Two days later, as we were finishing a late breakfast, we heard a car pull up beside the cottage. When we walked out on the porch, a man in blue jeans and a black and red checked shirt was standing there. He had thinning hair, a tight mouth, and a large nose. The only resemblance to Dad was his blue eyes. Although Dad’s eyes were always kind, this man’s eyes were sad.
“I’m Adrian Kingman, and I suppose you’re my grandchildren.”
We all nodded.
“Well, get the things packed that you want to take with you and put ’em in the car. I want to get back home before it gets dark.”
I wondered where his home was.
We went hastily to our rooms and packed our belongings, including our laptops and a few clothes. At the last minute, I put Barnaby in my suitcase. We took our suitcases and bags to the car and stuffed them in.
Rupert came over and watched sadly. We only had time to briefly hug, exchange goodbyes, and promise to phone. I wondered if I’d ever see him again.
When we were ready, we locked Beachside and climbed into the car.
Grandpa took out a pipe, loaded it with tobacco, and lit it. I rather liked the smell of it, thinking it was at least much better than cigarette smoke.
We headed towards the bridge over the canal. I’m sure each one of us was wondering if we’d ever return to our cottage again.
Grandpa drove and drove and drove. First, he headed north, then west, then northwest, until we were nearly out of the state.
In the late afternoon we passed a sign that said, “Entering Preston”. We drove past some nice, well-maintained, large houses, and I thought to myself that this might not be too bad.
Then Grandpa headed down a hill and drove along a street where the houses were much smaller and not nearly as well-maintained. I saw flaking paint, drooping rain gutters, overgrown front yards. Oh no, I thought, I hope he doesn’t live down here.
He did. Grandpa pulled the car into a weedy, gravel driveway and stopped.
When we got out, we were all stiff. He told us to grab our belongings and head into the house. We went in, put down our bags, and explored the house. I noted that there were only three bedrooms.
“Boys in here,” said Grandpa, pointing to the first room. “I’m in here,” he said, passing the second room, “and Ashley will be in here.” He indicated the smallest room.
“So I have to room with Garreth?” asked Nigel.
Grandpa just stared at him. Nigel looked back.
“Where are your manners, son?” asked Grandpa. You address me as sir.”
Oh lord, I thought, Nigel’s not gonna like that.
Without answering Nigel, Grandpa looked at me and said, “You’ll be in here with Nigel.”
“Okay,” I said.
Grandpa stared at me.
Oops. “Okay, sir,” I said.
He nodded and said, “I’ll be in the kitchen tryin’ to fix supper.”
The three of us went into our rooms.
Nigel and I looked around the room which was sparsely furnished. Besides two beds no larger than cots there was a single dresser for us to share and a small closet.
“This sucks!” Nigel groused. “We’ll have no privacy. I hope you don’t snore.”
“Not so far as I know,” I said.
We unpacked our belongings, placing our laptops on top of the dresser, dividing the drawer space and the closet. I finished by putting Barnaby on my bed.
“You brought your bear!?” Nigel exclaimed aghast. “What a baby.”
I felt my eyes sting but swallowed my retort. What good would answering him do? I walked out of the room and the house and stood by the car. I was miserable and, I must admit, feeling very sorry for myself. The last three days had been a horror. At that moment I missed our parents terribly. I missed Rupert. I hated Nigel. I missed our cottage and the beach.
As I stood, tears running down my face, Ashley came out of the house, saw me, and put an arm around my shoulder.
“I know,” she said, “we’re all unhappy right now.” Then, trying to perk up, she asked, “Did you and Nigel get squared away?”
“He’s a bastard!” I said.
“Why?”
I told her what he had said about me and Barnaby.
“He’s just upset like the rest of us. He’ll get over it.”
But will I? I wondered.
Supper was spaghetti and frozen meatballs which needed more time to thaw. As we ate, Grandpa said, “I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook.”
We mumbled that everything was fine, then Ashley said that she liked to cook and would be happy to make meals for all of us. When Grandpa stared at her, she added, “sir.”
“Sir,” I asked, “have you ever lived with kids?”
“Actually, only your father. I’ve brought you here unwillingly and only because I’m your only living relative. The less trouble and noise you cause, the better I’ll like it. I’ve never liked kids, even when I was one. Especially teenagers. They can be moody and wiseasses. Your father, Malcomb, was an accident. He shouldn’t have happened. But I’ll admit if we had to have a kid, he was a pretty good one. He was mannerly and obedient.”
So that’s what makes a good kid, I thought. Mannerly and obedient, not moody or a wiseass.
