All Hallows' Eve
by Charles Lacey
It was really exciting. Pat Billingsley, who was in my form, had her birthday on the 31 st October. In previous years her parents had vetoed anything more than a small number of girls going to their house for a birthday party. Anything to do with Hallowe'en was out of the question as far as they were concerned. This year, she was sixteen – most of us were – and she had persuaded her parents to hire a room at the Town Hall, and got caterers to do food, and they had invited the whole of our form, plus a couple of her friends from the 'B' stream as well. It was a Friday evening, so there was less anxiety from parents about 'school the next day'.
Inevitably, a few of us had other commitments, and the parents of one or two wouldn't let them come, but we reckoned there would be about thirty altogether. Pat's older brother Graham had agreed to do a disco for us when the food was all eaten. It looked like being pretty good.
Pat had made a rule: everyone had to go in disguise. There would be prizes for the last three people to be identified. So various Mums were busy making costumes. I went as a black cat. Fortunately I had the figure for it. My costume consisted of figure-hugging black velvet tights and top, a long flexible tail which I was able to wave around using an ingenious device worked by cords from the front, and a head also made mostly out of black velvet. It looked great, especially since I have green eyes anyway.
"So," said Mum, "there you are, Alan. It doesn't look bad, even if I say so myself."
"Thanks, Mum," I said, "you're a star."
"Now you're to behave yourself. There's not to be any nonsense. I've spoken to Mrs Billingsley and there won't be any alcoholic drinks, thank goodness. And Mrs Todd will bring you back at ten o'clock."
I groaned inwardly. Henry Todd was the least cool boy in the class. In fact, he was probably the least cool boy in the whole school. For a start, he was hopeless at games. He wore thick spectacles and by the time he'd actually seen where the ball was it would have been long gone. And he was overweight, too, and rather lumbering. Not that he was grossly fat, but certainly a bit on the chubby side which accounted for his nickname: Piggie. I was half surprised that he'd been invited at all, but I suppose with everyone else in the class being invited it would have looked pointed if he hadn't been. Pat's a very good-natured girl, though, and wouldn't want anyone to feel left out..
But poor Piggie had other burdens to bear. He was good at Maths and the sciences, and generally came top, frequently with a fair gap between him and the runners-up. He was good at English, too, and he certainly spent a good bit of time reading. But he was hopeless at languages, drama and so on, because not only did he have something of a stammer, it got much worse if he had to speak in public. In one-to-one conversations where he could take his time and bypass awkward sounds it was not too bad, but if he had to speak in class he could be completely tongue-tied.
However, if Mum had arranged with Mrs Todd to give me a lift home, that was that, and I knew better than to try to make her change her mind. And after all, it was only a ten-minute ride. I could have walked it, but perhaps not at night, and certainly not dressed as a black cat.
On the day of the party not much work got done in class. Mr Bleasdale, who takes us for Maths, got in a real bait because no-one was paying any attention. But even he realised that any threat to keep us in after school would have been completely ignored. And Eric the Red – Mr Tiltman, who takes us for French, and is a card-carrying member of the Communist Party (I sometimes thought that with a first name like Eric, that was understandable) –realised that we were not concentrating, and gave us a fifty-word vocabulaire test, just to be awkward.
But the end of the school day came eventually; we all went to our homes to change and get ready. And by seven o'clock there was a traffic jam outside the Town Hall, and passers-by were treated to some outlandish sights.
I was lucky with my Cat costume: no-one else had thought of that idea. I think about half of the girls had come as witches, and there were several Harry Potter costumes, with varying degrees of success. I could recognize a few of them straight away. Denis 'The Menace' Bigelow was easily identified as even then he was nearly six feet tall. And Mark Potter ought to have worn something with a long cloak, as his bandy legs were instantly recognizable. After all, they got a lot of exposure on the Rugby field, as he was one of our school's champion players. Will Cody's disguise might have worked if he'd not worn his spectacles. Diana Loughrey should have worn a full mask as her nose is not only long and thin but the tip bends to one side. And, of course, poor old Piggie Todd was instantly recognizable from his size and shape, even in disguise with a black wig and black cloak as Severus Snape.
