Souchard

By: Will B
(© 2009-2010 by the author)
 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

With a flick of his wrist, Percy dropped the towel, and Ishtar saw---to his surprise and delight---that Percy was a smoothie. There was no hair below his ears, and his pole was thick and getting thicker as it rose to the occasion.

What followed was a night of wild and hot sex. Percy taught Ishtar some new things, but Ishtar, who had visited some of the finest male-brothels in Cairo and Alexandria and Istanbul, was able to show Percy some new activities also.

In the morning, as he was preparing to go back to the Manor, Ishtar made Percy an offer.

Chapter 17 

Phoebus Apollo once more drove his chariot across the sky from the East, bringing the light of day. In London, it was a dark, rainy morning. Ishtar woke up, heard the rain and was tempted to go back to sleep until he remembered he had to drive back to Smith Manor.

He leaned over and kissed Percy in several places, causing Percy to wake up in the nicest way possible. He opened his eyes, and returned Ishtar’s kisses with passion.

A little later, Ishtar said, “Percy, I am a pilot on my father, the Sheik’s, private jet. I was wondering if you would like to come with me as my companion, but we could offer you a job as maitre d’ when we have guests on the plane?”

“I dunno, luv…I like it here at the Owl and the Sword. It would be nice to be with you more, but I just don’t know…”

“All right, Percy, I understand…Look, I have to leave to go to Smith Manor, but in a few days---or it may be a week or ten days---we will be back in London. Can I call you to see if you have made up your mind?”

“Sure, Ishtar, and maybe you can persuade your charges to spend some time in London, and put up at a hotel…and maybe you can put up here with me,” replied Percy.

At Smith Manor, it was also dark and rainy. Nevertheless, Nigel and Molly woke up with sunlight, warmth, and love in their hearts. The happy couple separated while Molly went to her room to dress and Nigel showered, shaved, and dressed in his room.

They came downstairs together and went into the kitchen, where Jane, Daoud and Bahnadi were finishing preparing breakfast. Jane took one look at them and thought to herself, ‘Aha! I knew it…Well, I hope they’ll be happy.’

Molly started to say, “Jane, I have something to tell you…” She got no further when Jane gave her a hug and said, “I know, my dear. I hope you’ll be happy.”

Turning to Nigel, Jane shook his hand, said “Congratulations!” and then gave him a hug too.

Nigel said, “Jane, I am going to take an early retirement from the force, and then I’m going to look for a job as ‘house father’ or ‘general handyman’ at some school or home for children who have been at risk, but now are safe. Do you know of any such job?”

“Nigel, I can think of one such place that would love to have you as a live-in house father, and I hope you will consider Smith Manor as this place.”

All three broke into laughter. Jane was not losing a house-mother; she would be gaining a house-father.

“Thank you, Jane. I do want to take Molly with me when Alfie and I go to Northolt to see the vicar and the head teacher about gaining custody of Alfie, and, speaking of Alfie, I …that is, we, want to tell him what’s happening.”

At that moment those in the kitchen heard ‘trippety, trippety, trip,’ as hungry seven boys were heard coming down the steps and into the dining room. Nigel and Molly helped Jane get out orange juice, and then milk, and then the rest of the breakfast for the crowd.

Then they heard “thunkety, thunkety, thunk,’ as Gamal and Abdul also came down to breakfast. Finally ‘trop, trop, trop’ was heard as Trace and Jerry descended the stairs.

When the meal was done, Nigel said, “Alfie, Miss Molly and I have some things to discuss with you.  Let’s go into one of the other rooms.”

“We’ll go into my office,” said Molly. The three went into a comfortable looking room, which featured a desk, with a computer, a table, four chairs, a filing cabinet, a couch, and two easy chairs. There was a fireplace with kindling already laid. The walls were painted a light yellow, the carpet was beige, and the drapes were dark blue.

“It’s August, it’s summer, and this being England, I’m going to light the fire,” Molly said---and she did. Nigel lifted a log and put it on the fire, and then Molly said, “Alfie, try this chair. It’s very comfortable.”

Alfie sat and Nigel and Molly sat on the couch facing him. “Alfie,” Nigel said, “did you mean what you said when you were saying your prayers last night?”

“Yes, Mr. Nigel. I hope I didn’t say anything to embarrass you or Miss Molly,” Alfie said with downcast eyes.

“No, Alfie, you didn’t embarrass either of us, but we have some good news for you, and some serious news,” Nigel said. “The serious news first, I think. Later today I’m going to drive you to Northolt, and meet this vicar and this head teacher, and try to convince them to allow me to either take you as a foster son, or even better to adopt you.”

It may have been pouring down rain outside, but Alfie’s face lit up as if he were basking in sunlight.  “Really, Mr. Nigel? Really, really?”

“Yes, Alfie, and here’s the really, really good news. Molly has consented to marry me—but I told her she’d have to take you in the bargain.”

