Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons alive or dead is coincidental. The venue is fictional and any resemblance to actual bases, locations, is coincidental.
This story takes place in 1976 Canada and reflects the mores, traditions, customs, etc., of the times. I urge all of those who read this story to remember that what is "politically correct" today, was not thought of back then. If you are Lib-Left, politically correct and have jumped on the bandwagons of whatever causes are the fads of the month, please do not continue past this point. This also applies the so-called "Religious" Right and "Moral" Majority. I respectfully remind you that the "Good Book" also contains proscriptions, restrictions, dos and don'ts that I don't see or hear any of you thumping bibles about. Write me, I'll be glad to give you some excellent web sites. To all the anti-this and anti-that, Bible Thumpers, Libertarians and the ACLU, the bankrupt and increasingly irrelevant United Nations, please do not send me e-mails espousing whatever cause you're touting. I have no time for claptrap.
As this work contains scenes of explicit sexual acts of a homosexual nature, if such erotica offends you, please move on to a tamer site. If your mainstay in life is Bible-thumping cant, please move on. If you are not of legal age to read, possess or download writings of an erotic nature, or if possession, reading, etc., is illegal where you live, please move on.
This story is written in an age without worry, and as such unprotected sex is practiced exclusively. I urge all of you to NEVER engage in sexual acts without proper protection. The life you save will be your own.
I will respond to all e-mails (except flames). I enjoy hearing from my readers. Please contact me at my home address: paradegi@rogers.com
My thanks, as always, to Peter, whom I egregiously insulted in Posting 29. HE is a wonderful editor and can only say that the typo gremlins do sneak in from time to time and that the sex change was not authorized.
The Boys Of Aurora - Chapter 31
As soon as the parade was dismissed the senior cadets left the parade square and walked to the area set aside for the Garden Party where they were expected to mingle with the guests. The Phantom and his stewards (all in full stewards rig, and pacified with the promise of a beer bash after the mucky mucks went ashore), were serving at the garden party, passing trays of sandwiches and hors d'oeuvres, small desserts and glasses of iced tea. The catering staff passed trays of premixed drinks: sherry, gin and tonic, and whiskey and soda. The beer bar was, as expected, busy, and The Phantom had promised that when the last of the guests took their leave, the stewards would have a small private party in the galley lounge. He felt that the stewards, who seemed to be doing most of the work, deserved a party as much as, if not more than, the guests did.
Chef flitted between the garden party, where he was expected to mingle but spent most of his time bitching about the amateurish show put on by the caterer and his staff, and the Mess Hall, where table after table had been laden with monster trays of sandwiches, cold salads, cakes, cookies, pies, puddings and ices, all of which hopefully would stem the cadets' pangs of hunger until the barbecue, which was to be held later in the evening.
In the galley Ray and Sandro, their medals pinned to their cooks whites, prepared the ribs, chops, steaks and sausages that would be served at the beach party. Randy and Joey, with their medals all but riveted to their shirts, were lording it over the Litany until Chef caught them and smacked their bottoms with a wooden spoon.
Todd and Cory, immaculate in their white uniforms and stunningly handsome, chatted with the guests, answered innumerable inane questions, smiled, bowed, and pretended that they were enjoying themselves. Harry, a true Plebeian, and not one to mix in with the mucky mucks, basked in the praise the Band had garnered and hovered near the beer bar cadging cold ones from Laurence and Noel. Sean, with no gift for small talk, was ill at ease and nervous, his eyes never leaving the blond-haired boy he adored. Associate Justice Arundel also kept a weather eye on his sons. He was bursting with pride and he could not keep his eyes off of the medals that adorned his boys' chests. He was also perplexed and annoyed with his sons and wondered what tale they would concoct to explain their black eyes.
In a small tent near the edge of the area set aside for the garden party Mrs. Arundel sat at one end of a long table and poured tea from the Admiral's Service. At the other end of the table Mrs. Commanding Officer poured from her own service, quietly hoping that the guests would go home so she could take off her girdle, put her feet up and have a good stiff drink of something stronger than tea!
Cory saw Sean standing nervously alone and walked over to him. "Are you all right?" he asked as his hand unconsciously reached up to pat Sean's medal. He smiled softly and gazed into Sean's hazel eyes. "I love you, and I want you to stay calm."
Sean nodded slowly. "I am trying, Cory, but the thought of meeting your parents is daunting."
Cory laughed quietly. "They don't bite, Sean. In fact, I think that they're pretty neat. You'll like them and I know that they will like you." He gave Sean's arm a squeeze. "Just please, do not go into your robot act! Just be yourself and you'll do fine."
"Cory, I am a bundle of nerves! I do not know if I can handle being introduced to your parents. What if they do not approve of me? Or think that I am not good enough for you? What if . . ."
"What if, what if what? They will like you and they will accept you," interrupted Cory with a loving smile. "Don't sell yourself short and just be yourself." He grinned a wicked, rascally grin. "Just be the Sean you were last night and . . ."
"Cory! They do not have to know that we . . . we . . ." Sean was sputtering and his face had reddened.
"They won't," replied Cory, his voice calm and even. "Mummy and Papa might know that I've been with you, but they would never mention it in any way. There are certain things that are never discussed and my sex life is one of them. All they will know is that I am introducing someone to them that I care a great deal about." He looked evenly at his lover. "My parents are not stupid, Sean, and will know what you mean to me. I have never brought a boy to them, Sean. I think that they will twig that you mean something very special to me."
"You have never brought a boy home?"
Cory snickered. "Well, yes, I have. But they were boys my parents already knew, or boys I went to school with. You are the first young man that I have brought to meet them in a formal way."
At those words Sean's face went white. "Cory! Do you mean to tell me that you have never . . .?"
"Nope. As the Old Man said, today is a day of firsts. You are the first young man I have ever wanted to bring home."
"Am I supposed to ask your father for your hand?" asked Sean with a small laugh. He found Cory's offhand demeanour infectious. "Should I present to him a statement from my solicitor outlining my finances, or perhaps a letter from my doctor attesting that I am free of communicable diseases, spavins and heaves?"