Pat's older sister Margo was there, dressed as a Mandrake, which I thought was clever. Unfortunately her boyfriend Rod Glasse was also there. Mum says you should always try to see the best in people, but I don't think there was a best in Rod. He was a real bully. Not the kind that throws their weight about, though he certainly did that from time to time, especially if his victim was a smaller boy and there was no-one around to see him, but he had a nasty, cutting, sarcastic tongue. My older sister Fran was in the same class as him and absolutely loathed him.
Well, the food and drink were awesome. Three great trestle tables, groaning with food; two of them with savouries and one of sweets, and another table with jugs of fruit punch and bottles of Coke and so on. I'm not allowed Coke at home – Dad's a dentist, and he says it will rot my teeth. I don't much like the stuff anyway, and I was happy with the fruit punch. This came in several flavours, with labels like 'Unicorn's blood', 'Cure for Boils' and 'Mandrake Restorative Draught'. Some of the colours were a bit lurid, but the flavours were good. Two of the most colourful – and tasty - were 'Dr Fortune's Good Luck Charm' and 'Madame Cupid's Love Potion'.
Well, we waded into that food like there was famine round the corner. Mr and Mrs Bleasdale had had the sense not to put tables and chairs; we were much happier wandering round with plates and glasses in our hands. And it was all finger food, too, so there was no wrestling with cutlery involved.
They'd allowed a good hour for eating and drinking, and then came the competition. Pat was the judge, of course, since it was her party. I just missed a prize: I was the last but three to be identified. But hey, it's the joining in that's important, not the winning.
The one thing that rather spoiled it for me was Rod Glasse, being sarcastic as usual. He made some snide remarks about the food, and more about the drink. I noticed he'd brought a small flask with him from which he added something to his own drinks. Then he had a go at two of my classmates. The first was Mark Potter, whom he addressed as 'Andy Bandy'. Mark, however, was equal to this. He was the Captain of the second fifteen, after all. He just shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the admiring circle of girls by whom he was usually surrounded. The other was Piggie Todd.
"G – g – g – good evening, H – h – h - henry, are you h – h – h- having f – f – f –fun?" Poor Piggie turned away, flushing. But Rod hadn't finished. "Is there enough f – f – f – food for you? Do have my helping."
I won't go on. You get the flavour. But Piggie put down the plate he was carrying and moved away. I wasn't that keen on Piggie myself, but I wouldn't have minded taking a swing at Rod Glasse.
I'd drunk several glasses of fruit punch – it was very good – as well as pigging out on the food and by now I was in need of a pee. I made my way to the Gents' and then discovered that Mum, not (well, obviously!) being male, had not allowed for this to happen. The costume was so tight that the only way I could get at the relevant bits of my anatomy was to lift the top and pull the bottom down. This would have left me standing there at the urinal with my arse exposed for all to see, which I didn't much fancy. No, Alan, I said to myself, a cubicle's the place for you, matey.
There were two cubicles side by side, one of which had the 'Engaged' sign showing. The other said 'Vacant' so in I went. Actually I was damned lucky I didn't pee my pants, because I had quite a struggle with the costume. Eventually I managed it, with about half a second to spare, and was standing there pissing a glorious stream into the pan, when I heard snuffling from the other cubicle. Oh well, I thought, someone's got a cold. Unless the drinks were too much for them and reappeared back up the way they went down. So I put away my tackle, replaced my costume the way it had been, and went back into the hall.
By now the disco was in full swing, and some pretty energetic dancing was going on. I didn't have a regular girlfriend, though I flatter myself that I wasn't badly liked in that department. So I joined in and if nothing else, I sweated off the extra calories I'd eaten and drunk. Dad says it's not so much like dancing, more like epilepsy. He has a weird sense of humour. It was getting pretty hot in the hall and I could see some of the guys with more elaborate costumes were sweating freely.
