Ben, misunderstanding, and with a wave of guilt, looked down at his lap, hoping that his hard-on wasn't showing.
"... You'll still be my little boy" she finished.
Following Ben's gaze, she too looked down at his lap.
"Oh Ben!" she exclaimed "What did I tell you about those trousers. they're covered in grass stains!"
"Sorry mum" said Ben, and quickly added "It was from falling off the swing."
"I thought you fell on your bottom" she said.
"I did..." said Ben "But then I rolled on my front."
She regarded him sceptically. "Well you're just going to have to wear them again tomorrow morning" she said, as though that would be a punishment. "Then they're going in the wash."
She ruffled his hair, and gave him a kiss on his cutely flushed cheek "And it's about time you had a haircut" she added.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Victoria sat on her bed and dialled her phone.
"Em? There's a hitch" she said.
"Serious?" asked Emily on the other end.
"I've just realised we can't go to the den" Victoria said.
"Why? What's happened?" asked Emily, concerned.
"If we're going to keep an eye on Giles my laptop's got to stay in range of the camera. The signal won't reach anywhere near the den" explained Victoria.
"Damn!" said Emily "What do you want to do?"
"You come round here. Send Alison to warn Ben and Amy. I don't want any of the youngsters going near the den if Giles might be on the prowl. He knows where it is remember" said Victoria.
"Okay. Oh, we haven't got Paul this morning!" said Emily.
"That's why I want to play things safe" said Victoria.
"What if Giles goes to the den anyway. There's no security" said Emily.
"It'd be a pity. It would foul things up a bit. But it's a risk we have to take" said Victoria.
"Okay. I'll be round in a bit" said Emily.
"Oh, Em!? Tell Alison to be careful. How is she by the way?" said Victoria.
"Seems normal. Well, normal for Alison I mean" Emily giggled, and Victoria joined her.
After she had hung up, Victoria started checking the overnight recordings.
Ben sat gingerly without wanting to give any suggestion that his bum hurt at all, and he was still smarting from his mother's examination of him last night. He had the strangest feeling she was watching him oddly. Whenever he looked round, she seemed to lift her eyes guiltily - from his bottom.
When he reached for the Frosties, Amy tutted and grabbed the packet away from him. He looked at her frustratedly; he was hungry. Amy opened the packet, grabbed his bowl, filled it with cereal, and pushed it back to him. He didn't know whether to be cross or grateful.
He reached for the milk jug half-heartedly, and as he'd expected she beat him to that and splashed milk all over his Frosties too. When she stopped he looked disappointed.
"Bit more!" he said. She splashed a little more.
"Bit more!" he repeated. Amy splashed a little more.
"Oh no!" said Ben "Too much!"
Amy put the milk jug down with a heavy bump and returned to squashing honey out of her Sugar-Puffs.
"Since when did Amy become your slave?" asked Keith without looking up, as he noisily flipped the front page of the Guardian.
"He's my big brother and I just want to keep him out of trouble" said Amy matter-of-factly. She sighed heavily "It's a full-time job."
Keith chuckled.
"What time's this do?" he asked no-one in particular, without looking up.
"One-ish" said Margaret, who was next to the sink stirring a cup of coffee.
Margaret carried Keith's mug across to the table "And remember you two - be back by midday. No forgetting the time, no falling off swings..."
"Who's falling off swings?" asked Keith only half listening.
"Ben did last night. Hurt his bottom" she replied.
Ben blushed furiously at the outrageous inappropriateness of the conversation.
"Muuum!" he cried.
"Oh don't you start again. It's nothing I haven't seen before" she was going to go on, but the doorbell disturbed her. She gave Keith a pat on the shoulder and walked patiently out into the hall "If it's some religious crank..."
"What's she seen before?" asked Keith absent-mindedly.
Ben flashed a warning at Amy. She began to open her mouth, but Ben then followed it with a look of appeal. She closed her mouth again and licked honey from her lips.
Keith hadn't noticed the lack of reply, and had forgotten he'd asked the question. Margaret returned.
"There's a young lady at the door for you, Ben" said Margaret in complete surprise; even Keith looked up from his paper "She says her name is Alison"
Ben looked up in fear, his mouth dropping open in shock that Alison should come here and meet his mum. Milk dribbled down his chin. Amy grinned.
"What does she want?" he asked.
"Why don't you go and ask her?" suggested Margaret.
Ben got up, carefully skirted the table, and turned for the door.
"Not like that" said Margaret, she wiped his chin with a tea-towel then propelled him towards the door with a light smack on the bottom. Keith peered up at her questioningly.