"Don't be silly," returned Cory, matching Sean's laugh. "You already have my hand, and my heart."
Sean's eyes softened and glistened with tears. "Cory, I love you so much."
Cory's fingertips caressed Sean's lips. "I know." He reached out and gave Sean's hand a squeeze. "Now we will go and meet my mother." He gestured toward the small tea tent. "I hope you like tea. Mummy will offer you a cup."
"And your father?"
Cory snickered. "Papa prefers scotch." He looked around and saw The Phantom offering a tray of sandwiches to the Admiral and Fred. "Sean, I have to speak with Phantom for one minute and then we'll meet Mummy."
Sean nodded and watched as Cory hurried off. He saw Cory say something to Phantom, who nodded and grinned. When Cory returned to his side Sean asked, "What was that all about?"
Cory grinned. "Just setting the stage for you," he replied enigmatically. "Now, come on."
Mrs. Arundel was bored, although her demeanour would never show it. She had a fixed smile on her face and poured tea and offered Eccles cake and Queen Alexandra sandwiches with long-practised grace. She was desperate for a good snort of something potent and was about to relinquish her place at the table to the Executive Officer's wife when Cory, with a not bad looking, red-haired young man at his side, approached. She knew immediately that her son was up to something. Both her sons were casual in their friendships and rarely made a point of introducing their friends except in a most offhand manner. Her instincts told her that the young man approaching the tea tent was, however, someone who was very special to Cory. As Cory and his young man drew closer Mrs. Arundel rose, and smiled her most gracious smile.
Cory reached out and took his mother's hand in his. He kissed it and then leaned forward and kissed his mother on her right cheek. It was a small, loving ritual he performed whenever he had been away from his mother for a lengthy period of time. "Hello, Mummy," he murmured as he drew away.
Sean saw a tall woman, faultlessly dressed in a sensible, delicate green ensemble. She was, as were many of the other ladies present, wearing a hat, which framed her oval face. Around her neck was a strand of what Sean suspected were real pearls. Pinned to the left shoulder of her dress was a discreet emerald and diamond brooch. Mrs. Arundel's voice was soft, gentle, and full of love as she returned Cory's greeting. "And who is this?" she asked, turning to Sean and holding out her hand. For some reason Cory blushed, which Mrs. Arundel thought charming and led her to feel more certain that the young man was something more than just a casual friend.
"Mummy, I would like you to meet Sean Anders," said Cory, a trace of nervousness in his voice. "He is a good friend."
Mrs. Arundel did not fail to notice Cory's nervousness and smiled. She beamed at Sean. "A very good friend, I think," Mrs. Arundel said as she shook Sean's hand.
Sean smiled weakly. His nervousness had returned. "I am very pleased to meet you, ma'am," he said, his voice almost a whisper. His eyes met Mrs. Arundel's gaze. "And Cory is very special to me." If Cory wanted openness and honesty, he was about to get it.
Mrs. Arundel returned Sean's smile and motioned toward the chairs that lined the length of the table. "Perhaps you would care to join me in a cup of tea?" she asked gently. Then she looked directly at Cory. "While Cory seeks out his father and explains how he, and his brother, came to have such wonderfully bruised faces."
"Mummy!"
"Go away Cory," ordered Mrs, Arundel. "Your father needs a drink and if this young man is as special to you as I believe him to be, I want to meet with him without you hovering about." She reached out and took Sean's hand. "Now then, Chief Anders, you sit down and we'll have a nice talk."
Sean sat down while Cory, much against his better judgement and deliberately avoiding his father, withdrew ten or so yards away to the beer bar, where he joined Harry and took up a position to keep an eye on his mother.
"He is looking at us, is he not?" asked Mrs. Arundel as she poured Sean a cup of tea and then offered him a dainty sandwich.
Sean's eyes slid obliquely and he saw Cory staring back at him. "Yes, ma'am, he is, and I do not think that he has any intention of moving."
Mrs. Arundel laughed a low, tinkling laugh. "We will let him stew a bit, I think," she said with a smile. "Both he and his brother have been fighting again?"
Sean nodded slowly. Yes, ma'am." He swallowed hard and looked evenly at Mrs. Arundel. "They had a difference of opinion yesterday morning. I am afraid that I was the difference of opinion that they were fighting about."
Mrs. Arundel's right eyebrow rose slightly. "Was Todd being protective again?" Sean nodded. "Todd has a tendency to overreact when it comes to Cory," said Mrs. Arundel reflectively. "He has done so for many years."
"I would never hurt Cory, ma'am," said Sean.
The emotion in Sean's voice caused Mrs. Arundel to give him a curious look. She now knew that Cory's relationship with this nervous young man was very deep. "You love my son, do you not?" she asked warmly, her eyes searching Sean's face.
"More than life," was Sean's firm reply. "I hope to spend the rest of my life with him." He carefully placed his cup of untouched tea on the table. "In that hope I am prepared to risk the opprobrium of my family, to risk any hope of a career in the Navy, and my education." He saw the startled look on Mrs. Arundel's face. "I have been in love with Cory for three years. I am fully aware of the barriers that will be placed in our way. My family, my father in particular, will never approve of or accept my being . . ." He looked around to make certain that he was in no danger of being overheard. "My family will not accept my being homosexual or in a relationship with Cory." His fingers formed a fist. "I love Cory, Mrs. Arundel, and my father will disown me outright when he is told." He shrugged ruefully. "My mother is as bad. She will never accept me for who I am, for what I am."
A concerned look crossed Mrs. Arundel's face. "Sadly, Sean, that happens far too frequently." She looked at Sean searchingly. "Are you certain of your feelings?"
Sean nodded briskly. "Cory is my life! Without him I will not have a life. If my parents are not prepared to accept him, or me being with him, then so be it."
Mrs. Arundel sensed the steel behind Sean's words. This boy was no pushover and was just the person she hoped that Cory would find. She nodded and stood up. "Cory's father and I will do everything we can to help you and Cory. If you would be kind enough to give me your arm I shall introduce you to my husband."
