Whiteout

Whiteout by Jonah

Those who have read my previous stories will need no introduction to Simon and Garret and their family. Those who haven't - why not? This is the latest in the series that began a couple of years back with "A Letter from America" and it fits in right after "Christmas in New England". If you haven't read the others, don't worry. It will stand on its own. It is a story of love - the real sort. Some of its characters are gay, though that doesn't matter. They are good people. They are not, however, real people. This is a work of fiction and every character is also a fiction - created by me, except for Garret, who was created by Jacob Lion, in the USA. I want to thank Jacob for permitting me to use his characters. This story is brought to you, free of charge, by Nifty. Nifty brings all these stories to you free of charge and he doesn't charge us authors either. The cost is borne by himself and our donations. To keep this site going please consider donating to Nifty at https://donate.nifty.org/

chapter 5

We were late sleepers on Sunday morning. There was no question of going to Church, even supposing it had been possible for a service to take place. There was a service on the television, with which we all joined in. Going out wasn't possible anyway.

After the service I rang the hospital to see if there was any news of Ross' mother. There wasn't but that was good news. The doctors were pleased with her progress, but she would still be comatose for some time. I passed that news on to Ross. After his sterling work yesterday, he seemed a very grown-up fourteen year old.

Nobody would be leaving the house. The snow still kept coming in flurries and a layer of it at least two foot thick lay on the ground. The wind had sprung up during the night and a lot of drifting had taken place. Traffic was non-existant and, as far as I was concerned, my car would be staying put.

Now snow in New England had been exciting for the boys. There were several reasons why the same did not apply to snow in Newton St. Faith. The biggest reason, of course, was that the snow in New England was somebody else's snow. It was inconveniencing somebody else. It was not frightening because their everyday lives would still be there when they got home. Snow on their own doorteps, however, was threatening. In any case, it was too deep to be of any use for building snowmen. Anybody trying to create a snow-angel would be doing it sub-surface.

"I want to go out for a walk."

"Go on then Barry. We'll still be here when you get back."

"Huh!"

"Well I don't know what I'm supposed to say. You can see that going for a walk is impossible. Didn't you want me to pretend it isn't?"

"I hate snow."

"Except when it's in America."

"I wish this snow was in America."

I sat on the settee next to him and put an arm round his shoulder."

"I'm sure the Americans have plenty of snow of their own. They don't need ours."

He brushed off my arm.

"Get off me fag."

My immediate reaction to that was to put my arm back around his shoulder and tell him that we didn''t use that word in this house and I certainly didn't want it addressing to me. I didn't do any of that.

I didn't do it because the boy wasn't there. He vanished at the moment the offending word left his lips. He was standing on tip-toe with the front of his sweatshirt in Garret's grip and his face an inch or so from that of my lover. Garret's face looked as if an explosion was about to take place, but none did. Garret's quiet words were more lethal than any explosion.

"If I ever again," he breathed through gritted teeth, "hear that word under this roof, I will personally show you what it means, and I don't care for how long I go to prison for it. Now get upstairs to your room and stay there."

The boy was trembling but he didn't move.

"I know what it means," he said sullenly.

"GO, " roared Garret. Every other boy in the room commenced an inspection of his own toes. I forced myself not to do the same.

Without another word the boy turned and stomped up the stairs. I half expected him to slam the bedroom door, but he was obviously too scared of Garret to do that. Garret headed for the kitchen and I followed.

"Daddy...."

"It's alright Lloyd. Go on with your picture."

"Do you want me to...."

"Thanks Ross, but best not."

"I suppose you think I was too hard on him," growled Garret as soon as we were alone in the kitchen.

"No, you saved me a job," I replied. "We're playing good cop- bad cop, and it looks like you just chose your part."

He leaned back on the refrigerator and closed his eyes.

"Fuck!" he said quietly.

"Yes, you threatened to do that too. That's one of the things I'll have to sort out, but not for a few minutes. Now, would you like a cup of tea?"

He nodded silently.

"Good, I'll get the boys some juice. You frightened them more than you did Barry."

"I'm sorry."

"It's the boys you need to apologise to but, between you and me, I don't think they want you to. They think Barry was out of line too."

Once I had settled everybody with a drink I placed my own on the mantlepiece and tiptoed up the stairs. Barry hadn't closed the door but just pushed it to. I knocked and entered.

He was sat on Lloyd's bed - his face stained with tears.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed.

"Do you want Garret to go to prison?" I asked him

He shook his head.

"Well you know what not to do again then. Do you want me to go to prison?"

"I don't want anyone to go to prison," he muttered through his tears.

"Not even the reverend Rathmore?" I queried, "because he already has and - to be honest - he should."

"Do you think that's why I did that?"

"Do you?"

Another shake of the head.

"No," I agreed. "The reverend Rathmore has done some very naughty things. That's why he's in prison but, this morning, it was you that was naughty. What you said, you said - it wasn't anybody else."

"Sorry."

"I know you are Barry. Do you think you should be punished for what you did?"

