50 Ways of Saying Fabulous Book 2 Anniversary Edition

  There was only one time when he did give up trying to dislodge me. He merely slumped to the floor himself and sat there, withdrawn, silent for the rest of the evening. I crowed my victory until I realised he wasn’t going to bite back. The mood had changed. Something was wrong. Later, when I’d gone back over to the house, I fretted that he had felt my cock, hard against him, during the heat of our tussle and had been repelled.

  Jamie had Saturday afternoons and Sundays off. For his first few weeks he’d been content to hang around at home. But the Saturday after that unsettling evening, he rushed out to the wash-house after lunch and took a shower. I ambled after him and peeked through the window once the shower started running. It was impossible to make much out through the double camouflage of the steamed-up window and the shower curtain. I positioned myself outside the wash-house, playing with the dogs on the lawn, waiting, wondering what he was up to. When he emerged, hair wet and tangled, he was dressed in his favourite outfit, the jeans and shirt he’d worn on the day he arrived. ‘Goin’ somewhere?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah. Into Glenora. Have a look around.’

  I waited for him to ask me along. He didn’t. He strode down to the spare garage, started his car and set off down the drive, tooting the horn, giving me a salute of farewell. The dogs deserted me to bite his tyres and I willed one of them to take an almighty mouthful of rubber so he couldn’t go anywhere. I was left marooned, desolate on the lawn.

  Eventually, I drifted off on my bike, down the road to the gaol. There was nothing better to do. I hadn’t been there since Jamie arrived and I wondered if Roy would’ve given up on me. He hadn’t.

  That afternoon, I tried to pretend it was Jamie I was with. It was impossible. There were too many things that reeked so unmistakably of Roy. The awful smell of his mother’s menthol cigarettes clinging to his breath. The feel of his wispy facial hair brushing against my face and neck. The paleness of his skin, so white that even in the gloom of the gaol, the shadows failed to shroud him. I had always felt guilty afterwards. That time, I felt uncomfortable before we even got started.

  Jamie didn’t get home until the early hours of the morning. I’d been drowsily waiting to hear him return, fearful he never would. My father heard his car too. The next morning at breakfast, he couldn’t stop repeating the time he’d been awoken. ‘Two o’clock in the morning. Two o’clock. What’s he doing out till two in the morning?’

  ‘Maybe the pub kept serving after hours,’ my mother sug­gested.

  My father frowned. ‘That boy will get himself in trouble with the policeman. Mark my words. He’s too young to be in the pub and old Hubble isn’t going to know who he is and let him off with a warning. It’s not like he’s one of the locals yet.’

  My father stopped for another mouthful of sausage. ‘And he drives too fast. Drives too damn fast. I’ll have a word with him about that.’

  Jamie didn’t appear until midday dinner. He looked just the same as ever, no trace of the ravages of the night before. My father tried to wheedle exactly what he’d been up to out of him, but Jamie neatly side-stepped his questions by launching in on the latest stories he’d heard of what people were doing down the plain. My father prickled with interest at the latest gossip and forgot about Jamie and his exploits.

  Jamie started getting phone calls the following week from some of the guys he’d met at the pub, urging him to come out again the following weekend. I eavesdropped on those conversations, furious at his pleasure in their invitations. The next Saturday, he disappeared off in his car again. My father watched, tut-tutting from his chair and I echoed his disap­proval, wishing he’d forbid him from going anywhere. Of course, he couldn’t. I began to hope that Constable Hubble would catch him in the pub and book him, ban him from ever venturing in there again.

  Perhaps something like that did happen because the fol­lowing Saturday he didn’t go to Glenora, despite a flurry of phone calls during the week. He came and sat out on the grass with me in front of the wash-house, the dogs nuzzling around the two of us, and suggested we go for a swim down at the river. ‘A swim? In October?’

  ‘Sure,’ Jamie grinned. ‘Go get your togs and tell your mother. And ask Babe if she wants to come.’

  I pretended not to hear the last sentence. I raced to my bedroom and eventually found my togs. My mother was on the balcony, her eyes closed, with her feet up behind her head. When I told her I was going swimming with Jamie, she didn’t make any response, which I presumed signified permission. I raced outside. Jamie was already slouched behind the wheel of his car, waiting. It was only when I’d climbed into the passenger’s seat, and Jamie had turned the stereo up, that it occurred to me. He would see me in all my blubbery shame.