"What?" she said a little sharply. He returned to his paper.
Ben scurried down the hall frantic that these bottom incidents seemed to be getting more frequent. He saw Alison stood smiling sweetly at him "Hi, Ben" she said cheerfully.
Ben took a panicked look behind him to see if his mother was watching and shushed Alison loudly as if she was giving nuclear secrets away to the KGB. Alison's smile drooped.
"I only said 'hi'. Aren't you pleased to see me?" she asked.
"Of course not" he said tactlessly, then when he saw Alison's expression fall further he added "I mean not here. At the den I am."
"Only because you can't have sex with me here" she said sulkily, still not sure if she should cry or not.
"Shut up!" said Ben in a loud and urgent whisper "Mum'll hear you."
Alison just stood there coyly, looking sad.
"What do you want?" asked Ben, taking another look behind him.
"I've changed my mind" said Alison.
"Okay" said Ben relieved, and he started to close the door.
"No!" said Alison "I've changed my mind about wanting you. I want to talk to Amy."
"You can't!" said Ben.
"Your mum said she was finishing her breakfast. Can I come in?" said Alison lifting a foot to violate the threshold.
"No, no, I'll get her" said Ben.
"So Ben's got a girlfriend then?" said Keith.
"Hardly" said Margaret.
"Why not, he's a good looking boy. Just like his dad" said Keith giving Margaret a wink.
"He's too young. Unless you've been giving him ideas. What did you say to him yesterday?" asked Margaret.
"Men's talk" said Keith "Can't break the code of silence."
Margaret shook her head and sipped her coffee "Code of cowardice more like" she said.
Ben returned to the kitchen "Alison wants you" he said to Amy.
"Well ask her in, then" said Margaret. Amy didn't move.
"She doesn't want to come in" said Ben quickly.
"Don't be silly" said Margaret, she leaned sideways "Alison, why don't you come in, darling?" she shouted.
Ben desperately hoped Alison hadn't heard. "Amy!" he said. She smiled at him sweetly, pushing her empty bowl away from her.
"No kissing" said Keith.
"Daaaad!" cried Ben, blushing furiously.
Alison entered cautiously "Hello" she said.
Keith looked her up and down and nodded approvingly "That's my boy" he said quietly, but everyone heard. Ben blushed deeper, if that was possible, and Margaret smacked Keith on the back of the head "Behave!" she said.
"Now she's hitting me!" complained Keith.
Alison stood with her mouth open, her head swivelling from side to side, trying to make some sense of what was going on. She looked to Amy to help.
Amy smiled at her "That's my dad" she said as though that explained everything.
"Hello, Mr Davison" said Alison.
"Nice to meet you" said Keith holding out his hand. Alison shook it.
"So are you Ben's girlfriend?" he asked.
Alison's face lit up "Did he tell you?" she asked.
Amy shook her head in disbelief. Ben squirmed, as embarrassed as he'd ever been "I knew this was going to be a disaster" he muttered under his breath.
Alison beamed at Keith, then at Ben, and back at Keith again.
"Well, glad we got that all sorted out" said Keith and returned to his paper.
"Why don't you take Alison upstairs, Amy" suggested Margaret.
"Okay" said Amy, and she bounced up and headed round the table.
Ben stood up, abandoning his half eaten bowl of Frosties.
"Not you!" said Margaret ominously. Ben sat again, feeling very, very sorry for himself.
Margaret watched Amy take Alison out into the hall, heard them climb the stairs. A heavy silence hung over the kitchen, punctuated by the noisy flipping of the newspaper.
"So" said Margaret "What's going on?" She was looking at Ben.
Ben, afraid of the mystical powers of the infallible lie-detector, sensibly remained silent.
"Leave him alone" said Keith mildly.
"I want to know!" said Margaret.
"You're embarrassing the boy" he said, looking up from his paper again.
"Says you!" Margaret exclaimed "No kissing, that's my boy, is he your boyfriend!"
"Father's prerogative" said Keith "Almost a duty"
"And what else is almost a duty, that I don't know about?" she asked.
Keith shook his head "Code of silence"
Margaret could see that Ben was embarrassed. What she wanted to know was: what was he embarrassed about?
Ben fidgeted uncomfortably under his mother's gaze.
"You'd better not be doing anything you'd be ashamed to tell me about" she said "Go on, scarper!"
Ben broke the laws of physics.
"He's growing up" said Keith after he'd gone.
"Too fast" said Margaret.
"I had my first girlfriend when I was younger than that" he said.
