HALLS OF ACADEMIA BY JONAH
This is a work of fiction so be aware that every character herein is also fictitious. If you think you recognise yourself, or somebody else in here - you don't. Some places, and some institutions in here are real, but the people attached to those institutions in the story are not. At least one character is the creation of another author, Jacob Lion, in the USA. My thanks to Jacob for his permission to use his characters in my story.
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Chapter four
The answer came at about three in the morning as a brilliant flash lit the room. There was not much chance that he would sleep through that.
As the thunder rolled, a small body slid in beside me. I lifted him and rolled over so that he lay between myself and Garret. As the next flash lit up the room, he buried his face in my shoulder. I hugged him and could feel Garret doing the same. The crash, when it came, petered out into a roll that died and swelled alternately until it was overtaken by the next flash. At this point I remembered what Jonah always did on these occasions.
Letting go of Lloyd, I slid from the bed and opened the curtains.
"Come on! Come on and look," I urged. "You don't get a free show like this every night and you'll never see anything more beautiful."
Garret swung himself out of bed with the little boy in his arms. At first, the boy's face stayed buried in Garret's shoulder but, as he ventured a sly peep, there was a lurid double-flash. The heavens were rent in twain from somewhere overhead to a point on the horizon then, suddenly, to a different point on the horizon. The houses opposite were sufficiently well-spaced for us to see all this but the houses, and everything else in sight, were, briefly, lit with a pale blue wash.
"You do painting Lloyd," I said. "Do you think you could paint anything as stunning as that?"
As the thunder rolled his mouth was open and his eyes wide. I doubt that we could have forced him to go back to bed if we had wanted to.
The next flash elicited a small, whispered, "wow!" from him as the thunder, which was dying away, swelled in volume again.
A couple more flashes seemed nearer, judging by the volume. As a boy, I had sometimes amused myself by calculating distance by the time elapsed between flash and bang but, with a storm as intense as this, not only was it impossible to tell which bang belonged to which flash, but the rolls of thunder merged together anyway.
Lloyd had developed a fascinated expression.
"I bet Uncle Luke could paint it," he whispered.
"I don't think even Uncle Luke could do it justice," I replied. "You're looking at the work of the greatest artist in the universe."
We certainly were and the artist in question had developed a new special effect by pouring water on the window panes that we were looking through. A couple of fields away, a willow tree burst into lurid light as a brilliant spark leapt to the sky and the loudest crash of all sounded overhead.The flame leapt and died and bits of flaming material burned on the ground for a few seconds until the deluge put them out.
I saw Lloyd tighten his grip on Garret, but he didn't look away for a second.
"Wow!"
I ruffled his hair.
We must have watched for another twenty minutes as the fork lightning gave way to false sheet lightning and the rumbles grew more distant. The rain was almost louder than the thunder.
"I'm going to make some cocoa," I said. "Coming?"
The room was lit by a series of blue flashes as a fire engine turned into the village and raced off down Manor Road. No doubt somebody had phoned in the tree to make sure it was safe. There was not much danger in this downpour but it is in the nature of fire brigades that, if summoned, they attend.
After the heat of the day, it felt cool in our kitchen, but a mug of steaming cocoa soon put us right.
The rain was easing off to a steady trickle by the time we had finished. Needless to say, our little boy was back between Garret and I. He didn't feel brave enough to go back in his own bed yet.
Monday morning, it will not surprise you to learn, did not dawn early for any of us. Actually, it barely dawned at all.
The steady trickle to which the downpour had dwindled last night was the steady trickle that looked to have set in for the day. Consequently, half-past-ten saw us all still cuddled up in bed. It was the doorbell that put paid to that.
"Ignore it. They'll go away" mumbled my partner.
"Ting-tonnnnng, Ting-tonnnnnng!"
"Does that sound like someone who's going away?" I asked.
"Not if they see Lloyd at the window," he conceded, since that was exactly where the boy was.
"It's Uncle Luke," he reported.
I slipped on my dressing gown and went down.
"Can't hang about," said Luke. "I've got to be back in Town for night-shift tonight."
"Earning your copper night-rate?" I ventured.
"Yes mate. The old uns are the best," said Luke. Well I thought it was funny - the first time I heard it - long ago - perhaps he was right.
"Time for a cuppa?"
"Not really. I only popped in because I neglected my duty yesterday."
"You know I didn't mind helping out."
"Not that duty, you idiot. You do realise that the first duty of an uncle is to spoil his nephews and nieces rotten?"
"Hi Uncle Luke."
"Well hi champ!"
It's a good job we got him the green pyjamas. He'd have had no compunction about coming down naked otherwise. Presumably Garret was getting dressed, but no such consideration seemed to be bothering Lloyd.
"These are for you," said Luke, handing over a W.H.Smith carrier bag.
"Haven't you got a kiss for your uncle?" I asked, knowing full well that Luke would cringe at the thought but wouldn't dare let it show.
""Oh yes," said the boy, as if he had overlooked it and promptly reached his arms up to Luke who obediently lifted him from the floor. As soon as he was within reach Lloyd landed the sloppiest kiss I have ever seen square on his uncle's lips. For a second I thought my prank had backfired. I could see the kiss developing further and, believe me, no foster parent likes to see their charge getting into the habit of exchanging French kisses with unwary policemen.
I needn't have worried. Luke set the boy on his bare feet again and, pointing to me, said,
"Make sure you look after him and Garret. Somebody's got to keep an eye on them. See you later Lloyd."
