This is a work of fiction. It is a sequel to the other stories, beginning with "A Letter from America" that have appeared in adult/youth, young pals, and no sex. Not one single character is , or is based on, a real person. I have borrowed the names of places, and even of some buildings and institutions in those places, but their personnel remain fictitious. They do not represent real people. Not all characters were created by me. There are some that were created by another author -- Jacob Lion. I am grateful to Jacob for permission to use his characters. I hope you enjoy this story. I'm grateful to Nifty for publishing it. Nifty makes no charge, neither for me to publish, nor for you to read these stories, but it does cost money to publish them. If you enjoy the stories, please consider making a donation to Nifty at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html so that he can continue to bring these stories to you.
Howard Chapter 9 By Jonah
Tuesday morning began at about 3am. It began with the sort of nightmare that only Liam can have. The boy screamed, He writhed about, he shouted, he cried, he turned his mind inwards and started to hum, then sing, then giggle.
Yes, when Liam has one of those nightmares he relives the real-life nightmare that his foster parents put him through. It's diffficult to do anything with him that won't remind him of those times. Holding him is just like restraining him, and talking to him will sound like shouting at him if you do it loudly enough to get through to him. All you can do is hug him and be there for him - or you can lick his face. No I didn't do that and neither did Jake, but somebody did. Somebody small and canine couldn't bear to watch while the little boy's heart broke.
Luke settled on the edge of the bed to give Howard room, then , eventually, Howard settled on his blanket between two small boys who clung to him.
It was half past nine when Simon broke the joyful tidings that breakfast was ready. Had Simon not broken that news I doubt that we would have noticed that morning had arrived at all. There was the constant drumming of water running through the downpipe from the gutter, but there wasn't much in the way of daylight at all. Well, into every life a little rain must fall.
Breakfast over, the day was going to be spent getting everything ready for tomorrow. That involved a trip to town for things like new shirts and black ties, and a visit with Dave, Gladys and Cecilly to North Harrow to set up tables for afterwards, and a display commemorating Monica's life. We didn't have to worry about food and drink because the ladies of North Harrow Church wanted to do that.
It was teatime before we were back at the flat and Rob and Ben were already there. Cecilly was going to speak at the service about Monica's early life and Dave had asked me to say a bit about her life in Pinner. I was not sure what I would have to say about that, but it seemed the problem wouldn't arise. Apparently Ben wanted to do it. Perhaps I should have put up more of a fight, but I didn't. Ben had a story to tell and he had to tell it.
We all had an early night and, for once, the boys - and Howard - slept in their own room. Jake and I had a room to ourselves.
We were all up and breakfasted by nine o'clock on Wednesday morning. The memorial service had been set for eleven. The committal at West London Crem. was at twelve and we were all to be back at North Harrow afterwards.
At five to ten there was a knock on the door. I never did find out who had knocked, not because there was nobody there, but because I was spoilt for choice. I was sure it could not have been Jacob, but Joe, Miriam, and Ben were all contenders. Rob, I knew, was accompanying Cecilly in a limousine, so that she wouldn't have to travel alone. We were all ready for the walk to North Harrow Methodist Church and we planned to call in to collect Susan, Geoff and Sammy Porter, as well as Jason Dorridge on the way.
By quarter to eleven we were seated in the Church. Just as well really because it was standing room only. There was no chatter - not a sound, in fact. Everybody stood as one when Rev. June Bennett called out from the back of the chapel, as she preceded the coffin,
"I am the resurrection and the life, says the Lord; he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and whoever lives and believes in me shall not die eternally".
She ascended to the pulpit as the undertaker's men placed the coffin on a chrome-plated stand. We lustily sang one of Monica's favourite hymns - "Yes God is good, in Earth and sky",
After a brief introduction from June, Dave came to the front and read Psalm 23 (The Lord is my shepherd). There was a brief Bible reading then Cecilly came to the front and said a few brief words about their parents. about Monica's part in her own up-bringing, and about their relationship, which had been close and loving in spite of the many miles between them.