Most of the food had been eaten and the caterers had cleared away what was left. But there was still plenty to drink, and what with the central heating, which was going full blast, plus the extra heat from the lighting rig, we needed plenty of liquid. I just dipped a scoop into the nearest one, not realising until I'd drunk it that this one was 'Dr Fortune's Good Luck Charm'. By the taste, it was dandelion and burdock. Harmless enough stuff, anyway. Except that, of course, dandelion is a notorious diuretic. Its old country name was 'pissabed'. Well, I didn't do that, but I damned nearly peed my pants. So it was back to the Gents', into the cubicle, up with my top, down with my bottom and let go.
I could still hear sniffs from the next cubicle, though. "Are you alright there, mate?" I called. It seemed only reasonable; perhaps someone was genuinely ill.
No reply.
"Are you OK? You sound a bit dodgy."
"I'm OK," came the reply, "leave me alone."
It sounded like Piggie's voice.
"Henry, is that you" I persisted.
"Yes. Go away."
This was followed by some gulps; it sounded as if he was about to throw up.
"Are you sure you're OK? You don't sound it."
"Oh, fu…" This was followed by more gulps. But there were no puking noises, just some heavy breathing. I realised what was happening. He was trying not to cry. Well, of course, for a fourteen-year-old boy, even an overweight one with a good brain, to be found in tears is the ultimate disgrace. But I did feel a bit sorry for him, especially after Rod Glass's nastiness.
Just then, two or three lads came in; I could hear them peeing and joking with each other. When they went out I said, "Come out, mate, you can't spend all evening in there. Apart from anything else, your Mum's got to take me home."
Eventually he did emerge. His eyes were all red and puffy and there were tear-marks down his cheeks. But we went back into the hall together, and in the dim, coloured lights there no-one could see his face clearly enough to see the state he was in.
Then that bastard Rod Glasse came over and let off another lot of nasty sarcasm at Piggie. I suddenly felt totally fed up with him and his bad-mouthing. I put my head close to his, and just said, "F*** off, Glasse." He wasn't used to being answered back, and he just said, "You're dead, Alan Stanley."
I didn't bother answering, just snapped my fingers in his face. I wasn't as big as him, but I was fit, and I reckoned if it came to a fight I could probably hold my own. Even in my cat costume.
Before long the time came to nine-forty-five. The DJ played the last track, and I took one last drink from the nearest jug. This time it was 'Madame Cupid's Love Potion'. I gave Piggie a cupful, too. Someone turned on the main lights, and parents started coming in. Mrs Todd rounded up Henry and me, and off we went.
Just after we set off, Mrs Todd said to us, "While you've been having fun here, we've had a major problem at home. Old Mr Davidson, who has the flat above ours, left his bath running, and something blocked the overflow, and the water's come through the ceiling, right over Henry's bed. Henry, your bed's soaked. Alan, do you think there's any chance your Mum might be able to have Henry to stay overnight?"
"I 'spect so," I replied. "We don't have a spare room, but he could have the folding bed in my room. I'll ask Mum as soon as we get home."
I asked, she agreed. Dad got out the folding bed and put it up; Mum found Henry a pair of my older brother's pyjamas and a spare toothbrush. It was a new one, I hasten to add!
We were both pretty knackered after an enjoyable but energetic evening. We undressed in my room, and I was surprised to see that Henry stripped better than I'd expected. I mean, he was certainly a bit rounded, but he wasn't flabby. In fact, I thought he looked rather nice. He'd no body hair to speak of, except for a little tuft where it mattered and a very light fuzz on his shins. And I did notice his hands, which I hadn't clocked before. They were well shaped, with square, capable-looking fingers.
I turned away quickly, in case he noticed me looking at him and got into my bed. Henry got into the folding bed, and I turned out the light. But I was still too excited from the Hallowe'en party to sleep, and suddenly I could hear Henry trying not to cry again. Poor lad, I thought, he's spent the evening putting up with that arsewipe Glasse, and now he can't even sleep in his own bed. After listening for a few minutes I got out of bed and went over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He turned towards me and… well, I still don't remember exactly how it happened, but my arms were around him, and his face was on my shoulder, and suddenly he wasn't crying any more. His head had lifted up, and his lips were on mine, and we were kissing.
