Chapter 3 Alice and Colleen

"Come in," I said when Molly's knock on my door woke me the following morning.

"Mr. Oldham is expecting you for breakfast. You can have your shower after you exercise," she said.

"Good grief," I groaned. It was six fifteen in the morning. I dressed hurriedly and went downstairs. We had breakfast, Mr. Oldham handing me pages from the newspapers, directing my attention to certain articles and a few minutes later, quizzing me to see if we agreed on the significance of the news. I soon learned he liked it when I took a different slant, even if it was a minor difference of opinion.

After Mr. Oldham left for work I returned to my room to find my bed made and a book on my pillow. I didn't read books, not books with hard covers anyway but I picked it up. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

I was starting on the second chapter when there was a knock on the door and I called out, "Come in."

Ned bounced a tennis ball my way which I caught with my right hand. "Good morning Sammy. Sit up straight when you read or study. Squeeze the ball as you read. Change hands every few pages," he said.

He told me how to dress, jock strap, running shorts and shoes.

"Call your mom. Maybe it will make you feel better," Ned said, handing the telephone to me. I dialed the number and nervously waited for mom to answer the phone.

"Where are you?" She asked, but didn't wait for my answer before berating me for everything I had ever done, from messing up her 'good thing, ' with Dick to my being born. Maybe she was sore about being awakened? After five minutes of listening to her scold me, I apologized for calling and hung up.

Ned put his arm around my shoulder and marched me out the door and across the street. I believe he was sorry he had suggested for me to make the call.

Then I found out why he had introduced me to the running track the day before. We ran the first lap together, tossing the ball back and fourth between us. He took a seat on a bench, pointing to his ankle and motioning for me to continue running. By the end of the second lap I was puffing pretty hard and had to slow to a walk. He let me stop to do push ups and set ups and then we tossed the ball around. Eventually he looked at his watch and said he had some work he needed to attend to. I was happy to go back to my room and Tom Sawyer. Ned reminded me to sit straight and squeeze the tennis ball as I read.

And that is how it went for the next three weeks, Mr. Oldham exercising my brain at breakfast and dinner, and Ned running me ragged during the day. Both men pushed me and I found myself wanting to please them. I complied with their orders, accepting their word that everything they were having me do was for my own good.

Ned always ran the first lap with me. We tossed the football back and forth as we ran, him telling me things about the school I would be attending soon. Then I did pushups, setups and chin-ups while Ned counted. There were also doctor's and dentist's appointments and shopping for school supplies. Books began to appear on the desk in my room and when duty called Ned away to attend to his own work, he sometimes chauffeured Mr. Oldham's business associates to and from the airport in the black limousine; I was sent to my room to study. It was also his job to oversee the workmen and landscapers who maintained the building and grounds. Sometimes he would let me watch when he spoke to them, but usually I was sent to my room to study.

We found time to swim in the pool almost daily and on weekends Mr. Oldham and his assistant would join us. It would be some time before I would learn his age, early fifties at the time, but I could tell he had always been active. He was not very tall, but his body was trim and well toned. On his upper lip was a thin, neatly groomed patch of hair. He wore bifocals when he read the morning newspapers.

Suzanne was Mr. Oldham's assistant. She would arrive on Saturday morning, usually in time to have a cup of coffee while we were eating our breakfast, and stay until Monday morning. On Saturdays they worked in Mr. Oldham's study, but on Sundays they would lounge around the sunroom, reading the newspapers or a book until it was time to cool off in the pool.