"I don't want to know" said Margaret suddenly feeling depressed, like she'd lost something important.
"You don't want to know about the shy walks together? Mustering the courage to hold her hand? The first innocent kiss?"
"No! I don't!" said Margaret taking both of them by surprise with the anger in her voice. She turned to the sink and started crying.
"Hey!" said Keith, his voice suddenly full of concern. He got up and rushed to fold her in his arms. He held her tight "What's the matter?"
She shook her head. Keith thought 'hormones' but didn't dare mention it; his foot was still sore.
"I don't want him to grow up!" she sobbed finally "He's my little boy."
Victoria looked up only briefly when Emily came across the landing and into her room.
"Anything juicy?" asked Emily, rubbing her hands together in glee.
Victoria hadn't watched the whole recording, she'd fast forwarded through most of it. Nothing had happened all night. No sights or sounds that had suggested anything useful. Giles had tossed and turned for a while, but nothing had given her the impression that he had even masturbated, and that made her curious. The only highlight was in the morning when he'd returned from the shower. He had looked flushed, and when he dropped his towel she could see he was also quite erect. It had given her the chance to study his body more closely; for research purposes only, of course.
"Not a sausage" said Victoria, and she giggled at her unintentional pun. She ran with it "Just a chipolata"
"Where? Let me see" she settled herself beside Victoria who was busily rewinding.
"Right..." she selected 'play' "Here!"
"Oh my God!" screeched Emily "It's so thin, and weeny"
"Definitely mockworthy" said Victoria.
"Pity he's got pubes" said Emily calming down.
"Not for long" said Victoria.
"You don't mean?" asked Emily a little shocked; they'd never done that before.
"Alison can do the honours. I'll see if we can get a cut-throat razor from somewhere" said Victoria.
"Aren't they dangerous?" asked Emily.
"Only when they're sharp" said Victoria.
"Ooooh, you're so wicked" said Emily, and they hugged and kissed each other in excitement.
When they settled down again Victoria maximised the live feed, but made sure she had her web browser with an Orlando Bloom fan-site open; just in case one of her parents came in.
"Looks like we have some action" said Victoria.
"It's not Giles though, where is he by the way?" asked Emily.
"No way to tell, all I know is he left his room" said Victoria.
"Pity we can't bug the whole house" said Emily.
"Now who's the wicked one?" said Victoria.
"What's she doing?" asked Emily.
Grace St.John -Moncrieff had entered Giles' room for her regular inspection. She toured the room methodically, opening drawers and cupboards and inspecting the contents, while making sure everything remained perfectly tidy.
She wasn't hurried, but neither did she dawdle. Everything took exactly as long as it took. When she finished this inspection she crossed to the bed. For a small thin woman she demonstrated considerable strength in lifting Giles mattress and checking under it, running her hand to the parts she couldn't see. She circled the bed systematically.
Next, she pulled back the bedcovers and she lowered her face close to the bottom sheet, examining every square inch. Satisfied, she remade the bed and left the room.
"What the hell was that all about?" asked Emily.
"God only knows. It looks like she keeps a pretty close eye on Giles though" said Victoria.
"She did seem to be looking for something" said Emily.
"Ah!" said Victoria.
"What?" asked Emily.
"She's checking his sheets to see if he's masturbating. That's why he didn't touch himself last night. Maybe?" said Victoria uncertainly.
"Why doesn't he use a handkerchief or tissues?" asked Emily.
"She probably does the laundry and inspects that just as thoroughly. I didn't see any tissues in his room, maybe he's not allowed them" suggested Victoria.
"Couldn't he just do it in the shower?" said Emily.
"Or bath!" said Victoria "You've got me there. Okay that doesn't really work as a theory. Mind you, we could get him into a lot of trouble at home"
"How?" asked Emily.
"Might be a useful way of undermining him actually" said Victoria, as the plan formed in her mind "Just think! The perfectly behaved Giles who whenever he runs home to daddy with a tale to tell is always believed, and some poor sucker pays the price, whether they bought the donkey or not"
"What donkey?" asked Emily.
"Never mind the donkey. All our parents think he's the perfect boy. Never in trouble, utterly reliable, totally and completely honest. How could he ever lie?" said Victoria patting Emily's leg "But, if he started to get into trouble at home. Then his image would be tarnished. What's happened to our poor Giles? Always in trouble, no longer reliable and trustworthy. Such a difficult age, fifteen. Maybe he'll grow out of it, but for the time being - in the dog-house, disgraced, not to be trusted."
"But you still haven't said how" said Emily catching Victoria's excitement.