The Phantom had taken Cory's hurried request and turned it into a small banquet. With Matt's help he had set up the Gunroom table and when the Arundels and Sean arrived in the Staff Barracks they found the table set with a linen cloth, glasses, a silver bucket containing a bottle of champagne, a separate bucket with a bottle of very good white wine, trays of sandwiches and canapés, a crystal bowl of ice and, much to Justice Arundel's delight, a bottle of Glenfiddich.
After Todd opened and poured the wine with a dexterity that surprised even himself, everyone held a drink and sat down. As there were no chairs, Cory and Sean sat on Cory's bunk, Todd and his mother on Todd's bed, and Justice Arundel, as pater familas, on the bench that flanked the table.
Justice Arundel looked at his family, and the boy who gave promise of becoming the newest addition to that family. He smiled when he saw that Cory had slipped his hand into Sean's. Then he frowned at his sons. He cleared his throat and said, "Before we discuss Cory's future domestic arrangements, I think an explanation with regard to certain bumps and bruises is in order."
Cory and Todd began to stammer a simultaneous explanation. Sean interrupted them. "They were fighting over me. Todd felt that I was taking advantage of Cory. Cory disagreed."
Justice Arundel hid a smile. "I have yet to meet the man, or boy, who can take advantage of Cory," he said dryly. He cast a cold glare at Todd. "I understand your feelings, Todd. However, violence with your brother has never resolved anything." He reached out and took Todd's chin in his hand. "Right hook?" he asked kindly.
Todd nodded. "I was stupid, Papa, and I misread Sean. Cory quite rightly took exception to my words and well . . ."
Holding up his hand Justice Arundel allowed a small grin to crease his handsome features. "Todd, I have lived with you for more than seventeen years and I think that I know you well enough to know that what you did was motivated out of concern for your brother's welfare." He cast a quick glance at his wife and continued on. "What happened in Stanley Park was not your fault. Nor was it Cory's." He took a sip of his scotch. "In a way, I am pleased that you feel so protective towards your brother. On the other hand, it is time that you let Cory be."
"I know, Papa," murmured Todd in reply.
"Good." Justice Arundel fixed his gaze on Sean. "As for you, young man, while Todd might back water, I shall not. Cory is my son, and while there are those who question my sanity when I admit his paternity publicly, I do admit it and I am very protective of him." Sean knew better than to interrupt and sat quietly, listening as Cory's father continued. "Cory is of an age when he knows what he wants. I try to guide him, as any father would. But, as I am sure you know, Cory can be . . ."
"Stubborn, pig-headed, obstreperous?" interjected Todd.
Justice Arundel gave Todd a look that discouraged any further remarks. "The point I am making, Sean, is that I do love my sons and I want what is best for them. I would also want them to be happy. Can you make Cory happy?"
Sean was about to blurt out that he already had, last night, but caught himself in time. "I know I can, sir," he said simply and firmly. "It will not be easy, for a number of reasons. My parents will not approve of my relationship with Cory. There is also the social climate. The government might not intrude in our bedroom, but there are many others who will."
Justice Arundel nodded his silent agreement. "The social climate, as you call it, is not about to improve any time soon. Are you certain that you want to live a life that is essentially one of ridicule and disdain?"
Sean squeezed Cory's hand. "I will do whatever I must to make Cory happy. So long as Cory is at my side I can stand anything. As for the others, those who think ill of us, well, I can only say that I have a reply, which I cannot repeat in front of a lady. I will say that it involves a horse!"
Chuckling, Justice Arundel said, "I am familiar with the phrase. I have used it myself on occasion."
Mrs. Arundel giggled. "And I have thought it."
Both Cory and Todd stared at their mother; their mouths open in shock. "Mummy!" Todd managed to say. The very idea that their mother would know of such a disgusting phrase, much less think it, was almost beyond their comprehension.
"Well I have!" returned Mrs. Arundel. "I just have not said it." She leaned across the gap between the two bunks and caressed Sean's cheek. "You seem a nice young man, Sean. I believe that Cory will be happy with you."
"So do I," growled Cory. "Everybody seems to have an opinion so I want to express mine!"
"Now, Cory . . ." Sean squeezed Cory's hand again.
Cory shook off Sean's hand. "Now listen, all of you," he began. "I want to be with Sean. He wants to be with me. We are not going to set up house, or anything like that, for some time. Sean has to finish his education and so do I. We may stay together; we may not. I cannot foretell the future. All I know is that I want to try. I know how Sean feels about me, and he knows how I feel about him." He looked at his father and smiled fondly. "I know you want the best for me, Papa."
Justice Arundel nodded. "I have always wanted you to be happy, Cory, and now that I have met your young man, I think that I speak for your mother and myself when I say we will do everything we can to ensure that happiness. Sean will always be welcome in our home and it goes without saying that there will be no restrictions imposed on you, Sean, or your relationship with our son, by me."
Mrs. Arundel spoke up. "It will not be easy for either of you, Cory dear. There are people who will not approve and who will be most vocal in that disapproval."
"The horse is back," replied Cory with a grin. He sobered. "Let certain people disapprove. I really could care less what those people think about my being gay, or Todd or Sean being gay. Everybody here knows about Todd and me. They don't care."
"And the world outside is getting better, Papa," put in Todd. "People are tired of being told who they can, or cannot love, or be friends with. We, boys like us, have friends." He cast a sly glance at Cory. "Powerful friends."
"Really?" drawled the Justice in reply. He took a small sip of his scotch. "Powerful friends?"
Todd nodded. "The Gunner told us about the Order, Papa. He wants us to become members and help him fight for our rights."
"We have to help him, Papa, and we want you to tell us what you can about the Order," said Cory. "We just can't sit by and let people put us down because of what we are. It's about time we fought back. We know that you are a member and we want you to help us make the right decision."
Justice Arundel glanced at the large, gold and ruby ring he wore on his right ring finger and arched an eyebrow. Perhaps it was time for the boys to know . . . He peered into his glass of scotch as if looking for answers. He smiled slightly and regarded his sons. He had never doubted that they were fighters. Perhaps the Order was just the thing for them. He nodded his head in agreement. "I would be very happy if all three of you boys became members. The Order needs young blood because the crusade the Order is about to embark on will be long. I doubt that I shall see anything approaching equality in my lifetime." He pointed to Todd, Cory and Sean in turn. "You, however, will."