At first I thought Suzanne was a cold calculating bitch because she interrupted a discussion Mr. Oldham and I were having about a book I had been assigned to read. It was Daddy Longlegs, about an orphan girl whose education was being paid by a man she called Daddy Longlegs because she had never actually met her benefactor, only caught a glimpse of him walking up some stairs and dubbed him Daddy Longlegs. I was attempting to defuse the idea that there was any resemblance between the girl's situation and my own. I was having trouble making my case when Suzanne interrupted me. I was furious at her, but Mr. Oldham answered her question before returning his attention to me, seemingly unfazed by his assistant's rudeness. I took an immediate dislike to Suzanne until later that day when she made her appearance at the pool wearing a one-piece swimsuit, conservative, yet tight fitting. I was sitting on a lounger, reading a book and squeezing my tennis ball. She saw me staring at her and winked at me, making me forgive her for the interruption that morning, and I decided she must have been doing me a favor by diverting Mr. Oldham's attention long enough for me to collect my thoughts.

Suzanne's body arched and then flattened out as she hit the water. She headed for Mr. Oldham who was standing in chest high water. The pair stood toe to toe, their eyes locked. They were about the same height and made a handsome couple. When his hands gripped her waist her body became rigid. He lifted her out of the water and over his head, holding her above him for several seconds before lowering her back to the standing position to face him in the water. Mr. Oldham repeated this several times, silently without a word passing between them.

I wanted to be able to do the same thing and pictured myself lifting Becky that way. But she probably wouldn't let me try. I would have to find a girl who would, someone like Suzanne.

"John!" Her voice reminded me of Becky's when Freddy suggested she remove her top. "What will your nephew think of his uncle?" I looked up from my book, not that my attention was on what I was reading anyway, and saw her trying to retie the strings that held the top part of her suit up at the back of her neck. They both looked my way and I lowered my eyes to the book.

That night in bed I jacked off thinking of Suzanne, not Becky, telling myself I was doing it so I wouldn't cry myself to sleep.

I had decided that this place was not so bad. Mr. Oldham and Ned were strict, but they didn't yell at me like my mother and her boyfriends had been doing as soon as I was old enough to get into trouble. Ned told me what to do, how to act and then explained the reasons for doing it his way. Mr. Oldham never gave me orders directly but if he handed me part of a newspaper I knew questions would follow. The same for the books I found in my room; I knew we would be discussing the story and its characters soon. Betsy and Molly doted on me, always asking what I would like to eat or if I had anything for the laundry. And unlike at home, there was no shortage of money. I found a stack of 5 and 10 dollar bills in one of my desk drawers. I couldn't help thinking about how many groceries that money would buy if I was back at home and that made me wonder if Becky had gone back to the pond with the guys. Why did she keep popping back into my mind?

One afternoon Ned took me over to the tennis courts. I felt silly dressed in brand new white, shirt, pants, shoes and a little visor cap. But the courts were empty when we arrived and I soon forgot about the new clothes. Ned showed me how to hold the racket and then lobbed balls over the net to me. When I was comfortable returning his lobs he increased the speed and made me move around the court a bit. As with everything we did together he shouted instructions and encouragement. "Put some muscle behind it. Good shot!"

We must have been at it an hour when a lady and little girl came walking across the lawn towards us, hand in hand, slowly. The woman was carrying a racket case.

"Hi, Alice, I heard you were back here. Who's that with you?" Ned said to the woman as she approached. She was wearing a tennis outfit, much like mine except for the short skirt that flared at the waist. Her dark hair was cut short. The little girl with her had lighter hair.

"This is Brenda, my beautiful daughter. Can you say hi to Ned and his friend?" The little girl brightened and waved at us but I didn't see her lips move.

"This is Sammy Oldham," Ned introduced me to the woman and I mumbled something in return, a little taken aback. Suzanne had referred to me as Mr. Oldham's nephew and now Ned was giving me his last name.

The next thing I knew. I was shaking hands with the lady. For a second I thought she was trying to match grips with me until I saw her grimace and realized the few days of squeezing the tennis ball were already paying off, just like Ned had told me it would. I released her small hand and received a smile in return.

Ned and Alice talked for a few minutes with the little girl and I looking on, both of us mystified as to what they were talking about. What I picked up from their conversation was that Alice and her daughter had taken up residence on the third floor of her parents' home across the street from the park while Jim was ... her voice tailed off and I don't know if Ned even heard what she said.