  I had been so excited at the thought of seeing him prac­tically naked, and horsing round together down at the river, that I’d forgotten about the embarrassing state of my own body. But it was too late to back out. Jamie had set off down the drive. Even the excitement of having a ride in his car for the first time, couldn’t obliterate the nervousness gnawing up through my guts. I was so shaken that I didn’t notice until we were a couple of miles down the road, that we were going in the opposite direction to the top bridge, where we usually swam. ‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

  ‘Down by the gaol,’ said Jamie. ‘Isn’t that the best place?’

  I couldn’t believe it. Swimming down near the gaol. On a Saturday afternoon. Just as my mind was whirling through the awful possibilities that could arise from such a situation, Jamie remarked, as if on cue, ‘You know, I wouldn’t mind taking a look at this gaol, seeing as it’s the local landmark. I’ve been here ’bout a month now. Should take a look, don’t you reckon?’

  ‘It’s nothing special,’ I said.

  Jamie shrugged. ‘I still wanna see it sometime. Might as well be now.’

  My mind scrambled for some means of escape. ‘Let’s have a swim first,’ I suggested.

  ‘Okay,’ he agreed.

  Jamie parked off the road down by the bridge and leapt straight out of the car, grabbing a pair of rugby shorts off the floor. I clambered out too, but stayed by the car, shielded by its door. Jamie stood with his back to me and began to slither out of his jeans. I was torn. I wanted to see what was about to be revealed so badly. I wanted to watch it in slow motion, commit every second of his undressing to memory. But I was terrified of being caught staring. I had already unnerved Jamie once. Twice would be utterly ruinous to our friendship. I had to content myself with swift constant glances. Tearing my eyes back and forth. Jamie pulled his singlet off over his head and glanced back at me. I pretended to be fumbling with my shoelaces. ‘Come on,’ he said impatiently. ‘You said you were keen for a swim.’

  He pulled down his underwear, and I lost all sense of caution. I stared openly. A flash of white buttocks and then as he stepped into his shorts, a glimpse of it, dangling thicker and longer than I’d ever imagined. My own cock had instantly snapped to rigid attention. That was awkward. I couldn’t step out in my togs, until it had subsided, something it was showing no inclination to do.

  Jamie glanced back at me again but didn’t bother to wait. ‘Last in’s a sook.’

  ‘First in’s a show off,’ I retorted.

  He bounded across the bridge and then stopped to peer over at the river below. ‘It looks deep enough,’ he yelled back at me.

  ‘It is. I can’t touch the bottom,’ I said, reluctantly undoing the buttons on my shirt and wondering how I could manoeu­vre myself into the water without Jamie seeing me.

  Jamie clambered up onto the railing of the bridge, pounded at his chest with his fists, and then leapt forward off the bridge. The sight of him was exhilarating. Plunging forward into space. Then he plummeted out of view, and I started to feel anxious. I had never known anyone to dare jump off the bridge before. I ran over to the railing. What if Jamie had hurt himself? This could be an opportunity for me to save him, to be a hero and win his gratitude. I couldn’t help feeling a pang of disappoi
ntment when I looked over to find Jamie treading water, whooping and waving at me. Not that I really wanted him to be hurt but the thought of him prone and pale on the muddy riverbank and at my mercy was an alluring one. I could investigate the contents of his shorts before I administered artificial resuscitation the way we’d learnt at school. ‘Come on in. It’s damn cold,’ yelled Jamie.

  I trailed back to the car. I’d managed to lose my erection during the distraction. l slipped out of the rest of my clothes and pulled on my bathing suit. In a sudden flash of inspiration, I draped my towel round my neck, which completely hid my chest. I ducked through the fence and hurried down to the river. Jamie had floated off downstream, so I quickly flung the towel aside and dived straight in off the bank. Usually, I was a terrible coward about getting into cold water and would procrastinate and dither until someone gave me a push. This time, all I wanted was to submerge my body, out of view, beneath the dark water as soon as possible.

  When I bobbed to the surface, Jamie was swimming back in my direction. The water was so cold, I was tempted to get straight back out again but Jamie was drawing closer and closer to me. I didn’t want him witnessing the sight of me trying to clamber out. ‘Last in, gets ducked,’ he warned.