“Don’t listen to him, Alfie. I told him I’d only marry him if he brought you into our family as a son—either as foster or adopted.”

“Oh, Miss Molly…, I don’t know what…” Happiness was too much for Alfie. His eyes were wet with (were they tears?), he got up and gave Molly a hug that almost took her breath away.

“Hey, lad, don’t I rate a hug too?” Nigel asked.

This ended in a group hug with laughter and sniffling noses combined.

Nigel said, “I’d better get on the phone and try to make an appointment with the Vicar of Northolt, and the head teacher…Molly do you think Jane could spare you for the day so you can come with us?”

“I’ll ask her,” and Molly went back into the kitchen, where Jane was supervising the washing, drying, and storing of dishes. Daoud was washing, Bahnadi was rinsing (Imagine two Moslem males doing the dishes!), Ricky and George were drying, and the other boys were putting the dishes, silverware, and condiments away.

“Of course you can go, Molly,” Jane said. “And sometime today I would like you and Nigel to look at the gardener’s cottage that’s on the other side of the chicken coop. It’s got water and electricity laid on, and I was thinking it might be a good home for you and Nigel and Alfie.”

“Oh, Jane… thank you. We will take a look at it later,” Molly assured her.

Nigel came out of Molly’s office and met Trace and Jerry. “Oh, there you are,” he said. “I’ve been on the phone to the Vicarage in Northolt, and had a pleasant conversation with a Miss Angela Murchison, the parish secretary. She was delighted to hear that Alfie was safe and she assured me that the Vicar, Rev. Timothy Venables, and Alice Dodson, the head teacher, would be in the office to meet us within the hour.”

“That’s good news, Nigel,” Jerry said.

“But wait, there’s more,” said Nigel with a twinkle in his eye. “I told her that two Americans and their sons would be coming later in the day to look at the parish records. One of them was interested in his family history and someone in his family had come from Northolt. She told me she would be in the office until four p.m., and she was looking forward to meeting you.”

“Thanks for helping, Nigel,” said Jerry.

Molly joined the group and said, “Oh, Nigel, Jane has said that the gardener’s cottage might be a good home for us, and we should take a look at it to see if there were any repairs that would have to be made.”

“Excellent! Molly. We’ll look at it this evening when we get back from Northolt.  I’d like to leave as soon as possible… To tell you the truth, I’m a little nervous about what may happen when we meet this Vicar and the head teacher.”

“Don’t worry, my love. I’m sure everything will be all right,” Molly said as she gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Soon the three travelers were on the road to Northolt. Alfie was sitting in the front with Nigel. Molly was sitting in the back. Alfie had said he would sit in the back, but Molly said, “No, I’ll sit back here and wave to the people just like the Queen!”

Actually, Molly had thought that Alfie might be more relaxed if he was sitting with Nigel. Sure enough, as they drive, Nigel looked at Alfie who was looking very tense and nervous.

“It’ll be all right, my lad. I promise you,” said Nigel.

No one in the car noticed the brown owl that was flying above and behind the vehicle. The owl soared like an eagle on the currents of air, and if one could read an owl’s mind, he would realize that the owl was thinking, ‘It’ll be all right, young Alfie. I’ll see to it. I have my orders.’

As they drove to Northolt, the travelers saw that the rain clouds were retreating and a watery Sun was making a belated appearance. Could it have been the lazy beating of the owl’s wings that was driving the clouds away? No, I don’t think…well, maybe it was.

The travelers arrived at Northolt, and Nigel found the Vicarage, an old Victorian building, three stories high, covered with ivy. There were flowers bedded out along the front of the house. The house seemed to give off an air of comfort and friendliness.

Nigel parked the car, and the three got out. Nigel went to the door marked ‘Vicarage Office,’ and rang the bell.

The door was opened by a woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties, with brown hair and a pleasant smile on her face.

“Hello, I’m Angela Murchison, the Church Secretary,” she said. “Are you Nigel Eden?  Come in. I’ll tell the Vicar that you’re here.”

Molly took Alfie’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

Angela led them to the vicar’s office, a square room, with bookshelves lining two of the walls. A fireplace took up most of the third wall, and a tall oriel window made up the fourth.

“Nigel Eden and two friends, Vicar,” said Angela. “I’ll make tea.”

“That will be very nice, Angela,” said the Vicar. Turning to Nigel, he said, “I’m Timothy Venables, Vicar of this Parish.” Venables was a slender man in his mid-sixties, tall, and balding. His face had laugh-lines indicating he was a man who smiled a great deal. 

Nigel introduced Molly, and said, “And this is Alfie…”

“Oh, I know Alfie. How are you, dear boy? How have you been? We have been worried sick about you.”

The second occupant of the room came forward, a fifty-year-old woman, with black hair, with more than a touch of gray. “Hello, Mr. Eden and Miss Fleming. I’m Alice Dodson, the head teacher, Alfie. I’m so happy to see you. Are you all right?”

