A Pure and Honest Heart
by Zambezi
Chapter Five
When Brad had seen addresses with a house name in Faversham, they had been mass-construction houses along residential streets. Who would live in 43 Acacia Avenue when you could live in "The Old School House", even if "The Old School House" was a three bedroomed shoebox on a Barratt cul-de-sac?
As a result, when he started looking for "Inglewood" in the leafy lanes of the rolling Surrey countryside neither Brad, nor his father, had expected much more. They actually drove past the gated entrance to the estate several times before realising it was what they were looking for.
"Fuck. I knew he was well off but I never thought it would be like this."
"Watch your language boy," Brad's father responded, "but fuck!"
The twelve year old Ford Sierra wheezed its way up the long driveway, past the snow-covered croquet lawn and tennis court before pulling up in front of the huge mansion. Brad's father wondered if it was appropriate to honk the horn to indicate their arrival.
He needn't have worried. Within seconds of the car stopping a young boy came bounding out and practically ripped the passenger door off its hinges. As Brad stepped out Richard stepped forward as if to hug him, but stopped rather sheepishly at the last second.
"I'm glad you made it." The butler appeared behind him. "Saunders will take your luggage. You are going straight back to school from here, aren't you? Only it would be a terrible drag if you had to go home first for your shit... I mean stuff. This must be your Dad. Hi Mr Johnson, I'm-"
"Let me guess. Richard"
"Yes, absolutely. Come in, it's freezing out here. Mum is rustling up a pot of tea for you. You do drink tea, don't you?"
"No, we only have water from the well," Brad's father stated, with a deadpan face.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to..." Richard's voice trailed off as he remembered Brad saying something about not being as comfortable at home as most of the Trinity boys, but then he spotted Brad barely able to contain himself.
"Very funny."
"Remember Richard, always walk at the slowest person's pace," Brad continued, smiling at his young acquaintance's enthusiasm. A woman appeared in the doorway just as the young boy was giving Brad a play punch.
"Richard Young, hitting guests is no way to welcome them to this house!" she said, in a mock-stern voice. "Hello Brad." She held out her hand.
"Hi there.This is my father Bill. I would call you Mrs Young but I am guessing you're not called that any more."
"Absolutely not. Zelda Williams - please call me Zelda. Let's get inside before we freeze," she invited, and the group moved into the entrance hall. "Richard, show Brad and Mr Johnson into the main lounge while I arrange for some refreshments."
Brad looked around the house as they walked through into a huge reception room. There was clearly a lot of money sloshing around in here, old money at that. His thoughts were interrupted as Richard called, "Sit here, next to me, Brad." Next thing he knew he was being physically tugged towards the sofa. He caught a glimpse of his father's grin and rolled his eyes in his head.
The four of them made small talk as they sipped tea. Brad didn't know that people actually used cups with saucers in their own homes, having only ever used mugs at home or at Mr and Mrs Stephens'. He studied Zelda. She was a strange combination of motherly and fierce businesswoman, although Brad had no idea what, if anything, she did for a living. He made a mental note to make a polite enquiry at some point. Brad guessed she was probably well into her fifties, but realised she couldn't be much older than that and be Richard's natural mother. She struck Brad as being very knowledgeable and yet down to earth at the same time. He liked her instantly.
Eventually, Bill Johnson made some polite noises about the M25 traffic and left, but not before he quietly reminded Brad to give the watch back at some point during his visit. As Brad and Richard stood and watched the old Sierra's diesel engine thunder into life in a cloud of black smoke, Richard turned and said, "Follow me, I'll show you to your room and give you the grand tour."
Inglewood, it turned out, was a huge L-shaped house with neatly manicured gardens all around and what appeared to be a giant shed further out at the back. Richard took him up one flight of stairs to a long corridor with rooms off either side. Brad felt it was more like a hotel corridor than someone's house. He had been given a room with a huge double bed and its own bathroom, right next door to Richard's room, as it turned out. "How many bedrooms do you have?" Brad enquired.
"Twelve on this floor on this wing, twelve above. Not really sure about the back wing, we haven't really ever used it for as long as I can remember. Mum's just had this wing completely gutted and reconfigured. Wants to set up some sort of business."
"As a hotel?"