The three boys exchanged curious glances. Sean was hearing about the Order for the first time, and wanted to hear more. Any organization that would help him stay with Cory interested him. The Twins, who knew that their father was privy to government policy and information, wanted to know why their father thought that they would see equality in their lifetime. All three boys started talking at once.
Justice Arundel laughed and held up his hands. "Now boys, I know that you are all curious as to what I know. And I will tell you. However, since we have a perfectly good bottle of champagne, I think we should toast your medals." He beamed at Todd and nodded toward the unopened bottle of champers. "Todd, will you do the honours?"
Todd grumbled a bit but did as he was told. He plucked the bottle of champers from the bucket and, after removing the decorative gold foil from the neck of the bottle, expertly removed the wire about the neck, then thumbed the cork out of the bottle of champagne. Soon all five of them held flutes of golden wine. Justice Arundel made a small toast to the three boys, smiling at their impatience. He congratulated them on the honours they had received and expressed the hope that they would gain in maturity, which they would need in the coming years.
Once again the boys exchanged glances. Cory, as usual, was the first to express his complete ignorance of what his father was talking about. "Papa, you're talking in riddles. I know that there are some things you can't tell us, which is fine. What I don't understand is what our maturity, or lack of it, has to do with what you're not telling us!" Then he realized what was behind his father's gibe. Trying to beat the shit out of your brother was hardly a mark of maturity. He blushed furiously. Todd kept his silence for unlike Cory he knew exactly what his father was talking about. He grinned sheepishly at Cory.
Justice Arundel, while enjoying the boys' discomfiture, finally sat down again. "Insofar as the Order is concerned, Sean, we will have a long discussion later this evening, after dinner."
"We will?" asked Cory.
"I don't recall my saying that 'we' included you two miscreants," returned Justice Arundel sternly. "I assumed that your conduct yesterday morning resulted in some sort of disciplinary action and that neither of you would be free to socialize."
Todd looked uncomfortable and squirmed a bit while he explained how he and Cory had been confined to the ship, and then that the Commanding Officer had cancelled all punishment. "So you see, Papa," he concluded," "we can go ashore with you."
Justice Arundel muttered something about certain Twins needing a good hiding and Naval justice not being what it used to be and then fixed his gaze on the boys. "Well, dinner then, but you will come right back here afterward. And while the Commanding Officer might have used the Royal Prerogative, I shall not. When you return home you will be under fourteen days stoppage of leave." His look forestalled any argument. "Sean may visit, but only on the weekend and there will be no slumber party!"
The Twins knew better than to try to change their father's mind. Cory smiled weakly at Sean, who grinned back and said, "It is only for two weeks. I think that you will survive." He shrugged sympathetically.
The Twins also knew better than to appeal to a higher court. Their mother rarely interfered when her husband was disciplining her boys. Mrs. Arundel smiled sweetly at her sons and then looked at her husband. "We should be getting back, dear."
Justice Arundel nodded. "Before we go, I think I should tell the boys about something that just might make their lives a little easier in the future and affect their choice of careers."
"We agreed, Bertie, that we would let the boys make up their own minds about what they would read at university," replied Mrs. Arundel. She thought a moment. "Still, perhaps you are right."
"I am only going to tell them, Catherine. What they do with what I tell them is up to them." He turned and saw the inquisitive faces and began speaking. "The Prime Minister, who is a fool . . ." Justice Arundel was the soul of kindness and never spoke ill of anyone. His calling the Prime Minister a fool indicated his firm conviction that the man was much worse than that, and only good manners prevented the Justice from descending to expressive name-calling. The Twins knew that when their father called a man or a woman a fool, he or she was only slightly higher on the evolutionary scale than a slug. "He is also an ultra-nationalist," continued the Justice. "He hates England and wants to sever every tie with the Mother Country."
Sean, who was an ultra-Royalist, snorted in disgust. "Which explains why we no longer have a Royal Canadian Navy!"
"Quite," drawled Justice Arundel. "The PM was a conchie during the war, and has never forgotten it. His feelings toward the military are not what I want to talk about, however." He refilled his glass with scotch. "As I said, the Prime Minister is an ultra-nationalist. He believes in a united Canada, and I cannot fault him for that. He has no time for the Separatists in Quebec, or anywhere else. He's already invoked the War Measures Act once. He'll do it again, if he has to."
"So Quebec has something to do with whatever it is the PM is up to?" asked Todd.
"Quebec has everything to do with what the PM is up to." Justice Arundel smiled knowingly. "La Belle Province is his power base. The Prime Minister has decided to 'patriate the Constitution', to sever all ties with England, to make Canadians masters of their own house in fact." He shook his head. "There are certain sections that Quebec will not approve of. To make his vision more palatable to his French-Canadian constituents the PM has devised a way out for them. He will give them a "Not Withstanding" clause. That way they can accept those parts of the new Constitution that they want to be in force and invoke the "Not Withstanding" clause for those sections that they do not want to have any legal standing in the province."
Cory snickered. "Somebody had better tell him that we don't have a Constitution. We never had one, unless you want to count the Statute of Westminster."
Justice Arundel returned Cory's snicker. "What the PM is doing is writing a Constitution. Now, understand that it will take time for everybody to comment, complain, threaten and bluster before anything is actually on paper. The provincial premiers have to be consulted, the public has to be consulted, and the Aboriginals have to be consulted. Even the military."
"The military?" Todd gave his father a quizzical glance. "Why would they have to be consulted? Trudeau hates the military and always has. Hell, he wanted to leave NATO and disband the military until the Americans put the fear of God into him!"
"And he pouted for months when they did," agreed the Justice. "The fact is that he needs a military, and he needs a military that will do what he tells them to do, when he tells them to do it. What the military knows, and what very few others know, is that when it is written the so-called constitution will contain a Charter of Rights and Freedoms. The Charter will guarantee equal rights under the law for every Canadian, regardless of race, creed, religion, and so on."
