They woke up as they arrived at the imposing Woodlands campus and the team disembarked, heading straight for the visitors' dressing room of the impressive pavilion. Richard hung around Brad and Tony - largely on account of being terrified by the other much older players who he didn't know. Right in the middle of changing, Brad noticed Richie staring at him and smiled, knowing what was going through his friend's mind. Desperate to have a bit of fun with him again for the first time in weeks, he beckoned him over with his hand. As Richie leaned over Brad whispered in his ear, "You know, I never really thought about it, but if you sneaked into my laundry bag when I wasn't around and stole this jockstrap, I'd never know it was you."
Richard jumped back, turning bright red as he laughed. "You sick bastard - don't judge everyone by your own standards!" he cried out, just as it dawned on the grinning Brad why some of his more intimate clothing seemed to disappear in the laundry for weeks at a time. A little too close to the bone, so to speak, Brad thought to himself. The two boys smiled at each other as Brad pulled on his white trousers and ruffled Richie's hair.
Standing in as captain for the absent-in-trouble Ingram, Brad called correctly and opted to field first, backing his side to hold out for a draw if things had gone pear-shaped earlier on, and figuring that the day would get hotter and more humid in the late afternoon, disadvantaging the side in the field later. The Woodlands pitch was the envy of many schools, and indeed clubs, across middle England: a flat and true batting strip with short boundaries and little in it for mediocre bowlers, ripe for a high and fast-scoring game.
Unfortunately the Trinity opening bowlers, like the rest of the team, were still feeling the after effects of the indecently bouncy trip over and sprayed the new ball all over the place. The Woodlands batsmen despatched the ball to the boundary as quickly as it came on. Two catches went down early on, a clear nick to Tony was rejected by the umpire after the batsman declined to walk, and within minutes Brad felt the game slipping from his grasp. He brought himself on in the eighth over, much earlier than he would have liked, but his own form had apparently continued on its downward spiral from the previous practice. He lost his run up, his shoulders dropped, and he watched as most of his first two overs of fast bowling went back over his head like cannonballs before he took himself off again. His back-up bowlers brought some control back but with a century opening stand in the making Brad was lost. None of the senior players knew what to do next as they chased the ball across the park.
Just after the Woodlands 100 came up Brad himself chased a ball from his backward point position all the way to the square cover boundary, where it leapt off the rope and sailed right into the scorers' window where Richard caught it inches in front of his face. Brad raced up to the window, grateful to be off the field, even for a few seconds, so he could look at Richie and feel his love for him flowing through his veins." We're not doing too well, are we?" Brad enquired as he took the ball back.
"I've seen worse," Richie replied, "but it's bad. But it's also only a game, and win or lose you're still a hero to me." The Woodlands scorer gave Richie a funny look.
"Aww, thanks kiddo."
"But I'd prefer it if you won. I don't like to lose either."
Brad smiled and nodded an acknowledgement before running off.
"And don't call me kiddo!"
As Brad ran back to his position and threw the ball to the bowler, he had Richie on his mind again. Initially, he had been motivated in this game partly by the prospect of losing his place, but mainly by the prospect of revenge from the rugby game in December. But revenge was never a winner as he had often told himself and anyone who cared to listen. Now, his mind was overtaken by thoughts of winning for Richie, to give the person he loved a result. He suddenly felt his confidence returning and spotted all sorts of technical weaknesses in the batsmen in front of him.
At the end of the over, Brad took the ball himself and marked out his leg spin run up. Looking at Richie, who waved back at him excitedly, he was filled with emotion as he ran up. He had seen that the batsman on strike was leaving well on line so as he released the ball he gave it as much of a rip as possible - his "Gatting" ball. It pitched short and a good twelve inches outside leg stump, turned past the front pad and clipped the off bail as the batsman shouldered arms. As the rest of the team rushed to congratulate him Brad turned and looked back at the scorers' window to see Richard punching the air with whoops of delight. This spurred him on.