“Yes, Miss. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Alfie, my boy,” asked the vicar, “why did you run away? We were worried sick about you.”

“Because…because…I thought you were going to put me into care, into some orphanage, and I…”

Here Alfie lost it, and began to sob.  The vicar and Miss Dodson looked as if they didn’t know whether they were going to laugh or cry.

Alice Dodson got down on her knees in front of Alfie and said, “My dear Alfie, nobody was going to out you ‘into care,’ as you thought. Before they died, your mum and dad made the vicar and me promise that we would see that you were placed with a family that would CARE for you, that would love you.”

Alfie looked at Miss Dodson and then at the vicar. “Really?” he asked.

“Really, really,” said Reverend Venables. They gave us a document appointing Miss Dodson and me as temporary guardians until such time as we should find a family that would love you.”

“May I say, something, Vicar, Miss Dodson,” Nigel said. I’m Nigel Eden, a Chief Inspector of the London C. I. D., and Alfie came to my attention under rather unusual circumstances…” Nigel told them how he had found Alfie being forced to sell flowers to make enough money so he could have a shelter for the night. He had taken Alfie into his care and had grown quite attached to the boy, and now he knew that if there were any way possible he could adopt the lad, he would be only too happy to do so.

“Are you married, Chief Inspector?” Miss Dodson asked.

“Not yet, ma’am, but….”

Molly spoke up. “I’m Molly Fleming, and I have been working as Assistant House Mother at Smith Manor, which gives tribute to boys and young men who are, or who have been, at risk. Nigel and I plan to be married soon, and we both want to adopt Alfie as soon as possible.”

“Until you are married,” the vicar asked, “would Alfie be safe living with the Inspector in London, being on his own, while the Inspector was on duty?”

“I plan to take early retirement,” said Nigel,” and then I will be working as a House Father at the Manor. Jane Danvers has promised us the gardener’s cottage as our home, and until Jane and I are married, Alfie will stay at the Manor.”

“Hmmm,” said Venables. “I’ve heard about the good work at Smith Manor from my friends Chet and Gerald. What do you think, Alice?”

“You know we’ve both heard about Smith Manor and what a wonderful place it is,” said Alice Dodson. “I like Nigel Eden’s manner, and I can see that Molly is a caring person.”

“Then there’s only one more thing to settle,” said Reverend Venables. “Alfie, do you want to live with Nigel Eden and Molly Fleming, once they are married?”

“Oh, yes sir. I do,” Alfie replied at once.

“Alice, I think we can appoint Nigel Eden as Alfie’s foster father, and once he and Molly are married, we can recommend to the county Social Services that they be allowed to adopt him.”

It was at this point that Alice Murchison wheeled in a tea trolley. It was piled high with a tea pot, cups and saucers, napkins, the best table silver, sugar, lemon, cream, biscuits (cookies for our American readers), and a large cake.

After an hour of happy talk and a delicious tea (Alfie certainly enjoyed that cake!), it was time for the happy three to go back to Smith Manor. As they left, the vicar said, “My dear friends, I feel you are already a family in heart and spirit, if not yet in law…but that will come. God bless you all.”

The vicar shook hands with Nigel and Alfie, and Molly gave Venables a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Reverend; you’ve made Alfie so happy.”

Driving home, they enjoyed the golden sunlight of a beautiful afternoon. Their silent companion followed them just above and behind the car.

After they arrived at the Manor, Molly said, “Let’s go look at the gardener’s house.” She got the key from Jane, and the three walked down the path to the gardener’s house.

The house was a two story building with a pitched roof that was tiled (not thatched). It had several large rooms on the ground floor. One of those rooms had been used by the former gardener as an office, and Nigel could envision it as his own den. There was a large kitchen and a powder room. 

Upstairs on the next floor (Brits would say first floor; Yanks would call it the second floor), there was a large master bedroom with its own shower, loo, and sink, three more bedrooms and another bathroom.

“Mr. Smith certainly treated his help well,” Nigel said.

“That he did,” said Molly.

“I think the only thing we might want to do is repaint the bedrooms,” Nigel remarked. “The floors are sound, there’s no sign of damp; all-in-all we could almost move in tomorrow.”

“Could I have the next largest bedroom?” Alfie asked. “Could I, Mr. Nig… I mean Dad?”

“Of course you can, son,” Nigel replied. ‘Dad! He called me Dad!’ he thought to himself.

‘I hope he’ll soon feel comfortable calling me Mum,’ Molly mused.

Probably nobody in the house was aware of a flutter of wings as a large brown owl took flight and flew off to the tower of an important school (for handlers of owls) and fluttered into the room of two young men who were studying (to be owl trainers).

To be continued...

Author’s note to his readers: What! You thought the young men in the tower were studying something else. Dear readers, you must have confused this story with another one!

As always my thanks to my reader who wishes only to be known as A. Nony? Mouse, or “Critter” as he now prefers to be called.

Posted: 09/17/10