"I don't think so, although that's a possibility. I'm not too sure to be honest. Maybe you can ask her over dinner. Speaking of which, we should head back downstairs. Mum usually likes guests to join her in the bar for a drink before dinner."
The bar, as it turned out, was yet another reception room on the ground floor with big leather armchairs by a log fire and a full bar in the corner, including a beer tap. Brad was amazed: "Oh my! This is just like the Sixth Form bar at school, only better."
"I thought you'd approve," Zelda responded. "Richard's father had it put in when he lived here and said it always reminded him of Trinity."
Brad was momentarily confused. "Reminded him?"
"Yeah, Dad went to Trinity too - he was Captain of Wordsworth too. I guess I must have never told you. That's why I go there even though it's miles away from here and damned inconvenient - Charterhouse would be much easier." Richard chimed in.
"I live in Kent; it's a good hour further on," Brad responded.
Zelda asked why Brad had chosen Trinity before she busied herself behind the bar, drawing two glasses of beer for the boys and pouring a gin and tonic for herself.
"My uncle Gareth is a teacher and he worked at Trinity years ago just after he qualified, before he emigrated to South Africa. He always thought highly of the place, and I won a scholarship to the prep school when I was nine. So off I went." Brad sipped his beer. "This is nice, what is it?"
"Löwenbräu from Germany. Peter - Richard's father - used to have Stella Artois but Richie made us change when he left. Apparently, it tasted of urine."
"Piss mum! It tastes of piss"
Brad giggled to himself. These people were quite fun at home. He had been worried they would be a bit stuffy.
Zelda smiled. "You are such a vulgar disgusting boy. Where did we go wrong with you? Why can't you be more like Brad here - polite, gracious, and really handsome to boot. Quite the gentleman, and quite a catch for a girl like me. Or, indeed, a boy."
"Mum!" Richard howled, turning beet-red. "You promised you wouldn't do embarrassing stuff like that!"
Brad shuddered too, wondering just what was going on. He had a suspicion that Richard had just had a raw nerve touched but couldn't put a finger on it. Divorce does that to a middle-aged woman, he figured. "My girlfriend certainly thinks so," he continued, deciding to stop whatever was happening in its tracks. The subject changed and soon they headed into the dining room for dinner.
Brad talked about his home life, his family, life at Trinity and various other small things. Eventually, they moved on to other, more grown up issues such as politics, the dot.com boom, and England getting hammered in the Ashes series just finished down in Australia. Time dragged on. Brad noticed Richard becoming less and less involved as the conversation became more serious, although he was seriously impressed with his level of general knowledge already. Clearly Richie was an intelligent boy - and he had a keen interest in cricket too.
Eventually, Richard asked the time and Brad replied he hadn't a clue.
"Where's the watch I sent you?"
"Er, that's something I actually want to talk to both of you about, because there's no way I can accept something like that. I'll never be able to pay you back."
"Don't be ridiculous Brad," Zelda stated abruptly before continuing more softly. "Richie told me how much of a friend you have been to him this term, how you have always been there for him. He practically worships the gr-"
"Mum!"
"The ground you walk on," Zelda finished, unfazed. "He has never really made friends easily - neither would you if you lived here all your life - and I know that having you amongst them means everything to him."
Richard had by this stage turned beet-red again and had buried his head in his hands. Through them he muttered "It's true Brad, although I feel a bit pathetic admitting it. I wanted to say thanks for what you have already done for me. It's me paying you back."
"But dishing out a bit of friendship and - don't take this the wrong way - a bit of love is easy. Where I come from there's enough of it for everyone to have lots of it," Brad explained. "But the watch costs more than my parents make in a month. I really can't take it."
"Well, where I come from friendship and l-l-l-love is in short supply instead," Richard stammered in reply. "But there's more money than we know what to do with. We'll call it a straight swap. Now can I stop embarrassing myself?"
Faultless thirteen year old logic, Brad thought to himself, knowing he had been outmanoeuvred. He had one last ace up his sleeve. "Everyone at school knows we struggle a bit. I'd have a lot of troubling explaining this away, and if it ever got out that you bought it for me you'd be eaten alive the moment I turned my back." Richard looked distraught. "Think about it."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. They'd think I was trying to buy your friendship, or protection or something. Damn, I was kinda hoping people would notice so they knew how I felt about you." The moment he said it Richard blushed and looked at his mother, then his feet. Brad now knew there was something funny going on here, and was beginning to put two and two together, although he'd have preferred if he didn't. It was Richard who changed the subject first. "Mum, may we leave the table please? I'd like to show Brad my Christmas present."
