The Recluse
Copyright© 2025 by Tedbiker
Chapter 2
Callie McPherson:
I wasn’t entirely happy to leave the house with Missus Franklin, and when quizzed in her office she seemed unwilling to believe I’d spent two days alone in a house with a twenty-something unmarried man without any sexual contact. I became a little – more than a little – annoyed.
“Missus Franklin, as it happens, I’m still a virgin. Robert, Mister Bethune, has hardly touched me – the closest he came was when I sat with him to watch a video on Boxing Day, and it was me who leaned against him. When he offered to take me home with him after the Christmas service, I was actually willing to sleep with him in exchange for a warm bed and food, but he made no approach. He fed me, gave me the use of his parents’ room and en suite, gave me the run of his mother’s wardrobe. I felt safe with him. Safer than I ever was with the foster parents I was placed with, and much more comfortable than I was on the streets.”
The woman was obviously sceptical, and I could understand that. She sighed, and told me, “Miss McPherson ... Callie ... you’re sixteen?”
“Seventeen next month, yes.”
“Well, I’m going to ask you to spend a night at Roundabout,” (I knew about Roundabout, a shelter for homeless teenagers, but at Christmas it’s crowded.) “In the morning, I can’t stop you going wherever you like. However, you can’t draw any benefits. But do talk to the staff at Roundabout, please. Meanwhile, tell me everything you can about the foster home you were in.”
I could do that.
They were quite good to me at Roundabout; I got a clean change of clothes, anyway, and I was warm and dry. You might expect, though, that a bunch of teens in a shelter would be noisy, and it was. I was there a couple of days as a social worker tried to sort out some money for me. Apparently that isn’t straightforward.
Robert Bethune:
Having Callie in the house really stirred me up, and no, I don’t mean sexually. Okay, she was very attractive and I’m a normal man, (if shy) after all. No, it’s just that it emphasised the loneliness I’d not really been aware of. Unusually, I diverted from my usual routine and walked a couple of miles in a different direction. I remembered a small motorcycle dealer...
I’d passed the CBT, (motorcycle basic training) and later the test, before learning to drive. I didn’t want a car anyway. If I needed a car I could rent one. The dealer, though, sold Royal Enfield motorbikes (and other makes, second hand). The friendly crew in the shop showed me a selection of machines, both new and second hand. I tentatively took a Royal Enfield Interceptor 650 out for a test ride. That was quite a powerful machine, and perhaps a bit more than I wanted to manage, so I tried a Bullet 350, a bit more than half the capacity, lighter and more economical. After a chat, I parted with five hundred pounds as a deposit against the preparation of a new machine, and selected a helmet too before heading home.
The house was very empty and quiet. I slept restlessly that night.
Having Callie in the house over Christmas unsettled me. I went out for my regular exercise, put in time on web management for customers, did some cooking. Cooking as I was more used to, some for me and some for the freezer. Gradually I got back to something like normal. Normal, that is, for me. But a couple of days after she left, Callie returned. I was in the middle of some work when the doorbell rang; I muttered something rude, saved my work, and trotted to the door. There she was.
“May I come in?”
I shook myself. “Sure. Come along.” I stepped back and she walked past me. I shut the door and turned to face her.
“You said I could stay,” she began, pausing to wait for my response.
“I did,” I agreed. “Why don’t we have a cuppa, and you can tell me what you want?”
Well, we had a cuppa. In silence. Callie sipped hers, head down.
Tea finished, she still didn’t speak. “Callie?” I kept my voice gentle.
She took a deep breath. “You said I could stay ... the shelter was okay, but this is much nicer.”
I nodded. “I’d hope so. I’ll be glad to have you here. But we need to think about your future.”
“I have a future?”
“At the moment, that doesn’t look great, does it? I mean, you could probably get a job in a shop or Mickey D’s. I think you might do better than that, though.”
She frowned. “What are you suggesting?”
“I don’t suppose you took any exams, did you?”
She shook her head. “I ran away before I sat the GCSE. I wouldn’t have done very well, anyway, between my home situation and changing schools.”
“If you were to sign up at Sheffield College* you could probably get some exam passes by the time you turn eighteen.”
*Sheffield College is a College of Further Education, a sixth-form college, if you like.
“I could stay here and go there? You’d help me catch up?”
“You can, and I would. At eighteen, you’d have other options, such as an apprenticeship.”
She thought about that, and slowly her face lit up with a smile. “Wow! You’d do that for me?”
I nodded. “Look, I’m not wealthy, but I can pay the bills. I’m pretty sure I can support you with basic stuff. Before, you helped out with washing up without being asked. Just do your bit in the house and work at whatever we find, and we’ll be great.”
“Thanks. I mean, really, thank you, Robert.”
As it happens, Sheffield College seemed geared to vocational preparation and A level studies, rather than what a school leaver should have. Eventually, it seemed that an online course would be best, and I got her signed up. Happily, the course was free on some Government scheme.
It wasn’t hard, given my occupation, to dig out a desktop, running Linux because I dislike Microsoft’s drive for a monopoly, and a MacBook Air a couple of years old, but perfectly satisfactory. A mobile phone required a trip to the big Tesco store for a basic smart-phone. The tariff was very reasonable as long as she limited her data use, and I explained that.