"What if - when Grace checked under the mattress she found a copy of - I don't know - big boobs and bums bi-monthly" she suggested.
"Ooooooh" said Emily "Bad boy, Giles!"
"And when she checked those drawers she found half a packet of cigarettes" suggested Victoria.
"Oh, Giles! How could you?" said Emily.
"And when she examined his sheets she found them - soiled!" suggested Victoria.
"This is going to hurt me a lot more than it's going to hurt you, Giles - now bend over!" said Emily.
"So what do you think?" asked Victoria.
"I think you're evil, and I like it" said Emily "But, doesn't it mean us having to break in again?"
"Most likely, but last time was fun wasn't it? And this time we'll be better prepared. Learn from our mistakes" said Victoria.
"You mean not take Ben" said Emily with a laugh.
"And not take Ben" laughed Victoria.
"Oh this is going to be such fun. Do you think he gets spanked?" asked Emily excited.
"Of course not, he always far too good" said Victoria "But we know the Reverend's views on that subject."
Emily nodded knowing only too well what the Reverend's views on chastisement were "Do you think it's done in his bedroom?" she asked hopefully.
"We can only hope, my dear, we can only hope" said Victoria.
They fell into each other screaming with laughter.
"Do you think he's got a nice bum?" said Emily, roaring.
"Who's got a nice bum" asked Victoria's father standing in the doorway.
Victoria quickly closed the video feed, and maximised Orlando Bloom.
"Orlando Bloom dad" said Victoria.
He came into the room and peered round at the laptop. "I don't know what you see in him" he said shaking his head.
"That's because you're a man, Mr Blacklock" said Emily.
"And old" said Victoria.
They both laughed again, and Victoria's dad shook his head again.
"It's only because he's cute dad" Victoria said.
"What do your boyfriends think of their rival?" he tested.
"We haven't got boyfriends, Mr Blacklock, boys are horrible" said Emily.
He was pleased to hear this; he didn't like the idea of Victoria being with a boy, but he couldn't resist saying "Well you'll think differently in a couple of years or so".
Victoria and Emily screwed up their faces, shook their heads, and in unison said: "I don't think so", they fell about laughing again.
He shook his head for the final time and left the room, contented.
Paul's mother bustled into a small shop on a side street. Paul trudged unhappily behind her. Harper's was an old traditional gentleman's outfitters, that also sold proscribed regulation uniforms for King Edward's School. Mrs Harper smiled professionally when they entered and issued an equally professional "Good morning, may we help you."
Paul hated this place. It looked old, felt old, and smelled old, and all in a bad way. He felt completely out of place in his jeans and t-shirt amongst all the jackets and suit trousers and he didn't like the way the matronly Mrs Harper was eyeing him up and down. She was a large woman to say the least, with a florid complexion and hair in a bun. He estimated, conservatively, that she was probably two hundred and fifty years old.
"I need some new school clothes for my son, Paul" said his mother, pointing to him unnecessarily.
Mrs Harper uncoiled a tape-measure as though she was handling a bull-whip. "We'd have a more accurate measure if he took those heavy jeans off"
Paul stiffened, she wasn't serious, surely!?
"He'll need room to grow into" said his mother, not addressing the question of whether the trousers would best left on, or taken off. But she did look up at him impatiently and say "Come on Paul, and take those trousers off so the lady can get an accurate measurement."
He sighed. This was exactly the sort of embarrassing thing his mother did to him from time to time without the first idea of what she was doing. He decided on a defence in depth. The first line of defence would be to simply stand immobile and refuse to approach. He felt this had a reasonably good chance of success, since Mrs Harper was so advanced in years the probability that she would drop dead from old age before she got her way was pretty good.
"Paul!" his mother said loudly "Come here! You're embarrassing me"
He looked at Mrs Harper, and the strange twinkle in her eye and the heaving of her bosom was testament to the fact that she had not yet expired. His outer walls crumbling before his eyes, he approached slowly.
His second line of defence was his artillery. He would attempt a barrage of reason, and hope to fell his mother with that. "Mum! It's embarrassing. I can't take my trousers off in front a stranger, especially a woman" he whispered.
His plan was sound in principle, but it had two major weaknesses. The first was that his mother was heavily armoured against reason, as mothers generally are, and the second was that he had allowed no contingency for a counterattack on his unguarded flank.
"Don't be silly, I measure lots of boys" said Mrs Harper.
Paul sighed, only his citadel remained. His last line of defence. He would defend it to the last man. He gripped the top of his trousers as tightly as possible and said "No! I don't want to."