"What a good idea, as long as it's OK with Brad."
Brad nodded and got up from his chair, thanking his hostess for the fantastic meal. "What is it we're going to see?"
"Follow me!"
They went back into the bar where Richard proceeded to slide open a large section of wood panelling on the wall, revealing a TV screen and a collection of black stacking electronic boxes. "Viva karaoke!"
"Oh, no!" Brad groaned.
They sang for a while, and then some more when Zelda came in to join them. Eventually, as midnight approached and Richie visibly tired, Brad sat down in front of the fire with Zelda and they chatted some more grown up talk over a cognac. When the clock chimed midnight, Brad saw that Richie was fast asleep on the couch.
"He has drunk quite a bit more than he normally would tonight. And he barely slept a wink the last few nights, he was so excited you were coming, Brad. He really thinks the world of you, you know."
"I am beginning to see that." An awkward silence followed.
"Do let me know if he becomes too overbearing, or anything like that which makes you feel uncomfortable."
Brad nodded in reply. "Of course." But he suspected there was a whole other conversation they needed to be having. He was equally unsure whether any of them were ready for it. Meanwhile, Richie was apparently resisting all attempts to gently wake him. "I'll carry him upstairs," Brad offered. "You go on up to bed. Do we need to lock up and things like that?"
"I'd appreciate if you could turn off any lights you see on, but Saunders will have locked up when he retired. I'll double check myself though. You can't be too careful these days. Good night Brad." She leaned over and kissed her son on his forehead then surprised her guest by doing the same to him before leaving the room.
"Come on, kiddo," Brad said to the prostate body in front of him, before picking him up and carrying him, cradled in his arms, up to his bedroom and plonked him on the bed. He wondered if Richard was drunk enough to be sick in the night, but decided probably not. "I suppose I'd better get you undressed then." Brad could have sworn he heard Richie say something, but the boy was definitely out cold when he checked again. He pulled off Richard's sweatshirt and with it the t-shirt underneath. Then he removed his shoes and socks. Finally, he unbuckled the belt and unfastened his jeans. He pulled them down, but the boy's weight was enough to prevent them sliding down all the way over his buttocks. Hesitantly, he reached underneath into the jeans, and with one hand cupping the boyish bottom lifted him sufficiently to remove them. Although his hand was enough to keep his boxers on at the back, they were being stretched enough at the front to outline a growing hardon tenting the underwear as it stiffened. "Don't worry kiddo, it happens to everyone," Brad said out loud, as much to deal with his own unease as anything.
After folding the clothes up neatly on the chair by the bed, Brad got the boy under the sheets and ruffled his hair. "Goodnight Richie," Brad whispered before clicking off the lights and leaving the room.
At some point during the night, Brad became aware that he was not alone in bed, but his brain was scrambled with the effects of the alcohol and he fell back to sleep before he completely worked out what was going on. "I love you, Sarah," he mumbled, before spooning up behind and dropping back off.
He slept soundly until he was awoken the following morning by a fully dressed thirteen year old boy bouncing on his bed, telling him to wake up. He suddenly remembered where he was, and then realised that it could not have been Sarah to whom he was snuggling up during the night. "I have to stop doing that," he said to himself, wondering what else he had done this time. "Bloody hell, it's still dark outside. What time is it?"
"Must be about half six, maybe seven. I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. I couldn't work out how I got to bed, and I know that Mum never carries me any more - I'm too heavy."
"I did, and yes, you are too heavy!" That remark earned Brad a whack in the face with a pillow. He looked back at the boy, seriously this time. "Richie, did you climb into bed with me last night?"
Richard immediately looked at his feet - he was doing that a lot, Brad noticed - and started to redden. "I'm sorry Brad, I woke up in the middle of the night and didn't feel very well. I was worried I'd barf in my sleep and choke, so I figured if I were around you I'd be safer. I didn't mean to freak you out or anything, but I didn't want to wake you either."
"Were you going to tell me if I didn't ask?"
"Probably not. It would make me sound like a little kid. And I was worried how you'd react. I figured if you knew I'd done it, you'd either say something or we'd wake up together and you wouldn't need to."