Next ball was a pitched up top spinner which struck the new batsman's back pad and was given out LBW to bring the star Woodlands batsman to the crease - Brad's old friend Bearded Wonder. He had actually shaved, but Brad still thought of him as that. Brad could tell purely from his arrogant swagger that he was going to try and impose himself on the innings early on, so as he trotted in to bowl and spotted the batsman getting ready to charge he sent down a much faster googly which spat out of the ground and climbed over Bearded Wonder's agricultural slog-sweep. With the batsman still moving forward in no-man's land Tony pouched the ball safely at head height and whipped off the bails to give Brad his hat-trick and send the Bearded Wonder back to the hut for a golden duck.
Brad waved at Bearded Wonder as he trudged past, calling "Thanks for coming!" after him, and momentarily feeling the proudest man on Earth.
Back in the scorers' window, Richard was ecstatic, repeatedly saying "Yes!" to himself.
The other scorer, who was a Sixth Former, looked at him with bewilderment before asking "Are you his brother or something?"
Unguarded, Richie responded truthfully. "It's almost like I was, but we're unrelated. I guess we just adore each other. I know I love him with every ounce of my soul. He's so good to me."
"You two shagging?"
"No!" Richie said, a little quickly to sound entirely genuine, his face reddening automatically.
"OK," the Woodlands boy smiled back. "Of course you're not."
Richard was way out of his depth with this senior, so left it at that before he dug himself any deeper.
Out on the field, Tony played chief executioner in one of those farcical run outs without which no schoolboy cricket game is complete before a small recovery for the fifth wicket, which also fell to Brad as he clung onto a tumbling return catch off a leading edge. A much longer stand followed in which the batsmen scored quickly to take the score past 150 before Brad recalled his opening bowlers and a full-blooded pull went straight down the throat of the fielder he had just put at deep square leg. With the humidity now becoming stifling Brad returned to bowling his left arm pace and immediately reverse-swung the older ball in the mid-afternoon haze to pick up two more quick wickets with sheer pace, each dismissal causing him to wave at Richie and for the young scorer to wave back. Proceedings brought a tall, muscular South African to the crease who swung merrily and threatened to score a few runs between his swearing before he ran out of partners at the other end almost on the stroke of tea and just after Woodlands had posted 240 on the board.
Brad rushed up to Richie in the scorers' room after they came off the field to enquire about his figures.
"Seven for 55. Good?"
"Personal best."
"You must have been inspired."
"I was, but we're not out of trouble yet. It won't mean anything if the team lose." Brad looked around at the now empty room before continuing. "I was inspired by wanting to win for you on your birthday." He pulled Richie into a hug and kissed him in his hair before pulling back and lightly stroking the younger boy's face.
Richie shuddered. They had hugged and indeed kissed before and it had always been caring and tender, but he read exciting new possibilities in this. It was not sexual, but it was more than everything they had ever shared before.
Both boys studied each other's eyes for a moment before Richie spoke up. "I really don't want to spoil the moment, but apparently they have some South African provincial player in their side. Here on an exchange programme from some place called Round Bush. Apparently he bowls like the wind and wins all their matches in a matter of overs."
Brad's eyes widened. "You mean Rondebosch school? In Cape Town?"
"Yeah, that sounds about right."
"What's his name?"
Richard picked up the score book from the desk. "This one."
"Rich, do you have your mobile phone here?"
"Sure."
"May I borrow it? It's an international call."
"Sure."
Five minutes later Brad walked into the pavilion where the two teams were having tea. Bearded Wonder avoided him as he picked up three sandwiches and a glass of juice and engaged in general chit-chat. Shortly before the restart he gathered his team around in their dressing room.
"Some of you will have heard over tea that the big South African, Graeme Meyrick, who tonked us around a bit at the end there is a junior player with Western Province, like one of our counties. We are perhaps lucky that one of his teachers is my uncle Gareth and I have just been able to speak to him. This guy is good. He's fast, gets good bounce because of his height, and he's very hostile. But he gets rattled very easily and bowls poorly to left handers. With Matt Ingram not here I am the only southpaw in the side, so I propose to open the batting with Johnny here. Tristan, I want you to drop down as low as necessary, farm the strike, and bat for the draw if it comes to that, OK?" He waited for the nods all around.