Why didn't it feel totally weird? Well, the fact is…
Oh, heck.
I'm sorry, but I should have told you properly before. I did say I didn't have a girlfriend, honestly I did. But that's only half of the story. The other half is… you've probably guessed by now. I didn't want a girlfriend. I wanted a boyfriend.
Well, now you know.
The way Henry was kissing me, it was pretty clear that he wanted a boyfriend, too. We ended up in my bed, minus our pyjamas. I'd often fantasized about holding a boy in my arms. The knobbly bits – including that one – were as I'd expected. But what I hadn't expected was the softness, the silken quality of the naked skin.
By the morning, we were both considerably more tired than we had been the night before. But we were happy, lying side by side, dozing, kissing, cuddling. I think we'd both come three times during the night's activities – I know I had, and I was pretty sure Henry had kept pace with me – and for the moment neither of us was capable of getting an erection. But we were content just to be together.
But I heard Mum moving about, and we had to put our jim-jams back on. Henry had only just got back into the folding bed in time when Mum came in with a cup of tea each. She looked at me and said, "You'd better stay in bed for a while, you look exhausted."
So stay in bed we did. Both of us, in my bed. We woke up again late morning, and after one more session of love-making we got up. Mrs Todd had called with Henry's ordinary clothes, and Mum, bless her, had said Henry was welcome to stay with us until his own room was usable again.
So we had the weekend together, and went to school on the Monday morning. We'd talked about things, and obviously we couldn't let on at school that we were now an item. But I did let myself be seen with Henry, and as I was not badly liked on the whole that did him no harm. But of course, that arsehole Rod Glasse saw us together and made some nasty sarky comment. I just snapped my fingers in his face again. He slapped my cheek in return, and that did it; I totally lost my rag. I walloped him as hard as I knew how, right in the middle of his chest, and he went down like a felled tree.
Of course, there was a bit of a fuss, and I had to explain to the Headmaster what had happened. But since Glasse was the one who had started it, and had hit me first, and he was a year older and several inches taller than I was, I was sent back to my class with a "don't do it again". He, on the other hand, was suspended for the rest of the term.
When I got back into class, Mark Potter clapped me on the back, followed by several others. "Well done, mate, that bastard's had it coming to him for a long time." I was also surrounded by a gaggle of admiring girls. Oh well. But it gradually emerged that Henry and I were now friends, and the others in our class began to include him more. He gave a lot of people a lot of help with Maths homework. In all honesty, he was a better teacher than old Bleasdale. But if anyone was struggling, he'd always be ready to help, and this did a lot for his popularity.
When Glasse came back to school he avoided me like the plague. Well, that suited me. But it was noticeable that he was much less unpleasant than he had been. I think his suspension was in the nature of a timely warning.
By the time Henry and I were in the Sixth, although it was never stated openly I think pretty well everyone knew that we were more than just good friends. Henry never lost his roundness and smoothness, which frankly I found very exciting indeed, and still do. He did lose his stammer, though. I think a part of that may have just been that he was trying very hard to repress his sexuality and this was one way in which the stress manifested itself. Once we were together, he didn't need to, and the stammer just faded away.
We finished school, and went through University together. Once there, of course, we could be quite openly a couple. I followed Dad and became a dentist. Well, someone has to! And Henry became an Accountant.
But I've often thought back to that Hallowe'en party. And especially the drinks.
The one I'd drunk just before I found Henry in tears was 'Dr Fortune's Good Luck Charm'. Well, I'd certainly had good luck. The funny thing was, that it must have been about the same time I drank it that the ceiling came down over Henry's bed, causing him to spend the weekend (the first of a great many!) at my house and, indeed, sharing my room, which was the start of our sharing our lives.
And the last one, that we'd both drunk at the same time, just before the party ended and we set off in Mrs Todd's car, was 'Madame Cupid's Love Potion'.
They do say that if you drink a love potion, you fall in love with the first person you see.
What was in that potion? I've often wondered, but I've never asked. Could there have been, in more senses than one, 'something in it'?
THE END
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