"Richie," Brad began, "we're friends, right?"
"I hope so."
"I think we are. I trust you with my life, Richie. There aren't that many people I'd say that to, but you are one. I hope that you can trust me too, because I'd feel terrible as your friend if you couldn't. What I'm saying is that you needn't ever be afraid of saying something to me for fear of how I might react, OK? Sure, I might tell you off if you did something stupid, or I might be angry if you admitted to being dishonest or nasty. But as long as you are honest with me, and with yourself, then nothing - and I mean absolutely nothing - you could say will take away the support and the friendship that I am offering you."
By now Richard had sprawled out across the other half of the bed and lay smiling, with his head propped up on one arm as he gazed Brad in the eyes. He suddenly came over all serious. "Brad, after what you said last night about the watch I'm worried about what people at school are going to say about us. I mean, I agree you wearing the watch is a stupid idea, but what about other stuff? When my mum drops us off together next week people are going to know we saw each other outside school. And if we spend any time together people will talk. I think some of them already do."
"Fuck them. Who I socialise with is my own business, and it's exactly the same for you, no more, no less."
"It's not that easy for me. I'm just a Third Former, and not a very big one at that."
"As long as I'm around then you'll be safe. And because of my position I'm the one with the enemies, so anyone looking to get after me by going for you won't achieve anything once I have gone, because I won't see it to be hurt by it. And there's always people like Mr Stephens who will intervene if anyone is bullying you. Obviously, the idea of a Third Former and a Sixth Former being great friends is not a common one at Trinity, but there's nothing to say it can't happen."
"I hope you're right Brad. I can't bear the thought of us being too afraid to be seen socialising with each other."
"It's not like we're having some sort of sordid gay affair, is it?"
"What makes you say that?" Richard was suddenly very interested, right on cue.
"Well, we're not, are we? Now that would be something for people to talk about." Yet another uncomfortable silence followed. Brad decided to change subject again, for both their sakes this time. "What are we going to do today? What is there around here for two bored teenagers to do?"
"First thing I'm gonna do is get a bath. My stomach just started churning again so I am gonna try and wash that hangover effect out of me," Richard replied. Go on downstairs to the kitchen - we tend to eat breakfast in there and Mum should be up by now too."
Brad strode into the kitchen ten minutes later, freshly showered.
"Morning Brad. Did you sleep well?" Zelda was already pouring him coffee.
"Like a log, straight through the night." He didn't think he should tell her he woke up when her son climbed into his bed.
"Did you have any trouble getting Richie into bed?"
Brad nearly spat his coffee back out before he realised what she was talking about.
"Not really. He never woke up though, even when I undressed him. He's feeling a little rough from the drink this morning as well, but he'll live. It's part of the growing up experience these days - so I'm told."
"You know Brad, when Richie told me his best friend was a Sixth Former, I was a trifle concerned about it. But I see you and I have no fears: you're so strong, and mature, and together, and you're nothing but a positive influence. I am glad you two get along, and that he has you to look up to."
"Until coming here yesterday, I've never really spent much time alone with him. The odd hour here and there, in my room at school, but not enough that I ever think he'd describe me as his best friend. We barely know each other really, when one thinks about it."
"I figured as much, even though he wouldn't stop talking about you. Everything was Brad this, Brad that. I suspect it's probably a bit of hero-worshipping."
"Probably is. Listen, to change the subject, what is there to do around here? I'd like to see a bit of the area while I'm here, but I don't want to take up any of your time."
"Brad, it would be my pleasure to show you around, but there's plenty of time for that, and the truth is there's not an awful lot beyond the grounds. There's a cinema in Guildford, and the usual arcades and shopping and stuff, but between you and me it's pretty grim. And there's always London I suppose. But in any case I know this time Richie would just like to spend as much time with you as possible, and here on the estate you are totally shielded from everything, so you can be exactly what you want. You could take the horses out, or use the pool, although Richie can barely swim and is actually terrified of the water. What sort of stuff do you do at home?"
"Well, in the holidays I'm usually helping out on the farm. It doesn't leave an awful lot of time for much else, but I like tinkering with the car or the jeep, watching Star Trek, or playing cricket."
"Richie loves to play too, but he's pretty hopeless."