Trying to change the subject, Nigel asked, “What’s your Wi-Fi code?”
Grandpa stared at him.
I nudged Nigel with my elbow. He finally got the message and added “Sir?”
“What’s Wi-Fi?” asked Grandpa.
“It’s the way you log onto the internet,” Nigel said. There was a pause as Ashley and I both held our breaths. “Sir,” Nigel finally added.
“Don’t got one,” said Grandpa. “I don’t trust the internet.”
“But sir,” I said, “we need to log on to do our homework assignments.”
“Your father never needed that. Don’t see why you will.”
“School has changed since our parents’ day, sir,” said Ashley.
“Well, we’ll see, but you won’t need it until school opens in September,” observed Grandpa.
Ashley suggested that the three of us take care of the dishes. Without saying so, she knew that we all wanted to get out of that room. We carried the dishes into the kitchen, where Nigel closed the door before he muttered, “Jesus! We’re living with a dinosaur!” I couldn’t disagree.
When we finished the dishes and put them away, Ashley said, “We need a sib meeting before we go to bed.” Nigel groaned but we all went into my and Nigel’s bedroom and sat on the beds.
“Nigel,” began Ashley, “Garreth told me what you said to him about Barnaby.”
“I just…” began Nigel, but Ashley continued.
“I know we’re all feeling very down, but that means we need to be extra kind to each other.”
“Sorry, Bro,” said Nigel.
Ashley continued, “If something’s bothering us, we need to share it and see if there’s anything we can do to make things better.”
“Like you offering to make the meals,” I said.
“Yes, and like us doing the dishes. We have to show Grandpa that we’re really not bad kids.”
Nigel and I agreed, and the three of us put our right hands out and held them together for a minute.
Then Nigel surprised us by saying he could set up Wi-Fi for us if he could get the device from home. “I can do it as long as the utilities at home are paid for. The payments are made automatically from Dad’s bank account, so we should be good for now.”
Ashley and I thanked him and we adjourned.
We were all tired, so we headed to bed.
As I was getting out my PJs, my phone rang. When I answered, a voice said, “Hi!”
“Hi, Rupert,” I said.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“In a depressing little town called Preston,” I said.
The phone was silent for a little before Rupert said, “Hey, that’s great. That’s where I live. But it’s not depressing. Not at all.”
I went cold for a minute. I’d just insulted the only friend I had. At last I asked, “Do you live in one of the houses up on the hill? The big, well-cared for ones?”
“Yup,” he answered guardedly.
“Well, we’re at the bottom in a little, shabby house.” I told him the name of the street.
“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
His voice brightened as he said, “But at least we’ll be able to see each other, and we’ll be in the same school.”
“Great,” I answered, liking his brighter voice and the fact we’d be in school together.
We talked for a bit before Nigel said it was time for bed. Rupert said goodbye and my phone went dead.
I stripped off my clothes, put on my PJs, and went into the bathroom before I climbed into bed.
When I came back in, Nigel said, “Turn off the light.” I climbed out of bed and turned the light off. As I returned to bed I stubbed my toe on it.
“Ouch,” I said.
Nigel just laughed and told me to be quiet. I lay in the dark, cuddling Barnaby.
Sometimes I was ashamed of fondling myself in bed, but it felt good, and that night especially I needed the good feeling. I reached into my PJs and took hold of my thing. I knew it was called a penis, but I liked the word ‘thing’ better. It didn’t sound quite so naughty.
As I lay enjoying the feeling, I heard sounds coming from Nigel. Little moans and grunts.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He didn’t answer right away, but then he said, “Jerking off.”
“You mean with your thing?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t know you did it too.”
“Dad told me all boys do.” He moaned a little. Then he said, “I guess Dad hadn’t gotten around to giving you the talk yet.”
“What talk?”
“About sex.”
“Oh. No, he didn’t.”
“Well, I’m not gonna give it to you. You’ll have to ask Grandpa.”
That was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Now shut up and let me finish,” said Nigel.
A few moments later I could hear that his breathing had changed, gotten quicker and heavier. The moaning grew too. And then I heard, “Ung…Ung…Ung.” In a few moments I heard him moving around a little, and then all was still.
“Jerking off,” he had said. I wondered if that was what I did. I went back to rubbing myself and feeling good. My breathing didn’t change, and I didn’t feel like moaning and groaning. Clearly, something was different with Nigel and I didn’t know what. I wondered if it would ever happen to me.
Copyright © 2025 Alan Dwight
Posted 26 April 2025