With that, he was gone, though Lloyd was at the window waving him off.
I poured some water into a saucepan and reached into the fridge for the milk.
"Aren't you going to see what Uncle Luke brought you?" I asked - admittedly, as curious as he.
He sat on the sofa and delved into the bag.
Onto the cushion beside him he carefully stacked two largish sketch blocks, a set of oil pastels, a North Norfolk Railway Handbook, and an Ian Allan combined volume. The latter had a piece of paper stuck in it.
"I've got Uncle Luke's address somewhere," I said. "You'll want to write to him to say thank you for that lot."
"I don't think so," he said, handing me the piece of paper. "He wants us to go and see him."
Garret put in an appearance, fully dressed.
"Porridge for breakfast," I told him.
"Sounds good," he said. "Lloyd go and get yourself a shower and get dressed properly. You can take your things up with you. They belong in your room - not on the sofa."
"Yes Dad," said the boy.
"Good boy!" returned Garret.
As soon as the boy had disappeared my partner had his arms around me from behind. I leaned back into him.
"Mmmmmm, smells good," he remarked.
"Me or the porridge?"
"You didn't get a shower this morning - breakfast."
"It's porridge Garret. Get over it," I said, breaking free from his grasp.
"Not that my lover doesn't always smell good," he added, belatedly.
"Too late Garret," I smirked.
"I suppose that's going to cost me."
"Mmmm-Hmm!"
"What is it going to cost me?"
"I'll think of something," still smirking.
"Promises, promises," he moaned collapsing onto the sofa.
The telephone rang.
"Saved by the bell," I commented as I lifted the handset.
"One, four, two, one," I told it.
"I must have pressed all the right buttons," said my brother. "Just checking you're in bro."
"Hi Pete," I replied. "Yes, we're here. I don't know what it's doing in Colchester but a blue whale just swam past the living room window."
"Not much better here," he said. "We'll see you in a little over an hour if that's OK."
"We'll look forward to it," I told him.
Garret did not look happy as I hung up.
"Is he bringing the wicked witch of the East?" he asked.
""He said "we" so I expect so," I replied. "I could hardly tell him not to."
I bounded up the stairs and arrived on the landing just as a naked Lloyd left the bathroom. Even with wet hair he looked pretty good.
"Dressed! - There's more visitors coming," I told him as I locked myself in the bathroom, giving him no chance to ask any questions.
An hour later Garret was puttting the finishing touches to dinner. He had a huge cottage pie in the oven and was warming up some vegetables to go with it. These consisted of broccolli and leeks, since the pie already contained onions and carrots. Lloyd, in the meantime, was occupying himself in his room.
Garret had just decanted the vegetables into serving dishes when the doorbell rang.
I opened the door before he could ring again so Pete ushered Adam into the room.
"Hiya! You're just in time. Garret's just serving up dinner," I told them.
"No thank you. We've already eaten," said Marion, appearing behind them.
Pete looked embarrassed so I said,
"Well, if you're sure, we can have ours later."
Pete jumped in at that.
"No, you can't do that. Go ahead and...."
"Peter," Marion was in foot-putting-down mode, "If Simon says he doesn't wish to eat, then he doesn't. I expect he thinks he's going upstairs with Adam."
I certainly wasn't rising to that.
"Marion, my love," I told her, "if you wish to go upstairs, please feel free to do so. I've only just come down and I think Lloyd is coming down, but I'm sure you'll be able to amuse yourself up there."
I think it was the smile on my face that did it, rather than the words. Certainly something snapped and what little reserve she had brought with her departed forthwith.
"Are you going to let your so-called brother speak to me like that?" she hissed at her husband.
I saw Lloyd, halfway down the stairs, change his mind and head back up again.
"Marion, speak to you like what?" Pete said quietly. "He only gave you permission to go upstairs if you want."
"Why would I want to go up there?" she snapped.
"I've no idea. It was you who first mentioned it."
"Oh you would take his side. Some husband you are. If it wasn't...."
There was a loud crash. Adam, who was standing by the dining table had contrived to knock a dinner plate to the floor. All eyes turned to him. The poor child was quivering with fear.
As I put out a hand to reassure him, Marion siezed him by his other arm and pulled him to her side in a manner that barely stopped short of dislocating something.
"Take your hands off him," she screamed.
"Garret," I said quietly, "I think we need the police.
"No need, we're going," she snapped as she attempted to drag her son to the door. She only succeeded in dragging him off his feet, causing her to start slapping him.
"Get up you lousy brat. You'd stay here if I let you. You're not hurt. Ow! Get off me you brute.".
This last was to Peter who had taken hold of her arm and body-thrown her onto the sofa. He quickly sat down on her to immobilise her. She fulminated and hyperventilated as Garret spoke to his phone.
As she was immobilised I took the opportunity to have a look at her son. He was showing signs of a black eye and his lower lip was cut. I suspected, from the way that he held his arm, that his right shoulder was dislocated.
Marion seemed to regain enough composure to speak lucidly. Well, lucidly for her anyway.
"I'll be divorcing you for this" she grated, "and you needn't think you bunch of queers are getting your hands on Adam either. Now get off of me. I'm going home."
"You're not going anywhere," said Garret quietly. "The police say nobody is to leave before they've spoken to us. If you attempt to leave here, there will be a warrant out for your arrest."