"240 is a tough ask, and it looks like we might see some storms later with the weather like this. But I think we can win this game if we score quickly off the new ball like they did. We've seen how sapping that heat and humidity is once you've been out there for a while so it should get easier as well.
"Now, just one personal thing too. Most of you will remember my friend Richard here from net practice last term. Richie is kind of my personal mascot today and is also celebrating turning fourteen. I forgot to buy him a present, so I want to give him a victory today. OK?" The team broke out into cheers for Richie, and then good luck wishes for Brad and his opening partner Johnny Wood.
As he padded up coach Newman walked up and asked "Are you certain about opening? You haven't scored a run all season."
"Cometh the hour, cometh the man," Brad responded with a grin. He took first strike when they walked out to the crease before Meyrick ran in to start the innings. His first delivery was a hip-high climbing ball which shaped away outside leg stump - perfect for a right hander, but which Brad easily clipped away down to fine leg for four.
"Hey mate," Bearded Wonder called from second slip as Meyrick walked back to his marker. "What will your boyfriend back there do tonight if you get one in the box?"
Brad did not consciously hear the sledging as he concentrated on waiting for the next ball, a half volley angled towards the slips. Once Brad saw it didn't move off the pitch he swung and drove it expansively through the covers for another four runs. The big South African was clearly not impressed, and finished his follow-through less than a metre from the Trinity all-rounder, glaring silently. Brad did not feel remotely intimidated and smiled back sweetly, waiting for the bouncer he knew would come next. When it did, it sailed over backward leg for six. He was beginning to enjoy this.
Bearded Wonder decided to continue with some personal abuse. "He's very pretty, I suppose. If I had to fuck a Third Form boy I wouldn't object to him. As long as he has a nice tight hole that's all that matters."
Brad had switched off from the game momentarily, as he invariably did between deliveries to preserve his concentration, and heard the tirade in full this time, although he didn't react to it. Slightly irritated, he misjudged the fourth ball of the innings as it reared up at his throat and he was forced to fend it away, in the air, towards the slips. Bearded Wonder ran forward but it fell short of him by a metre or so.
The next words that flew from the fielder hardly improved relations. "Call yourself an opener? You can't fucking bat!"
Calmly, as Brad resumed his guard, he called back. "I've scored more than you did. Honestly, I can't fucking bat, you can't fucking catch - some game we've got going here!" The next ball was a half volley which went straight back down the pitch like a tracer bullet as Brad launched an exquisite drive off his back foot. "And now he can't fucking bowl either - the place is going to the dogs!"
The keeper and first slip both tried to stifle their laughter as Bearded Wonder shut up, temporarily wounded enough to withdraw from the sledging contest. Although wickets fell fairly regularly at the other end Brad was in the zone and kept going, farming most of the strike as his flashing blade kept the scoreboard ticking along. Meyrick and the other bowlers tried everything to shift him: bouncers, yorkers, slower balls, but the pint-sized all-rounder absorbed all the pressure and dished it straight back with every loose delivery he sent rocketing to the boundary. During one particular passage he received a sustained barrage of short balls aimed at his body; some he ducked under while others he allowed into his chest guard. He didn't flinch once until, sickeningly, one reared up and crashed into his helmet. The force was enough to knock him to the ground - which instantly had Richie on his feet, hand on mouth - but he picked himself up and resumed his guard for the next ball. The only acknowledgement he gave was a look back at Richie and a smile to say he wasn't hurt.
In between balls he also kept one eye on the board and the other on the huge cumulonimbus clouds gathering towards the south which would billow further north as the pent-up energy in the atmosphere sought an outlet. As he brought up his half century with a high cut over point he raised his bat towards the pavilion to salute the applause, before he held it pointing at Richie in the scorers' window.
Richie, for his part, knew all along that the defiant, commanding innings taking shape out there was being fought for one person only. And he didn't feel remotely uncomfortable.