A glimmer of an idea formed in Todd's mind. "And the military Neanderthals are afraid that the Charter will apply to gays! They won't want that at all!"
Justice Arundel laughed and nodded. "I always knew that somewhere in that head of yours was a first class brain, Todd! You are right, of course. The generals want to slavishly follow the lead of the Americans and are asking for a 'Not Withstanding' clause so they can continue with their draconian regulations and keep gays out of their precious military."
"And they'll get it," snarled Cory, ever the cynic. "The rednecks from the West and the blue noses from Ontario will make sure they do. They will whine and snivel and invoke the 'Not Withstanding' clause because what the PM gives to Quebec, he must give to the other provinces."
"Precisely," confirmed the Justice. "The military will use their influence wherever and whenever they can, and lobby the Members of Parliament from Ontario and the Western Provinces. Quebec and Ontario will lead the pack because the Catholic Church is powerful in the one, and the Protestants in the other. Manitoba and Saskatchewan are merely icing on the cake. The moral right wing of the Liberal Party will listen to the military. The Charter of Rights will not apply to the military insofar as gays are concerned."
Mrs. Arundel, who thus far had not entered into the conversation, nodded her head in agreement. Then she said softly, "They, however, reckon without the Supreme Court of Canada, which is not like the American version at all."
"No, it isn't," agreed Cory. "But the Court has . . ." His eyes widened and he squeezed Sean's hand tightly. "The Supreme Court is above all influence. The government might rant and rage but it cannot interfere with the Court."
"The only interest of the Supreme Court is the LAW!" Justice Arundel looked thunderous. "We have never allowed government policy, or military bigotry to influence an opinion in any way. If the government's new constitution says all Canadians are equal, and entitled to certain rights and freedoms, then all Canadians will have those rights!"
Sean was beginning to see a picture forming. "Of course!" He turned to Cory. "Don't you see what your father is saying? No matter what sort of 'Not Withstanding' clauses there are, if a law in any way discriminates, it is unconstitutional."
"And can be challenged!" Todd grinned at Cory. "Sort of makes a career in law look worthwhile."
Cory returned his brother's grin. "Especially if I can ram it up a certain bigot I can name!"
"Cory!" Justice Arundel shook his head. "While I applaud your sentiments you might have expressed yourself a touch more delicately. Your mother . . ."
"Nonsense, Bertie," exclaimed Mrs. Arundel as she gathered up her handbag and stood up. "Now, all of you come along. We've been away much too long."
As the quintet strolled back toward the reception Mrs. Arundel slipped her arm around Todd's and slowed, allowing Justice Arundel, Cory and Sean to pull ahead. When the others were out of earshot she asked gently, "Now, then, son of mine, tell me what you really think about Cory and his friend."
Todd smiled warmly. "Sean will be good for Cory. He loves Cory and they'll be happy. Boisterous, but happy."
"Boisterous?"
"Sean might love Cory but he is aware of his faults and you know how Cory can be at times."
Mrs. Arundel laughed quietly. "Good. Cory needs someone who will not put up with his silliness. They shall manage, as your father and I managed. After all, we have put up with you and your brother for the past 17 years."
Todd gave his mother a warm, loving glance. "I suppose we have been a trial at times."
"At times? Almost from the moment that you could walk and talk."
Todd did not immediately reply and a pensive, concerned look came over his face. "It can't have been easy for you and Papa, knowing that both your sons were gay."
Mrs. Arundel pulled her son up short. "Stop it, Todd! Don't you ever think that your father and I have for one moment been ashamed of you or Cory! We have loved you from the moment you were born, from the moment the nurse put you in our arms." She smiled at the memory. "You were quiet, fussing a little, but quiet. Cory was squalling and making a loud noise."
"He hasn't changed much," replied Todd with a laugh. "Still, it can't have been easy."
"Todd, I will admit that at one time your father and I spent a great deal of time wondering, searching our very souls, trying to understand why you and Cory were the way you were. In time we came to understand that neither of you were so very different from the other boys. I will also admit that we did feel regret over not having grandchildren in our future."
"And now?"
"Todd, I do not think that your father and I have ever been prouder of you and Cory than we were today. You have both grown into fine young men. You have done nothing, and will do nothing, to diminish our love for you. Our only concern is your happiness. Nothing else matters."
"I wish everybody thought the way that you and Papa think," said Todd.
"As do I," replied his mother. "Unfortunately, people are people and very much influenced by their surroundings, their culture and their upbringing. Perceptions are changing, though. They are changing because people such as you and Cory have shown that all the stereotypes are just that, stereotypes and not at all what you are actually like. You go about life just being yourselves, not bragging, or flaunting your difference."
"There's no need to," said Todd firmly.
"Of course there isn't," agreed Mrs. Arundel. "That is not to say that you should not stand up and fight if you have to."
"Don't worry, Mummy, we have, and we will again."
Mrs. Arundel hugged her son and looked at the trio walking ahead. "Your father is in fine form. I am so glad that he's taken to Sean." She looked at Todd. "And what of you? Is there a young man in your life?"
Todd thought long and carefully before answering his mother's question. He thought first of The Phantom, who loved him, but would never leave his Gunner. Given half a chance Todd knew that he would have been happy with Phantom. Then he thought of Harry, and of their relationship. Finally he shook his head. "No, there is no special young man in my life," he murmured sadly.
As they continued to walk toward the reception area Mrs. Arundel looked obliquely at the fine young man who was her son. She had noted that he had replied ambiguously to her question. She had asked about a friend, and he had replied that there was no "special" friend in his life. She knew that it would do no good for her to question Todd on this small, but very likely significant, difference. She sighed inwardly and did what any loving mother would do, she said a silent prayer that in the fullness of time Todd would indeed find his special friend, and would find his happiness.