Next Ben came to the front and began to address the people, saying thus:
"My friends, and I'm glad to call you my friends because, a year ago, I couldn't have called you anything. I was born deaf and consequently dumb. I had telepathic links with a very few people but was otherwise unable to communicate at all. That I can stand here and talk to you now is mainly due to three people. To my friend and guardian Dr. Rob Rankine, to my teacher Dave Webber, and to my friend Monica Hardy. Although she was a very old lady, Monica took on the job of escorting me from where I was living, in Harrow, to Dave's home - and back again - every day. She would spend all day helping Dave to get through to me, and she asked for nothing in return.
A fortnight ago yesterday, Monica, realising that I was about to be killed by an out-of-control lorry - pushed me aside and was killed herself. It was through the trauma of that moment that I became able to hear and to speak, and that wasn't an accident. Jesus was right when He said that there is no greater love than that a man should lay down his life for his friends, but He didn't mention that Monica would find a way to give something extra. That was typical of her, and I shall never forget her humility, her tremendous courage but, most of all, her great love. I'm talking of the love of a lady who every one of you knew, and for different reasons but mostly, I expect, because she insinuated herself into your family life and made it better. That's what a district nurse does - at least the good ones - and Monica was a good one. She was retired when I first met her, but that doesn't matter because her capacity for loving, which is what made her good at her job, never deserted her right up to the moment of her death and, apparently, not even then, which is why I'm able to stand here and talk to you now. That's why we're gathered here to say goodbye to Monica's body, which is in that box there, but her spirit, I'm sure, will be with us for a very long time. God bless you Monica."
Then we sang Monica's other favourite hymn "Great is thy faithfulness, O God my father". After another brief prayer we all stood while the undertaker's men picked up the coffin.
With Monica on her way to Kensal Green, accompanied by Dave, Cecilly, Rob and Ben, we repaired to the Community Centre next door. It was time to circulate, to talk over old times, and to meet up with all those others whose lives Monica had touched.
Luke found himself in conversation with Mr. Strange, the judge who signed my adoption papers. Janet Fuller was among the assembly too. I struck up a lively conversation with Ian Timmins and Superintendent Horace. It was another hour before Cecilly, Dave, Rob and Ben got back, and we were able to tuck into the mountain of food that had been prepared. It was the sort of send-off that Monica would have wanted, and she would have loved to see her friends meeting together like that.
At two o'clock we made our excuses and left. We had a meeting in Harrow at three o'clock.
Jake, myself, Dave, Rob, Cecilly and Joe had been asked to assemble at the offices of Messrs. Clarke, Clarke, Tomkins and Humble in Harrow Weald. Mr. Humble met us in the front office and took us through to his own room where we were seated and offered tea. When everybody was comfortable Mr. Humble addressed us.
"Gentlemen, and lady, I'm conscious that you've come here directly from Miss Hardy's funeral, and it isn't usual to do this on the same day, but Miss Hardy had requested it. I believe that was because, whenever it happened, she couldn't be sure when Mr. Roberts would have to go home. I'm instructed to apologize to you, on her behalf, for having to add to your distress at such a time.""
We were all a little alarmed at this, but Mr. Humble pressed on.
"We are here to read the last will and testament of Miss Monica, Jayne Hardy, which is this document that I have here."
He flourished a document, then, putting on his glasses, set about reading it.
"The total estate amounts to a total of two hundred thousand pounds, after death duties, which I am instructed to dispose of as follows. The largest portion is the freehold of her bungalow in Pinner, valued at fifty-two thousand pounds, which shall be passed to Mr. Joseph Davis, for the use of his family. Miss Hardy also wishes me to thank Mr. Davis and his family for being company for her in her final years."
I saw Cecilly reach over and squeeze Joe's hand.
