Chapter 4: A surprise Christmas present

Stephen

We didn't do any real teaching before Christmas. Much of the time was spent sorting out the schoolroom. Clarrie did as little as possible but Jenny mucked in and helped with the cleaning and decorating. She didn't mind getting her hands dirty and enjoyed the practical work. Seeing this and, as she didn't have a computer of her own, I suggested she upgraded an old one of mine until she could afford something better. I know Howard would have supplied one from his IT department but I thought it would help her to learn more of the inner workings of a computer if she had to take one apart and put it together again with a new motherboard and extra memory. It wouldn't be as fast as a new one but would be more than adequate to do the work we'd been set so far.

Clarissa left on December 23^rd to spend a week with her parents and I think she hoped they would allow her to stay for good but from what Howard had said, I rightly doubted it. Jenny would stay with me for the whole period. We'd both been invited to spend Boxing Day with the Blythe's but for the rest of the time, she'd nowhere else to go. They'd planned staying at the rented house and partying but this was no longer an option and, as her parents had gone to Austria, she couldn't stay with them. During our time rebuilding her computer, she'd become a little less reserved with me and would readily ask technical questions but wouldn't hold a conversation on other matters, certainly not in front of Clarissa. At least now she didn't shy away from looking at my face but I saw her look of horror at seeing my body for the first time when I wandered to the bathroom wearing a pair of shorts.

On Christmas Eve, I rummaged in the loft and found an elderly fake Christmas tree and for the first time for many years set it up in the lounge. Jenny and I decorated it with tinsel and baubles but I couldn't get the ancient lights to work which frustrated and disappointed me. Not surprising really as they dated from my grandmother's time and we always had problems with them then. Jenny even laughed at my efforts and good humouredly made fun of them. I saw this as another indication that she and I had begun to work together. Between us we cooked a special evening meal and I offered her a glass of wine. I couldn't have any because of my permanent medication. With candles flickering on the table, it could have been a romantic meal but Jenny still showed a great deal of reserve and shied away a bit if I came too close. For my part, never having been around girls in a romantic situation, made me shy too and unwilling to push my luck. For the most part we acted more as acquaintances or siblings rather than friends and certainly not as lovers. We didn't even sit together on the settee to watch TV but sat on separate chairs. Towards the end of the programme, I noticed she looked very sad but I didn't feel that I could pry into the reasons although I wondered if I was the cause or if it was not being able to be with her family for Christmas or being 'imprisoned' in the house with me.

At 4 a.m. I woke to hear the sounds of her crying. Should I leave her or should I see if I could help? For a little while I lay in a quandary not knowing if my presence would make matters worse. In the end I put my dressing gown on and quietly went on to the landing. Still I hesitated to knock but in the end I gently tapped in her door and called softly, "Jenny... are you okay?" No reply. I opened her door half expecting a scream and being told to get out but nothing, just a renewed burst of crying. In the light from coming through the doorway, I saw her lying with her face buried in her pillow. "Jenny... are you okay?" I asked again but still no reply. My heart said to go and comfort her but I was completely unsure what her reaction would be. It could so easily turn against me and lead to accusations of attempted rape. Yet I had the feeling that she wanted the comfort and couldn't bring herself to ask for it. "Why else has she not screamed at me?" I reasoned.

Jennifer

Stephen tried to make Christmas Eve a pleasant occasion and for a while I forgot about his appearance as we worked together decorating a really tatty old tree he'd found in the attic and preparing a meal. He even opened a bottle of red wine to go with it although I knew he couldn't have any. I half wondered if he wanted to get me tipsy enough to sleep with him so I restricted myself to a couple of glasses. Not that I think he would have taken advantage of me. His behaviour towards both Clarrie and me had been very proper and he not made any sexual advance towards either of us but I knew our presence stimulated and aroused him. Several times now I'd noticed the tell-tale signs of his hardening prick inside his trousers. And that morning I caught him going to the bathroom in his shorts... well first it was the sight of the extensive scarring all down one side of his body that caught my attention and then I saw clearly the outline of his prick. Probably it was only half hard but even so the size looked pretty impressive and it fuelled my fantasies for the next couple of days, not that I had any intention of letting him fuck me. That just seemed too gross and too kinky. Even so, in the few days we'd lived together, I had begun to respect him and didn't shy away when our bodies touched in the course of our work. I was much more sympathetic to him and at nights thought about all the pain he must have gone through and the humiliations he'd endured to get this far in life. Most nights I reprimanded myself for my part in making his life even more uncomfortable than it was.

Whether it was the after effects of the wine or a general loneliness that overcame me but by bedtime I felt very sad and deeply depressed. Part of it was the loneliness of not being with my family or friends over the Christmas period, partly it was the fact that Clarrie didn't invite me to stay with her and several times she commented that it was my fault for her being imprisoned with him. That's how she thought of it. Then there were the thoughts of the coming term. Not having Clarrie as a friend whom I could party with over Christmas and perhaps for the foreseeable future, caused me the greatest sorrow. Ever since we'd moved in and I'd begun to treat Steve in a nicer way, she'd shown her disgust for me and shunned me whenever she could, but I was determined not to give in to her over this. Stephen was spending a lot of time and indeed money to help us and I felt morally obliged to do what I could to make up for my previous appalling behaviour.

For a long time I lay awake, thinking about all that had happened in the last few days and getting more and more depressed. Suddenly I could understand what Clarrie meant about being a prisoner, a prisoner in a prison from which I could escape but was held back by invisible chains. My mind could not decide whether it wanted to leave or to stay; the arguments were equally strong in both cases. Steve was a constant factor in the equation. How would I cope when we returned to Uni and everyone knew I was living with him? They would all assume I was sleeping with him. Sleeping with the monster. But now that I had started to learn more about him, I knew he was anything but a monster. How would he feel about it? How did he really feel about having two young girls living in the same house especially when one taunted him constantly? And the other showed little interest in him as a person, even when he was nice to her? The sight of his body flashed into my brain causing a huge wave of pity for the suffering he must have gone through for the biggest part of his life. How little had I suffered in comparison?