"I am not!" cried a voice from the door. Then, in a more considered, if slightly cocky, tone, "I just always lacked the opportunity to shine. The standard at prep school was pretty crap, and I'm beginning to fall behind the others physically a bit as well, which put me at a disadvantage."
Brad responded instantly. "Not necessarily - it makes you lighter on your feet and forces you to use the pace of the ball more. We should start indoor net practice a couple of evenings a week once we get back. Why don't you come along?"
"Would they let me?"
"Why the hell not? As long as you're committed to getting better, you're welcome. I'll even give you some personal coaching whenever you like. I do everything: bat, leg spin, and left arm fast."
Richard's eyes lit up. "You're ambidextrous?"
"Naturally lefthanded, but I bowl leg breaks and googlies with my right, and I can throw almost as well with it. My parents always made me use both hands in case I lost one in the machinery."
Mother and son looked thunderstruck.
"That was a joke. It gives me a competitive advantage." Both forced a laugh. "So are you interested?"
"You bet. I can't believe you'd do that for me."
"That's what friends are for. I'll even help you in the water while we're here. Your Mum told me you have a pool in the shed out back."
"You're so good to me Brad," Richard grinned, blushing and happy.
After a good breakfast, both boys scampered back to Richard's room to play computer games for a while, before taking the horses out for a ride all around the Inglewood estate. Brad didn't think anyone outside royalty could own something so big just for fun. There was more land than his parents' own commercial farm back in Kent.
After a light lunch both boys chilled out for a while listening to some music. As they talked the boys discovered they shared a passion for classical music, although they both also liked Sixties stuff and musicals. Brad explained that he had played Tony in West Side Story the previous year in a joint production with Trinity's sister school St Catherine's Girls School ("Known as 'Cats', or less charitably as 'Pussy'", he also explained) and the two of them sang along in a duet of Tonight together, laughing with each other about it afterwards.
Eventually, Richard suggested they hit the pool. Brad hadn't exercised much during the holiday period, and both had eaten too much over the previous few weeks, so they dug out their black and red school-issue Speedos and headed out to the shed. As they got to it, Richard explained that the water was heated all year round and that the structure could be taken down in summer to make it open air. As they got changed in the small hut which formed one end of the temporary building Richard watched his older friend stripping off and smiled. "You know Brad, you must the only guy in the whole school who still wears briefs rather than boxers. What's that all about?"
"My underwear choice is about comfort, not fashion. You're probably not, er, grown enough to appreciate it, but I like a bit of support."
"Yeah, but people must make fun of you."
"Maybe, maybe not."
"Doesn't it bother you? I mean, don't tell anybody this, but I actually prefer briefs too, even though I don't dare wear them at school."
"Richie, don't you get it? Something like this is about being true to yourself. Do you understand what is meant by peer group pressure?" The younger boy nodded. "What you wear under your trousers is really nothing to do with anyone else; stuff at our age doesn't get much more personal than that. Look, if you can't resist peer pressure over this, what kind of chance do you stand over things like smoking and drugs?"
"But no-one respects you if you don't fall in with the crowd." By this time they were at the edge of the water.
"Would you rather have respect from them, or respect from yourself?"
"Right now, that's easy to answer - myself. But when no-one wants to know who you are, it can be very difficult, very lonely, and it's been like that all my life. Sometimes it really sucks."
"I've been like that most of my life too. But I've learned that even one real friend who likes me for who I am is always much better than a thousand who like me for something I'm not."
"How come you are so together? You seem to have the right thing to say about everything."
"Partly because I learn all my values from Star Trek, and partly because I'm four years older than you and have experienced a little more of life, enough to realise that I really don't know much at all. But with each event in my life I learn something new about myself, or about the world around me, and I make myself better from it. In my family, we call it 'growing up'."
"Well, today Brad you are going to learn that water is wet," said Richard, smiling, and he pushed his guest into the pool.
After Brad dished out some playful retribution, the boys horsed around for a while before Brad started to give his friend some pointers on swimming, teaching him to try and skim the surface rather than plough through the water. To help him with his kicking and arm strokes, he held Richard's abdomen from underneath as the younger boy thrashed around. After a few minutes of that, Richard stopped kicking and stood up on the pool floor.
"I think I get the hang of that now."