Eventually, as the sun slid lower toward the western horizon, the American tourists, the Legion members and the visiting town folks drifted away from the Spit, their leaving hurried by the closing of the bar at 1800. The DJ hired to provide the music for the beach party arrived and set up his turntables and speakers. The Litany of the Saints, under Sandro's direction, manhandled the portable barbeques, tables, chairs, bags of ice and assorted condiments down to the beach and set up cooking and eating areas. Little Big Man, morose, surly, and wearing now soiled green coveralls, was set to raking the beach area set aside for dancing. Tyler and Val, each accompanied by a complaining work party, scoured the Strait-side beaches for driftwood to burn in the obligatory beach party bonfire. Those cadets fortunate enough to have evaded the Master at Arms' dragnet showered and changed into shorts and starched gunshirts. Many of them used this free time to pack their kit bags and suitcases. Except for a Corporal's Guard of Staff Cadets and cooks, the cadets were going home tomorrow.
In the Wardroom a post-parade winding down party had developed. Number One, by tradition President of the Wardroom Mess, had invited Father (by tradition constrained to preserve the mystique of Command, and thus not a member of any mess) and the Admiral for a quiet, relaxing drink. Number One also invited Associate Justice and Mrs. Arundel, and Tyler's parents.
Tyler's father was a tall, strikingly handsome man. He was holding court in one corner of the large, square room, delighted to be back in a Wardroom after so many years, even if it was in a Stone Frigate. He was reminiscing happily with Justice Arundel (they had served together as young Sub-Lieutenants in the Barber Pole Squadron during the Battle of the Atlantic) and regaling the officers of the YAG Squadron with tales of what it meant to be an officer in a small ship in the Good Old Days.
On the sofa flanking the fireplace (Kyle's photograph had been hurriedly removed by a horrified Doc), Mrs. Arundel, Mrs. Benbow and Matron nursed large pink gins and were being arch and ladylike, charming Mark, Tony and Nathan with their chatter. The three American boys would have much rather been in the Gunroom where rumour had it that Harry was hosting a party of his own, complete with left over munchies from the reception and beer that he had nicked from Chef's stash.
The Gunner and Edouard stood by the drinks table, listening to the war stories and watching Doc, who was the Wine Secretary, mentally toting up the chits that he would present to the membership to cover the cost of this little shindig. As there were no stewards, Dave Eddy, No 'H" and Kyle took turns offering trays of party food and pouring the drinks.
As he chatted with Father, the Admiral surveyed the room and noticed that the Base Commander was not present.
Father chuckled and nodded. "It's not easy being green with a blue Lieutenant Governor about the place," he said. "The Colonel went slinking off to his lair as soon as the Inspection was over."
"Bad form that, leaving before the Guest of Honour." The Admiral's lip curled into a slight sneer. "But then, what else can one expect from that type?"
"I suspect the Wing Commander did not approve of the Yeoman's raising the White Ensign." Father shrugged his indifference to the Base Commander's disapproval. "Still, you are right. He's a silly ass Airdale with no sense of tradition or haw-haw."
The Admiral's eyebrows lifted slightly. "He'll make trouble?" he asked.
Father shrugged his shoulders again. "He'll try, I'm sure. Not that it matters. I am, as the boys would say, FIGMO. Come the 1st of September I leave the politics, the indifference, the bigotry and nonsense behind."
At Father's mention of bigotry the Admiral perked up and his mind began working. "You know, Snuffy, I worry about my Fred. All things being equal, I rather think that he'll be back next year and while I do respect Charles, I cannot help but wonder if he will be as, um, understanding as you are."
Father shook his head. "You need not worry about Number One, Johnny," he replied reassuringly. "I've known him for years and he is just as disgusted with the prejudice that exists in our military, and yes, in civilian life, as I am." He snagged a full glass of something from the tray Kyle offered him, took a sip, and continued on. "I have been working with boys for most of my career. I have ended it working with boys who are, to say the very least, on a voyage of discovery." He looked over to where the American cadets were sitting. "The boys that come here are confused about themselves. Their bodies are changing, their thoughts are whirling and they are afraid of the new feelings they are discovering. They cannot help themselves because their bodies won't let them. So far as Charles and I are concerned we are here to help those boys get through a very trying period in their lives."
"Including forming 'attachments'?" asked the Admiral, his eyebrows rising. "They do happen, you know."
"Of course they do," replied Father with a soft chuckle. "These boys are learning things about themselves and their fellows. They are suddenly feeling strong emotions, which they don't understand. They want to experiment, to try to find the truth behind those emotions. The only outlet for those new emotions is with their fellow cadets. Attachments, and sometimes, deep relationships, develop. It happened in our day, it happened here. There is nothing wrong with it. They are human animals, after all."
"Then you do understand that Fred, and some of the other boys, might . . ."
"Of course, Johnny. It happens. Unlike their parents, or society, you and I, as Naval officers, understand that these things do happen. Nine times out of ten they are nothing more than two boys experimenting with each other. No one is harmed, and usually they learn that while at the time it was a pleasant experience, it really isn't what they feel or want. If a boy comes to me I try to explain to him the nature of the changes that are occurring in his body and his mind. I do not condemn him."
"That is very liberal of you, Snuffy."
Father snorted. "It is very realistic of me, Johnny," he replied. "The Arundel twins are hardly celibate and I have no doubt that they have been with other boys whilst here. I also have no doubt that some of the other boys have been together. It is the nature of boys, and it happens in every Boy Scout camp, every boys school, in every all male environment. It happens, and there is not a damn thing I can, or will, do about it."
"Except put your telescope to your blind eye?" suggested the Admiral with a grin. He glanced to where The Gunner and Edouard were chatting quietly and wondered if perhaps Snuffy just might . . .
" . . . Not about to deny natural feelings coming to the fore," Father was saying when the Admiral returned to listening to him. "Boys are made a certain way, and some of them need to be, if not encouraged, at least understood. They do not need condemnation from their peers, or their parents, or from me."
The Admiral slowly put his glass down on the table beside him and nodded with his chin toward the door. "Snuffy," he said quietly, "let us take a little walk. I want to tell about a remarkable Chinese gentleman I dined with only last evening."