The fatal flaw in his whole plan had been to forget that his mother had a secret weapon. Well, not so secret really, but devastating nonetheless. As he cowered in his fortress, peeking over the parapet, he saw her draw it up to the walls and light the blue touch paper. In nervous trepidation he waited for the explosion.
"Do you want me to give you a spanking right now?" his mother said.
Like Jericho, his walls disintegrated, and he stood amongst the smoking ruins of his once proud city. As a warrior, he had entered battle many times, but when he went to war with his mother he always lost. If only he could find a way to sabotage her not so secret weapon. As a defeated General, standing alone, he surrendered to the inevitable: he turned to flee.
His mother caught him by the collar. "I've a good mind to give you a spanking anyway" she said.
Unconditional surrender. Paul took off his trousers and stood shame faced in his chequered grey boxers, grateful only for the cover afforded by his t-shirt.
"You'll have to lift the t-shirt for me to measure you properly" said Mrs Harper.
"Look, haven't you got a changing room or anything, we're stood in the middle of the shop" he complained.
"At the back" said Mrs Harper sounding surprised "But hardly necessary for little boys. Boys are so difficult these days, I don't know how you cope."
Paul's mother, standing directly behind him, lifted his t-shirt. "Muuum!" he cried.
"A good dose of corporal punishment" said his mother.
"I expect he finds that embarrassing too" said Mrs Harper still making no move to begin her task.
"That's an important part of the punishment" said Paul's mother.
"Well" said Mrs Harper "You haven't got anything to be modest about have you?" She squatted down, wielding the tape-measure menacingly, her face too close to the front of his pants.
A paradox bomb was ticking, he had to try to defuse it. He couldn't agree with her, she'd win, he couldn't disagree either - she'd ask him what he had to be modest about and he wouldn't want to say. Two wires: red and green, which to cut.... Green, he cut green.
"My dignity" he exclaimed and held his breath.
"If you keep your dignity in your pants, there's obviously not much of it" said Mrs Harper with a laugh.
No! Red, red! The colour of his face.
Her hand crept alarmingly up his leg to the waistband of his boxers. She held it there, the fat pudgy thing, resting it on his bare skin. It came down again, and up the inside of his thigh. Crawling slowly like a colony of insects. It made contact with his boxers, pushing a leg upwards as it continued its inexorable march. If Paul's penis had been hanging on that side he'd have been exposed. He breathed heavily now, his face burning, just wishing she'd get on with it and finish.
The colony finally nested in contact with his scrotum. He felt the fat warmth of her hand through the thin cotton of his boxers and he shivered with revulsion. He wondered if this was what was going to happen to the girls in the gang. Too old to safely take captives any more, they'd get their jollies from schoolboys in shops like this. No, not Victoria, she was too clever. She'd be a doctor. She'd have them stripped and with a finger up their prostate. Eventually Mrs Harper's hand moved away, and he heaved a sigh of relief. Thank God that was over.
"Oh dear" said Mrs Harper.
"What's the matter?" asked Paul's mother.
"He's standing lop-sided I'll have to do the inside leg again" said Mrs Harper.
"Stand up straight" said his mother "You're always slouching"
Paul stood up straight. Never fight a war on two fronts, well unless you're Napoleon, but Paul wasn't Napoleon, that was Victoria's role. He wished she was here with him, she'd find a way out.
Paul jumped, she was going for the other inside leg! His boxers were rising at the side again. He leaned to compensate, but his mother smacked him on the bottom "Stand straight!" just as the head of his penis became exposed. Mrs Harper carried on anyway, as if she hadn't noticed, except! Except one of her fingers had caught in the material and was now inside the leg of his boxers. This had two dire consequences: One being that he was being exposed far more than would otherwise be the case; two being that her finger was now stroking his penis. Paul froze, went completely still. His mouth dried and his heart pumped. What was she doing?
His mother was oblivious to this. Being behind Paul she couldn't see. But Mrs Harper, whose face was merely inches away from his increasingly naked pike, could not have failed to notice. There was little to be thankful for, but he was thankful in any case. The experience was so far from erotic, in fact antipodean, there was no risk of an erection.
Finally she stood and wrapped the tape-measure around his waist. She tutted, pushed the waistband of his boxers down a little then measured again.
"Yes, I think we have his size" said Mrs Harper.
"With room to grow in" said Paul's mother.
"Oh, does he grow?" said Mrs Harper, in surprise.
'Let me the hell out of here!' Paul screamed in his head.
Continued in Chapter Twenty Nine