"OK, let's try the same thing again, but backstroke."
Richard blushed so heavily that he was almost orange. "Um, can we stop for a while? I really can't do backstroke right now."
"Sure you can. I'll hold you again so you can concentrate on the stroke without having to worry about swallowing water."
"No, really I can't," he begged, sounding desperate.
"Why ever not?"
"Oh, this is soooo embarrassing. Something's kinda come up."
"What in the hell are you talking about Richie?"
"Something's come up in my trunks," he admitted with an embarrassed hiss, praying the ground would swallow him whole.
"Oh, I see." Brad wasn't really certain what to say. He sensed a bear trap somewhere around the corner. Then, softly, remembering just how fragile his friend could be: "It happens to everyone."
"Yeah, you said last night. It's still fucking embarrassing though, here of all places. These Speedo things don't leave much to the imagination."
"I promise I won't look." It wasn't until later that Brad thought about exactly when he'd said it last night, and that Richard was supposed to have been asleep.
Brad had wanted to try and see the new Star Trek: Insurrection film at the cinema since he hadn't had much of a chance while at home. Richie was less certain, not being so much of a fan, but agreed to go with him. As they sat down to dinner, Richard asked his mother if she would drive them to Guildford and pick them up afterwards.
"Or you could always come with us," Brad offered as well.
"Why thank you for thinking of me Brad," Zelda said, before turning to her son. "Why can't you be as nice as him?"
"Nobody can!"
Brad chuckled, before reassuring his hostess that there was nothing wrong.
"It's a very kind offer boys, but I have a few loose ends to tie up in the office before things pick up again on Monday. Brad, you have passed your test, haven't you? Why don't you take the car by yourselves."
"Am I insured?"
"It's any driver. But better make that your only drink tonight though," she said as the butler, Saunders, poured him half a glass of claret.
An hour later, Zelda was issuing final instructions to the boys - mainly Richard - about behaving in town, calling if there was a problem and so on. Finally, she turned to Brad and held out the car keys. "Have you ever driven an automatic before?"
"Nope."
"Well, there's no clutch pedal. Just put the gear lever in D for drive to go forward, N for neutral, and R for reverse, and it's just like a dodgem. Well, almost," she added, spotting the smirk creeping across both boys' faces. "Saunders should have left it out at the front. Just be careful if there's any ice about; it's probably a bit more powerful than your Dad's car."
The boys stepped outside. "Shit man, it's a Mercedes S 600."
"Yeah, it's Mum's car."
"But when she came to pick you up at the end of term she was in a big four wheel drive thing."
"Yeah, we have a Toyota 4Runner as well for towing, carrying big loads and general heavy duty stuff around the estate. This is the normal car."
"But it's like powerful enough to light a small town."
"For goodness sake, don't be such a big girl's blouse."
"Cheeky bastard." They got in the car, and Brad looked around the cockpit. "Uh, Rich, where's the handbrake?"
"You let it go with that lever there. Put it on by pressing that tiny pedal on the left."
"I see it." He fired the V12 up and slowly piloted the giant Mercedes around the ornamental fountain before pointing it down the drive, gingerly applying more gas as he got used to the throttle response.
The film, Brad thought, was rather stronger on morals than action and plot, as befitted oddly-numbered films in the franchise.
Richard surprised him as they left the cinema and headed for the car: Brad had thought a thirteen year old non-fan would only be interested in the action. "What Captain Picard did there was the right thing to do wasn't it, even though it was against the rules?"
"Yeah. I think what the film was trying to say can be interpreted at different levels. In many ways, it's about the right of a group of people to what's called self-determination, the right to rule themselves. That's why there's been all the fighting in Bosnia: the Bosnians want to rule for themselves now, but the Serbs still want to rule it as well. But you're absolutely right, it's also about doing the right thing, even if it means the risk of losing everything you have. Like I was trying to tell you in the pool this afternoon, it's about whether you can live with yourself and sleep soundly at night."
They continued to chat idly about the film until they left the town limits and turned onto a deserted country road as they headed back to Inglewood.
Brad turned to Richard and, raising his finger, said in his best Picard voice, "Warp one, engage!" as he hit the accelerator. The big Merc surged forward on its tidal wave of torque, pinning the boys back in their seats. "This is fun!"