The Drill Shed was quiet. The usual complement of jocks playing basketball was busy elsewhere. In the PTI office Mike lay on the air mattress with Phillip, his lover and friend. They were both naked and both in the last throes of wonderful, brilliant sex. Phillip sighed in contentment as he slowly ran his hand across Mike's broad, firm chest. "I don't want today to end, Mike," he murmured. "I don't want us to ever end."
Mike bent his head slightly and kissed Phillip. "I told you, we won't end. We'll be together. I love you and I'm going to be with you."
Phillip rubbed his cheek against Mike's left nipple. "You're still moving to Lethbridge?"
"Bloody aye!" growled Mike. "Now that I've found you, I am never leaving you." He raised his head, a serious look on his face. "I want you, Phillip. I am not one of your football jocks who just want a quick blowjob in the showers."
Phillip laughed. "You never were. From the first time we had sex together, I knew you were the man for me. I told you, Mike, no more sessions in the showers with jocks of any description. I mean that. I just want you to be sure about us, about what you want to do, is all."
"I'm sure," replied Mike firmly. He pulled Phillip on top of his body and looked directly into his eyes. "I love you, Phillip. I want to be with you, and you to be with me. When we first started being together I was afraid. Afraid of what people would say."
"And now?"
"We have a family. We are a family. Phantom, Todd, Cory, and the others. If we need them, they'll be there for us. They're our brothers. I know that now. Just as I know that when I go to bed at night I want you to be with me, making love to me. I want you in my life every step of the way and when the time comes, I want you to be with me, holding my hand, telling me that you love me. I'm not afraid anymore. The Admiral said it. We're a family, we're brothers, and you are my main reason for living." He held Phillip close. "It's what I want, Phillip. Is it what you want?"
Mike was answered with a deep, passionate kiss.
In the galley lounge the stewards' party was in full swing even before the last of the guests had disappeared into the sunset. The Phantom, with Chef's connivance, had brought in some beer, and cadged some plates of sandwiches and a platter of cakes from the caterer.
For the first time all day the stewards could relax. There were no guests - The Phantom had pointedly not mentioned the party to anyone other than Chef, not even The Gunner - and they could be themselves. They removed their jackets and tossed them on the nearest settee, reached for a beer and a sangi, and before very long they were indulging in the ancient and honourable pastime of all stewards, gossiping about those they served.
The Phantom sat a little apart, listening to the harmless chatter as the boys talked about the table manners, or lack of manners, of their peers and subordinates, laughing and giggling over the confusion the array of silverware had caused at the Chiefs Mess Dinner. They also bemoaned the lack of common courtesy shown by some of the senior cadets and officers. Matt opined that certain people - he mentioned no names but Two Strokes, who was surly most of the time, sprung immediately to mind - should be made stewards, if only to see how obnoxious people could be when they put their minds to it. Aaron agreed, he being of the opinion that being a steward had been an eye-opening experience and he would make damned sure that he would say "please", and "thank you" more often, and Killian, also not mentioning names, said that certain people could take lessons from the Twins, who were a joy to serve and never failed to show courtesy to everyone. Tyler and Val came in for honourable mention, as did Andy, except when he was cranky, as did Mike, who, for some reason none of the stewards could divine, seemed happier than any Chief Physical Training Instructor had a right to be, which led to a hilarious discussion concerning Mike's parts, and his antics on the parade square. The Phantom could have told them, but kept silent.
As he listened to the stewards chattering a thrill of pride ran through The Phantom. In his self-deprecating way he shared the blame with The Gunner, and Chef. Without their help and active support The Phantom doubted that there would have been a Steward Branch. They had come a long way in a very short period of time, bonding in a way that could never be duplicated outside of a mess deck, becoming a strong, cohesive unit in a way that could only be dreamed of outside of the Navy.
The Phantom watched as Matt, and Kevin, David, Chad, Billy, Killian, Nick and Aaron chucked shit at each other, joked about their serving habits, drank beer, laughed about Chef and his inevitable wooden spoon and the time Chef had chased Little Big Man from the galley with a cleaver, drank beer, and then demanded loudly to know from The Phantom all the gruesome details of the sailing trip.
As The Phantom would come to learn in the years ahead, this was the way of a stewards' party and the conversation turned to sex, specifically a heated discussion on the legitimacy of Harry's claim to the Pride of the Fleet. Photographs did not lie, or so it was said, and while everyone agreed that Harry possessed a handsome and, indeed, impressive set of tackle, it was also agreed that Kevin, Chad, and, of all people, David, certainly could give Harry a run for his money. In the end The Phantom, who readily admitted that he was not, and never had been, in the line of succession should anything happen to Harry, was appointed judge. It took not a little cajoling to convince Kevin and David to drop their pants. Chad, on the other hand, believed in the power of advertising and shucked his trousers and tighty-whiteys in record time.
The Phantom, red-faced and hardly believing that he was actually judging a dick contest had little difficulty in determining that David possessed the winner, being judged Best In Show on length, girth, symmetry and line of beauty.
Pleasantly distracted as he considered the three prime specimens presented for his judgement, The Phantom did not notice Killian and Matt slip away to meet Chef, who was waiting impatiently in the barracks yard. Chef held out a small, oblong box to Killian, who opened it and showed the contents to Matt, who nodded and hugged Chef in thanks. What The Phantom did not know was that the stewards had a very different version of his efforts and the small token of their appreciation that Chef had picked up for them from the jeweller in town would be presented to the Chief Steward Of The Royal Canadian Sea Cadets in due course.
The two cadets returned to The Gunroom in time to see David being proclaimed Legitimate Successor to the Pride of the Fleet and being ceremoniously presented with a bottle of beer as a mark of the assembled stewards' esteem and affection for having the biggest dick in the RCSCC Stewards Branch.
"I wonder what His Nibs and Snuffy are up to now," remarked Edouard as the two senior officers left the Wardroom.
"Only they know," replied The Gunner flippantly. He looked inquisitively at Edouard. "You never did tell me about 'Snuffy'."
"A legacy of Father's time in the Far East," Edouard said with a chuckle. "In the days before the Japs came calling, service with the Far Eastern Squadron was considered 'plum-plum' duty. Servants were plentiful, living was cheap, and the white man reigned supreme in Singapore and Hong Kong."
