Chapter 11: Autumn Shades to Winter

And so it went. We chose a pale green for my new room, finished with a deeper green on the door and window, and one somewhere in between on the skirtings, scotia, and architraves, with an off-white ceiling. Robyn and I located a dresser in a second-hand store, and Frank paid and brought it home in his van. We chose some curtain material, and Mrs Thomas helped Robyn ‘run it up’. Frank promised some ‘proper’ carpet later, but said the pieces we were using as rugs would do in the meantime.

They sure would. I was in paradise. My room looked really nice and I had a comfortable bed and someone to share it with even though Mrs Thomas had made it clear that sleepovers were a ‘bridge too far’. What I didn’t have, was money.

Frank had been paying minimal rent to the Grand Kerrs, and I was paying nothing. Now, he had a mortgage and the expense of materials to renovate, and soon, would be needing to feed me as well as himself. We had a deal that I would help him renovate the house ‘in lew’ of board.

He used to pay me to work with him in his role as a jobbing carpenter and handyman around the district, but now, even though I couldn’t play cricket with my plastered arm and had lots more time available as a result, all my spare time was occupied renovating the house. That was still a ‘good deal’, but it gave me no money in my pocket. I whinged a bit to Robyn.

“My savings are almost gone, and I don’t know when I can do more paid work for Frank.” We were naked in my bed at the time, cuddling and smooching in a post orgasmic glow. Robyn pulled away a bit.

“Wanna try a thought experiment?” I nodded.

“So think of the message ya wanna give Frank.” I must have looked doubtful. “Come on – a short message.” After a few seconds I nodded again.

“Put it in super-secret code, and write it on a cigarette paper in invisible ink.”

“What?”

“This is a thought experiment. Do it!” She didn’t wait for me to nod. “Now screw the paper up into a little ball and get on your horse.” I grabbed Robyn and we giggled and wrestled for a few minutes. My cast was due to come off in a couple of days, and my wrist seemed to have healed. I don’t know how seriously she was resisting, but I soon found myself astride her buttocks as she lay face down on my bed. She wasn’t done.

“Ride past Frank and distract him. Shout ‘LOOK’ and point across the field. At the same time, drop the tiny ball of tissue with the message in super secret code written in invisible ink down into the long grass.” I felt pretty stupid, but even I got the message. Smart bitch!

“Giddy up!” She began to wriggle her pelvis, I began to ‘rise to the trot’, and soon Robyn was able to slip a pillow under her hips to raise her bum, and my cock laid between her buttocks as I ‘rode’ her. She was already wet, and I soon started to stiffen, so I spread my spit and her pussy juice liberally over her bum crack, she got a hand on her clit, and I humped her as she jilled herself off until I spurted over her lower back.

I spoke to Frank that evening as we relined the bedroom I had previously occupied. I explained my problem, and he was both sympathetic and thoughtful.

“I can give you more work after school. You have study group at Robyn’s on Mondays, and here on Fridays, but I could try and arrange things so I pick you up after school on the other days.” He nodded at my cast. “You’ll have that off later this week. There’s plenty of work.”

My cast came off painlessly a few days later, though the size of the shears that the GP’s Nurse wielded provoked some anxiety. My arm and hand seemed to have regained full function within a week, and I felt confident I was earning the money Frank was paying me for the after-school work.

At that time the school year in NZ was divided into three terms, and we very soon came to the end of the first one, with a mad flurry of tests, ‘open book’ exams, and for me, another ‘sporting surprise’. Mr Smythe called me up to his desk at the start of Homeroom on the Monday of the last week.

“I’ve marked you present. Mr Bliss wants to see you. Go along now.” I didn’t need telling twice.

“Yessir. Thank you sir!” ‘Soapy’ Bliss was the coach of the First Soccer XI. This was probably good news. I almost ran across the quad to his room and waited outside until his homeroom class emerged and dispersed.

“Come in Kerr. I see you have your cast off. Does that mean you are fit to train?” I presumed he meant for Soccer.

“Yessir.”

“Good. We’ve got some funding for a professional coach, and we’re having a coaching clinic during the second week of the holidays. There’s a place for you if you want to try out for the First XI.” Not a hard decision!

“Yes please sir!”

“I’d advise you to start training tonight – we’ll be assessing your fitness on the first day.”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir!” I floated through the rest of the day, and started my training by jogging to Robyn’s after school. I should probably have told Aapi my news, but I thought I’d save it and make a grand announcement at study group Aapi was very impressed, the girls less so.

“A ‘First’ Team in the Fourth Form!” His grin became cheeky. And sex with lotsa girls! He’s a legend!” Alison was touchy.

“How does anyone know? Have you bastards been skiting?” I was about to intervene, but Aapi was equal to the situation.