At six wickets down Trinity were still a hundred short of their target, but as they had reshuffled their batting order they still had Tristan Bland - the demoted opener best suited to long rearguard innings - to come as Tony Fleming strode out to the crease.
Tony preferred books and academia to sport so had never made himself available to the full school team, but he was an accomplished batter and held his own as Brad continued to punish everything the Woodlands bowlers could throw at them. Brad was starting to get under their skin and as they lost it they sent down wilder and wilder deliveries which were despatched with consummate ease. As Tony began to cut loose too, with a series of shots all around the ground, the two friends started to meet in mid pitch after every few balls to discuss how to play out the remainder of the over or tackle the next. They punched their gloved fists together each time one of them sent the ball to the rope as the target score gradually drew in and neither looked like losing their wickets.
Brad accelerated to his century - his first in competitive cricket - as the storm clouds gathered on the horizon, his three figures coming up with yet another leg glance off Graeme Meyrick and a scrambled single. As he removed his helmet and pointed both it and his bat towards the pavilion to acknowledge the applause he saw Richie emerge from the scoreboard to cheer and he saluted him individually too.
Three balls later and he was back on strike at the start of the next over, and Bearded Wonder had decided to resume his sledging. "Looks like you're gonna get lucky tonight. He might as well just bend over right here." Then, obviously for the benefit of the other Woodlands fielders, he continued: "Jenkins asked that scorer kid if he was shagging this guy and the kid didn't deny it."
Brad had had enough and spat back: "Look you prurient twat, he has more decency in his little finger than you have in your entire body. Yes, we're great friends who'd do anything for each other and I don't hesitate to admit that we love each other as friends very much - which is probably what he was trying to say in the first place. One day, when you grow up, you'll realise what it means." It was practically killing Brad not to shout to everyone on the field that he wanted more, but there was a time and a place for everything, and this was not it.
Bearded Wonder was equally forthright in his reply. "For fuck's sake mate, we all have our moments. But if you're gonna shag boys, at least pick someone whose balls have dropped."
Brad lost it about then. He held up his hand to the umpire to signal that he was not ready to face the next delivery, and beckoned him with his hands down to his end. With the umpire by his side he walked over to Bearded Wonder who was fielding at short extra cover. "Listen up. Sledge me all you like, because it won't make a difference since you reckon I can't fucking bat anyway. Say anything you want about me, cuz I don't care. But that boy up there is fourteen years old. He's there to learn and to help both of our teams have a match here and he is absolutely not fair game. Make it personal to me by all means, but you leave him out of it, OK? Umpire, I want you to observe this as this man's last chance to bring himself under control before I blow a fuse to protect the reputation of my scorer, who is not out here to defend himself."
The umpire nodded. "Keep it fair, both of you."
Tony Fleming had also wondered down, and turned back to Brad laughing and shaking his head. "Christ man, back home Mugabe reckons cricket civilises people."
They were interrupted by the first rumble of thunder from the horizon. Instantly, Brad decided to step up a gear as he resumed his guard. Trinity were close to their first victory against Woodlands in years - just 40 runs behind on a flat pitch - and holding on for a draw or abandoning it to rain was stupid. He danced down the pitch and hoisted the Woodlands left arm spinner straight back over his head for six, then did the same thing for the following three deliveries. At the other end during the next over, Tony hit two fours and ran a single to bring up his half-century and leave the deficit in single figures as the rain began to lightly fall. Brad scored the final runs with consecutive boundaries under murderous skies, the winning runs coming just as lightning flashed and the heavens opened. As Brad and Tony jogged back to the pavilion, the Woodlands players raced ahead to form a tunnel to applaud them off the field. At the end was Bearded Wonder, who held his hand out and shook Brad's as he passed.
"Good game mate, that was some batting. Congratulations."