He stood and crossed to the bunk bed and crawled underneath it. When he came out he had picked up a bamboo cane which he handed to me. I recognised the cane because Garret had used it to train some green beans at the bottom of the garden, but I didn't know one of them had been brought into the house. I was curious as to why, but that was a conversation for another time. I looked into his tear-filled eyes, or tried to. Since my own eyes were tear-filled too, it wasn't possible. Instead I simply broke the stick over my knees.

"Barry," I said as well as I could, "nobody in this house will ever use that on you or anyone. At Easter we are taking you boys to the railway, except for you. You will have school-work to do. Do you think you deserve that?"

"I don't even know why I said it."

"But you said it, and I know why."

"Why."

"Because it is snowing, and it didn't have your permission. It dared to snow without consulting Barry Close. How dare it? You were angry with the weather, because it was stopping you from doing what you wanted to, but you were smart enough to realise that the weather never takes any notice of you, so you chose to be angry with me instead. You do need to be punished you know. Because we love you, you will be punished.

"I know," he replied. "Thank you."

I ruffled his hair as I stood up.

"Dinner will be served up in quarter of an hour, " I told him. "In ten minutes the boys will be up to wash their hands. You need to wash your face as well. Oh, and by the way - you remember what Garret said about showing you what that word means? You do know that that will never happen don't you?"

"Does he have to do school-work instead of going to the trains?"

"Cheeky monkey. Don't you worry - I'll find a way of punishing Garret."

In spite of the snow we were able to enjoy a good Sunday Dinner. I had cooked the Yorkshire pudding around the joint and had steamed the carrots and green beans over the cabbage. Spotted Dick and custard followed and Ross, blessed boy, mashed tea for the adults to drink while he organised the boys in washing up. That left Garret and I alone in the lounge.

"Well?" Garret queried.

"Yes thank you - yourself?"

"You know very well what I'm talking about."

"Oh I got an apology. You know we're at the railway at Easter."

"I do."

"Well Barry isn't. We agreed that he needed to be punished so he'll be staying here and doing schoolwork."

"He agreed to that?"

"Oh yes, and you threatened to rape him. He'd like to know what your punishment will be for that."

"You, what?"

"Guess who'll be here supervising Barry's school-work."

"Simon, that's not funny."

"No, but it's fair. You thought, perhaps, that he'd stay here on his own?"

"No but, now that their parents have started punishing each other, you'd better keep your nose squeaky-clean lover."

I grinned.

"I'm content to take my chances," I said.

It was Garret's turn to grin.

"Don't you worry, I'll...."

There was the urgent sound of a car horn from outside and then a tremendous smash. The rending of metal combined with the tinkle of glass, followed by a collapse. I rushed to the kitchen door and pulled it shut.

"Stay in there boys," I called. The big picture window at the front had shattered but, with the curtains being drawn, not a lot of glass had penetrated into the room. Garret had pushed the settee over backwards and so afforded himself some protection as well as speeding my dash to the kitchen door. The step and pillar of the front porch had prevented the vehicle from coming too far but, by drawing the curtain aside, I could see that the collapse of bricks onto the roof had flattened it. I could not even guess what make of car it had been. I saw Garret drag what was left of the driver's door open and reach under the roof. He withdrew the ignition key. I raised an inqisitive eyebrow.

"Not conscious. Can't even tell if he's living," he said.

"Let's join the boys," I said.

Once we were in the kitchen, Garret had his phone in his hand.

"All three," he told it.

After a second he said, "RTA. One, four, zero Newton Road, Newton. Vehicle smashed through front of house. Driver unconscious and trapped. Occupants of house all OK but at risk. Staying put for the present."

He listened for a moment.

"There's a field behind the house but it's ploughed. Chopper could tip. You'd be safer with the one to the North of the road.......... Fair enough, you've got my number."

He put his phone in his pocket and turned to me.

"Next job is to grab the laundry basket and empty it on the floor in here," he said.

"Garret, I understand perfectly what you're planning to do but the boys might not have grasped it."

He obviously had still not forgiven me because he just said,

"Perhaps you'd like to explain it to them."

Two could play at that game.

"No, no. It's your brain-child. I'll let you take all the credit."

"Boys, our coats are all in the hall, but it's not safe to go in there. It's also not safe to go outside without extra clothing. We need to go through the laundry to find anything at all that we can add to our clothes to help keep us from freezing. It doesn't matter what it is if it will help keep you alive.

Well we donned a pretty eclectic mix of clothing and bundled ourselves up as well as we could. Then we slipped out the back door and, pushing against the snow, made our way round to the street.

Sirens could be heard in the distance but they would take a while to get to us. A few people were on the street.

"Are you all alright?" asked old Mrs. Briggs from across the road.

"Yes thank you Mrs. Briggs," I told her, "but the driver of that car isn't."

"Daft trying to drive in this anyway," she commented.

Thinking back to yesterday, I decided not to answer.

As the first fire engine appeared in the street, we could hear the unmistakable sound of a helicopter.