“As far as I know, he’s never breathed a word, and I certainly haven’t, but from the start of the Third Form he’s been known as someone who knew lotsa girls and knew lots about sex. The stuff with Growcott and Thompson last year was all round the school. Guys imaginations do the rest!” Alison relaxed, at least a bit, but Pauline was thoughtful.

“Girls talk too! Girls High runs on gossip!” Robyn nodded.

“Yeah - but it’s about who is going out with who and who wants to. There’s no discussion of fucking.”

“So lets do some study.” We did.

The Grand Kerrs were much more impressed with my impending promotion. Grandpa was only half joking when he wondered if he would live long enough to see me make the All Whites. Then it all turned to shit.

“Bet your Mum ‘n Dad were excited!”

“Haven’t told them yet.”

“You haven’t told your Mum ‘n Dad?” Grandpa was incredulous, I was slightly puzzled.

“It hasn’t been a priority.” I ignored Grandpa’s frown. “Dunno they’ll be all that interested. It’s you that has always come to my games.” Bad idea! Grandpa, Grandma and Frank were all upset, but Grandma was genuinely angry.

“It damned well should be a priority. Make it one!” She was pale and shaking slightly. “They didn’t raise you to be an ungrateful little sod – and neither will we!” She was almost shouting, and there was pain in her face. After a couple of breaths, she went on. “We are going to need to talk about this, but right now you need to ring them and give them the news.”

I hurried to the phone in the hall, recognising that I had ‘done it wrong’ but not sure exactly how. Mum ‘n Dad were thrilled, but Mum again voiced some worry that training and playing at a First XI level would harm my grades. She also made a comment about needing to change arrangements that I didn’t understand at the time.

I went back to the living room with what Frank would have called ‘trepidation’. I had never seen Grandma that angry, and I didn’t understand why. I was smart enough to recognise the pain under the anger, but I had a bit of my own – I didn’t think of myself as an ‘ungrateful little sod’, and I didn’t like it that she did. My reception was frosty.

“Well?” It was time to front up.

“I was wrong. They were really excited, though Mum was worried about my grades.” Grandma looked relieved, so I grabbed the bull. “I get that I did something bad by believing that Mum ‘n Dad wouldn’t be all that interested, and I was wrong about that – but I don’t get the ungrateful bit or why you all got so upset.” Grandma sighed

“Perhaps ‘ungrateful’ was unfair. What upset me was you thinking they weren’t interested.” She sighed again. “Your parents are incredibly interested in your progress and very very proud of your achievements. Your Mum ‘n Dad think the sun shines out of your arse!” Grandpa and Frank gasped in unison, and I had certainly never before heard Grandma use that word.

“They’re certainly keen to know about my progress at school, and Dad did say that provided I keep my grades up, Mum ‘n him will support me to take my sports as far as I can. He said you guys had done that for him.” Grandma was slightly mollified, but we weren’t out of the woods yet.

“So how come you thought they weren’t interested?” I thought a bit.

“I think it’s mainly that Dad never comes to my games. When I played rugby that first year he was on the sideline every Saturday, and even came to practice quite often. As soon as I switched to soccer, he stopped dead. I don’t think he’s ever come to a game.” I turned to Grandpa. “You support me almost every week.” Everyone looked pretty sad. Frank shifted uneasily in his seat and looked apologetically at his parents.

“He’s got a point. Eric got quite bent outa shape when David switched.” Grandma was keen to defend her older son.

“Given his history, that’s understandable. He was on the fringe of All Black selection before the war, and was still good enough afterwards but the concussion stopped him. He probably feels that loss more acutely than anything except the way his disabilities have stopped him parenting David.” I reached out for Grandma’s hand.

“I understand that sort of, and I’m really grateful for what they have given me, and how everybody else has stepped up to support me.” I looked around. “By that I mean you guys. And I’ll remember that Mum ‘n Dad are right behind me.

Everyone looked relieved. It seemed we had successfully navigated another little rapid in our family river.

I found out about Mum’s comment that she would need to ‘change arrangements’ a few days later. Uncle Bruce had rung to see how Grandma Henley was, and had mentioned how much they were missing her contribution to the work of the farm. Mum had offered my services for the second week of the holidays. I don’t know when she was going to tell me, but I think she was a little embarrassed when I rang with my news.

She consulted Bruce, and they changed the week to accommodate my coaching clinic. I readily agreed to go. I had thoroughly enjoyed working with Robert and Uncle Bruce the previous summer, and I figured that running round the hills was probably good for my fitness.

Robyn was less than delighted.”

“So you get on the bus first thing Saturday, and arrive back on Sunday week, pretty stuffed, and then on Monday morning you go to some bloody coaching clinic so you’ll be rooted every night, and then we’re back to school and the weekly grind starts again!” She pouted - a real life little girl pout. “When can we have some fun?”