At least he can be decent and is a good loser, Brad thought to himself as he ran up the pavilion steps and onto the verandah to get out of the downpour. Waiting right at the top was Richie. On autopilot and oblivious to the rest of the world around them, Brad ran up to him and, still with his bat and helmet in either hand, wrapped his arms around Richard and picked him up in a giant bear hug and swung him around. When he put him back down he didn't let go, and without even realising it nuzzled his mouth at the side of the younger boy's neck and kissed him there in full view of nearly everyone. Slowly, he pulled back and looked at Richie intensely, studying his features and memorising the moment for ever. Then, he pulled Richie back in and planted another kiss right on his forehead. "Thanks for being there for me today, cheering me on. It meant the world to me."
"Glad I could be there, but maybe doing that right here wasn't the best idea," Richie replied with a grimace.
"Huh?" Brad suddenly became very aware of where they were standing and released one arm but kept the other around him. The Woodlands players were coming up the stairs directly behind him and one of them let a loud wolf-whistle go.
Bearded Wonder grinned and held his thumb up. "Definitely looks like you're getting some tonight!"
Brad stuck his middle finger up at him and smiled charmingly back as both players laughed, no longer adversaries but fellow sportsmen.
Brad and Richie walked back to the dressing room with the younger boy still wrapped in his friend's arm. Tony shot Brad a funny look but didn't say anything as the pair of them got caught up in the dressing room victory celebrations.
Half an hour later the freshly showered team sat down to eat dinner with the Wordsworth team in their school canteen and then got back onto the mini coach to travel back to Trinity, far more sedately than the outward leg. Richie reclaimed his seat next to Brad and they smiled goofily at each other for a minute or two before Brad playfully asked "What?"
Richie looked around to check no-one could hear them, slipped his hand into Brad's, and started to whisper. "Maybe I was just imagining it again, but somehow there was something different about the hugs you gave me today. And you kissed me in front of everyone as well. I've told you before, it's really tough for me when every time I think I can accept that we'll never be anything more than just friends you go and do something like that. Luckily they all know you have Sarah back home, but what about me?"
"Richie, they're gonna have forgotten all about it by the time we get back to school. I was getting sledged out in the middle about you, so if anyone asks I'll just say it was for their benefit."
"OK, I guess. But really, what was it today? Are things really different between us?"
"I've not hugged you for a few weeks so maybe there was a lot built up in me today. I've had a lot of love going spare recently; did I tell you that Sarah and I kind of split up?"
"No, last time we really spoke about it at home you clearly gave me the impression that you were still very much together. What happened?"
"Well, I've not told anyone because it's rather convenient for everyone to know one has a girlfriend, and because I didn't really want to think about the reasons why she wanted to stop seeing me."
"If it's private I'll not ask you the reasons, but I'm sorry and I'm puzzled. I can't imagine why anyone would want to split up with you."
"Well, it's really difficult for me to explain. I love you very much as a friend and I'm terrified that if you find out it will change everything between us. It could destroy our friendship."
"Brad, this sounds very much like a particular conversation I once had with you. Now our positions are reversed I can also promise that as long as it's all those things you said before, then I'll not think anything less of you either. I promise. I must be getting more and more like you: all I ask for is a pure and honest heart as well."
The older boy sighed deeply. "This is brutally honest. She worked out that I'm not in love with her any more because I'm in love with someone else." Brad thought his heart was going to stop beating as Richie looked at him with a mixture of fear, and hope. "Someone who is sitting next to me holding my hand."
Richard was stunned. "You mean... me?" A small tear formed in the corner of his eye.
"Yeah. I can't stop thinking about you when we're apart, and when we're together I feel a hundred times more alive and that I could take on the world - like today. If you hadn't been there we would have been annihilated this afternoon. I usually feel like I'm playing for my school, or Sarah, or my parents, but today I felt like I was playing for you. And when I came off at the end, it seemed that running up and holding you was the only thing that mattered. I am desperately in love with you Richie, and I want to hold on to you and never let you go. And if that makes me gay too, then I'll learn to deal with it."
Brad looked at Richie and reached up with a handkerchief to wipe the rogue teardrops which were running down his face. Then he dabbed the corners of his own moistening eyes as he tightened his grip on Richie's hand.