"The remainder of the estate is in two bank accounts and an insurance policy. Of this a bequest of two thousand pounds is to go to North Harrow Methodist Church, of which Mr. Webber is currently senior steward. A bequest of twenty thousand pounds is to go to Mrs. Cecilly Willis with no stipulations. A bequest of four thousand pounds is to go to Dr. Rankine, to be placed in trust for his ward, Ben, until the boy is eighteen years of age. The remaining one hundred and twenty thousand pounds is to be divided equally between Mr. Roberts and Mr. Cummings, again to be placed in trust for their children (and, in Mr. Roberts' case - his godson, Jacob Davis) whether fostered or under guardianship. The trusts are to be administered as follows. Each child shall have an equal portion of the bequest held in trust until he attains eighteen years of age. The parent will be a trustee, along with one other trustee, nominated by the parent, who is acceptable to me. You may not nominate each other. If, at any time it is necessary to spend any of the bequest before the child attains eighteen years, it may be done provided both trustees agree that it is in the child's interest. I am instructed to assist in administering all trusts. The document is signed Monica Jayne Hardy, being of sound mind and is witnessed by Dr. P. S. Manley and Dr. G. M. Timothy. This concludes the reading of the will. Are there any questions?"
"Just one, Mr. Humble," said Cecilly. "Among all these amounts of money, one thing you didn't mention was your own account. Which of us is responsible for paying that?"
The solicitor smiled.
"None of you, Mrs. Willis," he replied. "Your sister was my client and, knowing her as you obviously did, it should not surprise you that our account was paid in full a very long time ago."
Well there weren't any more questions, but then, some of us would have been too stunned to ask them anyway.
We were home in time for tea, and a lot of people were changing out of their Sunday best. Some of them changed into other clothes. I went upstairs and lay down.
I wasn't to be left in peace for long.
"Jonah?"
It was Kori. Now, at thirteen, this boy is stunningly handsome and, dressed (if that is the right word) in only a pair of boxers, he was certainly too irresistible for my own good, but that's no excuse for being rude to him.
"Kori," I said, by way of a non-committal invitation to continue.
"Jonah, I can be kind of a heel sometimes....."
"Like when you walk into the bedroom of a known homosexual, in a state of almost complete undress, knowing that you'll set up urges that would put him in prison if he gave in to them?"
"Jonah! I never meant...."
"It's alright Kori," I said hastily. "I'm just messing with you. I'm sorry."
"Yeah well, when we came over last week, Liam and me were still feeling pretty bad after hearing what happened to Monica. I guess we kinda took it out on you guys. We should have known you felt bad too."
"Yes, well, you didn't do it for long Kori, and it's been good having you here."
"Guess it'd have been better if'n I'd put some clothes on before I come and talked to you."
"You have a fine body Kori, and you shouldn't have to keep covering it up, but it'd make me feel better. I have to remember the same sort of things with my boys, but it's even worse when you're here."
"I know, I kinda get urges when I'm around Simon, but I do when I'm around Jake too."
"I expect being a boy-god is a big responsibility."
"You messing with me again?"
I smiled.
"I suppose I was Kori. Sorry. The thing is, I noticed when I first saw you, that Jake doesn't look that much older than you. You're forbidden fruit for him - but you won't always be. In a few years you won't be off-limits, so long as you don't do anything to screw things up in the meantime. You've a few years before that happens, so use them well. I guess I don't need to elaborate on that because, I'm pretty sure you will anyway."
Well the other boys came up after that, followed by Jake, who was carrying a puppy and blanket.
"Hey! Don't forget this little fella," he said to anybody prepared to listen. "You'd have had him whining in the middle of the night because he couldn't get up the stairs. Now do you boys want him in your room or will he stay in ours?"
There was a loaded silence. If you've never experienced one of those, you're lucky. I think Jake deliberately provoked it. He must have been aware that he had crossed a line. Not a word was spoken, but Jake got the silent treatment as every boy returning from the shower insinuated himself into my bed. For some minutes it actually looked as if Jake would be sleeping on the floor but, eventually, Simon and Kori, taking pity on him, relocated themselves to the foot of the bed.
TO BE CONTINUED