"And in India, and in Borneo, in all the Asiatic countries," continued The Gunner. "Taking up the white man's burden and lording it over their less fortunate little brown brothers."
"How cynical, Stephen," replied Edouard smoothly. "However, just the attitude one would expect from a person of such low station in life."
"Sarcasm, Edouard, ill becomes you." The Gunner grinned. "Especially when it is directed at the man who holds your future in his hands."
"Forgive me, Sir Stephen," replied Edouard with a mocking bow. "The habits of a lifetime are difficult to break."
"Please don't break all of them. I enjoy sparring with you and I would hate to see you shrivel up and become bitter."
"I shan't," said Edouard easily. "I shall, however, in future direct my sarcastic, biting wit at those who best deserve it."
"Wonderful! I can give you a list of people you can start on."
Edouard laughed loudly. "You won't need my help, dear Stephen. You have learned well from the master."
"And hard lessons they were! Now, about 'Snuffy'?"
Edouard cleared his throat. "Not much to tell, really. It's just a silly nickname, gained from a silly experience that seems to be a natural progression with servicemen. I am still called 'Blue Balls' because of a youthful, and not regretted experience. People call you 'Young Canada' because in your misspent youth you pretended to be the straightest thing on two feet. The cadets call you 'The Gunner' because that is what you are, and I doubt that any of them know your first name. You are 'The Gunner' to them, and always will be. The circumstances gave you a nickname, as they gave me a nickname and as they gave a fresh-faced, young Lieutenant his nickname."
The Gunner thought a moment, and glanced over to where Father was chatting with the Admiral. With his craggy, weather beaten features the man looked as if he had been born old. The Gunner verbalized his thoughts to Edouard. "It doesn't seem possible that Commander Stockman was ever a fresh face, or young. He's always been, well, Father, to my thinking. And I'm sure to the boys' thinking as well."
"He was young, once," replied Edouard. "As we all were. Back in the Singapore of 1941 he was a Lieutenant, fresh from England, a new face, so to speak, in a tight little world that was desperate for news from home. As an officer he was deemed fit to associate with his betters. He was a fresh face, don't ye know, young, male, not too shabby to look at, housebroken, and not queer, which made him a welcome guest in all the best houses."
The Gunner, who had read his history, noted that Edouard had not added "White" to the list of "Snuffy's" qualifications. The elite of 1941 Singapore were British, bigoted and racist. The native officers of the Indian Regiments would not have been welcome in any of the great houses. As for the Chinese, they, no matter what their rank or station, were servants. "As an officer in His Majesty's Navy," Edouard continued, "then Lieutenant Stockman was also part of military society, which meant that whenever he was in port - he was "Guns" to "Johnny" Walker in HMS EMPIRE, and of course "Johnny" was Captain (D) to "Z" Force (when roused Edouard waxed pedantic) - he received tons of invitations to dine in this or that house, this or that Mess. It was at an Argyll's dinner that he received his name."
"Don't tell me that he was caught sniffing the seats in the Ladies' loo."
"Really, Stephen, your vulgarity exceeds your crassness." Edouard gave The Gunner a very dirty look. "An officer would never stoop to emulating the actions of mere Leading Gunners!"
"Really? It seems to me that a certain Lieutenant didn't mind a mere Able Gunner sniffing him - or doing . . ."
"Stephen!" Edouard was beside himself with disgust at The Gunner's words. "Remember where you are!" He saw the look on The Gunner's face and shook his head. A leg-pull! Damn the man! He started to laugh and it took all his willpower to not give The Gunner a hug. "Damn me, you've done it again!" he managed when he regained control. "Is it any wonder that I missed you?"
"You are so easy, Edouard," returned The Gunner. He winked and waggled his eyebrows. "In more ways than one!"
Edouard returned the wink. "Ah, we would have made a lovely pair, you and I, Stephen. I was such a fool to send you away."
"You should have thought of that before I left." The Gunner shook his head. "Andreus is a lucky man."
"No, I am. He is everything I need, Stephen, and want. He's almost as big a pain in the ass as you are."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Edouard's face softened and his eyes twinkled. "I'm glad that we can be friends, Stephen. I respect you greatly and would hope you feel the same about me."
"You have changed, Edouard, I'll give you that." The Gunner looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, "As for respecting you, I always did. You were a role model. I saw how you conducted yourself and I saw how well you played the Game."
Edouard smiled softly as he gave The Gunner's shoulder a gentle caress. "As did you then, as you do now. When you left I worried that you might make a misstep. I would have been heart-broken if that had happened."
"I didn't, and with luck I won't."
Edouard sighed. "Will we ever come to the day when we won't have to worry about missteps, about taking up with the wrong man, of making the wrong decision? I want that day, Stephen, and I want you to understand that is why I want to be a part of the Order."
"It's what we all want. The Order is not about me, or you." A strange, wonderful light came into The Gunner's eyes. "It's about the lads who come after us, and those who have gone before. I don't think we are asking for the world, Edouard, just your level playing field."
"With your new recruits, my money, and the Admiral's contacts, I think we just might make it."
"Oh, we will, Edouard, we will," replied The Gunner. He noticed that the Commanding Officer and the Admiral had returned. "So, Snuffy?"
Edouard laughed. "Oh, it was at a Mess dinner with the Presbyterian Bag Squeezers. At the end of the dinner, for some arcane reason, snuff was passed, a huge bloody box of it. Your Commanding Officer took too big a pinch and started to sneeze. Then he sneezed and burst a blood vessel. Bled all over the table I've been told."
"That's it?" asked The Gunner, clearly disappointed.
Edouard nodded. "I am sorry that there is no shattering climax, no tales of dark deeds done in the night. A pedestrian ending to a pedestrian event." He looked at the Admiral. "Now, if you want deeds of bravery and heart-wrenching pathos, with lots of blood and glory, we'll get Himself to tell you all about how he won his Victoria Cross," he said as he guided The Gunner across the room. "Just don't complain when he runs on about it."