Richie looked back at his friend and leaned over to rest his head dreamily on the broad shoulder next to him. After a few moments which were not nearly enough for either of them he sat upright properly and looked at Brad. "So what does this mean for us?"
"I don't know. I know that you have always wanted us to be closer, boyfriends even, but now that is within your reach I'm not sure whether you still want it. I know that I just want to be as close to you as you'll let me be, and that will be enough. Our love has plenty of time to grow into whatever suits us naturally. We don't have to force it into anything now."
"Brad, I'm so excited, and yet so scared at the same time. I'm excited because hearing those words coming from your mouth is something I have dreamed about and never thought I'd hear, but this is all so new to me I'm also terrified of fucking up. I don't want to lose you because I couldn't give you what you wanted."
"I'm scared too Richie, scared of how it will define us, scared of what people will say about us. Above all, I am painfully aware that there is a huge power difference between us, and I'm scared of you saying yes to things because you're too afraid to say no. But I want to make us work Rich, and I will accept whatever pain there is to achieve that. I am in this if you are."
"I am, Brad. I can't tell you how happy I am."
"Me too. I love you Richie."
Discreetly, the two boys held on to each other and snuggled up as the coach motored back to Trinity. As they arrived, they noticed a police car outside Tom Stephens' cottage. Brad wondered if there had been some repercussions from the Bob Davis affair but gave it little more thought as he went up to his room with Richie in tow.
As soon as they got there and close the door behind them Richie lightly pushed the older boy up against the wall and looked him in the eye with a huge smile that told nothing but delight and naughtiness. "I hope you don't mind, but I've fantasised for eight months about this," he started, as he broke his gaze and pulled Brad down and in to kiss him full on the lips.
Brad resisted for a nanosecond before he opened his mouth and let Richard's invading tongue in. He let it probe around, exploring his own tongue and then around his mouth. The sensations emanating from his mouth were electric, sending shivers of pleasure shooting across his body. He had experienced some great kissing from Sarah, but this was like nothing else. He felt complete, like he had finally come home, as each boy wrapped his arms around the other and their two bodies momentarily became one.
Eventually, Richie broke the kiss he had started and pressed the side of his face against Brad's chest and they held each other in that embrace for what seemed like hours, not moving but just enjoying the closeness as they inhaled each other. Both were aware of their erections pressing into each other, but neither wanted to spoil the intimacy of the moment by mentioning it. Brad eventually whispered to his friend, "You know, if I never moved from this position again I wouldn't mind."
"Me neither."
They squeezed each other tighter before another long kiss, and then grudgingly pulled apart. "Richie, much as I'd love to spend the rest of the evening with you we both need to spend time with our peers. It will make things a lot easier if we don't spend every waking minute with each other."
They were interrupted just then by a knock on the door and the two flew apart slightly unnaturally, faces reddening. Tony stuck his head in and gave a knowing look before declaring: "You two had better get un-red. Brad, Stephens wants to see us both in his house."
"Catch up with you later, OK?" Brad said to Richie as he left the room and followed Tony down the stairs and across the driveway to the cottage. The police car was still there. As they arrived and were beckoned in by Susan Stephens Brad was shown to the lounge while Tony found himself called into the kitchen. Brad wondered what was going on - surely they weren't being interviewed separately to check stories, he thought to himself.
Tom Stephens asked Brad to sit down and introduced WPC Rayment and her colleague Inspector Nugent of Thames Valley Police. Nugent spoke slowly and clearly while the younger woman looked on. "Bradley Johnson?"
Brad nodded. "Most people call me Brad."
"OK Brad. I'm afraid we're here because we have some bad news for you and there's no way of saying this any less painfully. Your parents were involved in a road traffic accident this morning, and I'm very sorry to have to tell you they both died of their injuries. They had a young girl in the car who we believe was your sister Rosemary as well, and I'm afraid she died in hospital shortly afterwards."