“Okay, Robert. I’ll be careful.” She clasped the phone like a talisman, and a tear trickled down her cheek. I pretended not to see.
Over the next couple of weeks we rubbed along together (get your mind out of the gutter) very well. I talked her through some basic cooking. She washed up, cleaned, did the laundry. She came with me when I went out to walk. She began her online studies, sometimes coming to me for help, but mostly working at understanding for herself. Even when working at her studies, she fitted in household tasks and breaks for a snack alongside me. Evenings I persuaded her to relax, and we listened to music (my tastes are eclectic) and played simple games.
Somewhere in there, the bike shop called, and I needed to go and collect my new toy. I invited Callie to come and she did so, apparently enthusiastically. It was, perhaps, not the best idea; riding a new motorbike for the first time with a pillion passenger, that is, but having bought Callie a helmet we set off and got home without major difficulties. I resolved, though, to get some practice solo. This did not go down well. For the first time I saw Callie pout – momentarily, it’s true – but it was a definite pout. I explained, but I’m not sure that she was convinced. As it turned out, I spent about an hour each day getting used to the handling before the weekend. At the weekend I rode, very carefully and gently, not allowing the motor to labour, with Callie on the pillion, out to Padley Gorge. We left the bike near the top, and walked down through the woods to the Station Cafe, where we enjoyed an enormous lunch. Meat and tater pie, mushy peas, gravy. And, to gild the lily, chips. Our walk back was rather slower, and not just because it was uphill.
“The Road goes ever on and on...” Callie began, smiling, as we climbed the beginning of the hill which led to the woodland above the Gorge. “Down from the door where it began...”
“Now far ahead the Road has gone, and I must follow if I can...” I continued with a smile, puffing a little, “Pursuing it with weary feet...” I laughed then. “You’re reading Tolkien?”
“Yes. The English course suggested it was a useful example of adventure fantasy, and a good read.” She took several deep breaths. “Is it much further?”
“No, the steep bit ends just past the gate up ahead, but of course the path is mostly uphill even once we get into the woods.”
“Okay.” More deep breaths. “I never did anything like this before, you know. But I love it. Except it’s hard work.”
The path does trend uphill nearly all the way to the top of the Gorge, but once we emerged onto the moors at the top, it was more level as we crossed the river, with just the steep steps up to the gate by the road. I considered the fact Callie was actually reading a book which was quite demanding for someone who didn’t read much previously. I’d given her a little help with maths, but hadn’t noticed that she was reading Lord of the Rings, a book I loved. I hadn’t even noticed that there was a volume missing from the shelf.
We donned helmets, straddled the bike, and puttered back to the city. The bike fitted into the limited space in the garage, otherwise full of accumulated stuff, that I needed to sort through and, probably, dispose of in some way.
Back inside, we removed warm outer layers.
“Robert...” I turned towards her as I hung my coat up. Her hands clasped behind my neck and pulled me down until our lips met. An eternity later it seemed, our lips parted. “Thank you,” she said.
We didn’t separate and our eyes were locked together. After a long few seconds, I blurted, “I would like to kiss you again.”
She grinned at me. “I kissed you,” she said.
I thought for a moment. “I would like to kiss you,” I corrected myself. When I didn’t get a response other than that smile, I cupped her face in both hands and dipped to touch my lips to hers. Hers parted under mine, and I ran my tongue round them. Her immediate response brought her tongue to duel with mine. Some time later, we separated. “Wow,” I said. “Callie ... I know you’re over the age of consent, but I could be held to be in a position of responsibility for you, and I’m nine years older. Having sex with you could put me in deep trouble.”
She slumped visibly. “I want to,” she sighed. “I was willing when I came here with you the first time, but now ... I want to.”
“I don’t know what we can do about that. Callie, if you could, would you marry me?”
She gasped. “Marry? Me? Really?” She stared at me, open mouthed.
“I don’t think you understand, Callie. I’ve always ... I’m a nerd. I’ve never dated, never had the confidence to ask a girl. You, you’re pretty, bright, and you seem to like the same things as me. You’re the first girl I’ve been close enough to, to get to know. I think ... if you can stand me the way I am, I think we can come to love each other.”
“Wow!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the lounge. There, she pushed me into the sofa, and folded herself into my lap. “I never thought ... I never dreamed... that you’d want to marry me. But, yes! If I could, I would marry you. If you asked, of course.”
I held her there, satisfied, for the moment, just to do that. But how could we deal with the situation? We separated after some time and collaborated on sandwiches for our evening meal. We listened to music, and played cards, until it was time for bed. Then, reluctantly on my part, we went separately to our beds.
From then on, little touches perhaps, but no more. I wanted to do more, and I thought I could see the same in Callie’s eyes. The weekend came around again, and on Saturday we made another foray into Derbyshire. The weather was cold, but dry and sunny, so we didn’t overheat in our warm clothing even when we were walking. Sunday morning, though, Callie surprised me.
“Why don’t we go to church?”
“Why indeed? Callie, I usually go about twice a year, at Christmas and Easter. I just don’t think about it at other times. I don’t know what I believe, if anything. On the other hand, the last time I went I found you.”