Before Brad knew it, he'd just gone over the speed limit on the dial, but the flashing blue police lights came on before he'd even had a chance to slow down. "Shit!" He slowed right down and pulled into a convenient lay-by, powered down the window, and turned off the engine.
"'Ello, 'ello, I've been waiting for someone like you all evening," the burly policeman said as he came to the driver's window.
"I'm sorry Sir. I got here as fast as I could," Brad replied, smiling sheepishly.
"That's the best thing I've heard all day," the policeman said when he finally stopped laughing. You didn't actually break the limit, but I stopped you because you suddenly accelerated so quickly I thought you were either avoiding the law or blind drunk. I can see you're neither."
"Sorry constable, I don't usually get to drive something so powerful. I really just wanted to see what it could do. Thanks for the warning; I'll be more careful in future."
"You'd better get home, it's nearly midnight. Drive carefully, there's some black ice about."
"Thanks, Sir. You be careful too, you never know who you might run into out here. I'm ashamed to say there's a lot of my generation who don't like cops at all, let alone ones enforcing traffic laws. Happy new year."
"You too, boys. See you." He headed back to his Omega patrol car.
"How do you do that?" Richard asked as they pulled away - slowly. "They're like robots around here and you crack a joke with him, then he lets you off!"
"Sparkling wit and natural charm, kiddo. If you treat him like a lump of shit, you'll get the same back. He's a real person though. Best to show him a real person too, not an arsehole."
"Sometimes, I wonder whether anyone in the world is as kind and decent as you."
"Probably, you just have to give them the chance to show it. I'm sure you are, in your own way, when you want to be. Everybody's human, they just need to let their humanity out once in a while."
The boys arrived back at Inglewood at a quarter past midnight, Richard directing them to the multi-car garage off the side of the main building. As he parked up Brad saw an older VW Golf in there, and wondered why they hadn't been given that. The house was silent as they let themselves in and locked the door behind them. They went up to the rooms and paused outside Richard's door.
"Goodnight Brad. Thanks for a great time today. Just being around you makes me feel great, and so, so, alive. It's like you're showing me a whole new world sometimes."
"Nah. It's the same old world out there whether you're with me or not. Sometimes people just need to look in the right direction. Now, you are going to stay in your own bed tonight, aren't you?"
Richard shuffled on his feet, embarrassed. "I suppose so. Goodnight.." He sounded almost disappointed.
Ten minutes later, Brad was on the verge of dropping off to sleep when he heard the door to his room open. Without even turning to look, he scooted to the far side of the bed and held the duvet up. "Come on."
Both lay silent in the double bed for a few minutes before Brad became aware of the very gentlest sobbing sound, almost imperceptible, coming from next to him. Without saying a word he reached over and pulled them both together tightly. Neither of them moved as Richard cried quietly.
Brad desperately wanted to ask what it was that was destroying this warm and gentle soul beside him, but wanted to let Richard proceed at his own pace. Somehow, although he couldn't even articulate it, he knew what was wrong. In the tiny glow of the night light, as his own eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw the terror in his friend's eyes again, that same terror which had cried out all those months earlier when they first met each other.
Eventually, after nearly an hour, Richard spoke through his sniffling. "Brad, you awake?"
"Yeah. Are you OK?"
"Yes and no. In some ways I'm more OK than I've ever been since we met. And yet I'm scared to death."
Brad squeezed him tighter. "I'm here for you."
"I know, and that's kind of what makes it so difficult. Remember how you told me this morning that nothing I said would ever make you take away the support and friendship you are giving me?"
"Yes, I meant every word of it."
"And how it's always best to be honest to myself?"
"Yes."
"Brad, there's something about me I've been trying to hide from everyone all my life, and I think I only ever came to accept it today when you told me those things. Only my Mum knows. But if I'm going to be truthful with you, and with myself, I need to tell you. And it's a biggie. I'm terrified you'll reject me, but if I don't tell you I don't know how much longer I'll be able to live with myself."
"Is it something stupid, intended to hurt, dangerous, illegal, or immoral?"
"I don't think so."
"Then I won't think anything less of you. I promise."
Richard pulled the older boy even tighter to him and closed his eyes, his whole body tensing up. "Brad, I'm gay and I think I'm falling for you."
Brad did not let go, just holding tight as Richie cried them both to sleep.
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