  I giggled in nervous terror and set off in my best freestyle across to the other bank with Jamie in pursuit. Once he’d caught me, I clung to him for all I was worth, equally deter­mined not to get ducked and to maintain the feel of his wet skin against my own for as long as possible. But of course, he was stronger and my head was forced under. I came up spluttering and Jamie retreated, laughing as I spat out river water. I made as much noise as I could, splashing Jamie in retaliation, threatening him loudly, hoping it would warn Roy that there were people about.

  Then some instinct compelled me to look up at the bridge. I started. There was someone leaning on the railings looking down at us. A boy. Was it Roy? I’d taken my glasses off to swim. The face was a blur to me. I squinted upward, trying to work out if it was him. It seemed like the right build. Jamie noticed me staring. ‘Hey there, coming in for a swim?’ he called.

  ‘No,’ said the boy, and I realised that it wasn’t Roy.

  It wasn’t even a boy. It was Lou.

  I felt a chill rise through me. What was she doing down here? Was she spying on me?

  ‘Very wise,’ said Jamie. ‘Too cold for anyone with any sense.’

  That was true enough. I began to shiver. How long had she been watching us? Her silence and the way she stood there, hunched over the bridge railings, seemed ominous.

  ‘You’re not from round here.’

  Lou’s voice was sharp.

  ‘Nope. Just here for the summer. Helpin’ this guy make some hay.’

  ‘He needs all the help he can get,’ Lou snapped and with that she turned, her footsteps clumping across the wooden planks of the bridge in her hobnail boots, an old pair of her father’s. She needed to wear three pairs of her thickest socks to make them fit.

  ‘Tough little chap,’ said Jamie.

  I was uneasy. It was no coincidence that she had turned up. But how had she known? Had she noticed me cycling past her house on Saturdays and finally decided to come down herself and discover what I was doing? It was very likely. People in Mawera liked to keep an eye on who was coming and going and speculate as to the reasons why. What if Lou came upon Roy while she was prying round? Where had she gone? It was impossible to tell from where I was. My heart began to resound so strongly I half expected it to cause the river water to stir around me. Surely she hadn’t gone to inspect the gaol?

  As this occurred to me, Jamie ducked me again. I was completely unprepared for it. I’d been so absorbed by the anxieties that Lou’s sudden appearance had provoked, I’d forgotten Jamie for the moment. I screamed when I felt his hands clutch me, forcing me under the water. My mouth and nose filled with water. I couldn’t breathe. I came up choking and spluttering, gasping for air. Jamie didn’t seem to notice. ‘Gotcha a good one that time,’ he chuckled.

  He was floating on his back, a careful distance between us, in case I tried to retaliate. I had no intention of retaliating. Jamie’s sense of horseplay was too brutal for me. I’d have preferred something along the lines of trying to yank each other’s togs down. ‘I’m getting out,’ I said. ‘I’m cold.’

  ‘Yep. This water’d freeze your balls off,’ Jamie remarked.

  I’d have liked to have offered to give them a rub for him. Instead I dog paddled to the bank, clambered out and enfolded myself quickly in my towel. Jamie continued to splash about in the water. I marched back up to the car and grabbed my glasses off the dashboard. I put them on hastily, peering all around for Lou. There was no sign of her. I considered getting dressed quickly and rushing to the gaol to warn Roy, but it seemed pointless. She was probably already there. My sudden appearance would only be incriminating.

  There was also Jamie to consider. I wanted to watch him getting dressed again. That reminded me that I didn’t want him to see the state of my body. I quickly dried myself off and put my clothes back on. I arranged myself on the hood of Jamie’s car, feeling bad for Roy but also admiring the image of myself draped across Jamie’s car.

  A few minutes later, Jamie ran up from the river, sleek and dripping. He failed to notice my resemblance to the temptresses in car advertisements and ducked straight into the back seat to pull out his towel. He began to dry himself off and I willed him to remove his shorts. He didn’t. ‘You gunna show me this gaol then, where they lock up the wild locals?’

  I had hoped he might have forgotten about that idea. ‘It doesn’t even look like a gaol,’ I said.

  Jamie stopped drying his hair and looked at me. For once, he wasn’t grinning. ‘But I’ll show you, if you want to see it,’ I added quickly.