Brad's world, which had been perfect ten minutes previously, was blown apart in seconds. Too shocked to even contemplate crying his mind started digesting all the details and focusing on his next steps, one at a time. For a minute or two he was oblivious to everything else in the world until one missing detail suddenly dawned on him. "What about my brother Jamie?"
The woman officer answered. "He wasn't there, he's unhurt. It turned out he had been staying with friends overnight and your parents were apparently on their way to pick him up. He's been placed by social services with an emergency foster family right now. It was him who told us where to find you."
Brad stood up and looked at Mr Stephens. "I have to go back to him. May I have my car keys please?"
The teacher reached out and put a hand on his arm. "Brad, you are not going to be in any fit state to drive within a few minutes. Stay here at school tonight and get a good night's sleep. I know you want to be with your brother, but you need to be safe with your friends right now, with people who love you. You can stay in our house tonight if you don't want to go back into Wordsworth. Tomorrow, if you feel up to it, I'll let you have the keys. If not, then we'll find some other way of getting you home."
"I suppose you're right. Officers, is there anything I need to do now?"
"No," WPC Rayment replied. "You're over eighteen so we don't need to involve social services or anything. I'll need some contact details so Kent police can get hold of you when you get home and you can formally identify the bodies and get things like that in motion. Brad, I'm terribly sorry about what's happened. This is the worst part of being a police officer." She put a hand on him and held him for a second or two before moving on. Inspector Nugent nodded silently and left too after saying goodbye to the Stephenses.
Brad looked up as Mrs Stephens showed Tony into the lounge. Clearly, he had been briefed about what had happened, for he walked straight over to Brad and put an arm around him. "Christ man, I am so sorry I don't know what to say," he said in his soft Rhodesian drawl.
After a few minutes of fighting back tears Brad let it go for a moment, before announcing he wanted to get back to his room and pack to go home the following day. Just as he and Tony were leaving the Stephens' phone rang. Susan answered it in the kitchen and called Brad back through the door to tell him his brother was on the phone. She quietly shut the door behind her as she left them to tearfully console each other from hundreds of miles away.
Brad returned to his room half an hour later and sat on the bed, staring blankly into space. Tony came and wished him good night at about 11pm, reminding him that he was there if he needed anything. By midnight he still hadn't moved when there was a quiet knock on the door and Richie stuck his head round. Seeing Brad there, he entered the room and shut the door behind him, walked over to stand in front of Brad and wrapped his arms around his grieving friend. After holding him for a moment Richie spoke. "Brad, Tony told me what happened and I couldn't sleep without coming to speak to you. I'm so sorry, there aren't any words to say what I need to say."
Brad looked up. "It's OK, just hold me. That tells me everything." He started to cry onto Richie's shoulder. "What am I going to do?"
Richie replied with authority. "You are not going to do anything. We are going to get through this together. I spoke to Mum as soon as Tony told me. She's coming up tomorrow to take you home and do all the grown up things that need to be done. Saunders is coming too, so he can take the Passat back so you'll have it there. We'll look after you as much as you need, I promise."
"Richie, that's so kind but there's no need. I can manage all this by myself and besides I could never pay them back for all this."
"Listen to yourself! There's no way you can cope with everything right now. You are family to us, boyfriend or not, and we are going to help out, OK? I know you would have done it for me."
They cuddled for about another twenty minutes before Richie realised Brad just wasn't moving anywhere soon. He made Brad stand up and removed his shirt, unfastened his belt and trousers and let them drop to the ankles, and then sat him down on the bed again to remove them and his shoes and socks. Brad did not resist. Richard then pushed his older friend, still in his briefs, under the duvet and set the alarm clock for the following morning before turning off the light. He hesitated at the door before walking back to the bed in the dark and removing his dressing gown. "Hop over Brad."
Brad did as he was told and Richie slid into the tiny single bed beside him and spooned up behind. Brad had done this to him when he had been in emotional pain before, and he knew how soothing it was. He stretched forward and planted a tender but chaste kiss on the back of the older boy's neck, and held him in his arms as they dozed off to sleep praying no-one would come in.
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