  Jamie pulled his singlet over his head and left his wet shorts on. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘let’s go take a look.’

  He nattered away as we walked and I mumbled agreement. I wasn’t really listening. My mind was churning through ‘what if’ scenarios. Roy usually stripped off when he saw me coming. What if he mistook Lou for me in his haste? What if she came upon him naked and then made him tell what he was doing? Who he was waiting for. And what if she then told Jamie? The more I thought about it, the sicker I felt. ‘There it is,’ I said, when we could see the gaol through the willow trees. ‘It’s nothing much.’

  ‘But aren’t there old handcuffs or something inside?’ asked Jamie.

  He kept walking. I stopped where I was. Jamie turned back, puzzled. ‘Aren’t you coming?’

  ‘I’ve seen it a hundred times,’ I said.

  I had noticed what Jamie had failed to. There was someone slouched against the stone wall. From that distance I couldn’t tell who it was. I strained to see, cursing my useless glasses. I sidled forward, closing one eye, peering at the figure. Suddenly, I recognised the shirt. It was Lou. I broke into a run. I didn’t want her talking to Jamie. I didn’t trust her. I caught up with Jamie just a few steps away from the gaol. He glanced at me. ‘Changed your mind?’ he said before directing his attention to Lou. ‘Hello again.’

  To my surprise, I noticed that Lou was smoking a cigarette with some expertise. ‘Hey you’re too young to smoke. It’ll stunt your growth,’ said Jamie.

  ‘Good,’ said Lou. ‘I’d smoke packets every day if I really believed that bullshit.’

  I was doubly shocked at her behaviour. I’d never known her to dare swear in front of an adult, though Jamie wasn’t exactly an adult. He was grinning, amused by her tough talk.

  ‘Do you want one?’ Lou offered the packet, flicking it open. Jamie nodded. ‘Thanks.’

  He reached for a cigarette. Then suddenly he stopped and drew back. ‘Oh. Menthol. Thanks all the same. Can’t stand menthol.’

  Lou’s face fell a little. She studied the packet and then tossed it aside. ‘I’m not all that keen on them myself. I found them in the gaol. Seems like some kid’s been sneaking down here and smoking cigarettes.
Menthol cigarettes.’

  She gave me a condescending look. It was an expression she had perfected from imitating her mother. I couldn’t help myself smirking back at her. I was so relieved she had got the situation so wrong. But I regretted it. Instantly, Lou’s face glazed over frostily. Then the expression was gone and she had turned her attention back to Jamie, smiling. ‘By the way, I’m Lou. His cousin.’

  ‘Oh right, Arthur’s son.’

  Lou grinned. She glanced at me and I opened my mouth to correct Jamie’s error. ‘Actually, I’m a girl,’ said Lou quickly brandishing her ponytail. ‘But I’m a better farmer than all the boys round here.’

  ‘I bet you are,’ said Jamie. ‘Well you had me fooled.’

  Lou grinned her satisfaction. I couldn’t bear to see her so smug. ‘Let’s look at the gaol, Jamie,’ I said quickly, march­ing forward and unlocking the door.

  ‘Oh yeah, the gaol,’ said Jamie vaguely, following me.

  I opened the door and ushered him in, pulling it half shut after we’d entered in case Lou was planning to follow. I pointed out the chains, which was all there was to see and Jamie knelt down to examine them. ‘They’re warm,’ he exclaimed. ‘You’d expect them to be cold, but they’re not. Feel them. It’s weird.’

  I didn’t want to touch them, warm from Roy’s bare skin.

  Not when I was here with Jamie. But he was holding them out to me, insisting, his brow creased, trying to explain this phenomenon. ‘Perhaps the place is haunted,’ I said.

  ‘So that’s why you didn’t want to come here. This place has a reputation for ghosts?’

  ‘Something like that. Gives me the creeps.’

  I shuddered involuntarily. All those Saturday afternoons were echoing back at me. ‘Let’s go.’

  I didn’t want Jamie poking round too carefully. Was there other evidence of our presence, besides Roy’s cigarettes, that could incriminate us? I could see where I’d ejaculated all over the stone wall. Luckily it looked remarkably like bird shit.

  Jamie dropped the chain reluctantly. ‘Strange,’ he mused, before easing himself to his feet and walking back outside.